#but i WAS disappointed about the money i spent on that hair dye

[riiviir]

was scrolling through my gallery and came across this absolute hair dye tragedy from last year

this is really different than what I post usually but anyways- (images cropped to only show my hair for privacy)

I got my hair dyed on June 21st of 2023, specifically dyeing it a bit darker than the color I actually wanted because I expected it to fade over time and didn't mind having a less pastel color

Only a week later on June 28th, it had already faded to the color I originally wanted! I thought it would then proceed to stay this way and was very happy

On July 4th I leave to go on a trip to Europe through a girl scouts thing. My schedule had been really busy the whole time leading up to this trip, so June 21st was actually the closest date available for me to dye my hair before the trip. Even though it was still fading A LOT, I thought everything was fine and had even made sure that some of the outfits I had packed for this trip would match my new hair color

July 7th I am only 3 days in to a 10-day trip and the pink is so subtle that nobody could see it unless they were specifically trying to

The very next day on July 8th I was so blonde I couldn't even lie to myself about it anymore

I got to have pink hair for a total of 17 DAYS

that's not even a month

[slytherhys]

Silver Linings & Raspberry Fortunes

Prompt: New Beginnings (week one) @elriel-month

A/N: HAPPY ELRIEL MONTH! 🌹🦇 I had so much fun writing this silly little AU and I hope you all enjoy it too!

You can also read this story on AO3!

If there was one thing everyone knew about Elain Archeron it was that she didn’t like being single. Her friends knew it, her sisters knew it, her therapist knew it – even her ex-boyfriend, who wasn’t the most perceptive person Elain knew, had callously pointed it out right before Elain kicked him out of her house. Truth be told, she had a serious case of abandonment issues with a side of middle-child syndrome and – because those weren’t enough – a deep fear that she’d never be loved the way she very much wanted to be loved. The fact most men she met were a disappointment was just the cherry on top of a very emotionally damaging cake.

Which explained why she had accepted to go on a date, at her sister’s insistence, with a man she had never met or seen before in her life.

At first glance, it had seemed like a great idea. Feyre clearly had great taste in men (read: Rhysand), her friends were some of the most interesting people Elain had ever met and the alternative had been staying at home watching crappy romcoms, eating salt & vinegar chips and wondering if maybe installing a new dating app would finally lead to her meeting the man of her dreams (even though it never did). Looking back, maybe even a night of getting texts from strange men who were entirely too comfortable asking about her sex life did seem like the better choice. Because Elain Archeron had officially been stood up – which, considering the dress she was wearing, was a damn shame.

Elain sighed again, earning herself a look from the bartender that definitely felt a little bit exasperated. She couldn’t even blame him considering she’d been nursing the same drink for the past 45 minutes (a martini because it sounded fancy) and she probably looked as dejected as she felt, which probably didn’t go well with the overall Saturday night vibes he definitely preferred.

Smiling weakly, Elain turned to stare at the door for a few seconds longer, wondering if instead of giving up and going home, she should just stay, have a drink in a too-dark bar where no one could see how hot she looked in her very expensive dress, under the hostile gaze of an entirely too attractive bartender. Because she was 25 and she was single and if she spent another night wallowing in self-pity, she would probably dye her hair a ridiculous colour in the name of adventure. And that couldn’t happen – no matter how many times she tried to bleach her hair it never looked any good.

And she was absolutely not staying for – Elain checked her phone – Lucien Vanserra and his stupid red hair and his stupid “nice manners”. The only reason she wasn’t calling her sister to complain about the audacity of it all was because it was past 9pm and Feyre and Rhys were most likely enjoying the only time of the day their son actually slept.

All in all, Elain’s night was pretty fucking miserable – and she couldn’t even drink her pain away since the martini alone had cost a ridiculous amount of money and Elain was supposed to be saving money in the name of being a responsible adult.

“Can I get you another drink?” A low, gravelly voice sounded from behind the bar and Elain startled as she looked up. Hazel eyes stared her down, darting between her and her untouched drink. If the bartender had been attractive from afar, Elain could barely think with him standing so close. A strong nose, high cheekbones and a lush mouth that twitched under her perusal. His dark hair was unruly, as if he had run his hands through it in the past five minutes, but somehow, he made it look hot. Elain blinked once, twice before her brain finally caught up, making her cheeks heat under his gaze.

“Uh,” was her eloquent reply. “No.” She said, though it sounded more like a question than an answer.

He raised an eyebrow, lips twitching again as he eyed her martini. Elain shifted in her seat. “Is there something wrong with the drink I made you?” He asked teasingly and Elain flinched. It probably wasn’t good for his ego that she hadn’t touched it yet, was it?

Elain sighed, trying not to buckle under the embarrassment of being called out. “I don’t like martinis.” She confessed, unable to look the man in the eye. She probably seemed like an idiot, looking completely out of place in her stupid dress and glancing longingly at the door waiting for a stupid ginger man. Mother, she didn’t even like gingers. What the fuck had she been thinking?

The bartender laughed – well, he huffed but it sent a sparkle of heat down her spine, so it might as well had been a full-on laugh. “Why didn’t you order something else, then?”

Now it was her time to chuckle. Bitterly though because it was embarrassing how hard she had tried for a man that hadn’t even bothered to show up. “I wanted to look sophisticated.” She shrugged as if it didn’t really bother her that her cheeks were aflame and that the most beautiful man she had ever seen in her life was looking at her as if she had lost her mind. She couldn’t even blame him – she probably had. “For my date.” She clarified at his confused face, as if that made it better.

The bartender frowned, eyeing her where she sat, and Elain felt heat lick up her body at his slow perusal. Even if she did feel like shit, it was a small victory that her boobs looked amazing – and that, apparently, the bartender thought so too.

“Who the fuck stood you up?” His midnight voice sent shivers down her spine, the incredulity in his question sending a jolt of satisfaction down her stomach.

Elain stood a little straighter, feeling encouraged in her own disbelief. “Can you believe it?” She asked, her voice sounding a bit shrill. If the bartender smiled at her outburst, Elain didn’t notice.  “And now I’m sitting here alone at this stupid bar waiting for a date I didn’t even want, drinking something I don’t even like–”

“You could’ve ordered something else.” The bartender muttered.

Elain, however, was too focused on her own tirade to be silenced. “And it’s too dark in this room for people to even notice my dress and I spent so much fucking money on it.” Elain shook her head, feeling ridiculous. “I really shouldn’t have spent that much money on a dress.” She confessed in a sigh, looking up and blushing as she noticed the amusement written on the bartender’s face. He raised an eyebrow, and it was absurd the way her body reacted to that small movement. Feeling chagrined, Elain smiled weakly. “Hi, I’m Elain.”

“Azriel,” his lips twitched. “Owner of the Stupid Bar.”

Of course he was. Elain groaned, dropping her head into her hands in a rather melodramatic fashion. “I’m so sorry.” She said, covering her face with her hands. “I’m usually much nicer than this.”

Azriel chuckled, tilting his head as he eyed her. “You look pretty fucking nice from where I’m standing.” He said, and Elain’s brain nearly short-circuited at the oh so casual way he said it. However, before she could answer he was leaning down, strong arms folding across the bar, hazel eyes set on her. “What do you really want to drink?”

Elain smiled sheepishly, pushing her martini away. “I’m not a big drinker.” She said, loving the challenge in his eyes as he waited for her answer. As if he wanted to figure her out. The thought of it shouldn’t have pleased her nearly as much as it did. “But I like sweet things.”

Azriel squinted his eyes ever so slightly, closely watching her expression. Elain wasn’t sure what he found, but her heart tripped inside her chest when he started to smirk.  “I’m not sure you do, Elain.” He mumbled, head tilting as his eyes trailed down her body again. No one had ever made her name sound so decadent. “Want to make this more interesting?”

Her entire body went hot and cold at the suggestion.  How was it that this man had already turned her entire night around when she had only known his name for five minutes? Elain bit her lip before leaning closer, intrigued. “What did you have in mind?”

“I’ll make you a cocktail and if you don’t like it, I’ll give you whatever drink you want on the house.”

Elain raised her brows, embarrassingly charmed by everything this man said. “And if I do like it?”

As if he knew that question was coming, Azriel smirked, bending down until his face was close enough to hers that she could feel his breath warm against her lips. Elain felt her breath catch, her heart stutter inside her chest. “If you like it you’ll go on a date with me.”

Elain blinked, unsure if she had heard him correctly. Why was this bar so fucking warm, all of the sudden? She looked around, aware that she had been so caught up in Azriel she had notice little else. When had the bar gotten so crowded? Elain would’ve felt claustrophobic if not for the man taking up all her attention. “Don’t you have to work?” She asked dumbly, painfully aware of the crowd behind her and of how silly she sounded.

Still, Azriel smiled softly. “Slow night.” He said, refusing to take his eyes off of her. She chuckled, feeling a bit frantic as she watched Azriel watch her back, a daring look in his hazel eyes.

“You want to go on a date with me?” She asked, just to be sure.

“Tonight, preferably.” Azriel said, throwing a cup into the air with an ease that spoke of years of experience.

Elain choked, laughing in disbelief. “Tonight?”

He looked up, all pure charm and wicked smiles. “That dress looks too fucking good on you for you to go home alone.”

Elain couldn’t help but giggle. “You sound very cocky.” Never mind that her entire body was heating up with his every word.

“Yes or no, Elain?”

She bit her lip, unsure. Wasn’t it crass of her to go on a date with another man only hours after being stood up? Elain wasn’t entirely sure what the protocol was in this situation, but she couldn’t exactly say no when everything in her was screaming at her to say yes, go. Truth be told, any thoughts of gingers and missed chances had been long gone. Everything seemed to start and end in the way Azriel, the bartender, was staring at her in the dim-lighted bar. And like Feyre always said, sometimes you needed to take hold of your own destiny.

“Yes.” She said, and Elain was sure she had never sounded so certain in her life. Maybe tomorrow she’d regretted and maybe in 10 years she would look back and think fondly of the one night she decided to be a bit brave and trust the rugged bartender who looked at her with wicked promises in his hazel eyes. Whatever outcome it all had, Elain felt absolutely no regret as she watched Azriel smile, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

And as she watched him pour drink after drink into a steel jigger, pouring liquids into a shaker as if this was just another drink, she knew that no matter the drink he made, Elain would be leaving the bar with him. Because sometimes things just felt right, and sometimes a failed date meant more than being left stranded in an unknown bar. And maybe to Azriel this was just another night – maybe this was something he did often. As a bartender, Elain assumed he had no shortage of pretty girls trying to convince him into a wild night. And yet, it didn’t feel like it was just any other night for him either – not as he kept glancing at her, a smile curving his lips every time he found her, as if relieved she hadn’t left yet. And Elain did not blush. She absolutely did not feel herself coming out of her skin as she watched his biceps bulge as he shook the shaker, and she definitely didn’t squirm in her seat every time those hazel eyes flickered in her direction with a promise that sent heat to her core.

Elain took a shaky breath as he began to pour a red drink into an empty glass in front of her, a sprig of spearmint and a few raspberries sitting prettily on top. Elain eyed her drink dubiously, avoiding Azriel’s watchful gaze. A shot of adrenaline went through her and Elain bit her lip as she eyed the fruit floating on top of her drink.

“What is it?” She twisted the glass around, watching as tiny bubbles danced to the top of the glass.

“Exactly what you need.” Azriel answered simply, making Elain chuckle in disbelief. Her cheeks probably resembled the exact colour of the drink in front of her and Elain wondered if the way his eyes flickered from the drink to her face meant he was noticing it as well.

She raised an eyebrow. “What makes you believe you know what I need, Azriel?” She wouldn’t tell him how he was most likely correct – how raspberries were her favourite fruit.

He shrugged, unbothered by her scepticism. “We can say it’s bartender’s intuition.”

Elain smiled, intrigued. “But what is it, really?”

“Stop stalling, beautiful.” He nodded towards the drink, urging her to take a sip. With little doubt he had nailed it, Elain did.

An explosion of flavour burst in her mouth, and it was all Elain could do not to react to the delicious drink in front of her. The tartness of the raspberry and the hint of lemon mixed perfectly with the sweetness of whatever liquor Azriel had chosen. The freshness of the spearmint kept the drink from being too sweet and – no matter how unbelievable it seemed – it was everything Elain loved. She didn’t know how, but it was everything she needed.

Azriel’s eyes didn’t leave hers, cautious hope clear in his face as he waited for her verdict. Elain wasn’t sure what kind of expression she had on her face, but before she could even say a word, Azriel’s shoulders sagged, and a brilliant smile took over his face.

“So?” He asked anyway, as if needing to hear it coming from her mouth.

Elain finally let herself smile, impressed and a little turned on by how fucking good he was. “What is this drink called?” She asked instead, stalling once again. Because she wasn’t sure what it all meant, but she knew it was more than just a drink.

Azriel huffed, a bit exasperated. “Really?” He groaned, making Elain chuckle.

“Just indulge me, please.”

“It’s called Kismet.” He shrugged, as if his words didn’t send her heart tumbling down her tummy. “It’s an invention of mine.” Elain could’ve sworn his cheeks darkened a bit. Still, his eyes never left hers.

Elain smiled sweetly, making herself comfortable where she sat. Azriel watched her with amusement. “Well, you can make me another one since I’ll be waiting for a while.” She said, eyeing the clock. The bar would close soon enough but Elain didn’t mind waiting. She didn’t mind waiting at all. “Seems to me we’re going on a date, Azriel.”

[dabifixation]

the importance of knocking

dabi x fem!reader

summary: When Dabi told you to wait at the bar because he was going to "Take care of things" you shouldn't have humored him. You shouldn't have gotten drunk on a mission. And most of all you shouldn't have ignored your gut feeling by looking for the blue flame user and discovering exactly what he meant by taking care of things.

warnings: nsfw, smut, voyeurism, unprotected sex, squirting, MINORS DNI

word count: 2.4k

~

You really didn't like villains. They were temperamental bigots who were hard to work with and cared very little about their environment.

Blue eyed, flame wielding, two-toned nuisances were not the exception to this.

If anything, having Dabi tag along on your mission didn't really help with your dwindling impression of the man.

Said mission was going downhill very fast, losing your chance to achieve funds from your organization's formidable benefactors, all because somebody thought it was funny to set Mr Park's hair on fire after the man passed a comment on somebody's unprofessional attire.

You hated him for that. Truly hated him. However you knew he wasn't just messing up your mission for his own amusement. You weren't stupid, you knew a field test when you saw one. This mission was set up to see how well you'd do now that the Meta Liberation Army was under siege from the League of Villains. Dabi was your examiner.

And you failed the test.

So it came as a surprise to you when the bane of your existence suggested that he'd take care of things, which made you wonder if he was a comedian in his past life cause what could he possibly do to fix things.

You spent the next hour by yourself with an endless supply of whisky in hopes of coming up with a good plan in order to leave Japan undetected.

When the next hour passed by you began to wonder where your flame wielding partner went and how long he'd be. You were convinced that he was just hunting down one of the benefactor's and stole their suitcase filled with money. But you doubt killing someone took a full two hours, so you began to worry.

Not for him of course. That would be out of character for you. You were just worried about disappointing Shigaraki by coming empty handed and not on time. At the end of the day, you were a sucker for praise and didn't mind getting it from someone who ruined the goals and reputation of the Meta Liberation Army.

You had a serious problem.

Checking your wristwatch one last time, you decided now was a good time to phone Dabi. Snickering to yourself when you saw his contact was saved under 'If Menstruational Pain Was A Person'. You clicked on his contact, hoping he wouldn't be those annoying people who answered after the fifth ring on purpose.

He wasn't.

"Whoever this is, it better be important. I'm in the middle of something." He sounded slightly out of breath, and from the soft rustling of something in the background you could tell he wasn't in any danger. It made you sigh in relief.

"Where the fuck are you?"

"Oh it's you. Miss me already?" You didn't need to see him smirking on the other end, cause you knew he was.

You ignored his question, "Where are you?"

There was pause that lasted long enough for you to hear a muffled cry in the background and an unknown squelching sound. You didn't take him for someone that tortured his victims.

You learn new things everyday.

"Room 3406." You heard a groan this time, making you frown. Why was he dragging his torture session out so long, the least he could do was put the poor person out of their misery and take their money.

Wait.

"You're still in the hotel. You damn asshole I thought you were dead in a ditch!" You raised your voice, not caring that people passing by gave you concerning looks.

"Didn't realize you cared so much about little old me." He let out a sound crossed between surprise and a laugh, which caught you off guard.

He hung up before you could give a response.

That was weird.

You looked down at your naked arms, noticing the goosebumps.

Yeah, very weird.

❦

It didn't take you long to find the hotel room, thanking your lucky stars when you found out the room was unlocked and didn't require a key card.

Once you entered the room, you glanced around noticing that nothing was out of place or broken. There was no signs of struggle, which was a good thing. It made cleaning up easier.

Your eyes landed on a pair of familiar boots placed adjacent to a pair of red bottom heels that were laying on its side.

You picked the heel up, examining it to see if there was any blood on it. There wasn't.

That's strange.

"Uhnnnggg~"

Your head snapped in the direction of the main bedroom when you heard the sounds of someone whimpering in pain. The warning bells in your head grew louder when you decided to check out what was going on.

The bedroom door was slightly ajar but not enough for you to see what was on the other side. You heard a deep groan as your fingers brushed the doorframe, your heart in your throat at what you'd find. So you pushed forward expecting everything but what was in front of you.

You didn't dare move.

There Dabi was, hands gripping tightly on some woman's hips. The muscle in his arms flexing, and his legs out stretched beneath her. Her hands were buried in his obsidian locks as he set the pace for her, bouncing her up and down his cock. Each time he brought her down, she'd let out a R-rated moan. She swiveled her hips as best as she could, but from the way her thighs trembled from the pleasure, you could tell it was too much for her.

Dabi's eyes were shut in bliss, letting out a breathy moan when she opted for grounding on his cock instead. From her quick movements, you could tell she was close.

"Yes, yes, yes –oh fuck!"

Dabi immediately flipped her over, preventing her from reaching her climax. His heavy cock slapped against his abdomen, smearing moisture against his defined stomach. You quickly looked away, focusing on the woman instead.

It immediately clicked in. You knew who she was.

Yui Murukami, the 34 year old heiress and CEO to the company that supplied our friends in capes with support items. She was a rich and powerful woman known throughout Japan, and one of the benefactor's that pulled out their sponsorship after finding out that the Meta Liberation Army was infiltrated with "heretics."

The same heretic that's narrow hips she currently had her long milky legs wrapped around.

What a hypocrite.

You got a good look at Dabi for the first time tonight. Your eyes traveled down his lean form. What he lacked in muscle, he made up for in flexibility. The position he was in was a testimony to that.

The subtle red hair trailing down towards his impressive length caught your attention. So he was a natural redhead? That or he had some weird hobby of dyeing his pubes.

It made you shudder.

He pumped at his veiny cock, gathering the pre-come dripping from the pink and angry head, and used it to lubricate himself further. The golden piercings keeping his two skin types together stretched as he did so.

You thanked whatever God was out there for Dabi not noticing you. They surely had your back. Now was the perfect time to escape. Dabi was clearly lost in the throes of pleasure. But just as you stepped back, the floor beneath your feet decided now was a good time to announce your presence.

Dabi's eyes immediately snapped open in your direction.

Those ocean blues stared at you intensely without a hint of shame. You were frozen in place as you held his heated gaze, eyes falling to his lips when his tongue jotted out to lick them. It had you entranced and you almost missed the way his lips broke out into a full grin when he knew exactly what position he had you in.

Hook, line and sinker.

He was taunting you, waiting on you to storm out of this room in embarrassment and anger. Dabi was a sick individual who'd take any and every opportunity to test you and your loyalty to the Paranormal Liberation Front. If you walked out now, despite how badly you really wanted to, that would be the same as failing. You weren't about to fail twice in one night.

He raised an eyebrow when you didn't barge at his challenge. Shrugging, he guided his cock back inside the woman with a soft sigh. He broke eye contact first, looking down at where their bodies joined and bottomed out into her. She let out a ridiculously high-pitched moan.

He kept her thighs far apart as he continued his ministrations despite knowing you were watching.

Your face was hot as you clenched your fists tightly.

Slapping and squelching sounds filled the room as their movements picked up. The air growing heavy with the smell of sex. Dabi was rutting into her in a way that had her breasts bouncing in a particular rhythm.

There was something so enticing about the way she pushed herself back onto him every time he gave short deep thrusts. She clawed at his chest, trying to push him away but he wasn't having it. Instead he drove into her faster and more ruthlessly as a warning.

This moment was too intimate and private, but you couldn't bring yourself to look away either.

It was intoxicating.

Suddenly a long keening sound left her lips, hands digging into the once pristine sheets, almost tearing them apart. Dabi hit a special spot inside of her that neither of you could see.

Heat rushed to your belly in an all too familiar feeling.

He continued hitting that spot, her body violently shaking and writhing. The way his hips were angled, it brushed against the little button at the top of her mound perfectly.

That was the last straw.

She came so hard, no doubt clamping tightly around his cock. Causing him to throw his head back in eye rolling pleasure with a deep throaty groan. His movements began to filter in order to prolong the feeling, but he quickly regained his composure and picked up where he left off. Triggering her into squirting all over his abdomen. Not once, twice but thrice.

His abdomen glistened with her juices and his added sweat. The way his hair fell into his eyes and clung to his neck had your heart skipping a beat.

"Does this make you feel good?" He asked her as his hips bucked up. Voice deep, too deep.

Fuck yes.

She responded in a tired moan.

"I could have you like this underneath me every night if you just–" he snapped his hips into hers to accentuate his point, "–begged nicely."

Jesus.

She continued to mewl, clawing into the sheets as she neared her second orgasm.

"All you got to —fuck— say is please and I'll be scratching every itch inside of you that those fingers can't reach." He toppled over her, dropping both hands on either side of the her head.

"Uh huh." She let out, eyes squeezed shut in concentration.

"I don't like being ignored." He looked at you this time, making you jolt. One of his hands reached out to grip around her throat, making her gasp as he controlled her airway.

When she responded in a broken moan, he ignored her and kept his eyes focused on you instead. He narrowed his eyes, something dark flashing in them before he looked back down at her. A deep growl in his throat.

Oh.

He was talking to you the entire time.

You rubbed your thighs together to ease the aching between your legs.

It didn't go by unnoticed, as much as you hoped. Dabi gave you a look that made him seem so vulnerable at that moment. All his walls came crashing down and for once you could read his facial expression. He desperately wanted you to be the one underneath him.

"Touch yourself." He commanded, hips bucking in urgency.

He was close.

Yui was long forgotten as it felt like it was just the two of you in the room. You did as he said, ignoring the voice in your head that was calling you a 'fucking idiot.'

You unzipped your pants, enough to give him a view of the shape of your pussy and the increasing wet patch at the center of your lace panties. You pushed your hand into your pants, while the other bunched your shirt up. The moment your fingers brushed against your drenched folds through your panties, you closed your eyes and let out a silent moan. Everything felt hypersensitive. You didn't care that this wasn't enough to send you over the edge, all you cared about was imagining it was him touching you like this, rubbing your clit in tight circles as he fucked you into next week.

"Fuck." He let out after a long time of being silent. "Good girl, just like that–"

A loud groan ripped out of his throat before he could finish his rambling.

Not too long and the rhythm Dabi started with began to stutter when his hips bucked up irregularly. The woman underneath him putting on a whole performance but he continued to ignore her in favor of you.

He gave you a needy look as he gave one last sloppy thrust, waves of pleasure being sent to your pussy.

Dabi let out a moan that was so guttural and so deep as he came inside of her wishing it was you instead. He chased his high in quick juvenile thrusts, making sure every last drop was emptied inside of her.

His hips continued to twitch from his intense climax, a pained hiss leaving his lips. The oversensitivity finally catching up to him.

He gave her a slow open mouthed kiss after they regained their breaths. Pulling his softening cock out of her with a wet pop. He nuzzled his face into her neck, causing her to giggle and hug his form closer to hers. And he allowed it.

He looked back up at you, an indescribable look passing through his eyes. It was quickly gone as it had come, being replaced by a smirk and knowing wink that said everything you needed to know.

Bastard

Dabi was an incredible actor and you were just another one of his victims.

You left just as Dabi started getting hard again, obviously he could go for another round, a round you wanted no part in witnessing.

You weren't going to be used by him again in order for him to find a quick release. To hell with him and his twisted version of testing someone's loyalty. You felt utterly humiliated and dirty. All you wanted was to go back to the PLF hideout and crawl into your bed and forget this all happened.

How could you be so stupid. He had this all planned out from the start. No wonder he was so quick to help you when the mission started going downhill.

You hated him so much.

You wanted to scream when you realized he told you the room number on purpose despite being in the middle of that. He wanted you come up and catch him in the act, and that's why he had no problem in you watching him do those things to her. He wanted to see what you'd do in that situation. This was all one big joke to him.

Yet you couldn't understand why you were still so horny and soaking wet.

[revengeoftheantichrist]

Red Flags

Warnings: Serial killers, breaking and entering, torture, manipulation and broken bones AN: Huge thank you to @9layerdevilfoodcake and the lovely Carissa for bouncing some ideas and beta reading this while I was struggling!

AO3

Michael had enough. He was tired and hungry, getting nothing more than delirious in this forest. He stood on shaky legs, not caring about the blood of the goat he just killed. He didn’t know where he was going, just letting his feet carry him to wherever they pleased. He no longer cared about the destination. His surroundings faded into nothingness, until a familiar white-picket fence came into view. He finally focused on his surroundings, immediately starting to sob when he recognised where he was. His childhood home, his grandmother’s house. His body must have craved the familiarity and the warm embrace that only she could provide. But like every other mother figure in his life, she was dead, and he blamed himself. With bleary eyes he pushed open the squeaky gate. The smell of roses made the memories rapidly flash through his mind. With a deep breath, he opened the door.

The house had been untouched for years. Dust and cobwebs everywhere. He thought of his grandmother watching the house fall into this state of decay. Watching.

He felt the eyes of the house next door on him. He refused to look out the window. He didn’t want to see the looks of disgust and pity. He wiped his eyes and stood a little straighter. This was his house now. He could do whatever he wanted here. No one to answer to, no more deadlines and most of all, no more older blonde woman dictating his life. ////

He stared at himself in the mirror. The stubble and lack of sleep seemed to age him. His hair was no longer perfectly styled, it was wild and uneven. The more he looked at himself the more his face began to morph into the women in his life. He hated it. He didn’t want to look like the woman that threw him out at his lowest. Or the woman who, even in her death, could not accept him as hers. He carried the ghosts of next door with him, and he’d do anything to alleviate himself of that burden. He could only change his appearance for so long. Hair dye would eventually fade; contacts would need to be removed and he wasn’t willing to put himself under the knife.

The smell of blood on his clothes pulled him out of his thoughts. The mirror reflected the decrepit house he was in, turning his nose in disgust. With the last of his strength, he mustered a tiny bit of magic, using a spell to clean the house. He walked through the house as it returned to it’s former glory, remembering his own attempts at interior design when he was younger, looking up the beams and archways where he would nail his ‘gifts’ to his grandmother. Times were simpler then. He shook his head of the nostalgia, hoping the plumbing was still working; he needed a nice hot shower.

//// None of the clothes in the closet fit him anymore, he didn’t realise how much he had grown. For now, a towel was the best he could do until his other clothes were out the dryer. He spent his time scouring the house for legal documents, anything that entitled him to some money and the deeds of the house. He needed to get this all under his name, just in case his grandmother used that stupid medium to undermine him. He tugged open the last drawer. Bingo. Everything he needed conveniently placed in one place. Money, a will and the deeds of the house. He would need to go to whatever legal office to get it sorted. The dryer still had time to go. With a big sigh, he sat on the couch. The one that faced the ‘other’ house. He gave a smile to those still watching him. He must have looked demented by the reactions he got from them. The exhaustion and hunger were catching up to him, succumbing to sleep on the couch.

////

It was morning when he woke up. He let his towel fall with a big stretch. Thus was his house; he could do anything. Even walking around naked. He kept the blinds and curtains that faced that house open. Let them watch. He pulled his warm clothes on. The detergent brought back memories, he’d buy a new scent when the time came. He grabbed some cash and whatever documents he needed for the day, venturing out into the big bad world.

////

Humanity deserved to perish simply for the time it took at the bank. The manger was an old lady, greying blonde hair and a pair of ill-fitting glasses. Michael thought she was extremely rude and didn’t hide his distaste when he spoke to her. She asked far too many questions for such a simple procedure. “Young man, aren’t you far too young to be accessing these funds?” she asked, looking over her glasses. “I can’t control when my entire family dies now can I,” he spat back, sick of her already. She continued to look him up and down as she typed away. Printing something off, she slipped a booklet of paperwork to him. “Everything has been approved, your card should arrive in the next few days. Can I do anything else for you?” “I’d like to take out some cash.” “How much?” “$500.” She paused, “what are you planning on doing with that?” Michael was getting beyond irritated, his jaw clenched, and he rubbed his temples. “There’s no need to be so rude young man,” she huffed. Michael gave her a sarcastic smile before snatching the money and walking out of the bank. The world would be better off without her. He’d deal with her soon. ////

Michael returned home with numerous bags of clothing and food. He would learn how to cook for himself, takeout was not sustainable. The pantry was stocked with basic essentials, but most of it was stocked with candy and other snacks. No one could stop him from indulging in his gluttony now.

His wardrobe was full of blacks and reds, the perfect colours for him. He was most looking forward to the black jumpsuit. It stood out to him in the store, a style he had never tried before. His fingers drifted over the seams when he tried it on, turning and admiring the various angles in the mirror. He looked up to the clock through the mirror, it was almost 5pm, if he didn’t leave now, he would miss her leaving. ////

Michael waited for the old bank manager to leave. Biding his time in the shadows. He watched her as she said her goodbyes in her shrill voice, then as she walked to her car. Michael stalked behind her, waiting for her to get in. As she got comfortable, she dropped something by her foot pedals. When she reached down to grab it, Michael took the opportunity to get in the car and lock the doors. He smiled at her when she screamed. The parking lot was empty, no one would hear her. “Shhh,” Michael put a finger to his lips, the other hand held up a gun. It was one of Constance’s that she had hidden in the house. The woman suddenly stopped, her shaking hands on the wheel. “You’re going to drive, and I’m going to give you directions,” he said, his tone left no space to argue. She nodded, tears in her eyes, hoping he would let her go eventually.

////

They pulled up outside the murder house. Michael got out first, taking the keys from the ignition. The woman stayed in the car, still shaking. She wasn’t given much time to think, Michael dragged her out of the car and up the steps, his hand over her mouth. Her legs flailed around, heels falling off and feet dragging on the ground. Sill, Michael paid her no mind, not even as she thumped down the stairs when he threw her into the basement.

He felt eyes on him again as he went into the kitchen, looking for something sharp. When he got to the basement door, it was blocked by none other than Dr. Harmon himself. “You don’t have to do this kind, you know you’re better than this,” he tried to convince Michael. “You didn’t have to cheat on your wife, now here we all are, miserable in the same fucking house,” Michael spat back. “He didn’t give Harmon a chance to respond, teleporting into the basement where the woman cowered in the corner.

“Please, I’m sorry if I did something, there’s other ways to solve this,” she cried. “I need to get home to my grandkids,” she tried to appeal to his softer side. He continued to stalk towards her, ignoring her and inspecting the sharp knife. “You’re far too old to still be this rude. I think that it’s a habit that can’t be solved anymore,” Michael replied, sounding disappointed. The woman couldn’t back away any further, stuck to the wall. Michael got down to her level, wiping away her tears. “You have grandkids?” She rapidly nodded, hoping he changed his mind. “I had a grandma too. Looked just like you,” he took a blonde hair and sniffed it, it didn’t smell like her. “At least she had basic manners. And, she wouldn’t be caught dead in this hideous number,” he pointed out. He had to give Constance credit where it was due. “Do you want to know what happened to my grandma?” he whispered in her ear. She was too shaky to respond. “I killed her too,” he whispered again, this time his voice cracked a little; remembering the day he found her dead in this very house. Even if she was a ghost, she could have at least spared him a hug. His eyes began to well up. The woman took this as an opportunity to reach out, placing her hand on her face. He snapped back to her, taking her hand in his. “But no one can ever replace her,” his voice still shaking. He felt like a little boy again. He could feel the pity from the woman. She wasn’t scared of him anymore and he didn’t like that. He was no longer a child. He had a greater purpose. Without hesitation, Michael sliced her throat, letting himself be covered in her blood. He looked at his reflection in the knife. Maybe this was the look for him, covered in blood. He licked his fingers, tasting the liquid. “I’ll save the heart for later,” he thought to himself, before ripping it out and making use of one of the fridges. This was one way to pass the time and maybe, it would finally get his father’s attention. //// A car was found on a random highway. In it was the mangled corpse of the owner, and a simple letter signed by ‘the Alpha’. This marked the beginning of a new wave of violence in southern California. A serial killer was on the prowl. The victim profile was quite strange. Typically, killers would choose young women. However, this killer liked older blonde women, usually grandmothers or mothers. It scared you regardless, worried that one day the preference might change. You worried for your co-workers too, many of them fitting the description. The thought that you might have even interacted with the culprit made your skin crawl. ////

Things would inevitably go wrong if one were fuelled by bloodlust alone. Michael had broken into the wrong house. The woman that pissed him off at the supermarket lived a few doors down. Regardless, he was curious as to who lived here. The home was so different to what he was used to. The interior design choices were not the standard ‘live, laugh, love’ and farmhouse kitchen with seashell bathrooms. This house was nice, it had a younger feel to it, the heels by the door further proof of his theory. He quietly made his way up the stairs, looking into every room and taking it all in. He finally found the occupied room. The dark-haired woman was fast asleep in her bed. Comfortably sank into her pillows. He adjusted the blinds a little so he could see better. The way the moonlight reflected off her face took his breath away. His fingers twitched, he wanted to take her home this instant. He could take care of her, he knew he could. He liked a challenge however, he wanted her to come to him. He didn’t know how long he stood and stared at her, only leaving once she stared to stir. He’d be back. ////

Michael’s heart was jumping out of his chest when he arrived back to the murder house. The residents were surprised he didn’t come home with another victim or even a drop of blood on him. His face was flush and he was in deep thought. Luckily for the residents, souls were not congesting the house, as Michael would make sure to burn the new souls as soon as he could. He whispered nonsense to himself as he made his way up to the attic. His trance was interrupted by his foot hitting a box. Had it always been there? He slowly took the lid off, finding an old camcorder and lots of tape. Was he living in the movie ‘sinister’? He was the scariest thing in this house, no ghoul could ever top him.

The box gave him something to do for the rest of the night. Returning with some snacks and in his pyjamas. The entertainment didn’t last long. It was just shitty home movies from former residents. It got worse when they’d come forward and explain them. He turned his face in disgust at the last one; a homemade sex tape. He gagged before turning it off. The sun was rising, telling him to go to bed. As he put the camcorder way, he had a genius idea.

////

You felt weird when you woke up. It was as if someone had been watching you. Your blinds were slightly open, and your bedroom door ajar. Had someone been in? As you walked through the house, something just seemed a little off. Things were ever so slightly out of place. There even seemed to be less fruit juice this morning than you were sure you had last night. Maybe it was the paranoia of the current situation getting to you. You sighed and shook your head before going to get ready for the day.

////

You hated working in the family and wills sector of the legal profession. You were hoping to make the move to fashion law soon, just waiting for the right opportunity. You really weren’t made for the requests of dead people and their bickering relatives.

You greeted one of the partners. Ms Grace everyone called her. She was your mento and a mother figure to you out here in the big bad legal world. Hopefully, she’d give you a good reference when you left. “New client for you today, just… entire dead family,” she whispered the last bit, making a cutting gesture with her hand. “That sounds horrible.” She nodded, before letting you set up for the day. ////

It was afternoon before said client showed up. Your office phone rang informing you of his arrival. A tall, blond man sat in the waiting room; his eyes widened in recognition when he saw you. You decided to ignore it. “Hello, are you Mr. Langdon?” “I am.” “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, in Y/N and I’ll be taking your case,” you held your hand out for him to shake. It was comfortably warm. “Please, call me Michael.” You nodded and smiled, before leading him to your office. “Any refreshments before we get started?” He shook his head. From the outside, his case looked simple However, the deaths in his family left a convoluted mess, but you were sure Mr Langdon would get what he wanted. He was the only legal and living heir after all. You chatted away as you printed off and filled out the relevant forms. The conversation came easy. It had been a while since someone had caused butterflies in your stomach.   You weren’t unprofessional however, keeping it professional with clients. When all was done for the session, you saw him out and waved him off. The interaction with him had left you a little flush. The receptionist giving you a knowing look.

////

This was totally unplanned. Michael wasn’t expecting to see you so soon. He thought that maybe his father had a hand in this, a reward for his hard work. He made his way back home, keeping the packet you gave him close, it still faintly smelled of you. He sat on the couch facing the other house. Images of you occupying his mind. It all got too much, lazily stroking himself to the thought of you that afternoon. ////

He left the house again, camcorder in hand. He pressed record as soon as he got inside your house. Filming every little detail leading up to your room. Even filming himself waving in the hallway mirror, as if he were recording and innocent home video.

He slowly opened your door. You accidently left the lamp on that night, giving him the perfect lighting. He zoomed in on your face before getting closer. Your duvet was blocking the view, reaching forward to carefully move it a little. Running his thumb over your lips and getting it on camera. He groaned at the softness. His fingers skimmed over your face, neck and collarbones. He watched as your nose crinkled a little at the touch. Cute. His evening plans were abruptly cut short when your phone began to ring. At this hour? Who was it? You began to stir at the invasive sound. Michael didn’t have time to run, transmuting out the house as fast as he could.

////

In his free time, Michael indulged in all that his family would disapprove of. And nothing could vex Constance Langdon more than her shitty grandson doing all types of drugs. He liked the feeling weed gave him. It helped him relax after the adrenaline rush of a kill. Sometimes, the murder house had a horrible stench of weed and rotting flesh, prompting the residents to keep the windows open. He even tried other things, like Acid and MD. He didn’t like the restlessness they gave him. He especially hated when his face would morph in the mirror, turning him into the people he hated the most. He wondered what it would be like to get high with you. He wanted to melt into you just like he did the floor when the THC finally got him. If he couldn’t get to you that night, he would replay the tapes on the big screen and jack off, wishing you were there. The residents of the house watched in disgust and horror. They may have done terrible things but surely, they weren’t this bad.

////

Mr Langdon’s case had successfully ended, he had gotten what he wanted. You bumped into him a week later, on your lunch break. “Oh? Y/N? so nice to see you,” he stood in the line at your favourite coffee shop. “Like wise,” you smiled up at him. “Would you like anything? I insist. It’s the least I can do.” You tried to reject his kindness but didn’t want to hold up the line, giving him your order. You both sat at a quiet table, waiting for your drinks and pastry. “I don’t usually see my clients on lunch breaks.” “Former client,” he pointed out, taking a sip of his coffee. You watched him add five packets of sugar and wondered why he didn’t just get a sweeter drink. Your conversation continued, with your shoes constantly touching under the table. It felt very childish, but maybe you were missing the playfulness in life. Your phone alarm went off, indicating you had to get back to work. As your phone was unlocked, Michael took it and tapped his number in, leaving you at the table with a wink.

////

These interactions led to casual dates. The murders began to slow down, making you feel a little safer. With this in mind, you accepted Michael’s invitation when he invited you over. You were nervous as you waited for him to open the door. The evening breeze did little to distract you from the feeling of being watched. Michael opened the door and you sighed in relief. “You look… beautiful,” he stuttered. “Not too bad yourself,” you smiled back.

He moved aside to let you in, leading you to where he had set up. “I didn’t know you could cook.” “I’m a man of many talents.” He looked out the window, making sure the other house was watching. They looked nervous, hoping you would leave in one piece. They watched you laugh and talk. This could not have been the same boy that had terrorised so many. He was confident, suave, and personable. Worlds away from the awkward, nervous cry baby of a serial killer that they had become used to. He cleaned up well, even tidying up his wild hair. They wondered how long it would last. How long would it take for you to see the real him? They hoped you got out before it got to that state. The time flew by, and you both seemed to get closer by the second. You didn’t notice until your noses were touching, conversation halting. He seemed to be waiting for something, almost hesitant. You took the initiative and captured his lips. All of his hesitation melted away, his hand reaching around you and pulling you closer. The kiss got more heated, indicating that it would lead to something else. However, luck was not on your side. You phone ringing and interrupting you. Michael wanted to smash that phone; this was the second time it had stopped him. You apologised before picking up. Michael watched your expression change and brows knit in annoyance. You put the phone down, apologising. “I’m so sorry Michael, but I’m going to have to go, I’ve been called into work tomorrow and this is an important client, I hope you can understand.” “Of course, I’m sure you’re busy and I won’t keep you. Do you want me to drop you off?” He didn’t know why he asked that question, he didn’t have a car. “Oh thank you so much for understanding, and the offer. I drove here myself so there’s no need to worry about that,” you smiled at him. Michael helped you with your belongings, leading you out the door. You turned to thank him again, before he leaned down to give you another kiss, causing you to blush. He walked you to your car, taking in the interior. He waved you off with a smile. He knew you’d be back soon. ////

Michael shut the door behind him. He thought the night was a success. He opened the cupboard and pulled out your jacket. He hid it away, so you’d forget about it. The designer logo stood out to him. He buried his face in the fur, taking in all of it. Your scent, your warmth, everything. He had been so close to you. He wanted to watch the tapes with this in hand, for that he would have to venture next door. He wasn’t prepared to finally come face to face with his grandmother, looking down on him, cigarette in hand. “Michael fucking Langdon,” her southern drawl was harsh. He hadn’t been spoken to like that in years. He gulped as he watched her slowly walk down the stairs. “Why haven’t you grown out of that terrible habit of yours. You just have to destroy pretty things.” She stopped at the step just above him, still looking down. She gently stroked his face like she used to when he was a child, and he leaned into the touch. The peace was disturbed by a loud slap echoing through the house. Michael’s face turned to the side. He held his cheek, slowly turning to the woman with bleary eyes. “You have some nerve coming back to this house with that attitude of yours, clearly the ‘Church’ didn’t teach you any manners” Michael was trying to find his voice, to finally face the woman that he blamed for half of his problems. “And now look at you, that poor girl doesn’t even know the half of it.” She snatched the coat away from him. “Look at this Michael, this is Prada. And did you see the car she drove? What makes you think you deserve her? Look at yourself,” she gestured towards him. “Hair unkempt, Jobless, all you eat is candy and human flesh. What are you going to when she finds out the truth?” Michael hadn’t actually thought about that. He had neglected himself and his appearance for a while now. Did it really matter that much?

////

“Look, Y/N, all I’m saying is that you can do better. Look at you, you’re beautiful and well dressed and have such a good job. And him, well… he’s a little scruffy and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even have a car,” Ms Grace did not approve of your relationship with Michael. She thought you could do better. “I see where you’re coming from but he’s charming. Although I do agree he could clean up a little better. I’ve seen him all dressed up and he looks so good. I just don’t understand why he chooses to look like… that most of the time,” the last bit was more meant for yourself. Your conversation was interrupted by Kevin, a colleague from another office. “He should take a page out of Kevin’s book,” Ms Grace pointed out. Kevin raised a brow at the conversation he had just become a part of. He too was on a lawyer salary, a well-dressed man that anyone would swoon for. “Who’s ‘he’?” “Y/Ns …. Boyfriend?” Ms Grace replied. “Nothing to concern yourself too much with Kevin, you know what Ms Grace is like,” you interjected. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend. He must be something to reach those high standards of yours,” he pointed out. “Oh he’s something alright,” Ms Grace muttered. You huffed at the conversation. You didn’t think you were a superficial person, but your colleagues thought otherwise. //// Michael had heard enough. Sometimes he would scry into your workplace, just to check on you, to see if you thought of him as much as he did. The conversation reinforced Constance’s criticisms from the other day. He hadn’t felt this self-conscious in a while. He was not one to idle, immediately finding a hair stylist with an availability. He wanted a transformation that would floor you. With that in mind, he headed to ‘Gallants’. //// The hairstylist was truly annoying, yet he seemed to have magic in his hands. The final reveal shocked Michael also. The confidence he had at Hawthorne seemed to return. He held his head just a little higher as he walked out. He felt everyone’s eyes on him, people stopping to stare at the angelic looking man that strutted down the street. On his way to his next destination, he stopped at the sight of a certain symbol. An inverted cross. His feet had a mind of their own, leading him inside. His scar began to tingle. The congregation turned to stare at the man that had just walked in. They knew. It had to be. The high priestess getting on her knees before him. He could get used to this. //// He reached his final destination for the day. He didn’t usually kill men, but if they got in his way, he didn’t care who he killed. He waited for Kevin to come home. He was going to kill him here. He wasn’t worth the effort of taking him all the way to the murder house. Michael didn’t even give the man a chance to scream. Getting rid of him with a snap of his fingers. //// The murder house watched Michael carefully curate his image the next few months. An entire new wardrobe, his old clothes dumped in the murder house. They watched the elaborate skincare ritual every morning. Carefully peeling away masks and applying serums. How very American Psycho of him. You loved the new look. You made sure everyone in the office new you’d made the right choice. Michael loved the new attention, but he made sure you knew he only had eyes for you. He even planned on offering you a better job in Kineros’ legal team, just so he could keep you close and get you out of the sector you complained about so often. //// A strange thing happened one night. Michael took the camcorder down into the basement with him, setting the lens to record his newest victim. After he was done, he burned the footage onto a disk. What was he up to? //// You were on autopilot as you opened your door. You felt numb. Ms Grace had become another victim to ‘the Alpha’ along with one of your neighbours. You spent the entire day in police interviews, trying to make sense on the situation. As you walked into the house, you stepped on something. A thick envelope, labelled only with your name. You picked it up with shaky hands and opened it. In it was just an unlabelled disc and a sticky note saying ‘love from the Alpha’. It made your blood run cold. This had to be a joke. Some was messing with you; it could be the only explanation. You ran to your DVD player, you had to see what was on the disc, you hoped it was some shitty quality movie ripped from the internet. The video came on, starting in a dark room. The camera turned to a woman tied up, it zoomed in on her face and you immediately recognised her as Ms Grace. Your eyes widened and you felt ill, running to the bathroom to be sick. It was still playing when you came back, changing to a different video. It was dark again but it all seemed so familiar. The camera panned up and you gasped, your hands covering your face. It was a video of you, sleeping in your own home. You no longer felt safe here. You quickly took the disc out and grabbed your essentials, running to your car. As you pulled out your street, you had no idea what turn to take. Turning right would lead to the police station, you could submit the disc and ask for protection. However, they rarely did anything about stalking cases, and the disc had your finger prints all-over it. A left turn would lead to Michael. You felt safe around him and you were sure he could offer you comfort at this time. The beeping behind you made you make your decision. //// You pulled up outside Michael’s house. You rapidly knocked on the door, there was no answer. No light was on in the house. You prayed to whoever that would listen that he didn’t have any other plans for the night. As you lost hope and looked around, your eyes fell to the imposing structure next door. You remembered a conversation where he had said he was restoring the home. A light was on. With a deep breath, you ran up the steps, repeating your previous actions and hoping for a response. A shocked Michael opened the door. You immediately wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his chest and sobbing. You didn’t notice the feral look he had going on. Hair dishevelled and blood-stained clothes. He gently put the knife down and wrapped his arms around you, cooing and shushing you. Telling you to calm down and it would all be okay. He was glad you were wearing a dark colour; you hadn’t noticed the stickiness of his hands and the stain they left. He gently moved you into the house, shutting the door. He used his magic to shut the basement door too. Your face was still buried in his arm as he walked you up the stairs. You should have paid attention to your strange surroundings. The ghosts of the house looked at you with the greatest of pity, wishing they could do something.

He sat you down on the bed, kneeling before you and taking your hands in his. “Hey, look at me. What’s going on?” he asked gently, wiping your eyes. You sniffled and calmed your breathing, trying not to freak out again as you explained the situation to him. “I… I think he’s after me,” you whispered. “Who’s ‘he?” “The Alpha, he’s after me, I know it.” Michael paused, you must have seen the DVD. He had to stop himself from laughing. “Why do you think that hmm?” his thumb stroked your cheek. “Three people I know have died and then I got this DVD in the mail,” you paused, “It… it’s a video of Ms Grace tied up and then one of me sleeping,” you began to cry again. Michael sat on the bed next to you, pulling you in for a hug, you buried your face into him again, taking in his scent and trying to calm down. “You’re the only person I feel safe around,” you mumbled. Michael smiled into your hair. He had you exactly where he wanted. ////

You decided to wash your face after you had calmed down. Wetting a towel with cold water, you placed it on your eyes in an attempt to de-puff them. The ghosts thought this was the perfect opportunity to warn you about your possible doom. Vivienne pulled open the shower curtain behind you. Revealing a bathtub full of ice and another victim placed in it. However, their plan didn’t seem to work. You didn’t even look back at the sound, having walked out the bathroom just in-time. Michael was sitting on the bad, waiting for you. He had changed into more casual clothing and was rolling a joint. “It might help you calm down,” he smiled up at you, twisting the end off. You sat back on the bed and joined him, relaxing into the headboard. The conversation was casual and mundane, something you really needed right now. Between the sound of his voice and the passing of the joint, you had no idea how much time had passed. All you knew at this moment was that you wanted to be as close to him as possible. Hands began to wander, and your lips met for a heated kiss, you ended up straddling him. You let yourself be lost in the haze, not knowing exactly when your clothes came off, just that you enjoyed the feel of his skin on yours. You lifted your hips, moving to finally having him inside you, to be as close as you could be. You waited a little, resting your forehead on his shoulder as you got used to his size and took it all in. The feeling of his hands rubbing up and down your spine was blissful. His hands finally rested on your hips, gripping them and encouraging you to finally move. You complied, taking your time. You moved away from his shoulder. He took the opportunity to leave marks all over your breasts. It just felt so good. You could feel that you wouldn’t last much longer, your movements becoming sloppier. Michael rested his hand on your throat, his face morphed into something a lot more vicious than you were used to. It must have rang some alarm bells, but you weren’t listening. His grip on your neck tightened, and his hips began to thrust up, meeting your movements. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as his grip tightened once more, causing the coil in your belly to snap. Your legs shook, walls pulsing around him as he followed not long after. He pulled you into a deep kiss by your neck, slowly moving you off him and onto the bed. You lay there catching your breath, staring into his eyes. Just for that brief moment, nothing else mattered, forgetting about the serial killer that was on the hunt somewhere. You got closer to him and got comfortable, your head resting on his chest, being lulled by his heartbeat. “I was thinking,” he started. “Hmm?” you mumbled back, enjoying the vibration of his speech. “Maybe you should take a break from work for a while and stay with me for a bit, just until things calm down,” he suggested. At that moment in time, the combined high of weed and sex made it seem like a genius idea. Surely it was the most obvious solution? “Yeah it’s a good idea,” you yawned. The exhaustion caught up to you, your heavy eyes falling shut. Michael squeezed you just a little tighter and smirked up at the residents that had surrounded you. Their looks of pity towards you were something else. Michael buried his face into your hair, turning off the lights around him. It was the most blissful sleep he had had in years.

////

You woke up sometime the next afternoon. Michael was nowhere to be seen. After using (the now empty) bathroom, you ventured through the house. It looked different. It looked complete in a way. The tarp, random cans of paint and building materials that you were sure where there last night, were gone. It was as if it had been transformed overnight. The strangest thing was how familiar the décor and interior looked. It looked like a bigger version of your own home. It felt familiar yet uncomfortably so. Quite frankly, it looked like your dream home, styled as if it was going to featured in Architectural Digest. You knew it didn’t look like this last night, nothing close to it. Then you thought back to the wardrobe upstairs, the one you had sleepily pulled your current clothing out of. It was full of your own clothing. Clothing that you didn’t bring with you. Did Michael do this while you were asleep? When did he get the time? You scoured the house for your car keys and purse. Only finding pieces of familiar décor instead. Your stomach got the better of you, heading to the kitchen and hopefully finding something to eat. The pantry was stocked full of your favourites, pulling out a box of your favourite cereal. It was at this moment you were sure that all the pieces were taken from your home. One of the cereal bowls had the same chip that yours had. The nervousness and paranoia of last night began to seep back into you, your face visibly twisted in those emotions. As you mindlessly ate your cereal, the basement door creaked open. You stopped mid chew to look. You quickly swallowed and slowly walked towards it. Telling yourself that there was nothing to fear, and that you were just going to shut it. You heard a thud as you reached the door. Maybe Michael was down there and needed some help or something. You slowly walked down the steps, being careful not to make any noise. Your hand covered your mouth to stop your scream and prevent you from vomiting from the smell. The image forever burned into your memory. There was blood everywhere. Michael had his back turned to you, you were sure he hadn’t sensed your presence yet. You slowly backed away, trying to be quiet and not alert him. You let out a shaky breath when you were back in the hallway. You didn’t care about finding your things now, you had to get out of here. The front door wouldn’t budge open, the backdoor was no different. None of the window’s downstairs would open either. You then remember one of the windows was cracked open in the room you were sleeping in. You may injure yourself, but it looked like your only way out. You pushed the window up even further, making enough room for you to jump out. You hoisted one leg over the ledge, looking out for your landing spot. You prepared yourself to move the other leg, but it wouldn’t budge. You tugged at it a few times before looking back. Those blue, rage filled eyes were staring back at you, holding your leg, and preventing you from getting out. “Get. Back. In.,” he said, through clenched teeth. You shook your head, looking away from him. You didn’t want to think about who’s blood he was covered in. “Please let me go,” you whispered, hoping he’d take mercy on you somehow. His grip just got tighter. You mustered up all your strength, kicking him off you. He let go of your leg, it gave you enough time to jump. You felt the wind rush around you as you fell. You hit the ground a lot harder than you thought. Your head ricocheted off the ground painfully. You ignored the crunch your legs made. Everything hurt so bad, the pain wouldn’t even let you scream. You knew you had calculated your fall right. The ghosts thought you did too, all watching with various shocked expressions. You tried to move and look around you and stay awake. You could only look up. Through your darkening vision, the last thing you saw was Michael leaning out the window, smiling down at you. The cat had caught the canary.

////

You groaned in pain as you opened your eyes.

The light was blinding, difficult to adjust to.

Where were you? Why were you here? How long had it been?

As you looked around, the room looked familiar, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“Oh? You’re finally awake, It’s been a few days, I missed seeing your eyes” a male voice spoke from beside you.

You slowly turned your head to the voice.

The man looked familiar; you raked your brain to figure out who it was.

He placed his hand on your cheek, you hissed and flinched as he stroked scabby and bruised skin. “Look at you. If you had stayed inside, we wouldn’t be here now, would we?”

His eyes finally met yours and everything came rushing back.

A feeling of dread overtook you. You tried to shuffle away from him, but something was preventing you from moving.

You tried to figure out what it was. Looking yourself over, noticing the blanket was bulky.

You momentarily forgot about the predator in the room, pulling the blanket away and revealing your legs, both in casts.

One of the casts had been signed, ‘get well soon, Love, your Alpha’.

You wanted to sob, but you knew any sudden movements would be painful.

Michael rolled his eyes and pulled the blanket back over you, tucking you in.

“If you’re good, you’ll get your painkillers. If you’re bad…,” he leaned over you, putting his weight on your legs, “I’ll cut them off next time,” he grinned.

He got onto the other side of the bed, holding you close to him, squeezing you just a little too tight, and giving your forehead a kiss.

Not even the apocalypse could get you out of his grasp now, he’d kill you both before anything tried to take you from him. Wherever you were, that was his sanctuary. Even if it meant eternal torment in the pits of hell, it didn’t matter, as long as it was with you.

[penguintransporter]

Every You, Every Me (a Leon Goretzka story) chapter II

I know it’s been a while, but I re-wrote this part maybe seven, eight times, only to settle on something completely different. Hope you like it, and I apologise if it is a bit too long (you know me). Tell me what you think about it, every heart, message, and reblog means much more than you can imagine. It needs some editing, but I will get around to do it sometime later. 

Part I

Sofie rested her hands on her waist, overlooking the mountain of clothes piled on her bed — different shapes, colours, patterns and prints, interlacing and weaving in an incomprehensible bundle on top of her comforter. She didn’t know where to start, and for a moment, she wished she could wipe it away with a snap of her fingers, and be over with it.

She was tired after having a sleepless night, and she was hungry, but she had been putting it off for too long, and she knew it had to be done. 

Shaking her head a bit, Sofie picked up a pair of black, over-the-knee boots from the top of the pile — the soft leather feeling smooth against the skin of her fingertips. She remembered the day when she bought them, matching them with a strappy top and a mid-calf, satin skirt — cashing out the last cents of her scholarship money in the outfit, hoping to catch his eye.  

The confidence she felt when she made her way through the crowd in the outfit she couldn’t afford and with her makeup and hair immaculately done, trying to fit in with the people he invited to his birthday party — it all felt ridiculous and a bit childish in retrospective. The glances they shared across the room, the smile on his face when he opened the present she got him, the random touch of his fingertips against her bare back when he guided her to the bar, and the clearest of them all, the bitter taste in her mouth when he left with Yvonne — the girl he ended up dating for the next six months. 

As she watched his figure walk out with his strong arm around the pretty blonde in luxurious dress, Sofie knew that the best thing would be to just give up, as any sane person in her place would, but she just couldn’t bring herself to listen to her brain. Instead, she booked a hairdresser the next morning, dyeing her hair in lighter colour and waited for him to notice it, feeding on the crumbs of his attention and sticking to it like a moth to the flame. 

Yet, she was blind, diving deep into the pit of unrequited love, shedding the layers of her real self along the way, not thinking about consequences or the future.

Sofie breathed out a sigh before lifting up a dress from her bed — short and covered in sequins, and she couldn’t help but narrow her eyes at the mere thought of owning it, let alone wearing it. There was nothing wrong with the dress itself, but the cut, length and style of it, it was all, but something she felt comfortable wearing. Folding it gingerly, she glanced back at the clothes in front of her — realisation of how much she had changed herself for Leon hitting her like a train. 

Sofie knew better than that.

Sofie was about to throw the dress behind her, in the same pile with her overpriced boots when her phone buzzed loudly on her dresser, startling her. Dropping it back on the pile, Sofie made her way towards the device that was hidden among one too many notebooks and course books resting on the IKEA piece before picking it up and smiling at the name written across the screen. 

“You actually did it!” Elle screamed from the other side of the line causing the other girl to twist her lips and move her phone away from her ear for a second. If there was one distinctive separating the two of them, it was the different levels of their loudness at any given moment. “Turn the fucking camera on, and let me see it!” her best friend demanded — her voice still too loud for Sofie’s or anyone's comfort. 

“Language,” Sofie laughed, fumbling with her phone, “you are not on the pitch, Ellenore.” Sofie finally turned on the front camera, pulling a face at Elle as her friend squealed with happiness upon seeing her hair, or rather lack of it. “I guess you like it then,” Sofie muttered, patting the top of her head, feeling slightly embarrassed with the attention she was getting. 

“I love it,” Elle breathed out. “I was worried at first when you texted, but you have one sexy head, Sofie. How does it feel? Naked?”

“Light and cold,” Sofie responded with a shake of her head, “almost had a heart attack when I woke up yesterday morning and saw myself in the mirror.”

Elle laughed softly, adjusting her large bag across her shoulders as she walked along the small street that led to her apartment block - the red jacket with the Bayern Munich logo zipped all the way to her chin. 

“What’s the mess about?” Elle changed the topic, making Sofie turn her head away to look at the clothes and shoes strewn across her bed. 

“I’ve been—” Sofie paused to make herself some space before sitting down at the foot of her bed, “decluttering. Or something like that.”

Elle’s face dropped for a second, but she quickly masked it with a supporting grin that Sofie more than appreciated. If anyone knew about the heartbreak and the identity crisis that Sofie was going through, it was Elle. 

“Are you getting rid of everything?” Elle asked. “Will you sell it or give away?”

“I don’t know what to do with it yet, but I know that it has to go,” Sofie admitted. She felt the tears glaze her vision, but she quickly gave Elle a small smile, trying to stop herself from being too pathetic. “I’ve made such a mess out of my life, Elle,” she paused, giving herself a moment to bite back her tears, “I could have travelled half of the world with the money I spent on frills and sequins, and I hate frills and sequins.”

“I think you are being too hard on yourself, Sofie,” Elle said as Sofie stretched her legs in front of her, “and travelling half of the world is more expensive than you think. Unless you are someone who is comfortable wearing the same harem pants and baja hoodie for more than two and showering once a week,” she added with an innocent smile, and Sofie couldn’t help but smile back at her.

“I am just disappointed that I let myself go this far,” Sofie admitted, focusing on the slippers on her feet - soft material worn out and discoloured. “Plenty fish in the sea, and I was pulling on the biggest catch. How silly of me.”

Elle was quiet as Sofie got up, making her way out of the room and towards the kitchen, closing the doors behind her. One thing was keeping herself busy with it, and completely different to stare at it and do nothing.

“Did you talk to him? Or Serge? They are back from Trentino, or at least that’s what I’ve heard from the girls at the training.” Elle stopped to unlock her apartment doors. 

Despite seeing that Elle was concentrating on twisting the locks, Sofie nodded, pouring some of the juice from the container into her glass. “I had a missed call from Leon on Tuesday,” she took a small sip of her drink, relishing the coolness trickling down her throat, “and I called back. I know I shouldn’t have,” Sofie whispered, rubbing at her eye with her free hand, placing her glass at the edge of the sink, “but he didn’t mention anything about coming back early. Then again, I didn’t ask either, maybe I should have. And why am I being so pathetic, it's not like we had something going on? It was me running after him...”

“Sofie,” Elle sighed quietly — her voice careful, “I know it’s not easy to deal with the heartbreak, and you shouldn’t keep it inside. I am here, you know that?”

Sofie nodded, trying to ignore the feeling of emptiness in her stomach despite the juice. “Yeah,” she answered slowly, “but, I hav—” Sofie stopped, running her hand across the top of her head, finding comfort in the simple action of touching it. “How was your training session?” she asked, changing the subject clumsily as the doorbell rang out throughout her apartment. Sofie’s stomach grumbled at the mere thought of eating lunch soon.

“Did you order food?” Elle smirked, “sushi? Noodles?”

“Indian actually,” Sofie replied, walking towards the doors through the small hallway before unlocking the massive doors, only to stop in her tracks — the smile she had prepared for the delivery person faltering as quickly as it appeared.

**

“You know, Serge,” Sofie grinned as she twirled the last remaining of her already cold tea in her cup, “staring at me won’t make it grow back any faster,” she spoke, downing the leftovers of her drink while grinning at her friend over the lip of her mug. He only laughed in response, and Sofie rolled her eyes playfully before glancing briefly at Leon.

Ever since Sofie welcomed them in her apartment, Leon had been acting strange, quietly sitting at the edge of her couch — leg bouncing as he glanced at his phone every few seconds. He wasn’t as talkative as Serge most of the time, but having him say only few words was not a common thing. Sofie felt that there was something on his mind, and that he was going through something, but she didn't know how to approach him without being too noisy.

“I wasn’t staring at all,” Serge replied, still grinning, “and if I did, it’s because it looks really good.”

“Do girls drop their panties for you all the time, Gnabry?” Sofie asked, sarcastically. “Your charm is amazing.”

“I am being honest here,” Serge clarified, trying to contain his laughter, “it does look good. Right?” he admitted, looking towards Leon, but his friend ignored him — eyes still trained on the shiny device. Serge smiled in disbelief, glancing at Sofie with a goofy face before leaning closer to his friend and teammate, nudging him with his knee, “Leon? I am talking to you. Are you even here?”

“Hmm? What?” Leon suddenly asked, looking up from his phone, startled at the sound and motion coming from his left. “Did you say something?”

“Sofie’s new haircut. It looks good, no?” Serge repeated, much slower, stretching out every syllable for the confused German. 

“Yeah,” Leon started, giving Sofie a long stare which made her heartbeat accelerate, “yeah, it does,” he repeated somewhat quieter, glancing at his phone again for a millisecond. “Can I make some fresh coffee, Sofie? I feel like some coffee?” he asked suddenly— eyes never leaving hers, and for some reason Sofie felt scrutinized under his gaze.  

Sofie was a bit confused with the urgency in his voice, but nodded quickly, watching him get up and straighten his dark jeans in a hurry and putting his phone in the back pocket. He gave her a small smile in response before moving around the coffee table and walking out of the room, not looking back when Serge commented something that Sofie didn’t catch. There was a strange feeling inside of her stomach as she watched him walk out, before she leaned forward in her seat, giving Serge a quizzical look on which he only shrugged with his shoulders. 

“I’ll go and check,” she whispered, getting up as well, and quickly following Leon into the kitchen. 

He was resting his large hands against the counter, watching Sofie’s cheap coffee machine drip the liquid in the large container. In the small space of her kitchen, crammed with the table, uncomfortable chairs, and way too many plants and random knick-knacks, Leon’s physique was overwhelming. Sofie stood in the doorway, quietly observing him, and nervously bringing her hands together, unwilling to speak out and ruin his peace. 

“You’ve been really quiet,” she finally said, moving away from the doorway and stepping inside the room and beside him. She wasn’t the shortest girl out there, but he was still towering over her, especially now that she was only wearing her slippers. 

Leon briefly glanced at her — his eyes moving from her eyes to her hair, and down to her lips for a split of a second before looking back at the coffee machine again, making her heart soar. Up close, she could see the fine smile lines around his eyes and lips. He was beautiful.

“I didn’t sleep well,” he answered quietly, rubbing at the stubble along his chin, “didn’t help that Serge chatted my ear off on our flight back to Munich either. He sat with Hummels, but he shooed him over to my seat,” he added, giving her a small, one-sided grin.

Sofie smiled as well, turning around and leaning against the sink — the aluminium chilling her back through her worn-out tee. “He’s got enough energy for the entire squad, no?” 

“Indeed he does.”

There was a moment of silence between the two of them, and the only sound was the coffee machine loudly filtering the bitter liquid in the scratched pot. Sofie took a deep breath as she stared in front of herself, focusing on the rotting banana in her fruit basket on the dining table, and before she could stop herself, the words that she was supposed to suppress and keep inside, left her mouth. 

“If you want, you can stay and take a nap on the sofa as usual,” she suggested, and almost instantly regretted it. She had created a list of unwritten rules that were supposed to help her get over Leon, and offering him couch to nap on was not one of them.

“Thanks, but I think I will head out whenever Serge makes a move,” Leon quickly answered, and Sofie felt a pinch at her heart. “You seem busy too.”

“As you wish,” she nodded, moving away from the sink as she watched him pour himself a large cup of coffee, dropping a cube of brown sugar in it before taking a small sip. “You sure you’re okay, Leon?” she asked again. 

“Yeah, all is fine, don’t worry,” he smiled, giving her another long stare, and under his gaze she yet felt naked and exposed. “Shall we go out for dinner tomorrow evening? Would be nice to catch up. It’s been a while,” Leon asked as she was about to walk out of her kitchen and back to where Serge was sitting, but stopped in her tracks upon hearing Leon’s voice behind her.

Sofie took a hesitant breath — her heart starting to beat faster in her chest, but she still managed to smile when she turned around, giving him a small nod. “Sure. Sounds like a plan.”

Wrong answer, Sofie.

Wrong answer. 

tags: 

@footballerimaginess, @littlebitofbluelittlebitofcoffee, @jordanspetkovics, @disneydaddyevans​

If there is someone I forgot to tag, please let me know. 

[lillian-nator]

Wallflower AU (aka highschool au made w/ @bellfort3)

V i b e s - hanging on the roof; walking across train tracks; skipping school; Lakes, yes, something with lakes; something with different types of sodas. - My angsty teens are gonna have painted nails - Tommy bleaches his hair; Wilbur dyes his hair black - dramatic fuck. - Wilbur in eyeliner plz - Wilbur wears doc martens; black, yellow, maroon, silver shiny - Tommy's worn the same exact jean jacket for the past 5 years; it's 2 sizes bigger than he is; but he wears it every single day; it has fur on the inside; and its light washed with tears; the tears didn’t come like it; he's just ripped it over the years - He doesn't wash it very often, but he's glued patches on it, and Wilbur's drawn on it in sharpie. He just layers hoodies or flannels under it when it’s cold, but still wears it when it's hot - Tommy's also worn the same shoes for YEARS, they’re duct taped together at this point, they're white converse, they're not white anymore, and he's bleach-washed them SO many times that they permanently smell like chemicals. - The laces are frayed, so bad that he doesn’t even wear the laces most days. - Tommy doesn't shy from going in mud or water though, he'll wear the shoes to their fullest and then some. - I think you can tell by now, that Tommy just doesn’t come from a lot of money. - They live in a kind of run down town, very poor, old, smallish. - Wilbur is middle class, which is very well off in the area he lives in. - Wilbur gives off family disappointment vibes. Where he has to sneak out at night, Tommy can leave through his front door. - Wilbur calls Tommy “sunshine”, but very sarcastically since Tommy is a dick :) - Tommy has one of Wilbur's old beanies; it's black and monster branded, the monster logo is green - Wilbur gave it to Tommy 3 years ago, and Tommy never gave it back - btw Tommy's 17 and Wilbur's 19: Tommy's a junior and Wilbur's a senior - Wilbur only drinks Green Apple Monster - Tommy drinks sugar free redbull, but mostly only when Wilbur buys it for him, because Tommy usually doesn't have pocket change - Wilbur and Tommy bring speakers to the train tracks and dance and by that, its them jumping around and occasionally pushing someone over - Tommy uses his allowance to buy cigarettes; Wilbur vapes - both mentally ill - Wilbur is essentially the modern emo. He has this one yellow and black flannel that's oversized, and he wears it multiple times a week - it’s a problem.

- Dream, Wilbur, Karl, Tommy, Big Q, SapNap, Punz, and Tubbo - That’s the group. - I have just been talking about Tommy and Wilbur but they are the main characters so you can suck it. - A scene with Dream, Wilbur, Karl, Tommy, Big Q, SapNap, Punz, and Tubbo, at a lake, throwing each other in, and Tommy gets his shoes soaked, but he saves his jacket from the fall. Water gun fights, and they drink energy drinks and eat chips. they lay in the grass and contemplate life, Talk abt life yes. Abt existence. Abt how shit it is. Half of them have to wake up early and sneak home, the other half get to stay as long as they like. - Tommy tucks his t-shirts into his pants, which are always very baggy black jeans with just gigantic holes. - Tommy and Dream both have ADHD, however, Tommy's meds are purely from welfare, he cannot afford to give any out. Dream however? From an upper-middleclass family. Basically millionaires in this town. He can afford to lose some of his meds. - He yells in the clearing "COME GET YOUR DRUGS CHILDREN" - Besides, I've learned that there are like so many different ADHD meds, and maybe Tommy is just on something a lot stronger than adderall. He can't partake in the pill popping, but he doesn't mind. He does it every morning. - They don't do it often, maybe once a month, depends on how big Dream's prescription is - not that he regularly takes them like a good boy should - And I won't ever write this, but Gogy hangs out with them every so often, in which Gogy and Wilbur have an on and off again hooking up type relationship - whenever they hang out, Gogy like sits and Wilbur's lap and shit - Tommy and Punz GAG - "EW the fuck - get your hands off eachother. ITS GROSS - NO PDA IN MY BACKYARD"

- They hang out in an abandoned Building. But they don't try to fix it up. They're not fucking VSCO girls. They just want somewhere to hang out - If anything they make it worse - they fucking trash the place - It’s not intentional though - It’s like they can have fun without worrying abt the mess - just, sometimes they spill hawiian punch mixed with vodka everywhere - THEY GHOST HUNT AND OUIJA BOARD AND SHIT - They hang out in cemeteries too. they play manhunt in a cemetery, but like the regular version- like just hide and go seek in the dark. - they've done seances even though almost all of them are atheists - anyways the point of the fact is, is that half of them (excluding the minors you know) I'm looking at you Karl and Q - somethings going on between you two have made out with guys, and I'm not gonna sugar coat it, most modern like takes on religion do not take kindly to that

- they go to prom - and Dream somehow ends up with a ton of weed, because he had just turned old enough, and had the money - and they get fucking high OUT of their minds, like they're never doing it again - like, George and Wilbur definitely hooked up at Wilbur's house, which they aren't supposed to do - because Wilbur's parents will fucking flip that Wilbur is sleeping with a random person. No one is quite sure where SapNap ended up, and Tommy lost one of his shoes. In a panic, they spent the next 3 hours looking for it to find it at the lake by the school - Tommy fucking cradles it to his chest. -  (are wilburs parents homophobic?) (yes maybe a little side of homophobia) (Is wilbur bisexual or gay?) (he is ‘whoever the fuck looks bangable’) (fair enough) (he is ‘gogy my king’) (TRUUUE) - the bleachers - they hang out under the bleachers

- Gogy = Stylish stoner - very popular, but never not high - Karl is like the goody two-shoes of the group, doesn't skip class, and is on the principals list, however, he will NEVER back down from space brownies - its his weakness - Tubbo has a subway pass, and they do that thing where Tubbo swipes it and everyone fucking bolts into the subway, and they take all the trains at like 4am and just hang from the bars and shit - Wilbur still dresses relatively like, nicely and scholarly, which puts everyone off. He wears very loose sweaters with button-ups underneath. with khakis or black jeans and his docs - where his best friend, our Tommy, wears borderline yellow converse, and one bleached two-sizes-too-large jean jacket, and some second-hand-store hoodies, that are always a bit too worn in, but so, incredibly Tommy - Tommy who legit hasn't brushed his hair in years, not with a brush anyways - too frantic to brush his teeth most mornings. but always chewing gum; Tommy's always everywhere at once - ADHD meds only half-working on him, they couldn't afford the good shit - He'll never quite understand Dream handing out his adderall for free, Tommy would kill for the hard shit, but hey, he's never gonna stop his friends from having a good time

- Let's talk about Karl Jacobs - good ole' goody two shoes Jacobs - all of his teachers are constantly trying to get him to stop hanging out with Tommy and gang - every parent teacher conference is "we love your boy, but we are concerned about his friends" - Teachers have meetings with him, about how the people you surround yourself with can change your future - Karl's like, from the good side of town, plays first in the drumline, plays violin on the side, straight a's, clean-white-air-force-ones type of guy. Name brand clothes. Combed hair - Packed lunch every day from his mom; gets dropped off by his mom, kisses her goodbye; Mom is like very involved in school too - PTA parent - it's fucking good kid Jacobs - and he's sneaking off with fucking potheads to go to college parties and abandoned buildings - Does he do drugs? Well, he’s a big fan of treats if you know what I mean :wink wink: - ….you ever see Ted's video about a 500mg edible …. yeah. - big fan of gummy bears and brownies - Karl shows up to Parties and there are shouts of "Fuckin' goody-two-shoes Jacobs is HERE" - a lot of people make fun of him and think they can push him around - He seems like a softie; welcome mat type beat - but fucking watch this man chug 5 cups of whatever you give him, and then still win beer pong - Like his best friend is fucking quackity, he can do the hard shit - its very much a his parents have no clue who he actually is type beat - Look, his parents have no clue where he is ever - And if they even know he’s out, they don’t know where or with who - If his mom is at all involved in the school, she'll hear about Quackity, basically a drug dealer with how much hash weed he hands out on a daily basis. - Tommy has to be contained in order for the school to run smoothly, and Wilbur is a dramatic fuck that sleeps through most of his classes - Tommy has to take frequent breaks - They make him spend 3rd period in the principles office - Like he obviously needs help but he can’t afford it at all. Even the school can’t do anything for him bc he can’t get anything official for himself - like he can't even try to concentrate - He gave up so quickly in high school, bc they don’t have enough time or staff to help him - he tried in middle school - but man, did he give up in highschool - Yeah. He knows it is hopeless. Can't even afford college anyway. he'll just do whatever Wilbur does - here's an idea: Fucking Karl Jacobs showing up to school one morning just absolutely hammered out of his mind - Karl just showing up to first period AP Physics, and he's barely awake, honestly smells so much like weed and booze, and if he breathed anywhere near you, you could just feel the alcohol radiating from his breath - He's extra bubbly, laughs at everything - takes out his notebook to take some sort of notes, and just fucking giggles at the shapes and equations. He is very spacy, he clearly stayed up all night doing something very illegal; he gets up and jumps around. 2nd period band? oh boy - He gets sick at lunch bet - Like everyone got Drunk but Karl got FUCKED up - It was his birthday, bet - He took like 17 shots over the course of like 8 - 12ish hours, and I looked it up, despite karl being super scrawny and probably like 140 - 150ish pounds - which isn't a lot for being 5'11 - will not kill him - BECAUSE, you guessed it, he turned 17 - He didn't sleep, he was awake taking shots and just fucking who knows what until 6am when they stumbled to school - at lunch, 11:30 in the morning - he's head down on the table, miserable - he doesn't have a hangover yet, because it's only been a few hours, but man, is he nauseous - just the smell of food makes his stomach churn - and the thing about fucking Jacobs showing up drunk as hell - is that at least one of his teachers has called his mom about it - SHES PRESIDENT OF THE PTA FOR FUCKS SAKE, ONE OF THEM KNOWS HER - And the teachers aren't stupid, Karl is so obviously drunk - generally Karl is pretty quiet in class; but now he has no distinction between hanging with hs friends and being in class - he's shouting and cracking jokes and is very tempted to kick his chair over - Anyways, Karl fucks himself over, end of story  - ONTO PUNZ’S RELGIEOUS TRAUMA WOOOOOOOOOOOO - It's Punz - fuckin' golden boy Punz; he plays football; and goes to church; and calls his mother "momma"; wears a nice church outfit; and is polite to the bible study mothers that come over on tuesday nights and gets them drinks - just a fuckin' golden boy - A religious family. Go to church every Sunday. Sunday school. Holidays. But. The kid just realizes that they don’t believe in god. Them telling the group like they’re high and he’s like “you know? Some of the shit that’s happened to us proves to me that god rlly isn’t real.” - and Punz like prays every day for Tommy's dad to get his job back; or for Gogy to get better parents; or for Karl to live the life he wants; and NOTHING EVER WORKS. THEY'RE ALL STILL FUCKED. - by the way we will get the the Tommy's dad losing his job later - But Punz's life is controlled by something he doesn't even believe in anymore - because he's still going to the like church breakfasts, and christmas service, and every sunday morning, and helping his mom's ladies bible study, and his parents are talking about sending him to a youth bible camp - - and he doesn't even think he believes in god anymore. - Punz kind of took out his own personal, religious, and family struggles out the way most teenage boys do. Drinking, and lots of sex. - SO I just imagined this like, really dramatic moment, where its the morning after Punz had a one night stand at some sort of party down the street, and he's long past saving his virginity for his wife, but he's buying her the morning after pill, which his church is just so against, and he has like the moment of, "if you do this, you're done." and he does it - he's had a couple of those moments, like, when he first had sex, and when he first smoked weed, or popped a pill, or snuck out at night, or skipped church - but that was the moment of "there is no going back" - like any type of drug or procedure that aborts an embryo, or that blocks fertilization thats already in process in like: the biggest no no in his church community - so once he stepped out of that drug store, he kind of took a breath, and just came to terms with it - "I'm an atheist." - Punz is the pastors son. - he's like, pre-commited to a catholic college - he’s in deep. - so when he first announces it to his friends, one really late night, "I think god might not be my thing." - they just start whistling and say "FINALLY, THE PASTORS SON HAS TURNED AROUND." - Dream just like turns over to him "how many chicks did you fuck to make you realize that?" - Tommy just slings his arm over Punz, "I'm glad you've quit the Jesus shit, Punz. Your better than it." - There’s gotta be this girl ok. He rlly rlly wants to have sex with her but he always backs out. The thing that breaks him. Is that he gets drunk and loses his virginity to someone who is not that girl - like, he likes this girl, and has a good connection with her, and she likes him, and he knows that its gonna be comepletly consentual, and she's like fucking beautiful right? - and she's the one he wants to loose it to and he's a stupid fucking idiot and loses it to some fucking random ass chick that doesn't even go to their school - This triggers a spiral. After that? He slowly starts giving less of a fuck abt everything. He fucked up the one thing you can’t do over and god he’s so painfully aware of it and so painfully aware that he didn’t even fuck up right. - You’re supposed to wait till marriage. Nope. You’re supposed to do it with someone you love and trust. Double nope. He. Fucked. Up. - its just like he wanted to do something bad. he wanted to fuck something up. he was questioning his faith, his like, great and sturdy and always-there faith for the first time, and what better way to test faith than to do something shitty and see what comes of it. and so he was planning and planning and planning how he was gonna do this terrible thing - which is such a good kid thing to do, to put so much thought into your own rebellion - but he wanted this to go perfectly. - Little Pastors Son, Punz, wasn't gonna wait till marriage. - He was gonna have sex with the girl of his dreams before they were even dating - but man did he like her. Did he want her. - And then he fucked some random girl when he was black out drunk. He's fucked everything up - he can't wash this away with confession - he's tainted. He's dirty. - He looks in the mirror and doesn't recognize the heathen staring back. - He hates who he's become. - But he never goes back - he can't. He's dirty. He's wrong. - but the more he goes down the spiral - the more he realizes that one mistake shouldn't have made him feel like that - that if god was real, which he honestly wasn't sure in that department, he wouldn't want Punz to feel like the scum of the earth for doing something wrong. especially when he felt so bad after he did it. This system was fucked. He didn't want to be apart of another cycle - and he's just lying to himself every time he goes to church, and reads a cerse for his mom, and meets with younger kids at the church, and plays flag football with fucking church virgins who are good catholics and follow all their mommas orders - And every night when he says grace he means it less and less. he always does it when his momma asks, but boy does the lords word mean shit to him anymore From Ethan: - A turning point to the others in Punz's breakaway from Catholicism is like - He prays before he eats, usually. Sometimes they wait for him to finish his prayer before eating themselves, just out of politeness. He's a friend, he gets that shred of etiquette - And then one day he just doesn't. They got some fast food for a whole group dinner out at their hangout spot (a warehouse, did you say??) Tommy is staring at it intently but he waits for Punz to pray. Tubbo's already started eating but the rest wait - And Punz just starts eating - Dream nudges him, "No prayer, Pastor's boy?" - "No prayer," Punz mumbles into his food. "I'm trying something new." SO, TOMMYS DAD LOSING HIS JOB ARC W000000000 - it starts with Tommy showing up in a different jacket one day - like you have to understand, he's worn this jean jacket every single day for as long as WIlbur has known him, which is like 6 years - Like Tommy shows up in this giant, khaki work-jacket and it's his dads... - HIS DAD DIDNT DIE - his dad lost his job, which is essentially death to a family who already couldn't sustain themselves - and Tommy shows up to school, face pale and cheeks sunk in and there are visible bags under his eyes - and Wilbur just rushes over immediately and hugs him so tight to his chest - and Tommy just sobs, "pops lost his job -" gasp "I can't - we can't pay the bills this month. everything - its all falling apart Will." - "Hey - hey. Stop. It's gonna be fine. You're gonna be okay. You always are dude." - Tommy does have to get a job - and he probably does drop out of school unofficially, like he just stops going. - he sleeps during the morning classes, and heads into work at 10am - he's a carpenters assistant. it pays well as they need young, able men. but most of the younger citizens in the town go to school - he has to take the day shift because the day shift pays better - he doesn't mind it, he doesn't - it gives him the opportunity to get all of his energy out; but he misses going to school. as much as he hated it, he misses his friends. - and lets be honest, its hard as fuck for his dad to find a new job, he doesn't have a great resume - he didn't graduate from highschool. and he isn;t in top health condition, he definitely doesn't have health insurance - so Tommys stuck with this job for a long time - his dad uses his last paycheck to buy Tommy workboots so tommy feels in debt to him - He’ll get his GED eventually. - I think - The like religious status of the rest of the group brought to you by me - Everyone who I don’t mention is just a hard atheist - Karl and Wilbur are catholic, but to a lesser extent, Wilbur doesn't really go through with lent, and Karl only sometimes does. They go to a different church and go pretty much on holidays only, a sunday a month maybe. - SapNap goes to Punz's church, they've been friends for years. - He goes to sunday school but misses a lot of sermons because of his siblings sports games. - He is involved, but not to the way Punz is - SapNap's mother is in fact in Punz's moms bible group - Punz sometimes doesnt attend the bible group and Sap's mother is all "now you tell that pastor's boy to actually attend next time, got it?" and Sapnap dies a little on the inside - And George is an orthodox christian, but he's pretty much quit due to the blatant homophobia he's seen at his church. 

AND NOW ON WILBUR SOOT AND KARL JACOBS AND BARKING - Wilbur has siblings, fun fact - that we will never talk about or address - but definitely nothing like Wilbur, more the Karl Jacobs type - Wilbur is the oldest. he's always lectured about being 'a good influence on your brother and sister.' - They’re big sports kids. Softball and Basketball (tall genes). Straight Bs; Bed by 10pm; Have never missed school - Parents pride and joy :) - Just good suburban kids, Have friends next door, help the neighbors, attend the cul-de-sac barbecues. - Basically who Wilbur used to be up until highschool (until Wilbur met weed and a good group of stoners) - Sure he was a disappointment and he had no clue what to do with his life - But he was happier - Never really liked being the goody- two-shoes boy next door, he doesn't know how karl does it “Playing good boy like a dog” - Also he used dog terms around Karl - Because he’s “Playing good boy like a dog” - He’ll throw Karl a beer and smile “go fetch” - He laughs so hard when he sees Karl be good in a class or play it up for his parents; Because Wilbur’s so past trying - Wilbur will walk by and just bark at karl. Bet. Just Growls lowly; Walks in a  circle; Anything to make Karl’s parents (or Wilbur’s own) stare at him and scurry away - Karl’s parents push Karl forward and like hold their younger kids close to their chest, whispering “keep close, don’t look at him” - They tell Karl to stay away from kids like him. - And boy do Wilbur’s pa#rents hate it, They push him along and whisper yell at him As he throws his head back and cackles - I mean imagine, like a stereotypical middle class suburban family: House wife, blue collared father, Two kids; in sports jerseys, Girl in braids, boy in khakis - And then there’s Wilbur: Doc Martins, black jeans, collar and sweater, beanie. Definitely high on something - Chains LOTS OF CHAINS - And he's Barking. Fucking Barking At the nice family down the street - And then he takes out his vape right in front of his parents and silently offers Karl a hit with a smirk - Cause Karl’s too busy playing good boy - And as Karl’s family looks back, as Wilbur is corralled by his mom - He flips them off with the biggest smirk uou will ever see - Wilbur's kind of an ass - And Karl really wants a hit of that vape.

[nohoney]

I Just Want It To Be Us - 1.1

note: Part 1 of the Us series which is originally posted on my ao3 here

Us series masterlist

characters: Dabi/Touya Todoroki, Hawks/Keigo Takami

warnings: 18+, drug use, toxic relationships, cheating, angsty-ish

summary:

That question always rang through your mind every time he comes back smelling like one of his side whores and cash in his pocket. He’s your boyfriend but he’s been doing this since way before he met you, and he wasn’t going to stop just because you’re together. It was a condition that you pretty much forced yourself to accept from the very beginning because well… you really did like Dabi that much.

Dabi knows that it makes you upset but he’s not going to stop for your sake.

You know that he won’t.

1.1 ✧ 1.2  ✧ 1.3

Your mother would be so disappointed if she saw you with your current boyfriend.

“Marry a nice man, honey.”

“When you find someone to settle down with, make sure he’s the one.”

“Don’t flit about from guy to guy, it’s not lady-like.”

All these rules your mother set you up with when it came to finding a boyfriend, you knew it came from a good place in her heart. She was only looking out for you when she told you these things but didn’t she get that dating now was different in this age and time? You’re a free person and you can see however many people you want or you could see no one at all and that was perfectly fine as well.

She has a feeling you’re seeing someone but you haven’t confirmed with her. To be honest, you don’t think you’ll tell her anything about your current boyfriend. It would be for the sake of preserving her little, fragile heart. How horrified would she be if she found out her precious daughter was dating the local drug dealer in her college campus?

He didn’t like being called by his surname and he didn’t seem to like being called by his first name either. The first time he speaks in front of your intro to philosophy class, taking it just to fulfill one of grad requirements, he says to just refer to him as ‘Dabi’. It’s curious to the people who don’t know who he is already but who are they to argue with someone how they should be addressed?

So you call him Dabi.

You called him Dabi the first time you spoke to him in class, asking for notes from the day you missed before in class. You called him Dabi when he found you sitting alone in the library and he kicked your chair to get your attention. You called him Dabi the more you spent time together with him, even past the semester once your one shared class is over and final grades were submitted. You called him Dabi the first time he ever rails you on his cock in the backseat on his car.

You almost forget sometimes that his real name is Touya.

In his off campus apartment, he sits in a chair in front of the bathroom mirror and you stand behind him with plastic gloves over your hands, helping him dye the roots of his hair black. The dye stinks, you hate the smell of it, but he kind of suckered you into doing it for him this time. He promised that if you’d help him, he’d sit through one of your stupid romantic-comedy movies you’d been dying to watch for a while. But you had to tack on a condition if he was going to give you an incentive.

If Dabi watched a movie with you and wasn’t entertained by it enough, he’d always leave to smoke a joint and come back high just so that he could get through the rest of the film.

“No break of any kind unless it’s a snack or pee break, you understand me?” you tell him as you put the final layer of dye on his roots. “And no doing it before the movie starts! I want you sober when we watch it together.”

“Yeah, yeah doll. You have my word.” Dabi passively waves his hand at you as he looks down at his phone.

Your eyes casually glance down at his phone screen and see that he’s in his messages app.

Wonder if someone is trying to get him as a connect. You think to yourself as you dispose of the plastic gloves and the remaining hair dye. You’re cleaning up the hair dye tools and open the window to air out the awful smell of the dye, all while Dabi sits in his chair and stares at his messaging app. The sounds of incoming messages from his phone tell you that there’s a conversation going on but his fingers don’t move over the keyboard to respond. It’s not your business how he runs his operations.

“How long do I leave the dye on?” he asks as he stands up from the chair, putting his phone on the countertop, and literally rips the shirt off his body from the neckline down the middle. It’s just a regular t-shirt he bought to protect his skin from the dye dripping onto his body dispensable from the very beginning, but he didn’t have to make a show of it. The shirt drops to the floor in a heap and he kicks it off to the side; you are not picking it up for him.

Dabi’s hot, ridiculously hot, that’s the first thing anyone notices about him. Both his ears have multiple piercings and his nose as well sporting three studs on his right nostril. If he’s wearing short sleeves, the first thing anyone will see that his both arms are tattooed all black, save for where they end, at his hands and shoulders it’s detailed to look like his skin is being held together by staples. On any other person it would look ridiculous to you, on Dabi not so much.

He notices you staring and winks at you, but you scoff at him and push past him to exit the bathroom. “You know how long it stays on, you’ve done this plenty of times before by yourself.”

“I like it when you tell me doll.”

Ah Dabi could be so charming when he felt like it.

You roll your eyes at him but peck him on the lips. “Shut up, I’m going to order in some food for dinner today.”

“Wow, ordering in for dinner tonight. Such housewife material (Name).” Dabi pokes fun at you.

“And you’re going to be the perfect husband Dabi.” you tease back.

You’re not certain if Dabi is long-term boyfriend material, you’ve only been dating for about five months. It’s not a long period of time you’ve spent as boyfriend and girlfriend but you’ve had a lot of fun with him. Although you have to admit that part of the fun you were experiencing with Dabi was because of what he’s introduced you to.

Before Dabi, you’d only smoke a little bit of weed every once in a while or take the occasional edible to wind down. You never had your own stash of it, you’d only partake if a friend supplied or if you were at a party. There was no point in having your own selection if you didn’t really partake in it that much. You were okay with smoking from a joint or a bong every once in a while, maybe take an edible if you wanted something a little stronger than smoking flower.

After Dabi you’d indulge in the occasional gram of coke and maybe some ecstasy if you felt like you could afford to take two days off from work for the come down. There were still others you hadn’t given a try yet, like shrooms or 2CB or do a candy flip, but you were slowly working up the nerve to give them a try when you were ready. Dabi offered you a Percocet but god, never again because you were too fucked up the one time you tried it.

You didn’t really think in your life you’d be involved romantically with a drug dealer but honestly it’s not as bad as you thought it would be.

Oh yeah, try explaining that to Mom…

Dab treats you right for the most part, he’s never yelled at you or ever taken his anger out on you either since dating each other, he just sells narcotics on the college campus and he got you into it too, it’s not a big deal. It helped that Dabi took it easy on you rather than just pushing you to do more than you were comfortable with. The first time you were curious about coke, he made you a little thin line of it and it took you more than an hour to decide you were ready before finally snorting it. After that first one, he let you decide how long and thick you wanted your lines to be. He’d cut it nice and neat for you and point to which one was yours to take. Coke felt good but the drip was disgusting in the back of your throat.

Speaking of disgusting…

“Hey, it should have been long enough so wash that gross stuff out your hair and let’s eat dinner.” you called from the kitchen as you plated the takeout food that arrived not too long ago.

You and Dabi sit at his little dinner table with the television streaming some random drama for background noise. Dinner topics for the evening range from school, homework, family news if there is any, and when to coordinate seeing each other next in between classes and your part time job. Conversations go smoothly and you’re cleaning up the kitchen when Dabi comes up behind you and presses a kiss to the back of your head, nuzzling you as you wipe the plates you just ate off of. You feel a sense of dread because every time he does that it means…

“Hey, there’s a house party this Saturday and I gotta work.”

You bite your tongue inside your mouth and exhale through your nose.

He has to work so he’ll be gone for a while, has to disperse his inventory and has to please his regulars as well as find any potential new customers.

If it was just selling, it wouldn’t be an issue.

The real issue is that you know he fucks some of his female customers. No no no, they don’t just get free coke or acid or whatever they’re asking for by spreading their legs for Dabi. He still expects cash as payment, but if he thinks they’re pretty enough then he doesn’t mind getting something extra aside from money after a sale. He’s handsome so why wouldn’t someone want to hop on his lap and go for a ride?

Dabi saves you the trouble by just being upfront about it, swears to you that you’re his favorite and that he only sees the other girls if he’s making a sale, they’re just customers. He goes to them, he goes to their location and fucks them where they meet him. None of his side whores have ever been brought back to his place, not like how he lets you in so easily when you knock on his door. He doesn’t take them out or treat them sweetly like he does with you; it’s just a sale and a fuck. It still doesn’t matter to you though, it still makes you jealous. It makes you clench your jaw in anger and want to just deck him right where his nose piercings are.

You’re his girlfriend but did that title mean anything if he was still going to sleep with other girls?

That question always rang through your mind every time he comes back smelling like one of his side whores and cash in his pocket. He’s your boyfriend but he’s been doing this since way before he met you, and he wasn’t going to stop just because you’re together. It was a condition that you pretty much forced yourself to accept from the very beginning because well… you really did like Dabi that much.

Dabi knows that it makes you upset but he’s not going to stop for your sake.

You know that he won’t.

“Fine.”

━━━━✧

If Dabi gets to fuck other girls then surely you have the right to do just the same with boys right?

The thing is though is that you did one time just right before the two of you made your relationship official, you hit up an old fuck buddy of yours while Dabi was out selling at another house party in the middle of the night. He left a measly text saying not to wait up for him and that he’d see you for breakfast. It would have been sweet if not for the fact that he came to your apartment smelling like another girl, just spending just two hours with you before flitting off into the night. Two hours of him on your sofa smelling like someone else, not even offering to shower to get their stench off, and he did his best to placate you before giving up and letting you stew in your own anger.

So you hit up your old fuck buddy and you go to him, you just get straight to the point when you’re let into his dorm and fuck your frustrations out on him. You intended to go straight back to your home but angry fucking took a lot out on you so you just spend the night there instead. “Don’t cuddle me, I’ll be gone in the morning.” you tell him after patting his cheek and pulling the blanket over your body.

It’s a quarter before eight when you’re trudging back to your apartment and you see Dabi leaning against your front door. You’re going to ask how his night was but he abruptly pulls you to him and growls in your ear to, “Get in your fucking apartment… now.”

He knows you went out to get fucked, doesn’t want to know who you went to.

You and him argue for over two hours inside your home, pacing back and forth in the living room. It’s back and forth of ‘it’s just business with those girls’ from him and ‘why shouldn’t I be allowed to do it to you?’ from you. Dabi says it’s just business and they mean nothing to him, claims to you that you hurt him more because you did it out of revenge. He really got you screaming at him after he said that but he didn’t dare back down. He stands firm and so do you, that really gets him angry with you even more.

He didn’t apologize and neither did you.

You were jabbing your finger in his chest when he grabs you by the wrist, irritation and exhaustion evident in his turquoise eyes. “Don’t fucking do that to me.” he growls at you.

“Get your fucking hands off me Dabi.” you spit back, shaking his hand off your wrist. “Get out.”

“No, we’re not leaving it like this.” he insists. “We’re fucking talk about this.”

You throw your hands up in the air in exasperation. “No, you want to ‘talk about it’ until I yield to you which is never going to happen! We’re going around in circles! You’re not going to be sorry and I’m not going to be sorry!”

A tense stare off between the two of you for a few seconds.

Next thing you know, you’re pulling off each other’s clothes and you’re forced on your hands and knees in your own bed. The only foreplay you get is a few seconds of rough kissing and Dabi spitting on his fingers to prep you as quickly as he can. When he pushes in, it’s rough and a little uncomfortable but you’re quick to adjust to the punishing pace. He pulls your hair too hard, you backhand him in the face, he spanks you until your ass is red and aching, you dig your nails into his back and scratch achingly slow down his flesh to make sure it really hurts.

Hate fucking with Dabi was a whole new level of intensity for you but you keep up with him until it turns into slow love making.

The biting, angry dirty talk from the beginning turns into whining praises; from ‘you spiteful, fucking bitch’ to ‘my pretty, little angel’.

“Fuck babydoll, you know how good you feel? I think I’ve fucked you so much that your pussy’s shaped to take just my cock. This cunt damn near drained me dry but I still want more. Cum on my cock more, tell me how bad you want it.” Dabi whispers into the skin of your shoulder before licking a trail up to your chin and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Ugh, baby it’s so fucking good, only you know my body like this. I don’t want it from anyone else but you… shit, I’m going to cum again!” you groan as you clamp down on him once more and your pussy strangles his cock for more cum.

You fall asleep after two hours of fucking, your head resting in the crook of his neck and his arm around your shoulders to keep you close. The both of you are all fucked out but your mind is still fixated on the fight. Despite the intimate sex that’s brought you closer together after rounds of hate fucking, it doesn’t change the fact that Dabi still fucks his customers sometimes and you’re still resentful about it.

“If it makes you feel better then fine (Name), you can fuck who you want.” Dabi says to you when the both of you wake up and are pulling your clothes back on your bodies. “But know this, if you want to be in on this then you’re just going to have to accept that I’ve been doing this since before I met you and it’s not going to stop just because we’re together. So go ahead, fuck who you want but as long as you always come back to me. I always come back to you, don’t I sweetheart?”

You’re smoothing your hair down, taking in his words before looking up at him and asking, “We’re together?”

Dabi’s eyes are full of mirth as he approaches you, pulling you close to his body and squeezing one of your asscheeks in his hand. “You’re my favorite, my number one, I like you (Name). The things I do for you, what I’ve done to you, no one else gets that from me.”

He didn’t apologize and neither did you.

But funnily enough even though he gave you permission to sleep with whoever you wanted, you didn’t really have the desire to do so. He comes to you smelling like other girls sometimes and that should be your cue to go find your own rando to hump on but you just… don’t.

Part of you wonders if Dabi is happy that you don’t go around like he does despite his blessing. You’re resentful towards yourself sometimes that you don’t go out and have some fun with someone else too. He gave you permission so you should take him up on it, that makes sense given the circumstances. Apparently the only thing that was important to him was that he always be your priority the same way that you were his.

Maybe at the time you just wanted the rush of revenge and now it was different that Dabi took that away from you by giving you permission. Maybe he knew that once he gave you the green light that you weren’t going to bother anymore with seeking anyone else out.

You were certain that he was manipulating you but you didn’t have solid evidence so there wasn’t much you could do. What the hell were you supposed to say to him?

Hey Dabi you tricked me into not sleeping with other people?

Dabi did always give you a heads up at least when he was going out to sell and he always tried to make you happy when he comes back. He offers to order in your favorite food, bring your favorite bottle of alcohol with your favorite juice to chase, eat you out until you’re a quivering mess on his mouth, or nudges half of a tablet of ecstasy in your hand and says that he just wants to put on music and house roll with you.

It still doesn’t change that you get jealous no matter how many sweet things he does for you.

But you like him enough to deal with his shenanigans… just barely.

━━━━✧

“Why don’t you come with me?” Dabi asks you as soon as you’re back from work. You’re tossing your purse onto your sofa and drop your body onto the cushions, your head in his lap and seeking his warmth. His hand goes to your head to start massaging your scalp, his fingers working magic and making you groan in pleasure. “Come with me tomorrow doll.”

You roll your eyes and turn your head to look at whatever show Dabi was watching while he was waiting for you. “To watch you flourish your business? I don’t think so. I’ll stay behind like I usually do.” you scoff, pressing your cheek against his leg and sighing.

He’s never asked for you to come along before, he doesn’t need the distraction of babysitting you. You wonder what’s caused him to ask you to tag along.

“Come on doll, just come along. Odds are I won’t be coming back the night of the party and Keigo will be there tomorrow, he can keep you company.”

Ah you loved Keigo, he was the only one that Dabi really considered to be a friend to him. Maybe it was because he could keep up with your boyfriend in regards to their drug consumption but you could see that they had a bond beyond just getting high together, more than just pills or powders or tabs that keeps them together. Together they both seemed like laid back individuals but Dabi only seemed laid back due to how apathetic he was whereas Keigo was actually a chill person because that’s how he actually was, it wasn’t just the air about him that made him seem so.

You loved being with Keigo, he always spoiled you silly and made you laugh.

“I don’t know, what exactly will I get out of it?” you shrug your shoulders and huff out quietly.

Suddenly two little baggies come into your view, one filled with white powder and the other with a little pink tablet. “Is this supposed to be a bribe to get me to come along?” you ask, staring at the bags and not bothering to take them from your boyfriend’s fingertips. You won’t lie that it is a little bit tempting, just a little bit.

“Maybe so, you know that my merchandise for you is discounted doll. Nothing but the best for you, my shit is always clean.” Dabi shakes the little baggies as if the contents are going to be more enticing if he does so. There’s definitely a big truth to what he said, the quality to his inventory is nothing less than superb. It’s why his clientele always kept on coming back to him but the absolute best was either for his favorites or it was apart of his own personal stash.

You’re staring hard at the baggies and start debating in your mind. Dabi would still give it to you even if you insisted that you stay home but there was no fun in doing it alone. You had some friends that could help you kill the coke if you asked them over but god forbid they start feening, that’s when they became difficult to deal with. There was no point in you holding onto them either if you weren’t going to do anything with them right away.

Since Keigo was going to be at the party tomorrow and if Dabi was going to give the baggies no matter what…

“Alright, only since Keigo is going to be there. Nothing else.” you give in and pluck the two baggies from Dabi’s hand and sit up on the sofa. “Now how much do I owe you for your merchandise sir?”

Dabi smirks at you as he crawls over you until you’re lying flat on your back, like you’re his prey and he’s the predator. “Just your usual payment madame, if you please.”

[hb-writes]

Five Line Fanfic Masterlist

The masterlist no one asked for/ needed, but I love masterlists so you’re getting it anyway. I still have quite a few of these in my inbox, so I’ll continue to update this list (linked on the blog’s main masterlist) as I post them.

Bridgerton

Why are you so tense? Relax. - Colin & Sylvie

Marvel

Oh really now? You want to say that again before I’ll make you regret ever saying it? - Tony, Steve, & Max

Please sit down and breathe - Tony & Max

Peaky Blinders

I love you too, even if you look like a tall giant. - Arthur & Clara

Will people be more afraid of you when you have a cigarette in your mouth? - Finn, Tommy, & Clara

What was our mum like? - Polly, John, & Clara 

You may have a few years, inches, and a bit of experience over me, but that doesn't mean you can just tickle me! - Tommy & Clara 

Do you want to play princesses with me? - Greta, Tommy, & Clara

If you wanted a hug, all you had to do was ask. - Isiah & Clara

Tommy, who’s your favorite person in the world? Is it me? - John, Polly, & Clara

Ada, I’m glad you’re my sister. I love you. - Ada, Tommy, & Clara

Finn, do you promise to always be my best friend? - Finn, Michael, Isiah, & Clara

What do you mean by ‘someone took my hair’? - Tommy & Clara

Did you really think you’d be able to hide this from me? - Tommy & Clara

When you die, I’ll be the first to dance on your grave. - Grace, Tommy, & Clara

You mind how you speak to me! - Tommy & Clara

Tommy, can we get a kitty? - Tommy & Clara

I’m trying to look for a smile...I know there’s one in there somewhere. - Isiah & Clara

Does daddy not love us anymore? - Polly & Clara

Can we just forget about this? - Michael & Clara

Give it back. You know I’ll chase you until you do. - John x OC

Sherlock

Just because I’m a doctor it doesn’t give you a free pass to break all your bones one by one. - John & Lucy

I said you could paint your room, not the whole apartment! - John, Sherlock, & Lucy

Why would you do that? - John, Sherlock, & Lucy

That’s not a spider. It’s a damn monster. - Sherlock & Lucy

Suits

Did you just...throw a piece of cheese at me? - Mike & Charlie

Trust me, I know what to do. I’ve watched Grey’s Anatomy. - Harvey, Mike, & Charlie

We’re going to need more dye. - Harvey & Charlie

Stop teasing me! - Harvey, Mike, & Charlie

Supernatural

What do you mean she’s escaped? - Castiel, Dean, & Nora 

If you take one more drink of that bottle you’re grounded - Dean, Sam, & Nora

If you don’t stop singing that damn song, the money I’ve spent on your birthday party is going to charity. All of it. - Dean, Sam, & Nora

True Blood

5 pm at the cafe - come alone. - Eric & Elisabeth

I’m sorry I disappointed you. - Eric & Elisabeth

Twilight

God, why are you so.....annoying? - Emmett & Mia

I thought vampires couldn’t be ticklish. - Edward, Bella, Esme, & Mia

You should know better than to challenge Emmett. - Rosalie & Mia

Mia, you need to do your homework. - Alice, Jasper, & Mia

Dad, I know this looks bad. - Carlisle, Rose, & Mia

Dad, I know you said we couldn’t get a dog, and that’s fine, so I got a cat. And a hamster. - Carlisle, Emmett, & Mia (Jasper mentioned)

White Collar

We could get arrested for this. - Neal & Alice

Where’s the goldfish? - Neal, Mozzie, & Alice

You only heard his side of the story. - Peter, Neal, & Alice

Send me an ask with the first sentence of a fanfic and I’ll write the next five-ish.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Comic-con.”

You guys wanted something fluffier and lighthearted, so I took a suggestion from a group of the Discord server, and did this with it I hope you guys like, and thank you for the suggestions.  “Where are you taking me? And why am I wearing this?”

Adam frowned at her, “Don’t be such a party pooper, I took you to watch MMA last week, and now its my turn to pick the fun activity.”

Sunny held up the glowing weapon --of facsimile of a weapon--, “What is this called again.”

“It’s an energy sword, from a really REALLY old video game.”

“And what are you supposed to be.”

Adam turned to look at her, shaking his head in disappointment, “Sometimes, I am sad for your lack of pop culture education.”

“And whose fault is it for my lack of pop culture education?”

He tapped his chin, “I suppose that is true.” 

“To be fair the pop culture you subscribe to is like two thousand years old.” She looked him up and down. He was wearing a spacesuit and a jetpack. This might have been normal for him were it not for the painstaking hours that he had spent painting the thing and applying decals.

Where the standard issue UNSC space - suit ranged anywhere from white to silver to dark blue, this one was in a gaudy combination of white with green and purple highlights with a blue decal on the front embossed with the outline of stylized white wings. Under that, he had taken the time to dye one of the old undersuits purple, and was now wearing the hood to complete ‘the affect’

“Seriously though. What are You?”

He turned to look at her grinning and patted her on the shoulder, “Just wait.”

She sighed and did as told following him out of the underground parking lot and up into the sun. She threw her hand over her face as they came up into the sun, and when she withdrew her hand, she found herself surrounded by hundreds of humans all walking towards the same destination, and all of them were dressed, strangely… she couldn’t tell which ones for sure, because humans always seemed to dress strangely, but something bout this gave her the feeling that these ones were doing it on purpose..

At her side, Adam was grinning.

Following the line of people her eyes traced up to the large, and spacious building just up ahead. The walls were made out of metal and glass paneling, and across their surface scrolling scenes from movies and comic strips flashed.

Off to her side, a man in a blue and red suit, with a big yellow S on the front went floating past, his hover boots giving him the effect as if he were flying, red cape billowing out behind him.

Someone else to their side was walking a rather large brown dog towards the building. It had a teel collar and a couple of painted on black spots, while he was wearing a  green shirt and brown pants. He looked like he really needed a haircut.

Sunny tilted her head to better read the letters on the building before her.

J. HAIL CONVENTION HALL 

They were just outside the doors when someone ran up to them. THey looked younger, maybe in their teens, dressed with an elaborately colored wig, and strange colorful clothes, “Holy Shit! Your costumes are awesome, Can I get a picture?”

“Hell yeah.” Adam motioned the kid closer, pulling Sunny down beside them so the kid could grab a picture and then turn to look at Sunny, “How did you make it look so real. You look just like the Drev from that movie.” 

She stared at him before looking down at herself.

Adam laughed, “It looks real because it IS real.”

The kid stared at them in disbelief, “No way.”

“Yeah she's a real life actual alien.”

Eyes went even wider, I...w...wow.” 

Sunny shrugged and waved one of her arms to the kid as Adam dragged her further up the line.

“Here, hold out your hand.” She did as told and he wrapped a small plastic bracelet around her wrist. The letters on the band read VIP

Walking over to the doors they were stopped by a group of people holding up their hands. One of them walked around them, and pointed at Adam’s jetpack, “YOu have a licence for that?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” 

He reached into one of the pockets on his suit and pulled it out to show them. THey looked it over and then nodded, and he grinned. Tey read off some rules before they were suddenly interrupted.

Voices behind them, and Sunny turned.

A group of people walked up, one of them was dressed like a cowboy with a yellow shirt and blue pants, with a brown hat.

Another human in a blow up dinosaur costume pointed at Adam’s uniform,

“And what does that button do.”

Adam grinned, and Sunny watched him with a fond shake of her head as he approached them, putting on some sort of character voice.

“Ill show you.” Looking around to make sure that everyone was clear, he deployed the wings of the jetpack, striped in red and white.

The group oohed and ahhed.

THe cowboy moved forward, “Oh what, these are plastic, he can’t fly.”

“They are a trillium carbonic alloy and I CAN fly.”

“No you can’t”

“Yes I can.”

“Can’t.”

“CAN.”

“Can’t Can’t Can’t.”

“I could fly around this convention center with my eyes closed.”

Sunny just stood there watching them nervously shifting back and forth. She had a feeling that they were arguing, but it also felt very scripted, though how it could be scripted, she didn’t know. They had never seen these people as far as she was concerned.

The other man moved very close, “Ok then my light beer, prove it.”

“Alright then, I will.”

He held out his hands voice growing a bit more serious as he did, “Everyone step back.”

They did as told, and the cowboy was smiling now instead of frowning.

“Adam, is this legal.” Sunny wondered.

He turned to look at her, “Yes, the convention center has its own airspace just for this. I had to sign a waver.” He turned back to the others and ignited the engin on the jetpack kicking off the ground.

His flight was far more controlled than his original flight, and he flew in a fast circle around the area, dropping in with a flip to land before them to the cheering of an amassed crowd.

He pointed at the cowboy, “CAN.”

“That wasn’t flying, that was falling with style.” The man protested though he was grinning even as he walked over to take a picture with Adam.

“Pretty sure that made my day, your costume is awesome. Is this a real spacesuit.”

“You bet it is.”

“Where did you get your hands on one.”

“Oh I have my sources. Did you make your costume?”

“Sewed it myself. The hat and boots I bought though.”

They parted ways with Adam’s new friend and stepped inside the convention center scanning their bracelets as they went in.

“Welcome, Sunny to the biggest nerd convention ever conceived of by man...ComicCon.”

She turned in a wide circle eyes wide at thousands of booths, thousands of people all talking and laughing. He grabbed her hand and dragged hr further inside, “IF your good, I’ll buy you a sword.”

“Nerds want swords?”

He raised an eyebrow at her, “Of course nerds want swords. Here, lets start over there and movie this way, through the art section first.”

Sunny did as told, following after him.

She never knew Adam being one to spend a lot of money, he had no reason too, but after the first ten minutes she figured out that he was a little bit of a spender when it came to nerdy things. Posters and drawings and other related items.

However, she was surprised to find that they did have leather workers and blacksmiths as they were called, and she did…. In fact… get herself a sword which she recognized from the lord of the rings movie he had made her watch. It was a pretty good sword all things considered as if whoever made it actually knew how to make swords.

They were coming around a corner when they almost ran into another group of people. Adam dropped one of his bags and the other reached down to pick it up. When he stood, Sunny's eyes widened. Blond hair green eyes and an eyepatch, “Sweet Costume!”

She shook herself thinking she had bumped her head or something and was seeing double, but no, when she looked closer she realised that this person couldnt have been more than fifteen or sixteen…. And dressed like Adam.

She looked over at Adam who was standing mouth open eyes wide.

“Can I get a picture!”

Sunny just nodded her head as the kid jumped over next to her and had his friend take it before running off yelling back at her about her amazing costume.

Adam turned to look at Sunny, “Did I just>”

“I think you did.”

He shook himself, “Wow.”

She nodded 

After that it started happening more and more. 

Adam was everywhere, in all stages of life. They had recreated his uniforms, his flight suits, his space suits. They brought their dogs. There were even gender bent versions of him, blond women wearing eyepatches, brown jackets and jeans making it very clear who they were .

It got even more weird when Sunny started seeing herself.

Small children in costumes made of foam.

People wearing onesies that sort of looked like her, and even one costume that had a woman on stilts for her legs, and a complex system of homemade mechanics to allow her to move around.

Adam stood there mouth open just staring at them.

Sunny laughed at the irony.

He was here as a guest, and no one knew.

If only they had any idea that the real deal was here and dressed like a space ranger from a two thousand year old cartoon.

Sunny tilted her head listening to the announcements which said there would be a “Adam Vir look alike contest going on on the other side of the convention.

She turned to look at Adam and they  both began to laugh hysterically. She grabbed his arm. We have to see this.

They wandered over just as the others were filtering in. And there were TONS of them, all dressed like Adam. One stopped next to him, spiky blond hair, clearly dyed for the occasion, wearing a flight suit and aviators.

Adam Tried to avoid eye contact with anyone as they sat down to watch, however no one recognized him, not even close.

They sat, watching the judging.

An adorable little boy with blond hair and a NASA T-shirt won for the younger age bracket.

The jumpsuit wearing kid to their right won for his teenage years.

At the end it was up between two men, one in casual wearing and one in a uniform. The one wearing the uniform had a similar lopsided grin as Adam and she would have chosen him as a dead ringer, and was almost put off when they chose the other man, who was, on the other hand, roguishly handsome.

She snorted, “He looks nothing like you.”

“But he does look like Keith Jenning who played me, so I guess people sort of conflate us as being the same person.”

“This is so unreal.”

They laughed again as they walked away sunny pointing out he probably would have lost the contest if he had tried to enter, and he laughed along with her.

THey were perusing through a booth with a bunch of old vintage movies when another announcement came over the intercom, saying that the cast of Adam’s movie was going to be speaking.”

Adam’s eyes widened, and together they made their way wanting to see what all the fuss was about. There were hundreds of people packed into the large room, and they were only able to get space just along one wall.

Up at the table, he recognized Keith Jenning, Rita. Ortiz, and Adler Handen, the voice actor for Krill and the woman who played Sunny.

Adam leaned back against the wall to watch.

Keith didn’t look anything like Adam at this moment, his hair back to brown like it usually was.

Hands raised in the crowd as questions were shot out, “What was the hardest part of playing Adam Vir?”

Keith laughed and then paused, “I think it might have been the eyepatch. I stubbed my toe like…. What was it Rita, we kept track on set.”

“About 456 times during the course of filming.” She added, and the group of them laughed.

“How accurate is the story to what actually happened?” Someone called out

Adler Handen leaned forward, “You know it was actually pretty accurate because Adam Vir was actually consulting through the whole process, though I think it is glammed up to make him look maybe a little more….”

“Poised.” Rita added, “Ellis gave him a bit of an action hero spin.”

“What is he actually like?”

Keith smiled as did Rita, “He’s hilarious, and kind, and a bit of a clutz I would say.”

Rita laughed, “That is one part of the movie that is inaccurate. I think they should have put it in, but he was like the last man to step onto Proxima B, and when he did he says he actually fell out of the shuttle and landed on his face.”

There was laughter from the crowd.

“Honestly a really modest guy all told.

“He has the personality of a golden retriever…. In a good way obviously.” Rita said

Keith had stood up from his palace at the table and was looking around the crowd for more questions, when his eyes fell on Adam and Sunny not a few rows away leaning against the wall.

The recognition was instantaneous, despite them not having seen for a long time. He pointed his eyes wide, “Adam…. Adam is that you. Sunny?”

The entire crowd turned and thousands of eyes fell on them.

Adam was stuck like a deer in the headlights hands held up.

“No way It IS YOU. Someone grab a chair and get him up here.” 

Rita stood in her seat and waved.

Now people were standing to get a good look at them as two security people motioned them up.

Adam was bright red in the face as he was pushed to come on stage. The people looked confused, but when Adam pulled off his hood, and pulled on his eyepatch the entire convention center began cheering.

“Yeah give the man a round of applause.” Keith said pulling out a chair for him to sit on while Rita did the same for Sunny.

Adam shifted awkwardly in his seat.

“Nice costume, is that from Toy story?”

Adam shrugged, ‘Yeah, or the Tv show I guess.”

Someone hurried over with another microphone as the crowd below continued to babble and point.

Keith leaned forward, “Did I mention he was a raging nerd. Did you wear the costume to hide or….”

Adam shook his head, “No, I've been coming to the convention since I was a kid.”

There was cheering in the crowd.

Hands were raised high into the air for questions, and Adam blinked a bit red in the face still.

“Is it true what they said about Proxima B?”

Adam smiled, “uh yeah I fell flat on my face, right out the door. You see the movie had a ramp, but a ot of our ships don’t have ramps, they have doors because it would kind of be…. Impractical to have a whole ramp opening up into an airlock. So instead it had a door and stairs. And I got so excited that I missed the second stair and just fell.

“How accurate is the rest of the movie?”

He shrugged, still blushing, “They did make me look a little more… heroic, than I actually am. I mean there is a little known fact among members of the UNSC that doing a warp without a warp dampener like we did on the Enterprise was…. How shall we say… extremely hard on the body. About fifty percent of the men on the bridge peed themselves and passed out.”

There was laugher from the crowd.

“Were you part of the fifty percent?”

He snorted, “ I was nineteen of COURSE I was part of the fifty percent. Captain Kelly had a bladder of Iron though.”

More laughter.

“And when it came to meeting with aliens for the first time, I was so excited that I ran after them right….. Well as it turns out, to the aliens it looked really, really bad. Like they thought I was going to eat them.” More laughter, “We are still trying to repair human/Bran relations five years later because of me.”

More questions.

“What is your funniest story, something that didn’t appear in the movie?”

Adam had to think about it for a minute, “Did  I ever tell you about the first time we met Iotins or the Celzex.”

Cheering in the crowd,.

“Ok ok, so The one thing you need to know about Iotins is that they smell good, and I don’t mean your girl’s perfume good, I mean like continental breakfast with bacon and eggs and potatoes and I don’t know what else.” Sunny smiled as she listened to the sound of the crowd’s amusement, “This is the kind of smell that turns you into one of pavlov’s Dogs. Drooling all over yourself stomach grumbling the whole nine. So when we met them for the first time, it was during a GA convention and my men hadn’t eaten since breakfast. It was so bad, I drooled all over my uniform and we scared the Iotin council half to death.”

He smiled as the crowd encouraged him into more stories.

“Then of course there is the Celzex, a very war-like race, very honor bound and very easy to offend. And yet they are about a foot tall rainbow colored, fluffy and with  adorable pig ears. These guys were designed to be cuddled, and yet, not one human has ever done it for fear of pissing them off since they have weapons that could glass our entire planet.”

He was Animated as he told his stories, and the crowd was animated with him

“Sunny, i have a question.” She lifted her head in surprise, “Is it true you grew up in a stone hut/”

She hummed deep in her chest, “Yes, where else would I have grown up.”

“So you didn’t have electricity?”

She shook her head, “No, why would we need it?”

She answered a few more questions.

And then one young man stood.

“So, I was wondering, you supported the LFIL during their protests.”

Adam shifted nervously in his seat, “I did.”

“And it’s because of you that they are in a probationary state of legality.”

“Yes.”

.”“So I was wondering, considering all that and considering your relationship with Sunny. Have you tow ever thought about dating.” Adam blanched white and you could have heard a pin drop.

Sunny glanced quickly over at adam. A part of her really wanted him to admit it to people, but another part of her-- the bigger part-- knew that doing it here in front of thousands of people would be a disaster. He opened his mouth to stammer out a question but Sunny leaned forward towards her mic.

“You misunderstand Drev courting customs. He would have to be able to beat me in a fight first.

Factions of the room muttered, and Sunny quickly moved the conversation on to more Funny stories.

Adam turned his head towards her with a look of relief.

With her head turned form the cameras she gave him a brief wink before turning back.

They didn’t exactly get to see the rest of the convention as they were waylaid by people wanting autographs and to talk to him. He of course was good natured and answered all their questions with a smile and gave pictures with enthusiasm.

She smiled

He was kind like that.

Thought some worries gnawed at the back of her mind.

People were beginning to suspect, and that could be a big problem for Adam.

[softlyjiminie]

black swan | three.

⇢ pairing(s): professional dancer!park jimin x figure skater!reader.

⇢ word count: 4.1K.

⇢ rating: 16+, mature.

⇢ genre: angst, eventual smut, fluff, e2l, fake dating!au, corrupted idol!au, dancer!au, figure skater!au.

⇢ summary: a life of skating was all you’d ever known, your heart craving the feeling of ice beneath your feet and the light brush of cool air against your skin under thousands of sparkling lights… what a shame, if only you’d known that one night, one accident could rip you from the life you’d grown to love, leaving your career in the unsteady hands of the prince of ballet, park jimin.

⇢ warning(s): please read for this chapter! heavy angst, social media bullying, mentions of drugs ( weed ), mentions of alcohol and drinking, angry jimin!

⇢ author’s note(s): hello my loves! sorry for posting this so late but i really hope you enoy this chapter. i might have to delay chapter four, for a special post in order of joon n koo’s birthday! love you lots.

⇢ previous | series masterlist | next

“park... you’re out, bail’s been paid.”

jimin rolls his shoulders at the call of his name, standing from his seat on the cold metal bench. he shakes out the blonde in his hair, deciding that the colour was too good and that he’d probably dye it a darker shade as soon as he was back in the safety of his penthouse. smirking, he grabs his discarded leather jacket... designer of course and slings it over his left shoulder— poking his tongue into his cheek as the officer unlocks his cell with a deep blush.

“you sure you don’t want to join me in here one last time sweetheart?”

the officer looks down, fumbling with the keys in her hand as a blush paints her heated face. “wouldn’t you get in trouble for that? another scandal wouldn’t be good for your career,” she bites down on her lower lip and the cat like smile on jimin’s face only grows wider— his forefinger and thumb touch at her chin, tilting her head up to meet his dark eyes as if he’s going to kiss her. “especially now that the paps are outside...”

he only lets out a simple tut, staring down at her with a hooded gaze. “you wouldn’t have a career if you opened that pretty little mouth of yours, sweetheart.” the cop falls silent, not having the chance to reply as jimin parts ways with her— collecting his belongings on the way out. inmates clap and cheer for him, although he’d only been in this station for a night, he’s already built up a reputation for himself around town...drunk driving, speeding, possession of drugs. park jimin was booked in for nearly all of it; but got away with it practically every time.

the sunshine from outside blinds the dancer, harsh golden rays warming his skin in the most irritating of ways. instead, he tilts his shades down over his eyes and way from the mass of bleach blonde hair that swoops messily over one side of his face. cameras are situated around the station, jimin knows that for sure, he can’t see them but he can hear the clicks and flashes from paparazzi that hide in bushes around them. they all want jimin for this week’s front cover, it’s only obvious that he’ll make the headlines for the fifth week in a row but who’s to say he cares? flashing a toothy grin as he flips the middle finger to sneaky photographers that pretend not to be seen.

“you’re so immature, jimin,” hoseok, his manager scolds, fixing the hem of his tight and light grey christian dior suit. the man himself is only a little ways taller than jimin, hair parted and slicked down with brown tinted shades that hide the tiredness in his eyes. hoseok is not that much older than jimin, but they’ve worked together long enough for jimin to consider the elder his family— or more like a pestering older brother. his manager pulls him into a sleek black van parked not even three minutes from the police station, the walk taking longer as jimin stopped to wave at fans. he was a dancer, a performer— it didn’t matter where he was, he always had an audience and he always appealed to them. “get in the fucking car.” hoseok seethed through gritted teeth, opening the door for his client, who only smiled mischievously as he entered it.

slamming the door, hoseok circled the vehicle and climbed in from the passenger  side. “what’s got you in such a sour mood hyungie?” jimin hums lazily, leaning back into the plush, cream leather seats of his mercedes while his manager tuts in annoyance— gesturing for their driver (and body guard), seokjin, to head towards the dancer’s gated neighbourhood. running a hand through his blonde locks, jimin’s caramel eyes light up at the sight of his day bag of which he carries around on a daily basis— diving in he pulls out a box containing a few of his rolled joints. grabbing one and bringing it to the flesh of his plump lips, jimin frowns darkly, at the lack of lighter in his bag. “the fuck his my lighter?”

“i took it,” hoseok mumbles simply, rubbing his temple with his free hand, the other twirling jimin’s pink lighter between his own slender digits. the younger leans forward in his seat, restricted only by his seatbelt as they make their way through the L.A traffic— making a grab for the lighter which his manager swiftly pulls away and pockets. “you’ve been acting up again jimin, it’s not looking good for you—“

the dancer in question lurches forward once more, making seokjin swerve ever so slightly. “give me the damn lighter hoseok.” jimin seethes through gritted teeth, the hand that launched at his manager now digging into said man’s head rest. anger flares up in the dancer’s chest— he’s just spent the night in a fucking cell and all he wants to do is have a few puffs of his joint so that he can relax a little.

but hoseok doesn’t budge, easily sinking into the comfort of his seat. “you can’t keep doing this ji,” he scolds, watching the scenery pass by through their tinted windows. “this is the third time in the last two months that you’ve gotten booked into a station for something...” the younger rolls his eyes knuckles turning white. the manager feels a temper tantrum coming on, from the way his client breathes hotly down his neck. jimin had never been good at managing his anger, no one had ever known why— he was a brat for no damn reason but hoseok sensed there was always more to the blonde, that’s why he took him in. “speeding? when you could have waited for jin to pick you up. not to mention how the company shouldn’t be putting their money towards paying for your bail—“

“money that i bring into that fucking company? they wouldn’t have it if it weren’t for me.” the younger points out childishly... and to be fair, he’s not wrong. people from across the world came to see park jimin perform— if they were lucky enough. his graceful movements and talent for following the music no matter how it changed was always something that entranced his fans. jimin was their biggest source of revenue and a major asset, one of the only reasons they hadn’t fired him yet— hoseok supposed. “i’m park jimin, shit...they need me!”

hoseok sighs in defeat as their bodyguard pulls into jimin’s gated neighbourhood. the brunette turns to face his client, a worn out expression pulling at his heart shaped face. “just think about it jimin, if you don’t fix up and don’t stop your bitch fits... it could be over for you.” hoseok hates to scold jimin like this but he also knows it important that he learns. he flinches when the dancer scoffs, begrudgingly pulling out the pink lighter and passing it to the latter.

the younger simply snatches the small device from his hyung’s grasp, brining his joint to his lips and lighting it as he slides from the car.

he didn’t need to think about shit, he was park jimin for goodness sake.

social media was an evil place.

jimin was used to all types of comments across his socials. he knew he was meant to be in the studio for practice, but he was too deep into the internet to turn back now. so more often than not he found that he was drowned is all sorts of praises and love from his fans, complimenting him on his skills, his physic and his oh-so-beautiful face but sometimes, if he looked hard enough— there were those full of hatred and malice, intended break down the souls of those they were targeted at, break the soul of park jimin.

‘i used to love jimin, but he’s getting caught up in all this bad stuff... we might have to unstan...’

‘he’s still a great dancer, but i’m disappointed in how he’s acted recently.’

‘why do celebs think it’s funny to get arrested? it’s fucking cringe especially since they can afford bail? lol no offence park jimin.’

each word cuts sharply at his heart, like knives, creating deep wounds. it hurts to read them, so much so that it brings stinging tears to his eyes but he doesn’t let them fall— he hadn’t in a long time. moments like these lead the blonde to believe in his hyung’s words, was he a has been? was his career coming to an end? familiar insecurities rot his brain, draining what was once left of the boy who loved to dance.

he takes a sip of the bitter, honey liquid that fills his crystalline glass, eyes blurring and throat tightening at the burn the alcohol brings. a filling pain to ease the hurt in his heart. ‘fuck,’ jimin thinks, he’s fucked and he knows it. the dancer wonders if he had been different had his brother not fucked up his life, the older park was probably off somewhere doing god knows what with who knows who and jimin can’t help but let his mind wonder to what he would be doing if his brother wasn’t there. if his brother hadn’t caused that accident. before that day, jimin only ever dreamed of where he is now— practicing hard wherever he was; the canteen in high school, his bedroom, the kitchen when his mother was making his favourite dish.

god he missed those days.

slamming his glass down onto his island counter, jimin stretches his arms above his head so that his black fitted shirt rises up— brushing his tummy briefly. the news hums from the TV in the background, as he sways with sleepiness. something about an accident, something about a skater...he’s not listening. sighing in defeat, jimin grabs the bottle of special edition brandy and takes a lengthy swig while he makes his way to his on-suite bathroom. the dancer’s nimble fingers brush through the roots of his overbearingly blonde locks, fisting them as he looks into the mirror with reddened eyes and a broken heart.

taking another sip of his liquor, jimin finishes the substance off with a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest before throwing the bottle in the trash and opening his cabinet, reaching for the dark hair dye that sits on the middle shelf.

stopping his mercedes benz, jimin parks his car outside of hangsang studios, the dance company that hired the boy. his eyes that reflect black under the artificial lights of the street lamp flicker up to the company logo cast into the side of the towering building— a scoff emitting from between his plump lips. the door to his car opens not a second later, aeri, jimin’s girlfriend slipping into the passenger’s side with a huff.

she throws her practice bag onto the back seat, making the dancer flinch as he presses his forehead to the steering wheel. “practice started at five, you know that right?” aeri seethes, buckling herself in and pulling down the mirror, she fluffs her blonde hair— colour similar to the one the dancer once possessed as she insisted on matching. “of course you don’t, god sometimes i wonder why i’m even with you...”

her words do nothing to the dancer as he sits up in his seat, pressing his foot into the peddles as he sets the gears into drive. ‘i sometimes wonder the same thing...’ jimin can’t help but think, sourly. he loved aeri, he did, but she was draining to be around— obsessed with the idea of being at the top, even if it meant criticising her lover at every point. he’d grown numb to her abuse by now. “i’m sorry, ri... i’ll be at practice next time.” he says instead, knowing very well that speaking his thoughts will only set the girl off. the streets are clearer than they were earlier in the day, fewer cars allowing jimin to pass through lanes with ease... his eyes focus on the road, but he longs to take in the scenery— just for a moment. to feel like the world has stopped in place. “i’ll make it up to you, babe.”

aeri scoffs, wrapping her arms around herself after she pokes jimin’s arm. he slows the car at the stop sign, watching with thin patience as the signals change from green to red, colour by colour. the girl turns to face him, lips drawn into a scowl and small hand taking a fistful of jimin’s darkened, navy locks. “dying your hair? is this what you skipped practice for? when will you take this showcase seriously jimin? fucking hell.”

the pinch in her tone irritates the life out the aforementioned dancer, so much so that his shoulders pick up while he begins to drive again. aeri wasn’t always like this, there was a time, back when they were trainees where jimin would have tripped over his feet to get her to notice him, they were usually paired for dancing events— closeness eventually leading them to dating. but now, she fancied the idea of being a star rather than the blue haired boy himself... the infamous new york showcase had always been her dream and jimin supposes he was only a stepping stone to that path. his name being a direct lead there, his money an added bonus. he knew that skipping practices made her mad, maybe that’s what why he did it— to get back at all the horrid words she’d spouted at him in the last few years.

“— and i swear, if you don’t clean up your act, i’ll leave you and find a new dance partner—“

jimin tunes back into her words, an empty threat that he’d heard from her many times before— looking into the rear view mirror he catches her humid gaze before making a turn towards her house. “i know baby, i’m sorry...i’ll do better, let me make it up to you, yeah?” he mumbles absentmindedly, using words that he knew would satisfy her appetite to being him down until the next time. “i’ll buy you that bag you wanted, hm? or those dance shoes you were after... will that do until i’ve caught up with dance?” aeri pulls at her hair in frustration, reaching behind her for her dance bag as she kicks her feet and screams like a petulant child.

“pull over!”

jimin does as he’s told, pushing his hands through his hair as anger rises in his chest— rattling inside his body as if asking for permission to break free. aeri waits for cars to pass before opening the door and storming out, not even giving her lover time to react. the blonde girl whips out her phone, texting someone jimin can’t see before the dancer’s wound down his window.

“aeri, come on doll, let’s not fight.” he tries to reason with her, but the will to keep her close has gone from her voice as she looks up at him with a fiery gaze. her chest rises and falls with anger, causing jimin to roll his eyes and bring his head back into the car. “you’re really gonna walk home?”

“no, my new dance partner is coming to pick me up because he’s not a lazy bum like—!”

jimin doesn’t stay to hear the rest of her cold insult, having had just about enough of her attitude, reversing the car and heading in the direction of his home, his anger still simmering brightly.

“well well well, if it isn’t our handsome ji. look who’s finally coming around!”

the boy in question rolls his eyes despite the little smile that plays at his lips, he’s glad to see that hoseok hyung’s mood has sweetened slightly— his expression matching the brightness of the L.A sun that highlights the blue of jimin’s hair, yet causes him to squint at the same time. he pulls his shades over his eyes, ignoring hoseok’s outstretched hand and going in for a quick, apologetic hug. the manager knows jimin isn’t one for displays of affection, but knows him well enough to recognise an apology from the younger when he sees one.

but jimin’s warmth retreats just as fast as it came, the younger pulling away as if hoseok’s new alexander wang suit has has scorched his tan skin. jimin seems to be grumbling as he slides into the van which seokjin drives and buckles himself in. the annoyance the blue haired boy felt from last night has yet to fade, but he knows he has to keep his anger in check— hoseok texted him early this morning about a meeting with the board... which usually never means anything good.

the car ride is mostly silent, the slight hum of the radio in the background as jimin rests in the back seat. there were few times he’d ever met the board, the first being after his accident, when hoseok had recruited him. the second being when he’d made it big, when the CEO had told him he’d made it big just like his parents would have wanted and the third, well...that would be now. seokjin pulls up to the tl the hangsang company building, quickly helping the dancer out before heading with into the building with hoseok by their side.

walking through the company building, jimin attracts a lot of attention— many have said that he exudes an intimidating, strong aura but the dancer only reckons it’s because of his name...after all, his family does come with a reputation. rookies and senior dancers alike blush and bow as jimin makes his way towards the head office, his slicked back blue hair shines under the false white light and reflects off of the black shades that match his jeans,  chelsea boots and turtle neck.  of course, the boy knows that he looks good, fingers coming up to fix the denim jacket he wears but his stride slows when passing his usual practice room— gaze faltering as he spots aeri tangled with a younger dancer, a rookie who jimin recognises as choi san. the familiar emotions from yesterday crawl up his spine and mix with the blackened jealousy that blooms across his firm chest— but jimin doesn’t have time to linger on his feelings as hoseok ushers the trio into an elevator and presses the button for the tenth floor. aeri looks away from the dancer just as the door closes.

“it’s not looking good for you jimin,” the CEO, explains— he goes by the name of mr.chan. jimin himself admits that he hasn’t been listening since the moment they entered the room but he picks up the tone of disappointment in the CEO’s voice.  shaking out his dark locks, jimin scoffs likely and rolls his shoulders— feeling annoyance build up behind his eyes... he’s got a headache now, which is only worsened by hoseok giving him a scolding glare.

“jimin don’t.”

he sits up at the second mention of his name, jimin knew not to test his manager at this time and also knew hoseok would give him the scolding of a life time if he didn’t listen. tilting his gaze to the CEO, jimin finally tunes into mr.chan, even if he doesn’t like what he’s saying. “you’re our prized dancer park, a household name...but you’ve had fewer performances then any other dancer this year, your recent bad reputation is...driving clientele away,” the old man lets out a wheezing cough, making jimin grimace. mr.chan was a greasy old man, with oily hair and beady eyes. he was harsh to the eyes, jimin supposed it was lucky that he was rich or mr.chan was doomed to be single for the rest of his life. “not to mention the bail we’ve been paying, you’re more of a burden than an asset at this point.”

“you’re fuckin’ kidding me right?” jimin rises from his seat like the anger that boils and bubbles through his veins, having enough of the ugly man that rattles on before him. all he can think about his punching the CEO square in the face. “you  fucking need me here. if im a burden to you, i’ll cut my loss and join another company that wants me. they all want me. i made this place what it is and i’ll tear it right back down. you need me.” the dancer seethes, pointing his finger right at the CEO’s face, mr.chan and his fellow associates swallow thickly, because after all— jimin is right. his raw talent alone is what built this company up from what it was, and anyone would kill for the money that he brings in however he may act.

the panel of staff mr.chan has with him, are rendered silent as is the CEO himself— who are they to challenge park jimin? but a lowly assistant speaks up, grabbing the attention of the congregation. “but raw talent will only last you so long...after that, what will you have? a pile of scandals?” she says meekly, as if no one would hear her— but the scowl on park jimin’s face tells her otherwise. usually, she’d have been fired on the spot for talking in such a manner— jimin might have even had a field day with making her run errands for him but mr.chan and his associates need an argument against the dancer’s case, promptly taking  the assistant’s statement and running with it.

the blue haired dancer sits back in his seat with defeat as the group of fat heads before him smile and cheer as if they’ve just discovered wine. although hoseok chooses this time to interject, sensing jimin’s temper tantrum reaching its peak once again. “but we have a solution, don’t we mr.chan?” the manager cuts through their wheezing laughter in a way that would make you think he was the boss around here. “remember what we discussed?”

the old man nods suddenly, almost in fear as he gestures to the assistant to pass a file to jimin. honeybrown eyes narrow as the girl makes her way over with a brown file full of documents— a sense of nervousness emitting from her. the dancer knows it’s partly because everyone is scared shitless of him and his reputation, the other part is that he’s damn well attractive up close. jimin bites down on his lower lip, looking the girl up and down before he snatches the file from her and opens it up — revelling in the way she blushes with embarrassment.

“we’ve proposed that you start dance therapy with a world renowned physical therapist, min yoongi,” hoseok explains slowly, knowing that anything mr.chan says from now will surely set the dancer off. the aforementioned male grips the arms of his seat, knuckles turning white as he tries his best to suppress another outburst and listen to his manager. “he’s excellent at what he does, the best of the best— he’d be sure to get you back on track...”

jimin scoffs, staring daggers into the spot between mr.chan’s unbearably bushy eyebrows. if looks could kill, he’d be dead within an instant. “so you want me to join a beginners class? do i need to remind you of who the fuck i am?”

“no, you’ll have private sessions,” his manger says lowly, grabbing the younger’s attention. “we want him to motivate you, we’re not denying that you’re a phenomenal dancer jimin, you’ve just been heading in the wrong direction for a few years...”

all this new information causes a feeling of unease to reside within park jimin, the changes that are to come don’t sit well with him... but with hoseok’s words from a few days ago swirling and twirling with his thoughts like a waltz, jimin can only agree to their proposition. “so, what’s the catch?” he whispers now.

“they’ve got another client in south korea ,  we’re thinking of bringing them over too—“

“well then do it!” jimin stands, raising his voice, the conversation is too tedious and all he wants it out. he needs a drink or a smoke or something other than people telling him what he was or what he isn’t. running a hand through his navy locks, the dancer grabs the file and begins to head out, not caring about what’s left to he said. but before he has a chance to storm out, hoseok slips a piece of paper into his hand and lets him go with a saddening smile.

“it’s the name of the client,” he whispers.

and so with that, jimin strides out of the office, the company building— not even bothering to greet seokjin properly as he jumps back into their black van. his bodyguard promptly drives him home, knowing better than to question the silenced dancer, who unfolds the paper to reveal a name.

‘LN YN’.

⇢ taglist ! ( comment, like or dm to be added! )

@periminkle​  @ggukkieland​   @aishots​ @ownthesunshine​ @codeinebelle​ @taeass​ @trviahope @singular-itae​ @preciouschimine @yoongismykink @idiakh @honeyspillings@kimsdior @chimshoe95​ @cypherft-v @tangledsparkles​ -@ultraanonymousey @rjsmochii​ ​  @thenoblr @icedoutmywristtitanic​ @chiminies-noona​ @mrsfortune1306​

[hateswifi]

Making Do (With What Life Give Us): Part 4

So last part, don’t be afraid to talk to me, I love interacting with you all. I hope you enjoyed this short (15k word) fic. Without further ado, I give you Part 4.

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

As her friendship with Adrien grew she realized that he and Chat Noir are the same person. They had kissed during Dark Cupid, turns out they both remember it and found it awkward and decided on being friends. They would have won the gaming competition if Marinette hadn't given her spot up to Max. She had won his father's hat competition without prior knowledge of their friendship, in fact, Gabriel had offered a scholarship which she would have taken if not had it been for her need to disappear to be Ladybug. But she did take commissions from her new uncle, Jagged Stone. Chloe and she had become co-class presidents together again and everyone was quite happy. She also joined them in battle as Queen Bee with the promise of secrecy. Adrien and Chloe had officially unofficially adopted the two blondes into their family. Her parents are super protective over them especially after hearing about their nightly escapades as heroes. As a group, they were close, with the help of her family, to figuring out who Hawkmoth is. 

After an awkward conversation that Marinette did not in fact like Nino more than a friend, he joined the friend group with the later addition of Alya, his new girlfriend. Throughout it all, Damian and her family had started to come to Paris more, thankfully no one from her friends besides Chloe and Adrien had met them. She didn't want to tell Nino and Alya because of the Ladyblog, Alya had a tendency to stretch the truth and to do practically anything to get a good story. She didn't fully trust them and with good reason and it all started at the beginning of her third year in Paris.

A new student joined the class, which would have been fine besides the lies she was constantly telling. "I'll meet you in the park in ten minutes," she had said to Adrien.

"You wouldn't believe what she just said," Adrien snickers to Marinette as she comes out of hiding.

"How'd you know I was there?" Marinette asks, sitting beside him.

"Chloe texted me saying you felt something suspicious about her," Adrien said.

"And with good intention, she's clearly lying," Marinette pouted.

"Obviously, she's best friends with Ladybug even though she just moved here? How does that even make sense?" Adrien asks. "So I'm not saying that you should, but I'm going to meet up with 'Ladybug's best friend' I feel like she would LOVE to catch up with her, don't you think?"

"I'll let you know what my dear friend says," Marinette smirks. Adrien and the rest of her brothers had started to rub off on her.

"I don't recommend it, I would wait to see what she says first," Tikki whispers from Mari's purse. "Or you could interrupt as you depending on what she says."

"We'll see," Marinette said, standing up. As she entered the park she heard the liar talking. 

She coos. "Ladybug isn't even the most powerful hero, it's Volpina, the holder of the fox miraculous." She pauses while she pulls out her necklace. "This is the fox miraculous, it used to be my grandmother's, but she passed it down to me. I let Ladybug have her time to make a name for herself because we're best friends."

"You've been here for like two days," Adrien started.

"And," Marinette says, walking up. "That was a necklace released in Gabriel's last line. Also why would you tell a total stranger about something, 'so important' something that is supposed to be a secret," Marinette said, sitting down beside Adrien.

"Sabine, Tom, and Chloe are waiting at home for lunch, want to come?" Marinette asks Adrien.

"I would love to!" the liar interrupted, standing up.

"And you are?" Marinette asks.

"Sorry Mari, my dad wants me to come home today," Adrien said, standing.

"It's fine, just remember mama and papa would be heartbroken if they don't see you soon," Marinette said walking towards the entrance.

"Hey I've been busy, could you imagine how much more busy I would be if we hadn't threatened to dye my hair?" Adrien laughs, remembering that wonderful weekend.

"What do you mean?" Lila asked, racing up behind them.

"A couple of weeks ago, Adrien wanted to have a sleepover with our friend group, but his dad was being himself and decided that he couldn't," Marinette started, prompting Adrien to finish. "They snuck in through the window with some semi-permanent dye and the dyed my hair lime green. I threatened to shave my head if he kept forcing me to stay in the house."

"You're a bad influence on him!" Lila shouts, grabbing her arm.

"All I'm showing him is that he doesn't have to live his life as a prisoner in his own house," Marinette responds, pulling her arm from Lila's clutch.

"And I couldn't be happier," Adrien says as his car pulls up. "Bye Mari, we still on for after school?"

"Yes, Mama said if you don't learn how to back soon she'll disown me," Marinette laughs, hugging him.

"She can't disown you and even if she did Bruce would be more than happy to take you back," Adrien snickers.

"So are we never going to talk about this again?" Lila asked, the two friends stopping in their tracks.

"As long as you don't lie, we could start a friendship," Marinette smiles. "See you in class, Lila. Welcome to our class." They wave and walk there separate ways.

Stuff started to go downhill from there, Alya and Nino believed Lila lies over Marinette and their friend group them. It was a dark time in Marinette's life, everyone besides Chloe and Adrien. The retaliation that the class set against them was beyond tolerable. Gabriel still made Adrien deal with Lila because apparently 'she is all the rage right now.' Marinette had been more unhappy than usual so Marinette's parents decided that she needed a break from the drama, but on her last day before her vacation when everything went to hell. 

"I can't believe she was even let into this school!" Alya loudly exclaimed during lunch. 

Lila's sniffled, she had been distressed because Marinette 'supposedly' made fun of her for her past, "What do you mean?"

"Well before she became a jealous wench we were best friends, I just so happen to know almost everything about her," Alya snickers.

"What do you mean? She has secrets?" Lila asks, rubbing her eyes to wipe her tears away.

"She used to live in America, where her dad left her before she was born. Her mother was a stripper and died because she couldn't pay for her drugs and was shot," Alya laughs. "She lived on the streets until Sabine and Tom adopted her. Then she became friends with Chloe and Adrien for their money and connection, obviously. She then manipulated Adrien, Lila's soulmate, to hate her."

"I recommend you silence yourself before I break your elbows and give them to Titus," A voice comes from the entry of the cafeteria. "You're saying only the bad, most of them exaggerated and false.

"And you are... someone she paid to pretend to like her?" Lila asked.

"No, she doesn't need to pay me, even if she could she wouldn't be able to. She is my best friend," he said.

"Ummmm... No! I'm her best friend and she's never spoken of you," Alya said, crossing her arms.

"A real friend would check her statements before announcing these lies. Speaking of the Angel, where is she?" he asked.

"You must not be talking about her because she's an actual demon," Lila sniffles. "Have you heard the things she's done to me?"

"And I don't believe you," He said.

"Thanks, Demon. I never needed any of them all I needed was my closest and most trustworthy friends," Marinette said after she had run and hugged him.

"Hey, Angel, it's good to see you again," he said into her hair.

"And who are you, 'Demon', you never answered," Alya asked, putting air quotes around 'Demon'.

"I'm Damian, Marinette's best friend," Damian said, an arm wrapped around her shoulder.

"That's debatable, we both know I'm her better friend," Adrien snickers.

"Nope. I was her first friend," Damian answers.

"But first is the worst, and as being her second friend, I'm the best," Chloe says, smiling.

"Come on guys, you get to spend all the time with me, let me spend some time with Damian. I haven't seen him since Thanksgiving," Marinette says, snuggling into his embrace.

"Good job making the conversation all about you," Lila remarks.

"Whatever... come on let's go to class, the sooner this ends, the sooner I can leave," Marinette says and they turn to walk to class. 

"Who the hell does she think she is?" Lila said, crossing her arms.

"A jealous, psychotic, gold-digging, wench," Alya answers.

"With good tastes though, did you see that hot piece of man that defended her," Lila said.

"Dark and brooding," Alya adds before they head to class. The lesson was normal, glares and disappointing glances sent her way, as she designed. With fifteen minutes before dismissal for the day, a knock came at the door. 

"I'm here for Marinette," Damian said, entering the room.

"Oh thank God, I don't know how much more of this crap I can take," She responds in English. "Bye Chloe, Adrien, love you both, see you next week." She hears her friends respond with a bye as the door closes.

The trip went well and the time was well spent. Marinette released her first line while in Gotham under, the alias she used to be known as, Sunshine. They had a party held in her honor where for the first time ever, she showed her face to the public and the Ice Prince and Princess Sunshine became an official couple. She melted his heart, as said by a majority of the news outlets. 

She had also made a speech at the closing of the ball. "So honestly, I just want to thank Bruce, who was kind enough to foster for me, Damian, who was a supportive food friend turned boyfriend, my brother, Jason, Tim and Drake, who taught me to live my life. Along with my two best friends, who I met in Paris, Chloe Bourgeois and Adrien Agreste. My adopted parents, Tom and Sabine, who only have my best interest at heart. Last but not least I would love to thank my antagonists all my classmates, who I'm too mature to call out by name, especially the liar, you know who you are."

The girls watch in disbelief. Lila was crying actual tears as she saw her lie-kingdom begin to fall. Alya cries as she sees her career end. 

When Marinette returned a couple of days later, Marinette walked into class early, smiling. Alya stood there, arms crossed and glared ready. "You are a petty waste of--"

"I could have been petty and released all your names," Marinette says, trying to walk past the red-head.

"No, that is just common courtesy, it was just petty to bring us up in your lies," Lila said.

"You want to see petty, fine," Marinette said, dropping her bag on Bustier's desk. She pulls out her notebook and rips it.

"So... why should we care," Lila asked.

"That. That right there ripped up and at the bottom of the waste bin is our end of the year trip," Marinette said, pointing to the waste bin.

"You! You petty bitch!" Lila screams.

"Yep, and proud of it," Marinette smiles and takes a seat, but not before placing a stack of papers on their desk.

"Also this is for you," Adrien says, walking into class. He places a stack of papers on Alya and Lila's desk.

"And what are those," Lila says, significantly paler than normal.

"Well from me, those are lawsuits from my parents, Jagged Stone, and the Waynes," Marinette said, smiling as she took a seat.

"Mine is a court-mandated cease and desist order for your Ladyblog, for spreading rumors about the Agreste Brand. For you, Lila, your papers are termination papers, for spreading false rumors," Adrien said.

"W... What, you can't do this the Ladyblog is my life work!" Alya screamed.

"Who cares about you!? My mum is going to send me back to military school if she finds out I got in trouble for lying, please don't do this," Lila exclaimed, falling on the ground.

"I gave you a way out last year, you didn't take it," Adrien said, sitting beside Chloe and Marinette.

"It's all your fault! If you hadn't been such a bad influence on him I could have had it all," Lila screamed, attempting to jump at him.

"Nope! you couldn't have," Damian said entering the room.

"Lila Rossi, you're under arrest for working the terrorist, Hawkmoth and using celebrities' names to get free things," the officer said.

"Damian, what are you doing here?" Marinette asks, standing up to greet her boyfriend.

"Father and I are here on business," he responds hugging her,

"And does any of that business have to do with you helping me?" Marinette asks, smiling into his embrace.

"Some of it the other half was actual, WE work. I'm going to be working in this wing of WE when I graduate," Damian smiles.

"Sounds great, Demon," Marinette says, breaking the embrace to look him in the eyes.

"I can't wait to start this next chapter of my life with you by my side, Angel," Damian said, kissing the crown of her head.

Extra (how Damian realized Marinette was definitely not just a friend):

Marinette had come to the ball (not really party just really big party) wearing a light blue off the shoulder cocktail dress, looking as beautiful as normal. He had been enjoying himself until he saw it. Normally he’s not one to be jealous, but the way she was smiling at this guy was bothering him. Damian found Jason and told him. “I have a suspicious feeling about that guy.”

“Are you it’s not because how he’s making her smile?” Jason asks, nudging him with his elbow. 

“And why would that bother me!” Damian asks. 

“Well remember that time in the gym, right after Marinette became Ladybug and you found out she had a partner,” Jason asks, Damian gave a nod, yes. “Well today could be that day. The longer you wait the less chance you have with her.” He finishes before walking away. 

Extra (how they became a couple):

He was utterly and completely hecked --gotta keep it family friendly ( ; -- he was in love with his best friend and it looks like someone had already beaten him to it. At the thought he walked away to the balcony, failing to notice the bluenette, who had seen him sad and decided to check up on him.

When she found him he was leaning on the guardrail he was holding a glass of grape juice, not being the legal drinking his brothers found it funny to give him it. “What’s the matter Dami?” Marinette asks, putting a hold on his shoulder. 

“It nothing, I just realized that I’ve been missing who's been in front of me this whole time and now its too late,” he sighs, taking a swig from his glass.

“Missing who?” Marinette asks, placing her head on his shoulder.

“You, you’re the best thing that’s happened to me and it’s too late now,”  Damian explained.

“What do you mean it’s too late?” Marinette said, lifting her head. 

“Didn’t that guy ask you out?” Damian asks, standing up straighter. 

“What? No Dami. He’s a client,” Marinette explained, pulling him into a hug. 

“Wait seriously?” Damian says. “God, I’m so stupid.”

“Yes Damian, if you hadn’t noticed I’m head over hill for you,” Marinette says, kissing his cheek. 

“Seriously!?” Damian asks, picking her up in a spin. 

“If I didn’t know Adrien I would say you’re the most oblivious person I know,” Marinette giggles into his embrace.

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

Tag list:

@northernbluetongue @chocolatecatstheron @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @gwennex @abrx2002 @sonif50 @silvergold-swirl @sturchling @rosep16 @toodaloo-kangaroo @captainmac6 @crazylittlemunchkin @tired-butterfly @emo-elaine13 @book-lover-2006 @weird-pale-blonde-person @rebecarojas07 @dahjokester @jessigurl-design @vixen-uchiha @daminett4life @cici-schnee @clumsy-owl-4178 @lavenderchaitea @grimmhallow31

[excitedlysuffering]

Hey y’all back at it again :p I’m living for the picture below🤣😭 (but it’s not mine!)

Meeting Again

Naruto~

After that fateful meeting with Naruto (who’d emptied your wallet), you two had agreed to go out again a week later. Of course, you told Naruto that he had to pay since there was no way you were paying for him to eat six bowls of ramen ever again.

That brings you to the present, as you sat down next to the blonde ninja. “I hate that guy! He thinks he’s so great with his duck butt hair and tragic backstory.” Naruto whined sullenly. You laughed at his antics, wondering if this Sasuke was as bad as he sounded.

“Well, you guys are on a team now, you have to get along or else your team will fall apart.” He crossed his arms with a huff. “Tell him that! He’s always trying to make me look bad, believe it!” You stifled a laugh, you felt bad at the genuinely upset expression he had.

You placed a hand on his shoulder. “Forget about him, you’re eating ramen! You can’t be upset while eating ramen, it just doesn’t make sense.”

He snickered, digging into his third bowl. “You’re right! Now tell me about your team!” You had skipped the last year of the academy, so even though you were the same age, you were a year ahead.

“My teammates are (guy friend name) and (other guy friend name). We make a pretty great team, even though they can be total idiots.” I finished my bowl of ramen, completely full.

“Lucky,” he pouted, thinking, “I have an idea! How about we hang out a few times a week so we can relax after a long day of dealing with idiots?” I giggled, but that actually sounded like a great idea.

Even though the two of you had a lot in common, you balanced each other out perfectly. He was impulsive and loud, while you was more level headed and quiet.

“Sounds good to me! Say, after this, we should prank Sasuke. Are you up for it?” His evil grin matched yours. “Definitely! Should we dye his hair pink?”

Sasuke~

You and Sasuke had easily fallen into a routine. You’d spar and train together as the sun begins to leave the sky, then the two of you would watch the stars for a while. Sometimes you would talk about things that neither told anyone else and other times you would spend it in silence. Today was not one of those days. Sasuke had asked you to tell a story of when you ad Deidara were young. He didn’t give you a reason but you were happy to indulge.

“Deidara and I didn’t really have a happy childhood, our parents made sure of that… but sometimes, when he would earn enough money by selling sculptures, he would take me places.” You smiled wistfully at the memory.

“Where?” You shrugged. “Anywhere I wanted. Out for dinner, a candy store… he bought me a kitten once. Tell me a good memory of your brother.” For once Sasuke’s face didn’t harden at the mention of Itachi if anything, it softened.

“He used to do this thing, a forehead poke… I’d ask him something and if he couldn’t answer or was too busy he’d say sorry, poke me and say next time.” You turned to him, curiously. “He would just… poke your forehead?” Sasuke chuckled quietly.

“Just like this.” He took his middle and index fingers and all but jabbed them into your forehead. You grunted, rubbing your head. “Ow,” You pouted. The Uchiha just shrugged. “Yep, it used to bother me too.”

It was quiet for a moment, the two of you just watching the stars. “You said your parents didn’t want you guys to have a childhood. Why?” You looked at him for a long second. “They hated us. Hated Dei’s hand mouths, hated my forehead tattoo, hated our need to blow things up…” He scrutinized you for a second. “Forehead tattoo?” You nodded but didn’t move to show him. You just weren’t ready yet. Luckily, he seemed to understand that.

The two of you didn’t stay for much longer, but it had been a good night. Sasuke and you had a lot in common, and it seemed to form a bond between the two of you.

Neji~

Somehow you’d let Ino and Hinata drag you to the mall. They had assured you it’d be fun, light shopping and then you’d all go out for sushi afterward. You knew you’d regret it, but you loved hanging out with your friends, so you agreed. You were right, of course, the second Ino and Hinata stepped into the first store they had made it clear they were going for a whole new wardrobe.

You, on the other hand, had a specific agenda in mind. You just wanted to purchase a few hair accessories. Hairbands, clips, and the like. But, no, the girls insisted on dragging you everywhere.

“(Y/N), we’re going to try these on, we’ll be right back, ok?” Ino grinned, already halfway in the dressing room. “Yep…” They were already gone as you sat down knowing you had to wait. This was the sixth store and you were already more than a little irritated.

“Bored, (Y/N)?” You whipped around, already knowing who the smooth voice belonged to. “Neji? What are you doing here?” You didn’t even try to hide your smile. It’d been a week since you’d met him ad you were hoping you’d get to see him again.

“Hinata dragged me here, but I escaped. I didn’t know you would be here though.” You sighed. “Lucky. This is the sixth store they’ve dragged me to! I don’t think I can handle much more.” You whined dramatically.

Neji smirked, holding a hand out to you. “Let’s escape. I know the perfect place to go.” You looked back towards the dressing rooms. “You don’t think they’ll be mad?” He shrugged, as you put your hand in his. “They’ll get over it. Now let’s go before they catch us!”

~~~~~~~~~Time Skip Sponsored By Neji’s L’oreal Commercial~~~~~~~~~~

The two of you found yourselves at the food court, surrounded by vendors with tons of different kinds of food. “Neji, you read my mind.” He smirked. “They bribed you with the promise of food too, didn’t they.” You laughed. “It was the only way.”

The two of you looked around, the number of options overwhelming you. “That sushi place sounds good, what do you think?” Neji suggested. You grabbed his hand, dragging him over. “Sounds perfect to me!”

After ordering, the two of you find a seat away from all the other patrons. “So, how’d the shampoo work out for you?” Your eyes lit up as you thought of the way it practically rejuvenated your hair. “It was amazing! I’m so glad I ran into you. Is that the one you use to?” He nodded, putting his chopsticks down. “Yes, it’s my favorite of all the ones I’ve used.”

“Neji?! (Y/N)?! Why’d you leave?!” You saw an angry Ino and Hinata rushing after you. “Uh oh, time to dip!” Grabbing Neji’s hand you pulled him out of the mall, both of you laughing all the way.

Shikamaru~

Despite your plans to meet up with Shikamaru, it’d been about a week since you’d seen him and you’d spent a lot of time at the spot you’d met him. You brought your notebook every time, but you never ended up using it. You just watched the clouds, although it wasn’t as enjoyable without him.

You began to feel a little foolish, staring at the sky by yourself. Dejected, you stood up, grabbed your stuff and prepared to leave. “Leaving so soon?” You stood up from where you’d bent down to grab your things and was met with the boy you’d been waiting for.

“Shikamaru? You came!” He grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, it took so long, I had to go on a mission, but I’m glad you waited.” You giggled. “It’s alright, I’m just happy you’re here now.”

You both sat down next to each other, just like the first day you met. “We agreed that you’d show me the wonders of writing… what better way than by reading to me?” You instantly flushed at the suggestion.

“The stories not even finished yet…” You mumbled. He shrugged. “Oh, c’mon! Just show me what you have. If you don’t read it to me, I’ll just have to look at it myself and that’d be a drag.” You laughed at him despite yourself at his catchphrase.

“Okay… I’ll read some. But don’t laugh!” He gave you a small smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” You began to read your story, the tale of a girl named (name of protagonist) who only dreamed of two things; freedom and power. She ran away from her town, with enough supplies to last her few days-

“Why would she do that? Her parents loved her, she had friends and… everything was great…” Shikamaru interrupted quietly. You smiled softly. “Sometimes our goals can drive us to do foolish things. Now listen!” He pouted. “Geesh, woman, so demanding.” You snickered before starting where you left off.

As you finished your story, Shikamaru looked disappointed. “That’s it?” You gave him a look. “I told you it wasn’t done yet.” He groaned. “How troublesome. When you finish it, I want to hear the rest of it.” You smiled, flattered that he had liked it. “You’ll be the first one to know. Doesn’t that cloud kinda look like a pineapple?” He gave you a weird look before looking at the cloud. “Um, I guess so-” You smirked mischievously.

“It reminds me of you!” He scowled. “How mature, (Y/N),” He muttered, but you kept laughing. “Okay, it’s not that funny, geez, woman!” You only laughed harder.

Kiba~

Ever since that movie night, Kiba seemed to frequent the Nara home; not that either of you minded, he was great company. Per usual, the three of you were in Shikamaru’s room, bored out of your mind. You were laid out on the bed, your head dangling off the edge, while Kiba sat on the floor, his head next to yours, and Shikamaru sat at his desk chair, staring at nothing.

“Guys, I’m bored.” You groaned. Shikamaru sighed. “How about I go grab some things from the basement. I’ll be back.”

He immediately rushed off, effectively stunning you both. “Was that really our Shika? Cause, he would’ve complained about you being troublesome and a drag and would’ve made us go.” Kiba stated in shock. You nodded dumbly. “Yeah… he’s up to something.” You didn’t miss the cute smirk on his face, nor did you miss his eyes full of mischief. “Wanna prank him?” You grinned deviously. “Let’s do it.” The two of you scrambled to your feet, going straight to the closet to grab supplies. “So what’s the plan, dog boy?” Clearly choosing to ignore your nicknames, he handed you a button. “What’s this? Wait a second, you’ve been planning this?!”

He grinned. “I wanted it to work. It’ll beep every time it’s pressed, but it’s not very loud, just shrill. Go ahead and try it.” You did and immediately winced at the high pitched whine.

“We’re going to put it under his pillow.” A slow grin spread across your lips. “A tired Shika is a Shika who won’t bother to check his pillow. This is genius!” I regretted the words as soon as they left my lips. There was no way Kiba’s smug expression was going anywhere now.

“C’mon! We don’t know how long he’ll be gone. We have to hurry.” You dragged him back to Shikamaru’s room, snickering as you imagined your best friend’s reaction.

“You can play it cool right? You won’t be laughing all night or something?” You huffed at the question. “Of course not, I’ve played plenty of pranks on him. But this is a pretty good one.” Kiba chuckled as he stuffed the small button inside the pillowcase.

“Perfect. Now act natural before he gets here.” You both laid on the bed, playing with Akamaru, who barked, excited at all the attention he was receiving. Just as you were about to mention his pillow, you heard the door slam.

“Hey, guys, come down here.” You and Kiba shared a look before rushing downstairs. “Blankets and pillows…? What’re you doing?” Kiba asked. “You two are watching a movie in a pillow fort, so I can take a nap!” You and Kiba sighed. “He’s such a chivalrous host, isn’t he?” Both guys laughed, but Shika was already up the stairs.

We both watched as he left, excited our plan was working so well. “Do you think he’ll fid it?” You asked. Kiba grabbed a blanket. “Nah, he’ll be pissed though.” Snickering you guys built the pillow fort. Five minutes later you heard Shikamaru yell a few… obscenities.

Gaara~

You walked up to the sand sibling’s door, excited to meet up with your friends for a day of shopping. You knocked on the mahogany door, hoping all three of them were up and ready. They told you 8:30 and you were perfectly on time.

The door opened revealing their redheaded brother. “Hey, Gaara! Are you guys ready?” He sighed opening the door for you. “Hello, (Y/N). I am, but when I came down, Temari and Kankuro were still sleeping.” You facepalmed. “I really should’ve expected this… this is the fourth time!” Gaara smirked. “Want to wake them up? I’m sure we can find something loud.”

You rubbed your hands evilly. “Can I play the piano?” You pointed to the grand piano in the corner, already forming a devious plan. “Yes, of course. I didn’t know you played.” You blushed, sitting down on the bench. “I don’t usually tell people… but this is one of my hobbies.” He flashed you a small smile, as he sat down next to you. “What are you going to play?” I placed my fingers over the keys. “Dissonant chords. They’re harsh and loud and will surely wake them up!” He nodded once in approval and you began.

Your fingers flew over the keys, the sounds of a jarring and mournful wail poured out. You both winced as you played the notes as loud as possible. It took a few minutes, but you heard the stomping of footsteps.

“What is going on?!” Temari and Kankuro, both looking half asleep. “Oh, hey (Y/N), what’re you doing here today?” Kankuro asked, yawning. Both you and Gaara stared at them, unimpressed. “We were supposed to go shopping today.” Temari blanched. “Shoot! You’re right!” They rushed back up the stairs, leaving you and Gaara alone once again.

“Can you play me something else?” Gaara whispered, awkwardly. You were beaming as you positioned your hands over the keys. “I’d love to! I’ll play Swan Lake, it’s my favorite.” (A/N Yes I know it’s not anywhere near the era or location but just bear with me XD) The familiar tune wafted all through the room and you smiled at the calming music.

“Would you ever be willing to teach me to play?” You paused, a delighted smile on your face. “Next time I come over, I’ll teach you everything I know.” His cheeks reddened slightly, matching yours.

“Thank you… I’m looking forward to it.”

Kakashi~

After your spar three days ago, which you had very nearly won, you and Kakashi had decided to take a stroll around the park. You were both outdoorsy types so it worked perfectly for both of you.

“So you were ANBU Black Ops Captain before you got a Genin team right?” You nodded thinking of your team, Ino, Choji, and Shikamaru (screw Kurenai no one needs her). “Yeah, it’s been quite the transition,” You laughed.

“What made you change?” You sighed. “It was great being in ANBU, but I’ve been doing that since I was 15. I… guess I wanted to pass on my own ninja way if that makes sense.”

He gave you a closed eye smile. “That makes perfect sense, in fact-“

“Kakashi-sensei!” Three teens that you recognized as Team 7, Sasuke, Sakura, and Naruto, ambushed the silverette, with angry expressions.

“You were supposed to be at training four hours ago! That’s late even for you, Kakashi-sensei!” Sakura exclaimed. You gave the man a look. “We could’ve hung out another time, Kakashi. Go train your team.”

Three pairs of eyes settled on you. “Heyy… you’re Ino, Shikamaru, and Choji’s sensei! What are you doing here?!” You flushed as Naruto pointed at you. “Ah, yes I am. I didn’t know he had somewhere to be, sorry guys.” Sasuke gave Kakashi a sly glance before addressing you.

“Tch. It’s not a problem. Kakashi should’ve just invited you to our training session. I’m sure you could help.”

Both you and Kakashi blushed, but you smirked right back at the Uchiha. “That’s a good idea! I’ve heard great things about you guys!” The masked man groaned but didn’t protest.

~~~Time Skip Brought By Team 7 Reading The Icha Icha Books~~~

That’s how you ended up watching Naruto and Sasuke spar, while Sakura practiced her medical skills. “You know, you never did get to finish your sentence earlier.” He thought back to the moment for a second.

“Ah, yes. I was saying I felt the same way when I left ANBU… it’s a great position, and very important, but there’s more to being a shinobi- to life- than endless missions and the like.” You watched the Naruto narrowly dodge a kunai. “Couldn’t have said it better myself. Plus I wouldn’t have gotten to meet you, and even though we haven’t been talking long, I enjoy your company.”

You could just ake out the grin under his mask. “Same for me. We should hang out more often. Preferably when our students aren’t around to bother us.” You giggled. “Well, actually you were supposed to be with them four hours ago!” He waved a hand. “Technicalities.” You both laughed, silently agreeing that Naruto, Sasuke, and Sakura could handle their training for a day.

~Akatsuki~

Pein~

“That’s the girl? She looks pretty harmless, Leader-sama…” Your eyes opened a bit, hearing voices not far from you. “I didn’t bring you here so you can tell me what she looks like, Kakuzu. She stole my ring and I need it back.”

Your blood ran cold. That Pein guy was back for you and he had brought help. You had been sleeping in the corner of an alleyway. As of now, there was only one way to escape. There was a hole that you fit through perfectly that led down to catacombs you could hide in.

You stood up, leaping for the entrance. “Oh, no you don’t kid.” Just as you reached the hole, something wrapped around your waist, restraining you. Stitches? The man, who you assumed was ‘Kakuzu’ had grabbed you with the stitches that encircled his body.

“We ought to kill you, but had I not wiped off my hand, I wouldn’t have noticed you’d even stole my ring- enough Kakuzu, stop laughing- and then you’d already disappeared. Your expertise could come in handy.”

Just then you noticed their cloaks. Oh god. You had stolen from the Akatsuki. Your blood ran cold. “Y-you want me t-to join?” Pein nodded walking closer. He roughly grabbed your wrist and snatched his ring back. “Tch. Stealing from a God.” His hand struck out, hitting your pressure point, causing you to go limp.

~~~Le Time Skip Brought By An Akatsuki Outing To The Nail Salon~~~

You woke up with a splitting headache and with itchy wrists. Your eyes blinked open, trying to rub your head, but your wrists were restrained in shackles. “W-what? Hello?! You can’t keep me here!” The orange-haired jerk came into view, causing your eyes to narrow.

“You’re right. You can’t stay here; that’s why I’m giving you two choices. Become a member of the Akatsuki or die.” Your jaw dropped. “I’m not even a shinobi! What-” He held up a hand.

“You will be a spy and gather information for our organization. Now, what is your choice?” You hung your head, knowing you had no choice but to accept your new fate. “I’ll join.”

Deidara~

You searched the shelves of the art shop, looking for very specific items. The blonde artist you had met the day before had inspired you to try something new. You were going to do something of an explosion exhibit. You had already bought mini fireworks, now you just needed (favorite color) spray paint and colorful smoke bombs.

“Fancy seeing you here, (Y/N), un,” Chuckled a low voice from behind you. You spun around, coming face to face with the very man you were thinking of. “D-Deidara! What are you doing here?” Your surprised face turned into one of happiness. It’d been less than a week since you’d seen him, you weren’t expecting him to visit so soon, not that you were complaining.

“Well, I needed more clay, and I heard this place had good quality materials, yeah.” You nodded eagerly. “They do, this is the only place I’ll shop at.” His head tilted to the side a bit, and you glimpsed a piece of metal where his eye should be. Before you could ask, he was peering into your basket. “What are you doing here, un?” Heat colored your cheeks as you explained.

“Well… you kinda inspired me the other night…” His eye lit up. “What are you planning and can I help, hmm?” You grabbed his arm, pulling him along. “That’d be great! I just need two more things. While I do that go grab your clay and we’ll meet up front so I can explain everything!”

It didn’t take long for either of you to find your supplies and you hurriedly paid. “Okay, so I had the idea to plant colored smoke bombs all over town square and set them all off, along with some flares.” He was beaming at you as you both left the store. “Spoken like a true artist, un! I can set off the mini bombs while you do the flares, hmm?” He suggested.

“That’s perfect, we can do one at a time, one bomb for every flare?” You two quickly finished planning and agreed to meet up in front of the store at dusk so you had time to set up.

~~~Time Skip Brought To You By Deidara, Sasori, and Hidan Having A Fashion Show~~~

(PIC BELOW)

The sun was just starting its descent when you snuck back to your and Deidara’s rendezvous spot, flares and matches in hand. “Psst, (Y/N), psst!” You looked to your left to see Deidara dragging a clearly unwilling Sasori toward you. “Hey! You guys ready?” Sasori crossed his arms. “I didn’t agree to this.” You pouted. “Please?”

He rolled his eyes with a huff. “Fine.” You cheered quietly. “Okay, here’s the plan. The square will become real busy with night activities in the next fifteen minutes. We need to set up the bombs three per corner.” Sasori looked at all the different colors.

“Should we mismatch them?” You shrugged. “I’m not picky, whatever you guys decide you like to do. I’ll set up the flares.” The time flew as you guys hurriedly set up all your explosive materials.

A small bird landed at your feet, signaling that Deidara and Sasori were ready. You let out a shrill whistle and the first three bombs went off in a small pop! Purple, red, and blue smoke drawing the attention of bystanders. You set off a flare that lot up into the night sky in response.

The ‘show’ had been a huge success, drawing crowds from all over. It had lasted a good amount of time as well.

“That was beautiful, un.” You threw your arms around the blonde, startling him. “I couldn’t have done this without you, thank you!” His arms wrapped around your waist.

“You’re welcome… maybe we can do this again sometime, yeah.”

[calumbringbackthewatermelonshirt]

Angel Baby (L.H.)

a/n: oh yeah shaking it up with a Luke piece instead of cal. who am I? any who, please enjoy another mediocre beginning and weak finish story by yours truly

“It’s time for a change.”

You jumped as Luke slammed a bag of groceries onto your kitchen island, raising an eyebrow at his theatrics.

“O-kay?” These kinds of declarations were no stranger in your household, seeing as Luke went through a personality crisis at LEAST once per month. Still, you always heard him out, since 9 times out of 10 you had to gently persuade him away from doing whatever he was going to do, including stopping him from shaving his eyebrows.

Honestly, you had no idea what he would do without you.

“Throughout the history of this band, I have always been the relatively ‘safe’ one. Conservative, very blah-blah.” You sighed, internally pinching the bridge of your nose. So this ‘change’ now came with a long-winded speech. It was tough getting a word in edgewise, considering Luke’s impressive lung capacity that accompanied being the lead singer of the band. “I’ve never had a tattoo, spontaneous shave of my head, or even a huge engagement announcement.”

Okay, now you were interested. The word engagement kinda set you on edge now, not in a bad way, of course. But you and Luke had been going on about three years together now, and you knew people that had gotten married after one. The word had prompted you to sit up more, placing your arms on the back or the couch and resting your chin on your hands.

“To this boring life, I say no more. I have decided.”

You raised your eyebrows in anticipation.

“We’re dying my hair.”

You deflated a little but honestly weren’t too disappointed. With the dramatics Luke went through for something as simple as hair dye, you figured the proposal would have to be HUGE.

Still, one thing at a time, you supposed.

“Oh. Listen, I totally support you 100 percent, but are you sure you’re not gonna have an identity crisis? I mean, you’re hungover Jesus. You’re the angel baby! Golden curls are literally trademarked by you.” You climbed over the back of the couch, foregoing the three steps it would take you to walk around. It was a wise choice for you to wear sweatpants and an old t-shirt today.

Yet when you peaked into the bag that Luke had slammed onto the counter, you weren’t sure you actually had to worry about an identity crisis.

“Um, babe.”  You took the boxes into your hands, each one almost the exact same.

“Yes, darling?” Luke looked up from the cabinet he had been digging in, trying to find a bowl to mix his dye in.

“You do know that you bought all blonde hair dye, right?” All the boxes had the same generic but awful names, like ‘beeswax and honey’ or ‘sun kissed golden rays of pure sunshine.’

“Um, yeah. That’s like the whole point.” Luke gave you a dumb look then resumed rummaging in the cabinet, undoubtedly ruining all your perfectly organized shelves.

“Okay, so that begs the question. You do know you’re already blonde, correct?” Honestly, your boyfriend sometimes.

“Yes, I am aware of my own hair color.” Luke stood. Apparently, he had finally selected an adequate mixing container. “I just wanted something different, but nothing too drastic.”

“Sure. Okay babe. Whatever you say.” You gathered the numerous boxes of hair dye into your arms, which was no easy task, considering how many there were, and stumbled your way into the bathroom. There you dumped all of the dyes onto the counter and started running the hot water so it’d be warm whenever Luke managed his way in here.

“Welcome to the salon I guess,” you sassed as you extended your arms and spun in a circle, although you accidentally smacked Luke in the chest since you were in the smaller hall bathroom and not your own.

Petunia let out a happy bark at the sound of Luke’s yelp. Luke just made sad eye contact with her as if to say ‘why would you betray me like this?’

“Alright you giant, lean over so I can wet your hair.” Luke obliged while you busied yourself mixing the bleach and putting on the proper gloves. You were not ready for accidental bleach burns, not today thank you. Still, it was almost relaxing, massaging first the water, then the bleach mixture through Luke’s hair. With the water running in the background, it was almost like you really WERE at the salon.  

“So, we just let it sit for what, twenty minutes?” Luke was staring at the box with a glaring intensity, as if the box had roughed him up and taken his lunch money in middle school.

“Depends on how blonde you wanna be.” You hopped up onto the counter and crossed your legs, making yourself comfy for the next probable half hour. “If it doesn’t work out for ya, you have enough hair dye for us, our clones, and piggy.”

“Alright then. Let’s start with twenty five.” Luke set the timer on his phone and took a seat on the edge of the bathtub.

“Wow, twenty five minutes huh? Someone’s feeling edgy.” Time passed quickly, between your teasing and Luke’s protesting. It made you a little nostalgic, though. You honestly couldn’t remember the last time the two of you had spent time together like this.

However, before you could really make yourself sappy, Luke timer went off, making both of you jump a bit.

“Well, Hemmings. Let’s see if you got your wish to become blonde.”

After washing, toning (which, note to self, Luke looks good in purple), and drying his hair, you had to take a step back and admire your handiwork.

“Well? How’s it look?” Luke ran a hand through his locks, having been too nervous to look straight away.

“I take back what I said earlier.” You crossed your arms and shook your head slightly, a small smirk on your face. “We’ve definitely averted an identity crisis. I’ve somehow managed to turn you into an even bigger angel baby.”

[writesowhatnext]

observant is not his middle name // kylo ren

Summary: barista!reader is pleasantly surprised when modern!kylo notices her new do (coffeeshop!au)

Request: Hey sweetie, can I have an imagine of Kylo Ren and the reader dating? She decides to change her hair color without telling him. She goes from blonde to red and she gets his reaction. Thanks! ❤️

A/N: I changed it a little because I had more ideas with them not dating yet also I do treasure a good coffee shop au

Reader: unspecified

Warnings: customer service lol

“My coffee was cold!”

“Ma’am-“

“When I order coffee, I expect it to be hot-“

“Ma’am-“

“Don’t Ma’am me, I’m twenty-seven!”

The woman on the other side of the counter slammed her espresso down next to your hand. Drops of brown liquid splattered up your sleeve and over the surface. Well, she was right. It wasn’t hot. You looked from your hand to her face, struggling to keep a polite smile on your face. She definitely was not twenty-seven.

“I am never coming here again!”

You watched her turn on her heels, not bothering to make sure she left; if you were lucky, she’d keep her promise. You threw the cup away, slightly disgusted as it perched between your thumb and forefinger.

The queue behind the woman moved up and a very tall, very wide, very dark figure stepped closer. You looked up from the surface you were wiping down to see a very handsome man. Very handsome indeed. He was almost excessively tall, with big, broad shoulders and strangely pretty features.

“She seemed nice.” He said, raising his eyebrows. You couldn’t help your snort.

“What can I get you today?” you asked, offering a tired smile. He was really very attractive, you thought.

“Uh… an americano and,” he paused, frowning. You raised your eyebrow as he pulled his phone out, his frown deepening. “a soya macchiato?”

Cute too, it seemed.

He looked at you if to check that such a drink existed. You chuckled a little, nodding.

“Coming right up. Anything else?”

“No,” he stared at you, eyes narrowing a little. An amused smile played on his lips. “Thanks.”

“That’ll be five dollars.”

As you put his money away, grimacing slightly at how sticky your hands were from that lady’s espresso, he stalled at the counter. You looked up at him, a question on the tip of your tongue.

“I sure hope it’s hot.” He said, clearly teasing with his raised eyebrow and lips pursed. “Wouldn’t want to have to come back here.”

You bit your lip to try to hide your smile. He watched you with a smile of his own as you tongued the inside of your cheek. You were sort of disappointed when he left without saying anything else.

The next time you saw your tall, dark and handsome stranger you were making drinks, pulling at the blonde strands of your hair between orders.

“I’m bored with my hair.” You said, turning to your co-worker. “I’m thinking of dyeing it.”

“What colour?” she replied, passing you a piece of paper with the next order on.

“Blue? Red maybe? I’m not sure yet.”

You made the coffee on autopilot as your co-worker carried on taking orders. With an americano in one hand and soya macchiato in the other, you went to the to-go shelf, stopping short silently when you looked into familiar brown eyes. He brightened up slightly when he saw you, a fact you enjoyed immensely.

“I forgot about you and your soya macchiato.” You said, sliding the cups over with a teasing smile.

“Am I that forgettable?”

You knew he knew he wasn’t.

“Desperately.”

He mocked a wounded expression.

“See you around.” He said, lips lifted in a half-smile.

Hopefully, you thought.

He didn’t look back as he left. When the door eventually closed behind him, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“What was that about?” you co-worker asked, smiling very, very smugly.

“Shut up.” You said, ripping the order note from her hand and turning away.

It was hard to admit but you were unavoidably hoping your mysterious stranger would return; for the next few days, you were always on the lookout for him. After a week, you decided you were being stupid and you needed to, as the kids say, get a life. So, you did what everybody does when they are met with a mild inconvenience, you dyed your hair. You weren’t completely sure about the red, honestly, but you’d had a few compliments so, you decided to stick with it for a while.

“Y/N!” your co-worker called from behind the counter. You hurried your cleaning, picking up empty mugs and napkins where you could.

“Yes.” You said, placing the cups in the washing rack and throwing the other stuff away. “What do you need?”

“How long left on your shift?”

You looked at the clock, grinning. “’Bout two minutes, why?”

She pointed at a tray with two cups on and a club sandwich.

“Can you take that to table fourteen before you leave?”

It took you about three minutes to remember where table fourteen was, distractedly thinking about how excited you were to finally have a day where you didn’t have to actually do anything. When you finally found it, you were quite optimistic about who was sitting there. You could only see him from behind but those broad shoulders, the dark hair – quite distinctive. He was sat across from a ginger man with pale skin and a bored expression.

“Coffees and a club sandwich?” you said, stopping next to the table, holding the tray with one hand. You placed the club sandwich on the table, aware of his eyes on you.

“Your hair is red.”

You huffed a laugh, looking at the cups to see what was in them.

“Someone’s observant today.”

A soft blush covered his cheeks; your heart went a little mushy at how endearing it was.

“Americano.” You said, placing the darker drink in front of him before turning to his friend who was looking between you and his friend suspiciously. “I assume you’re the mysterious soya macchiato?”

He frowned at your words but thanked you anyway.

“Hope you enjoy.”

“Hey,” your favourite customer said as you began to turn away. “When do you finish?”

If you looked up ecstatic in the dictionary, there would be a picture of you at that exact moment, red hair and all.

“In about thirty seconds.” You replied, not looking away from him.

“Perfect.” He wetted his lip. “Meet me here in ten minutes?”

You looked at his friend expectantly.

“He’s just leaving.”

You suppressed your smile at his excuse and his friend’s eye roll.

“Ten minutes.”

You weren’t sure exactly what you did in those ten minutes. You definitely spent about four of them doing a happy dance that you hoped would never see the light of day. You also messed with your hair for about another four; you couldn’t decide how to style it best. It took you another two minutes to undo the knot you’d made on your apron. You cursed past-you for busting out some Scout level manoeuvres, instead of finding a normal knot sufficient. You practically ran from the back room, into the café itself. And then you stopped, careful to not look so keen. A monument of grace and decorum, you were. You saw him sat at the same table, now alone, with an empty plate and his large hand resting on his coffee cup. His knee was bouncing under the table.

“Hi.” You said, suddenly nervous. He looked up at you, a slightly awestruck expression on his face before he pointed to the seat opposite him.

“Please, sit.”

As you sat, you felt his eyes on your face.

“My name’s Kylo.” He leant his elbows on the table, mouth pressed against his fists.

“Interesting name.”

“Interesting enough to learn yours?”

You pursed your lips to contain your smile.

“Y/N. It’s on my name tag.”

“I’m never looking at your name tag.” He didn’t look away from your face. He was glad he didn’t when your eyes widened and you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth.

“I think your hair suits you.” He rested his hands on his forearms atop the table, leaning forward with his impossibly large shoulders.

“Thank you.” You frowned slightly. “I wasn’t too sure myself, considered just bleaching it-“

“No.” he said almost too eagerly. “Keep it. It’s good. It looks good.”

You smiled, pleased that he seemed to be as affected by you as you were by him.

“Yeah?” you tucked a strand behind your ear. “I’m glad you think so.”

The tension between you was palpable. You had no idea what either of you were going to do next but you got a strange sort of high from the whole experience. He bit the inside of his cheek, brows drawing together.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

[madrabbitsociety]

Sometimes, and I do not mean for this to sound malicious, which it will, I feel the need to defend hairdressers. 

Hairdressers and hair stylists are skilled technicians who go through thousands of hours of training in order to hone their craft. Some of us were lucky enough to go to a technical school while in high school and are not in debt. I, however, paid almost $25,000 to go to school. I had to go for 1500 solid hours. In my state, that meant Mon-Thurs evenings for 5 hours a night. In my opinion, people don’t give stylists enough credit for what they need to know to get licensed in their state. Specifically, my license is for cosmetology. I had to know skin disorders, chemical reactions, actual strand structure - and we still don’t get told enough because we don’t get proper training on different types of hair, but that’s a whole different post that a lot of other people have done better than me. 

The predominant way we are paid in the industry is via commission. So if we have no one scheduled, we don’t get paid. If we have a client cancel, we don’t get paid. At my first salon I was expected to stay as early as I could to as late as I could, unpaid, just in case someone came in. Of course, corporate places are mildly better in that they offer a minimum wage, but that’s usually somewhere between $7-9 an hour. In order to earn commission in that type of situation you have to do more in services than what you would have been paid for the hour. Again, probably an entire post in itself. 

I tried a lot of places. I paid a lot of money for a license I was very proud to own. The final straw was a salon near my house. Personality-wise, I really felt like it would work out because I enjoyed the people I was around and I was disappointed when it didn’t work. When I first started, they insisted I do two unpaid apprenticeship days because I was (licensed for 6 months at that time) too new to work on their clients. They would provide models and charge the models a lower service fee than their usual service fee. I would then have two paid days at $10 an hour where I would basically follow the owner around, clean and do shampoos. On my days off, I was expected to want to come into the salon and continue to apprentice for free. There was a point in my apprenticeship phase where I was only being paid two days for 5-6 days worth of work. 

Again, this is not uncommon in the industry. Maybe not to this extreme, but certainly there’s a lot of free work being done. Does your stylist have someone help them blowdry? You might want to make sure that apprentice is being paid.

My skills did improve greatly during this period, but I maintain that was because I put a lot into it. The owner took all the credit- through his great teaching methods, I was becoming an ‘okay’ hairdresser. 

During the apprenticeship, unless you handed me a cash tip, he kept all of my credit card tips. So if you added a tip after service with your credit card, the salon kept them because they said I was using their electricity/taking up space in the salon and I needed to pay for that.

In addition to all of the time I listed above actually being in the salon, I was also expected to attend continuing education classes. In summary, and again this is not an uncommon culture in the industry, if you do not eat-sleep-breathe HAIR, you are told you’re not good and you won’t do well. The only exception seems to be if you have children, but if you’re single/without kids they will work you to the bone.

When I was finally promoted to a junior stylist, I stopped being paid hourly at all. I was told I would get 36% commission for services and I was specializing in color corrections/the blonding journey at the time, so I was doing $200-300 services quite often. Some of those services took 4-6 hours of my time, but if I had no one scheduled I was still expected to straighten up, do laundry, sweep the floors and help other stylists with color application and blowouts. Which is fine, kind of. The problem became that from the start of my journey at that specific salon, I would be expected to arrive when we opened at 10 AM and stay until the owner finished his clients- sometimes I didn’t leave until 11-12 PM, and was expected to come back the next day. 

So yes, one $300 color service could mean that I earned 14-16$ an hour, but… when you’re working 10-12 hour days that kind of knocks it down to minimum wage again.

Then there is the opinion that this is an easy job that so many people can do and you don’t need to be vaguely intelligent to do it. That the people who chose hair are stupid or unskilled. I was sitting on the steps of my school once, reading an Agatha Christie book and comparing certain passages to an ACD Sherlock Holmes story via text message with SpicyMags, when an older couple walked by. The man looked up at the school sign and scoffed, “These girls are getting suckered into a scam. This is nothing but a scam and they’re stupid enough to fall for it.” 

Well, in retrospect, he’s not wrong, but at the same time when you know the blood and sweat and tears- the thousands of hours and dollars that are poured into not only the initial licensing but the continued education classes- being a hairdresser is so much more than people give it credit for. It’s an abusive industry that exploits a lot of unpaid labor and even when you get to a point where you have skill, where you are an artist, you have people asking for a luxury service and then complaining when that unnecessary luxury costs them actual money. 

One last thing I’d love to point out- the 100% customer service guarantee. A lot of salons these days are trying to change, but a lot of them also still have a guarantee that if you don’t love your hair, you get a free redo or a refund. Do you know what that means? Your stylist doesn’t get paid.

So I can spend 6-8 hours on your hair after you tell me it’s been box dyed brown attempting to take you through the lightening journey to get it blond. I can tell you that because of the molecules and ingredients in the dye, the actual damaged structure of your hair, that it is not possible to do it all in one day but I can get you close. I can explain to you the entire process, waste all my time being completely honest with you about how golden it’s still going to look because it IS a journey/process, and at the end you can decide that because I didn’t get your hair to solid white in one go that you want a refund…

And I don’t get paid for the entire day that we spent together. 

That’s some fucking bullshit, but it’s - and this is a quote from several of the places I’ve worked- an “industry standard”. 

The cherry on this shituation cake is that we also don’t get any health benefits, life insurance, retirement- no freaking anything (corporate salons being a slight exception although having worked in the medical field I can tell you the benefits offered by corp. owned salons are not great.)

So please, next time you decide that it’s laughable that a salon quotes you $150 for a craft haircut that takes a certain level of knowledge and skill, remember that the salon gets most of that and if you don’t like it there’s a huge change your stylist isn’t getting paid.

Edit: Things that I did not mention but should have- the toll it takes on your body (repetitive motions and standing in heels on concrete floors cause back issues, neck and hip issues, knee issues, carpal tunnel and risk of cutting off your knuckle with your instruments). I had to sign a release that my school was not responsible for me cutting any part of my body with my shears (I’ve had bosses who lost toes and knuckles). You think that heels thing is a joke? I’ve worked in several salons where ‘female’ stylists were required to wear heels and at least three items of make-up because ‘this was the beauty industry and we had a standard to keep’. Say you gather a clientel and can rent your own chair or booth, you’re responsible for purchasing every single bit of supplies you might need to continue doing what you’re doing, so you’re still having business costs eat into your hourly wage. People need to give a fucking standing ovation to hairdressers, okay, because this industry is brutal.

I’m not saying I dislike doing hair, or that I’d never do hair again, but there are several reasons I’m not doing it right now. 

[urmomsstuntdouble]

if you’re okay with hetalia! I would love anything with the nyo!nordics they are absolutely my guilty pleasure. it can be shippy or familial or whatever else. I’m partial to stupid AUs like “they all work at the mall but don’t match their stores at all” and “iceland is into vocaloid” but you could also go the complete opposite direction and I’d be just as happy with high fantasy or whatever inspires you :)

here ya go i guess. sorry this took so long, i sort of got carried away with it and now it is Lorge. is it good? in character? who knows. anyway, i hope you enjoy :)

December 19, 20XX

After five years of living together, there were certain things Ylva had come to expect of her roommates. Harassment at work was nearly a given when one of them had a problem, whether it was Runa needing a place to sleep for the night or Maija needing to workshop material for her latest gig. Thankfully, Ylva worked at a Color Me Mine instead of a bank or something serious. And today was no exception to the Workplace  Harassment Rule. At 7:32, Maija burst through the front door and charged over to where Ylva was filling bottles of glaze. If she were any other customer, someone might have something to say about it, but by now, every staff member was acquainted with her and found her charming. Some had even been disappointed to hear she was taken, though Ylva couldn't imagine why. Her girlfriend was a fucking nightmare.

“I need to paint some mugs,” Maija demanded, tossing the end of her scarf over her shoulder. Ylva didn't look up, didn't even take her headphones out of her ears.

“Cool.”

“For Tuli and Astrid. For Christmas.” 

“There have been enough Color Me Mine presents circulated within our apartment already,” Ylva said. The bottle of glaze had been filled, and it was time to move on to the next one. It was butter yellow, almost the same shade as Maija’s hair. 

“Okay, you’re not wrong, but if I order on Amazon, it’s not gonna come on time. Also, you’ll get paid this way.” Maija moved a clump of hair away from her forehead with delicate fingers, as though it were made of glass. Ylva snorted, cracking open the yellow glaze.  

“My knight in shining armor,” She said, “It’s not like this place is going under.” Quite the contrary, in fact. This close to Christmas, the place was packed as people scrambled to make gifts for their loved ones. Dumbasses. When they rushed the place, it was nearly impossible to get everyone’s stuff through the kiln in time for Christmas. 

“Okay, well, have you considered that I’m your girlfriend?” Maija said, giving her best puppy dog eyes. Ylva rolled her eyes, trying to suppress the warmth she felt inside, and shrugged. 

“I’d like to not pay rent next month,” She said, “Make that your Christmas present to me. Instead of paying my share of the rent, I get to pay off my student loans.” Maija rolled her eyes, but shifted closer to Ylva. 

“Done, if I can make them mugs.” 

“Fine.” Ylva glanced up at Maija. “Your hair looks cute today.” 

“Oh, thanks! I’ve actually been wearing a hat all day, so I was worried it would look ugly, but…Anyway. So, I sent Runa some tickets to my show on Saturday, but I haven’t heard back from her. Do you know if she’s, like, alright?” Once again, Ylva had to shrug. 

“Runa’s a big girl, she can handle herself.” 

“I know, but I get so worried about her. Like, what if some handsome boy seduces her and she runs away from home, and-”

“My sister? Run away with a boy?” Ylva had to laugh. “Are you high?” Of all the reasons Runa had to run away from their mother’s house, a boy was not one of them. She’d be more likely to start her own brand of sweaters or write a TV show for Netflix, but never once had Runa talked about boys. 

“Whatever. Is she doing okay?” 

“I think so. I’ve been sending her money for a couple weeks, so I know she’s not starving.” Ylva had to take comfort in that. The truth was, she hadn’t heard from her sister in a while, and it was becoming unnerving. But if she got anxious about it, so would Maija, and an anxious Maija was no fun to deal with.

“Besides, when has she ever missed one of your shows?” Runa made it a point to go whenever one of them had a gig. She was always in the front row when Ylva’s band, Lithium, was playing, and always somewhere in the room when Maija was doing “comedy.” Cringing along with the rest of the audience. 

“That’s true. I just wanna make sure she’s safe, you know?” Ylva nodded. It was a feeling she knew all too well. Looking after Runa defined her middle school career. 

“What sort of mugs do you want?” She asked, changing the subject. She was tired of talking about her sister, tired of thinking about all the ways Runa could end up dead in a ditch. Or dead some other way, like drugs or if she ate scallops, which she was allergic to, or if she got too close to some birds while trying to take a picture and got hit by a car. 

“Oh, um, I think Tuli likes the round ones.” 

“All mugs are round,” Ylva snorted. Her manager probably wouldn’t notice if she wandered away to paint mugs with Maija. She stopped pretending to fill bottles of glaze and stowed the refills under the table, where they usually lived, and guided Maija over to the selection of paintable ceramics. 

“This is what I mean,” Maija said, grabbing a mug from the top shelf. Ylva enjoyed the way her hoodie moved, how the fabric straightened against her waist while she rose to her toes. The mug in question was wide at the bottom, but the sides slowly curved up to the top, not unlike a sugar pot. It was cute, and exactly the sort of mug Tuli would like. 

“Oh,” Ylva said, “That’s cute. I think Astrid would like that one.” She pointed at another mug on the top shelf, and took pleasure in watching her girlfriend stretch to reach it. Over the next few hours, Maija painted the mugs. Her efforts to be artistic were sincere, but it was clear she didn't have the attention span. As always, Maija never stopped rambling and never stopped making jokes out of everything. By now, Ylva was immune to most of it, although she did laugh at the occasional joke while picking bits of clay dust out from under her fingernails. Once most of the customers had left, she kicked up her boots on the table, which was mostly an excuse to show off her fishnet leggings to Maija. 

“I think I’m done,” Maija said a couple hours later, paintbrush between her teeth as she stared down at her work. Both mugs were sloppily painted, but Ylva could see what they were supposed to be. Astrid’s was a reference-less portrait of her dog on one side, with cherry blossoms covering the rest of the mug, and Tuli’s had a rainbow painted along the handle and a bunch of Pokemon adorning the outside. Well, Pokemon via the brush of an ill-experienced painter. There were some that erred more to the side of horrific than cute, but Ylva knew what Maija was going for. 

“They look like shit,” She said, “They’re gonna love them.”

“Hey!” 

“You can’t tell me this is supposed to be Eevee,” She said, tapping what looked like a bear on the side of Tuli’s mug. Maija’s face fell, a pout gracing her lips. 

“It was supposed to be a Pikachu.” 

“That’s talent, I guess,” Ylva said, “Or lack thereof. Don’t worry, you’re talented in other areas.” She tacked on at the end, when Maija’s pout increased. 

“Well, that’s rude. Can we go do the glaze now?” 

“They’re already glazed,” Ylva said, “The next coat is just to protect them when they go in the kiln. But you can come.” The pair stood up, and made their way to the back room, where Ylva removed her fishnet gloves and dunked each mug in the pre-kiln glaze, then set them aside to dry. Before she could put her gloves back on, Maija snatched one of her hands.

“I need my hand,” She complained, but allowed Maija to press a kiss to her knuckles and pull her into a hug. It was nice, after a day on her feet, to lean against someone she loved.

“This is nice,” Maija murmured, breath warm against her neck. Ylva shivered at the feeling, and though she wanted to rub her face further into Maija’s shoulder, she couldn’t walk out of the back room with smudged eyeliner, so she stayed put.

“How was your day today?” Ylva asked, her voice muffled somewhat by the hoodie.

“Long,” Maija said, “Feels like yesterday was years ago, and I didn't do anything the whole time. You?”

“I’ve been at work,” Ylva said, closing her eyes. She could almost ignore the ache in her feet when she focussed on how warm Maija was and the pressure of arms on her back. 

“Mm,” Maija hummed, “When do the mugs go in the kiln?” 

“When they’re dry,” Ylva mumbled, swaying slightly. She missed this. Even though she was done with school, no one else in the apartment was. Finals week was almost done, though- Which reminded her, Maija really needed to be studying. She had a test tomorrow. Eh, she’d already spent two hours painting mugs. A few more minutes spent hugging wouldn't hurt. 

“That’s annoying,” Maija said, her voice high and soft. Her sentence was punctuated with a yawn, and Ylva was glad her face was hidden, because how dare someone make a sound so cute. The smile on her face would become a target for mockery, and go straight to Maija’s ego. 

“My shift ends soon,” Ylva said, clenching her fingers in the back of Maija’s hoodie. 

“Yeah.” 

“The car’s not far.” 

“Thought Tuli took the car to school today,” Maija mumbled, straight into some of Ylva’s hair. 

“Astrid got them an Uber,” Ylva said. This was where it was at, even though Maija was insufferable most of the time. Conversations that meant nothing, hugs, and the comfortable familiarity of someone she’d loved for a long time. But, technically, she was still on the job. So she pulled away, gave Maija’s hand a quick squeeze, and left the back room feeling energized.

December 20, 20XX

“Do you think I should dye my hair?” Maija asked, leaning heavily against the shopping cart. 

“Mm. It could look cute. What color are you thinking?” Tuli asked, not pausing in her examination of the supermarket’s selection of spices. Maija clicked her tongue, and ran her hand through some heavily gelled hair. 

“Oh, you know. Blue and pink are the classic colors, but what if I got, like, green or something? That would be pretty neat.” Tuli plucked something from the shelf and returned to the cart. 

“But: Are you biased to dye it green right now because green is a Christmas color?” Hm, that was a good point. 

“I don't think so?” Maija said, “I mean, green’s a nice color.” 

“That it is,” Tuli agreed, and laid a hand on the shopping cart. “What else did they tell us to get?” Maija pulled a crumpled up list of ingredients out of her back pocket, and read over them. From the looks of the shopping cart, most of it had already been gathered. 

“Uh, craisins. And…those sprinkles that are actually eyes?” 

“Oh!” Tuli smiled, “I put that. I wanted to put them on cupcakes, but then I didn't really plan anything else, so…I guess I’ll just end up eating a bunch of eyeball sprinkles. Or maybe someone else will do something with them.” Tuli shrugged, and brushed some hair out of her eyes. “So. Craisins.” 

“Craisins ahoy,” Maija replied, though she wasn't sure what Craisins ahoy actually meant. To her knowledge, most Christmas meals did not include craisins, but when Ylva and Astrid were in the kitchen, she did not question them. They were magicians of the culinary persuasion, except for when Astrid tried to say that bananas on pizza were good. No, Maija hadn't tried it, she would not try it, and it was not good. End of discussion.

“Craisins,” Tuli agreed, and turned away to search for them, leaving Maija to follow behind with the cart. Though they were out for craisins, both of them had a habit of picking up interesting foods, sharing it with the other, and deciding if it was actually worth buying. Jalapeno chocolates? Yes, but we can't tell the others it’s spicy. Mango flavored tea? Not actually that interesting, but the box was pretty. 

“Hey, Tuli,” Maija asked while they were waiting in line at the checkout. 

“Mm?”

“Do you like Pokemon?” 

“Oh, yeah! I was super competitive on the Pokemon scene in middle school. I was one of, like, three kids who actually knew how the card game worked,” She said. 

“I didn't know I was in the presence of royalty,” Maija teased. Tuli gave a soft laugh, and adjusted her hoodie. 

“Plot twist,” Tuli said, “I’m actually both Jessie and James, smashed into one body.” She laughed at her own joke, though it wasn't funny. Maija gave her a pity laugh though. 

“Oh, move the cart up,” Maija said, and Tuli did, pulling the cart after her. The store was super crowded today- Probably not the wisest idea to save the shopping until this close to the holiday, but oh well. At least Maija had gifts for everyone this year. She was rather proud of that. It was worthy of straightening her bow tie- If she had been wearing a bow tie, that is. She should get more of those. Insufficient bow ties was an excellent description of her wardrobe. Unfortunately. 

All in all, the trip to the store lasted about two and a half hours. Not too shabby for a pre-Christmas haul, if Maija had anything to say about it, and soon enough, they were back home. Ylva was out at work, and Astrid was busy working on her thesis, so the pair set about to silently put all the new groceries away. Once that was done, they traipsed off to their respective rooms. Maija knew she had to work on her new set, but couldn't think of anything funny. Literally, hours went by and she was still staring at the same blank screen. How fun. 

Eventually, she got bored and sent Astrid the link to a YouTube video called i sword fight my ex gf in a denny’s parking lot with the caption omg this is so us!!1!. A couple minutes later she was rewarded with the word Blocked, despite not actually getting blocked. Love you too bab <3. No response. At least Ylva thought she was sort of funny. Or at least, funny enough to go to her shows. Did Ylva actually think she was funny? As if they hadn't had that conversation before. But, Ylva was on her mind, so Ylva she would text. babe. A couple minutes passed before the response of what.

am i funny

You’re the courtiest of court jesters. i lose my spleen laughing every time i go to one of your shows. 

Though Ylva still had her spleen, the message was reassuring. 

should i dye my hair

Idc, its not my hair. A pause. also i got your dumb mugs

yay! 

Ah, punctuation. Noice. Ttyl. Maija sighed at that, and returned to staring blankly at her laptop. Maybe she could write some jokes about her weird, not-quite-rivalry with Astrid. Or her relationship? Something didn't sit right with her about mocking her girlfriend on stage. It was only funny when Ylva could mock her back. And that was how Maija wound up watching clips of various comedians until the evening rolled around and Ylva came home. 

“Hey,” Maija said, “Tell me what to write about.” Ylva paused for a second, taking off her coat and boots. 

“How girls always dye their hair blond but do it so you can see their roots.” 

“What?” 

“‘Cause they’re, like, into beauty but half ass it when it comes to their hair,”

Ylva said, “It’s irony or whatever.” Maija didn't think the idea was that good, but stowed it away in her mind, just in case. 

“Thanks, luv,” She said in her poshest English accent. 

“Nobody with that accent says luv,” Ylva told her, “It’s not an upper class Londoner thing.”

“Upper class London can suck my dick,” Maija mumbled, “And thanks. Love.” Apparently saying the word “love” in her regular voice was enough to tinge Ylva’s cheeks pink. That was cute. 

“Whatever,” She muttered, and brushed past Maija into their room. Ylva crashed on their bed, face down. 

“Tired?” Maija asked, and she nodded. 

“But the M-U-G-S are in my backpack.” 

“That word is too short for you to spell out like that.” Ylva only stuck out her tongue. 

“I’d fuck this bed if I could,” she mumbled, “So soft.” 

“Consider yourself kinkshamed,” Maija said, taking a seat beside her. She wound one hand into Ylva’s hair, combing it out with her fingers. Ylva had such pretty hair. It was already blond, but with a liberal application of dye, she was silver-haired. Except for the side of her head that was shaved, where little golden tufts reigned supreme. 

“There are worse kinks to shame, but alright,” Ylva said, “But I don't need to tell you about that.” Maija choked on her breath, heat rising to her cheeks. 

“I- What?! What are you trying to say?” Ylva tilted her head to the side. Somehow she was both exhausted and playful, and the combination was not doing great things for Maija’s heart. 

“Oh, nothing,” Ylva teased, kicking one leg in the air. “I just know you, is all.” Maija withdrew her hand and gave Ylva a light shove, only for Ylva to drag it back. 

“No, just…Just stay here,” She mumbled, so Maija did, though not without workshopping her material until Ylva was no longer in the mood to fuck the bed. Although she could feel Ylva getting annoyed, at least she was laughing.

December 21, 20XX

Tuli scanned the room once again, wondering if she had gone to the right place. Maija’s shows were always at the same comedy club, but what if things were different this time? What if she made a mistake by ordering a cocktail? If this was the wrong place, it was probably too late to make it to the actual one. Would Maija be mad if she missed the show? Probably not, right? Yeah, it was just a simple misunderstanding. She checked her phone again, and it sure looked like she was in the right place, but what if-

“Tuli,” A voice said from behind, and when she glanced up, she was relieved to see Astrid behind her. 

“Oh, Astrid! Sorry, I didn't see you come in.” She stood up, and pulled a chair away from the table for her wife. Astrid flashed her a tiny smile, and sat down, though she scooted herself in. 

“There’s nothin’ to be sorry for,” Astrid said, her voice rolling over Tuli in a calming wave. 

“Yeah. Anyway, do you want something to drink?” Astrid shook her head, causing her long hair to shimmer in the low light. One of her jobs was modelling, and for her most recent shoot, pink hair had been in order. Where her hair was usually a pale golden shade, it was now a faded bubblegum color at the ends, and Tuli loved it. She had suggested dying all of it pink, but apparently that was more than Astrid was willing to do. It was a bit of a commitment for someone with hair as long as her’s. Still, her wife looked cute enough with pink hair that Tuli was considering dying her own blond locks. 

“Not two nights in a row.” The previous night, Astrid had attended a Christmas party for work, and had more to drink than was wise. 

“You’re such a grandma,” Tuli teased, running one foot up Astrid’s leg under the table. Astrid’s slight shiver made her smile, though she tried to hide it by taking a long sip of her drink. 

“Hey,” Another voice said from her other side, breaking the soft air between the two women. Ylva had arrived, it seemed, decked out in leather and fishnets, with only the most extreme eye makeup on. 

“Hey, how are you?” Tuli greeted her with a warm smile, though Ylva did not return it. 

“I’m alright. Don’t really want to see Maija embarrass herself again, but it seems to be her passion.” 

“Oh, don’t say that!” Tuli gasped, “She’s not that bad!” 

“She’s not that good either,” Astrid mumbled, leaning forward to rest her chin on her hand. 

“You guys are so mean!” Tuli said, mocking offense. In her heart, she knew Maija wasn’t particularly good at delivering a joke, but she didn’t want to be rude about it in a space where Maija could hear. 

“I’m allowed to be mean to her, she’s my girlfriend,” Ylva said, and kicked her legs up on the table. Tuli rolled her eyes, letting the meanness thing slide. 

“You should be wearing pants right now,” She said, “You’ll freeze!” Though she wore knee high boots, fishnets and red denim shorts couldn’t protect her from the cold. 

“I drove here, it’s fine. Relax, mom,” Ylva said. 

“Okay, but if you get too cold-”

“It’s a great time for you to get preachy,” Astrid mumbled. Tuli blushed, though she wasn’t wrong. Her dress was better suited for the warmer seasons. 

“I have a flannel in my purse,” She mumbled. 

“That’s gay,” Ylva deadpanned, scrolling through her phone. Tuli rolled her eyes. At least one of them had the sense to dress for the weather. Astrid had on knee high boots that looked like they belonged to a high fantasy video game, olive green jeans tucked into her boots, and a gray sweater dress that hugged her narrow frame. She was lovely, or at least Tuli thought so. 

For the next couple minutes, the three sat in relatively comfortable silence. Tuli had to wonder how Ylva was comfortable sitting with her knees in her chest, but she let it go. Astrid pulled her laptop out of her backpack and got started on some of her homework. Tuli had always liked the idea of grad school, but after seeing the toll it took on her roommates, she began to second guess it. Astrid would be paying off her student loans for the rest of time, and Maija would be saddled in debt after the heat death of the universe. At least the loans made for good comedy on occasion. 

By the time the lights dimmed and the first comedian took to the stage, Tuli had grown bored, and was watching Astrid work over her shoulder. She was working on her thesis. It wasn't due until May, but she’d already started over from scratch twice since she started. When the lights went down, Astrid paused her typing, then lowered the brightness and started typing. She worked all through the first comedian’s set. He had some funny things to say, and some things that were more offensive than humorous. Overall, Tuli was more invested in her drink and checking over her shoulder to see if Runa was there yet. 

When Maija came on, as the third act of the night, Astrid moved her laptop away from herself on the table, paying more attention. While Ylva didn’t set her phone down, she did look up from it. 

“Has she already done this set in public?” Astrid asked, and Ylva shook her head. 

“No, it’s fresh. She calls it a Christmas special. Must be why there’s so many stupid Santa jokes.” 

“I like the Santa jokes,” Tuli said, though she wasn't really paying attention to Maija. She was listening, but tracing circles in the condensation on her glass. 

“She might just be bombing,” Ylva said, a slight upturn in her lips. “You suck!” She shouted, interrupting the show. Maija paused, the smile dropping from her face as she looked out at the crowd. Her eyes were wide for a minute, then when she noticed Ylva, a smile crossed her face. 

“Says the emo in the corner. Hey, did anyone tell you it’s not 2006 anymore? My condolences, but My Chemical Romance is dead.” That brought on a couple laughs, and Maija launched into a whole spiel about Hot Topic, all while staring straight at Ylva. Tuli shook her head- The whole thing was ridiculous. How Maija was funnier when she was improvising, how she needed Ylva’s help to do that. But Ylva didn't seem to mind, as she hugged herself and grinned up at the stage, saying nothing as her girlfriend dragged her through the mud. Not long after Maija began to deviate from the emo jokes, someone stomped over to their table and plopped down in an empty seat, then buried her shaved head in her arms. Ylva’s attention was immediately diverted from the stage, and onto the girl next to her. 

“Runa?” She whispered, and laid her hand on the girl’s arm. The girl looked up, and holy shit, it was Runa. Tuli tried not to eavesdrop when they began speaking in hushed whispers, but couldn’t help but overhear a couple things. Failure, mother, homeless? And also college, driver’s license, weed. All that set her heart racing, but she tried to pay attention to Maija anyhow. Astrid, who was also peering over at Runa, took her hand, and gave a comforting squeeze. 

When her set was over, Maija gave a dramatic bow and tipped her hat, then scurried off the stage. She returned a moment later to put the microphone back on it’s stand, which got a couple laughs. Tuli wondered if that had been on purpose. Shortly after, Maija made her way over to the table. She spun around the last empty chair and sat down, crossing her arms over the back. 

“Hey guys,” She said, a little breathless, “How’d I do?” 

“No better or worse than usual, I think,” Astrid said, pushing her glasses further up her nose. 

“You were fine,” Ylva said, reaching across the table to pat her arm. The table was too wide, though, and her arms were too short, so she only managed to swipe at the air. 

“Thanks,” Maija said, “Hey, Runa, glad you could make it.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Runa said, her voice tiny. She had her arms crossed, and seemed to shrink in on herself a little. “You were cool.” 

“Cool.” Maija smiled, “How’re you doing? Haven’t seen you in a while. And you cut your hair!” Runa shrugged, one hand coming up to her head, almost as if to tuck some hair behind her ear before she realized it was no longer there. 

“Yeah, I guess I wanted a new look.” 

“Well I like it,” Maija said, “It’s cool.” 

“It’s a little messy,” Ylva said. 

“Someone else is on stage, guys,” Astrid piped up, gesturing forward. All five of them looked up, dumb expressions on their face. They were, in fact, talking over someone’s set. 

“Shit,” Maija said, not lowering her voice at all, “Do you guys wanna get out of here?” 

“Can we?” Runa asked, looking hopeful. 

“But we just got here,” Tuli complained, “Wouldn’t it be rude to-”

“Well, as we have just noticed, we are talking over someone’s set, so I think we should have this conversation in the lobby,” Ylva said, and that was something they could all agree on, so the group packed up their things and left the main area of the comedy club. 

“Sorry to make you guys leave,” Runa mumbled, balling her fists in the ends of her sleeves. 

“It’s okay,” Ylva said, “I can drive you home if you want.” 

“I don't want to go back to mom’s house,” Runa said. 

“Well, you’re always welcome at our apartment,” Maija said, playing with a piece of hair that had fallen into her face. “Can I ask who cut your hair? It’s so cute, and-”

“I did,” Runa said, “Thanks.” Though Maija was entertaining her with discussions of her hair, Tuli couldn't help but worry. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, and began typing out a message to Astrid. Do you think she’s ok? Astrid glanced down at her upon checking her phone. Idk. No way for me to know. She paused for a moment, then began typing again. Also, I watched you type that. Tuli shifted so she could get a better look at Astrid, and sent her a goofy expression. She was rewarded with a smug smile and a hand on her shoulder. Tuli shifted closer to her, until they were almost touching, with the hope that Astrid might put an arm around her shoulder, but to no avail. That was what she got for not asking, but it didn't seem appropriate with Ylva and Maija vying for Runa’s attention. 

“I’ll talk to her later, okay?” Runa said, “I just need a place to stay for Christmas, and after that I’ll be out of your business forever.” 

“I never said I wanted you out of my business forever,” Ylva said, her voice betraying some anger. 

“Okay,” Runa said, though the indication of her tone was that it was not, in fact, okay. 

“Okay,” Tuli butted in, “Runa needs a place to stay, and we have one, so that’s the problem solved. Let’s go home, I can make dinner, and-”

“‘S my turn,” Astrid said, “I’ll make dinner.” 

“Sure, whatever,” Ylva said, “Is that okay with you, Runa?” Her sister shrugged, but nodded, in the ultimate mixed message. 

“Dope! Alright, so you guys wanna go?” Maija said, gesturing to the door. As that was the general consensus, the group began to make their way out. Just as they were on their way out, a man came up to the group. 

“Hey, I saw your set,” He said, talking only to Maija. “Maija, right?” 

“Yep, that’s me!” She said, putting on a voice eerily similar to Tuli’s customer service voice. 

“Well, you’re really funny, and I was wondering if you might like to go out with me sometime.” Maija’s face went a deep red, and her fists clenched at her sides

“Um, thanks, but-”

“Have you ever heard of a straight woman with a rat tail?” Ylva asked, and threw her arm around Maija’s waist. 

“If you have, I’d actually like to meet her.” Neither of them noticed, but Runa seemed to wince, pulling her arms even tighter around herself. Her cheeks had gone red, but the door hadn't been open long enough for it to be attributed to the cold. 

“Oh, shit. Sorry, uh, you don't look gay.” 

“I’m-” Maija sputtered, “This is my girlfriend. But I’m sure you’re- You’re very sexy to some. Thanks- Thanks for coming to my show, bye!” Tuli felt bad for laughing, but Ylva clearly didn't. She cackled, in fact, as they filed out the door and away to their car. 

“But you should really get rid of the rat tail,” She told Maija, and Tuli couldn't agree more. 

“It’s a part of my look!” Maija whined, running a hand through her hair. Though she had employed copious amounts of gel to preserve a coiffed look, it was mostly falling apart by now. 

“Yer look is…You should change it,” Astrid said snidely. 

“What’s wrong with it?” Maija asked, walking backwards so she could face Astrid, although she kept one hand firmly in Ylva’s. 

“The rat tail, f’r one. Yer hair’s a mess, clothes never match, and-”

“We can't all be models, Astrid.”

“She’s got a point,” Ylva said. 

“You’re all bullies!” Maija whined, turning back around. “I can't believe my own lover would betray me like this.” 

“I said what I said,” Ylva said, seeming unbothered, though she yelped when Maija attacked her with a side hug. 

“You guys are so loud!” Runa whined, hands now in her pockets. 

“It never ends,” Tuli warned, though her tone was jovial, “You’re lucky Ylva’s already graduated.” 

“Don’t remind me,” Astrid said, her cheeks paler than usual. Tuli chuckled softly at the memories- Ylva was probably the worst student out of the lot of them, and college had been a stressful time for her. Where Tuli wanted to rip out her hair sometimes, Ylva actually had. It was actually concerning how many times someone had found Ylva crying with fists full of blond hair. Not that college hadn't been stressful for all of them. Tuli was set to graduate in May, and her experiences had made her question grad school. 

Though she was only a year younger than Astrid, she was further behind in school, due to her gap years. They had known each other for a long time, and had been together since high school, but Tuli had never seen Astrid more stressed out than when she was applying to PhD programs. Stress remained simmering ever since, but Tuli wasn't sure if she was willing to put herself through that. She would probably be fine getting a job at a museum or something, given her major of theology. 

The group reached the car, only for Ylva and Maija to break out into an argument over who would drive home. Both claimed the car to be theirs, even though it was actually Astrid who paid for most of it. Ylva won out in the end, and she continued arguing with Maija the whole time. Runa seemed mortified by the whole ordeal, but Tuli didn't want to prod. Once they got home, Astrid fulfilled her promise of cooking dinner, and they enjoyed a round of extremely loud conversation, as was typical of their household, before Maija started drinking to celebrate her set. Though the air in the room was jovial, everyone was tired, and they somehow managed to get to bed before the time became ungodly.

December 22, 20XX

Saturdays. There should have been more stuff on Twitter, given that it was a Saturday. More people- Ylva, Maija, Tuli, Astrid- should have been out, given that it was a Saturday, but no. Weren’t you supposed to go out and party every night when it was a Saturday night? Four college kids sitting around the living room drinking wine and knitting and watching TV wasn't what Runa had expected when she crashed with Ylva. Weren't there places to go, things to do? 

Instead, she had a pillow under her chest and her phone clenched in her hand as she laid on the floor, watching the nth consecutive episode of Sense8. How was there so much of a show that only went on for two seasons? 

“So wait, is he actually there?” Maija asked. Ylva sighed, and paused the show to explain every detail of the situation. That was how, Runa thought. She turned her face into the floor, scraping her nose against the rug. Her neck thanked her for relieving it of the odd position she had been in previously. As Ylva prattled on about the ins and outs of Sense8, Runa brought a hand up to stroke her newly shorn head. She couldn't stop touching it- Although she sort of wanted to, it was getting greasy. Her hair had never been so short, and she didn't know what to think of it. It wasn't exactly uncomfortable, but she didn't know how to feel now that her hair didn't rest against her shoulders. 

But it didn't matter. Her hair didn't matter, right? All that mattered was that she got into Princeton. She was smart, and she was going to Princeton, and she had a place to stay until Christmas. What am I doing? Sleeping on her sister’s couch while avoiding her mom wasn't something to be proud of, but it was all she had. But a song she liked was part of the soundtrack, so she turned onto her side, and watched the show. Maija was right, it was really confusing, but at least the soundtrack was alright. 

Eventually, Runa redirected her attention to social media, blindly scrolling through various apps until there was nothing left to scroll through. Finally, she resorted to scrolling through her own Instagram page. She only had twenty posts, and eleven of them were of birds, with eight of those being pictures of her pet parakeet, named Puffin. Ylva teased her about it when they were kids, but it wasn't her fault puffins were the only bird she knew. Fortunately, since then, Runa had become more educated on the dopeness of birds. Scrolling through her own page didn't help, though. She was only reminded of how Puffin was dead. Maybe she could get another bird when she was at Princeton, if they let students have birds. 

“Runa?” The sound of her name caught her attention, and she jolted into a sitting position. Ylva stood at the end of the couch, staring down at her with a blank expression. 

“Where’s everyone else?” 

“Maija’s in the shower, and we’re out of toilet paper, so Tuli went to get some. Astrid’s right there.” Astrid was, indeed, right there. She sat cross legged in an armchair, brows furrowed as she worked on some knitting, though there was a half empty glass of wine next to her. As if on cue, Astrid looked up. 

“Hi, Runa,” She mumbled, and went back to her knitting. 

“Hey,” Runa said, “What’s up?”

“Can I talk to you in the other room?” Ylva asked, by which she meant her bedroom. Runa couldn't really say no, so she got up and followed Ylva to the bedroom. 

“Are you okay?” Ah, the age old question. Would she ever learn how to answer it in a way that didn't launch a whole discussion? Experts remain puzzled. 

“I guess,” Runa shrugged, “I had a fight with mom. But it was really stupid,” Runa mumbled, and it really was. Things hadn't been going her way lately was all. She was eighteen, and every day her mom dropped hints that she’d be kicked out soon. But apparently, being eighteen didn't mean she could smoke weed or hug a boy- Even though she wasn't sure she even liked boys. And then she got to learn that her best friend was moving to a whole different country, because apparently it was Oxford or bust for her mother, and she was leaving over break- Everything was so much. And, as any responsible adult could tell you, sex won’t solve any of your problems. So why did Runa think it would work? 

“I don't care how stupid it was. You’re my little sister, I care about you.” Runa couldn't help but cringe at that. 

“Half sister,” She reminded her.

“Half sisters are still sisters. What happened?” Ylva pressed, crossing her arms. She adopted a stern look, and even rose to her toes to appear more intimidating. 

“It’s really nothing-” 

“Bullshit, tell me the truth.” 

“I just- I did something stupid, and…Will you hate me?” Runa asked. It felt irrational, but what if her sister saw her as some sort of…traitor? She wasn't even sure what she was scared of. Why did Ylva’s approval even matter? Even if Ylva decided she hated her, Maija liked her enough to let her stay…Right? 

“I am legally not allowed to hate you,” Ylva said, and though it was meant to be a joke, Runa didn't feel comforted. The law was just a bunch of words, after all. 

“Well, um. Mom and I got in a fight. I did something, she didn’t like it. I guess I knew she’d be mad, but I didn't think she’d be that mad. I deserved it, but-” 

“Until I know what you did, it’s going to be hard for me to have an opinion,” Ylva said, finally coming down from her toes. Runa supposed she was right. It would probably be better to say something, but she didn't know how. Would it even be safe? Who knew. 

“I smoked a lot of weed…” 

“Everyone smokes weed.” 

“I, um. Please never repeat this,” Runa asked. Once again, her arms came up to hold her body. It was almost protective. Ylva nodded, and reached out to grab one of her hands. She refused to be okay with limply holding Runa’s hand between her own, and squeezed so hard that Runa had to squeeze back, as a form of revenge. 

“Um. My friend and I were smoking, you know, and…In the basement. And I sort of, um. I sort of did...” She paused, remembering. “You know.” Ylva’s eyes went wide, and she started nodding. That, coupled with what she’d just confessed to, had Runa’s cheeks burning.  

“Alright. Getting it, that’s cool.” 

“No it’s not!” Runa yelled. Absolutely none of it was cool. “Our friendship is over! Mom said she’d leave us alone, but then she came downstairs, and we were just- She wouldn't stop yelling, and I was- I was still on the floor, and, and-” She could feel tears welling up in her throat, but refused to acknowledge them. She wouldn’t cry. She hadn't cried when her mom was yelling, or during any argument since then. Or before it, for that matter. No, Runa Stelisdottir didn't cry. Except now she was, and Ylva was watching her. 

“I hate Mom.” Runa wiped her nose, because she couldn't cry over this. 

“Me too,” Ylva said, and it really ticked Runa off how calm she could stay about the whole thing. 

“You don't get it,” She said, though she despised sounding like a teenager.

“You don't understand! Your life is so perfect, with your girlfriend and your apartment-”

“My life isn't perfect just because I have a girlfriend and an apartment,” Ylva said, but Runa wasn't listening at that point. 

“Mom was always so nice to you, and- And you have so many friends! You don't get it, you can't get it, and mom’s not gonna let me come home, and I don't have anywhere to go, but you won't-” Runa hiccupped, and she couldn't. She started crying harder, sobs shaking her body. 

“Runa-” Ylva’s hand came down on her shoulder, and though her touch was gentle, it was even more unnerving. 

“Don't touch me!” She shook Ylva’s hand off her shoulder, and ran. Her hiding place seemed to be the laundry closet, where the washer and dryer hummed away in their neat little stack and color coded baskets- Blue, yellow, black, and red- almost filled the rest of the room. Runa sank to the floor, phone clenched in her hand. It wasn't her fault, she told herself. It was all her mom’s fault. If she didn't want her daughters to act out, she should’ve raised them not to.

Knowing that didn't stop her from crying, though, and cry she did. She was an embarrassment, having a temper tantrum like a little baby. But eventually, she cried herself to sleep. Uncomfortable, cramped sleep, with her neck resting at an unnatural angle against the dryer, but sleep nonetheless. 

She woke hours later to the faint hum of the dryer and the muffled sound of hushed voices. 

“I think she’s depressed,” said one woman. Ylva. 

“Really? That’s pretty bad.” Maija. 

“Yeah. I mean, she’s got parental issues out the ass and doesn’t even trust me when I’ve been more of a mom than our literal mother.” 

“Well, I mean, maybe that’s part of why? And it doesn’t automatically mean she’s depressed.” 

“She’s on her phone all day. And I know, I know I sound like a boomer, but that shit’s not good for you. She doesn't talk to anyone, and…you know, maybe you were right about her running away with a boy.” 

“I thought she was, you know…”

“I did too, but I guess not.” Runa choked at that, pressing her ear against the door. Was this a regular occurrence, that they just- just gossiped about her?

“Eh, it doesn't matter. I just hope she doesn't get into anything harder than weed.” 

“You know that thing about weed being a gateway drug is bullshit, right?” Maija said, “They just say that to scare kids out of doing drugs-”

“Is it really that bad of me to want her sober? I mean, I’m not, like, saying you should never do drugs, but-”

“No, it makes sense. It would really suck if she got arrested or something.” 

“Yeah,” Ylva murmured, and the conversation seemed to pause for a minute. “I just- Why wouldn't she tell me about the shit she clearly has going on?” Runa cringed at that, and she wanted to cover her ears, but there was something inside her that demanded she keep listening. 

“Well, you said yourself that she doesn't really trust you,” Maija said. Runa wanted to rip her hair out. No! That wasn't it at all- Did they really think that poorly of her? Of course she trusted Ylva! It was Ylva who didn’t trust her, and only played the sisters card when things were going badly. 

“She doesn't,” Ylva agreed, “And I sort of get it, ‘cause high school sucks, but since she doesn’t talk to me, I have to assume the worst.” Oh, come on. She talked to Ylva plenty. 

“Yeah,” Maija hummed, “Do you think-”

“Runa doesn't care what I think.” 

“I’m sure she does. But I’m not Runa.” 

“It would be pretty weird if you were,” Ylva said, then paused. “I’m glad you’re not.” At that point, Runa couldn't keep listening. Her hand came up to the doorknob, and she was about to open it when Maija spoke again. 

“Hey, it won't be that long before she’s out of your hair.” 

“Yeah.” Ylva sighed, and the tone she said it in made Runa shiver. Like she was a temporary form of entertainment, or an obstacle, or- “At least I’ve got you.” She burst out of the laundry closet to find Maija sitting on the counter, one arm around Ylva, both with mugs in hand. 

“Stop talking about me!” Runa shouted, and took a moment to relish in their surprise before she spun around and ran out of the apartment- A terrible idea, since she didn't really know the area. Her wallet and phone charger were in her backpack, which she had left behind. But she wasn't here to make good choices, apparently. No, she was there to anger her sister then leave all her shit behind after she had pissed off her mom. 

Runa made her way into the lobby of the building, ready to leave, but the snow falling from a pitch black sky made her pause. Maybe she could find some storage room to spend the night in. According to her phone, though, she'd already spent most of the night in Ylva’s laundry room. And it was technically Sunday, so most people probably wouldn't be up and about for a while. So Runa set about wandering the first floor of the building- Not that there was much to wander- until she came across a door labelled T. It housed a dumpster and a recycling bin, both of which were empty. Sure, Runa thought, I can stay here. Besides, she was tired, and what harm was there in sitting down for a couple minutes? So she did, hiding behind the dumpster. Eventually, she managed to fall asleep, although her new position was no more favorable to her neck than the last.

December 23, 20XX

There was a certain sort of silence that came the morning after a heavy snowfall. It was a silence that Astrid found very peaceful, when accompanied by the correct lighting. Unfortunately, this morning was not one of them, which made waking up a lot easier. Though it would be more fun to stay in bed all day, there were things to do. Okay, she was getting up…now. Now. Okay, hug Tuli a little tighter, then…Awake! She reached across Tuli, still asleep, and felt around the nightstand for her glasses. Once she grabbed them and shoved them up her nose, she pushed herself up into a sitting position. There, Astrid combed her fingers through her hair, contemplated braiding it, but ultimately decided she could do that later, and rolled out of bed. 

Upon emerging from the room she shared with Tuli, she spotted two things. One, the couch was empty, and two, her knitting basket was out of place. Instead of dealing with either of those things, though, she meandered over to the kitchen and pulled some mugs from the cabinet. She liked her own coffee black, so she didn't touch it before pouring her own mug, but for some reason, her roommates liked theirs with all sorts of flair. She left the remaining mugs on the counter and leaned against the sink. While she waited for her coffee to cool to a drinkable temperature, Astrid removed the filter from the coffee maker and tossed it in the garbage can. I should probably take out the trash, it’s getting kind of full. But then she’d have to put pants on…Eh, it would give her coffee time to cool off. 

Astrid returned to the room, threw on a hoodie and a pair of running shorts, and after a moment’s thought, grabbed her phone. She grabbed the trash, replaced the bag, and slid into their Community Crocs, which were generally used for getting the mail or taking out the trash when nobody felt like putting on actual shoes. She checked her phone, saw that Maija had sent her a series of deep fried memes, and clicked away from Instagram. Maija sending her memes at four am was the least of her worries when it came to online harassment- Yet it somehow managed to be the most annoying. Astrid did modelling work as one way of paying for her degree, and apparently the rainbow flag and diamond ring in her bio weren't enough to deter the advances of the general public. 

The elevator reached the first floor, and Astrid shuffled out, blinking in the bright lights of the lobby. With the trash bag slung over her shoulder, she felt like a woman on a mission- And she was, sort of, but in her head it was more along the lines of Stealth and Adventure. Maybe it could be, in her head. In an alternate world where spies take out the trash…

Or. In the regular world, where there might have been a dead body next to the dumpster. That was fun, and also the beginning of a cop show. Astrid dropped the bag in the dumpster, and kneeled down to get a better look- Or, in the regular world, where Runa was hopefully sleeping next to the dumpster. 

“Runa?” She asked, shaking the girl on the floor. “Runa, are ya okay? Alive?” After a moment, the girl became awake, yelping and leaping away. 

“Whatthefuckareyoudoing!?” She shrieked, then seemed to notice Astrid. “Oh. Uh. Hey, Astrid.” She made a move with her hand, as if to adjust her hair. Her cheeks only grew a deeper pink when she remembered she had none. 

“Hey, Runa,” Astrid echoed, “What the fuck ‘re you doin’?” 

“Oh, um.” Runa stared at the ground, her knuckles going white as she gripped her cell phone. 

“Are ya okay?” Astrid asked once again, adjusting her glasses. Runa shrugged. 

“I mean- I don't know.” She paused. “Can I tell you something?” Astrid nodded.

“Well, I, um. I kind of eavesdropped on my sister and Maija talking about me. Rudely.” 

“Maija’ll do that. Ylva too, but less,” Astrid said. She sat back, leaning against the wall. “D’ya wanna talk about it?” Runa shrugged, leaning back against the dumpster. 

“What even is there to say?” 

“Not talkin’ about it is horse shit,” Astrid said, “Stuff happens, usually not great.” 

“I think Ylva hates me,” Runa murmured. She ran a hand through her hair, and tipped her head back against the dumpster. “And our mom.” 

“Why?”

“Well, mom hates me because I like getting high, I like to drive, and because I, um. Will you judge me if I tell you about something I did?” Astrid shook her head. Not because she wasn't judgemental, but because she didn't really care. From the way Runa was talking, it was just regular problems that seemed so much bigger to her because she was young. And everyone had those sorts of problems, so who was Astrid to judge?

“Don't really care ‘bout your probl’ms. No offense, but I’ve got my own issues to worry ‘bout.” Runa nodded, seeming to understand, then launched into an explanation. 

“So, I have this friend, Li, and she’s pretty cool, but she’s moving away. To London. For college. ‘Cause of some weird custody battle that I don't really get. But then it’s like…She’s leaving me behind! And I’m- I don't- It’s weird, okay?” Runa spoke defensively, yet Astrid didn't know a single teenage girl named Li. Let alone one who was moving to London. “And we have this other friend, Noah. And his family’s also kind of weird, but that’s mostly his sister. Anyway, um. I don't know, there was this weird tension, and now Li’s gone, so I, um. Made out with Noah?” 

“Why?” 

“I don't know!” Runa said, “Why did I tell you that?” Astrid shrugged.

“Because 'm quiet, therefore ’m not a gossip, therefore ’m trustworthy?” Runa’s face scrunched up as she considered the possibility. 

“Huh. But then my mom walked in on us, and Noah left, and we had a fight. Then his sister said we weren't allowed to hang out anymore, and my mom took my driver’s license away. And then I shaved my head, and we had another fight, and…Well, then it was now.” 

“So ye’ve been busy,” Astrid said, “Sorry. ‘Bout your friends.” 

“Thanks, I guess,” Runa said. “I still don't get why I told you that?” Astrid shrugged. 

“Ye don't have to. But ye probably should tell yer sister.” 

“That would be humiliating,” Runa complained, hugging her knees. “She makes me feel dumb.” 

“Yer not dumb,” Astrid said. “Ya know, I’ve got some little nieces ‘round your age ya might like to be friends with.” 

“Oh, um. Cool?” Runa said, though her tone indicated she couldn't care less. Perhaps Astrid hadn't presented it the right way. Whatever. Her nieces were menaces to society anyhow. 

“D’ya want me to talk to Ylva for ya?” She suggested. Hopefully that didn't make her sound like a poser, or whatever. But Ylva was probably concerned, and she could probably help with whatever mommy issues had arisen, so. Yeah. And did it make Astrid a bad person if she was thinking through the psychology course she had to take as part of her teaching certification? No, this was something she’d have to deal with when she became an actual teacher. It was fine. 

“I guess,” Runa said, “Can I, um, can I come back to the apartment now? I’m cold.” As anyone would be, after spending the night on the floor of the trash room. Astrid hoped she’d be a better mother than Runa’s when and if she and Tuli decided to have kids. 

After a few more minutes, Astrid helped Runa off the floor. 

“You’re um, you’re really tall,” Runa commented, having to tilt her head back to make eye contact with Astrid. 

“Yes, I know,” Astrid said as they walked. Her feet slid around in the Community Crocs- somehow. How was it possible that they were too big for her? How did Ylva survive in these? “Yer kinda short.” 

“I’m not that small,” Runa bit out, and the conversation ended. Typical short person response. Though Astrid amused herself, the air between them remained tense on the elevator ride up. When they got to the apartment, Astrid unlocked the door and slid off the crocs. 

“Took the trash out,” She announced to the now heavily populated main room. Tuli sat on the floor, head in one hand, eyes shut, but perked up at hearing Astrid’s proclamation. A sleepy smile crossed her face and god, she was so cute. Warmth flooded Astrid’s chest, before she remembered the Runa she had in tow. “Also, Runa’s here.” She stepped aside, revealing Runa. Ylva, who sat on the counter, slammed her mug down. 

“Runa,” She said, voice neutral. “Hey.” 

“Ylva,” Runa said, shoving her hands in her pockets. She shuffled to the side, allowing Astrid to block her from view once again. 

“Hi, Runa!” Maija said, and took a sip of her coffee. “How are you?” 

“I’m ok,” Runa mumbled. Astrid made her way across the room to join Tuli on the floor next to the refrigerator- Her wife liked iced coffee year round, and when she could not buy iced coffee, she made iced coffee. The only drawback was how long she had to wait for the coffee to chill. Astrid kept telling her it was easier to pour warm coffee over ice, but Tuli wanted to do it her way, so Tuli got to do it her way. 

“Hi,” Astrid whispered, joining Tuli on the floor, trying to be quiet so as not to disturb the family drama going on around them. 

“Mornin’” Tuli yawned, “Thanks for taking the trash out.”

“No probl’m,” Astrid replied. Tuli hummed, and leaned her head back against the fridge. She didn't incite any further conversation, so it seemed they’d just be listening to Ylva and Runa attempt to talk to each other about their mother. Awesome. Well, more like really bad parenting and a control freak mother- Which, actually, explained a lot of Ylva’s personality. And life choices. And taste in music. And women. 

Though she did try to tune them out, Astrid was unable to ignore the pair forever. Mostly because Runa called on her to arbitrate the conversation, which was dreadfully boring, seeing as it turned out that not much had actually happened. Runa was acting rebellious, whatever that meant, and their mom didn't approve. Ylva sent her money, which Runa had allegedly spent on bus fare and food. She actually spent it on weed, until their mom took her license away for Bad Behavior, which was apparently the lying but mostly the Noah thing. Which was somehow related to the hair thing. If Astrid had to comment, which she didn't, Runa was just confused about a lot of things. Unfortunate, really. But! She was now staying with them until she had to go back to school, so that was cool. Maybe during that time she would become less confused- Although Tuli taking a coffee mug out of the freezer surely didn't help. 

“Why was your coffee in there?” Runa asked, pulling Tuli into the limelight. 

“Oh, I like iced coffee,” She said. She set her mug down on the counter, grabbed some milk from the fridge, and then honey from another cabinet. A generous amount of both went into her mug. 

“But it’s winter,” Runa said, dumbfounded. Tuli only chuckled. 

“Yeah, but I still like iced coffee. It just tastes better,” She said, taking a sip. 

“It’s a seasonal beverage,” Maija butted in. She managed to stay silent while Runa and Ylva talked about what had happened, but it seemed that was over now. 

“How is iced coffee a seasonal beverage?” Ylva asked, “It’s literally just coffee with ice in it.” 

“It’s got summer vibes,” Maija explained, “Like how you wouldn't get, like, a peppermint latte in July.” 

“I could if I wanted to,” Ylva snapped back, “If I liked peppermint.” 

“Okay, but you not liking peppermint doesn't mean it’s not a Christmas drink,” Maija said, “I think you just lack fun.” 

“Here’s the thing, though,” Ylva said, tapping Maija’s chest with every word.

“Peppermint exists all year round, so it’s not a goddamn seasonal drink.” 

“Yes it is!” Maija shouted, “They only have it in the winter, how is that not seasonal!” 

“You can ask Starbucks to make you a peppermint latte in the summer, it’s just not advertised as much.” Astrid, along with Maija, and at least Runa, rolled her eyes. If there was one thing the inhabitants of their apartment were good at, it was pointless arguments. Most of them broke out between Ylva and Maija- Hopefully Runa didn't take the wrong message from that. 

“Welcome to our apartment,” Tuli said, almost drily, then turned her attention to Astrid. “I’m gonna go get ready, alright?” Astrid nodded, and gave her shoulder a squeeze. She’d probably wander back to their room soon enough- She had so much work to do, it wasn't even funny. But for now, the greatest entertainment in town was watching Ylva scream at her girlfriend about the seasonality of peppermint lattes. 

“Are they- Are they always like this?” Runa asked, once again clutching her phone to her chest. 

“Ye get used to it,” Astrid confirmed, “Nd, for what t’s worth, your sister ‘sn’t that bad.” 

“I know,” Runa sighed, “Thanks.” Astrid flashed her a slight grin. 

“Not a probl’m.” After all, who would she be if she didn’t look out for her friends?