#coca cola lip glosses

[y2kbeautyandother2000sstuff]

Bonne Bell Coca Cola Liquid Lipsmackers in Coca Cola, Sprite, Cherry Cola, Vanilla Cola and Barq's Rootbeer

early 2000s (maybe late 1990s? does anyone know?)

Found on Ebay, user 412liquidation

[the-anxious-acrobat]

[ribbonprincess]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Rafe's got a hand wrapped around his bottle of beer as the other is securely holding your waist,chatting with a couple of friends while you look Around the backyard with droopy eyes after a shared joint with your boyfriend.

"yeah,see you man" Rafe says,dabbing everyone before turning around to look at you "how kitty cat doing" he smirks,tilting your chin up with his finger. "Told you not to call me that" you reply with a roll of eyes before smiling a bit "but I'm doing okay,I just can't find my lipgloss"

"oh,I have it- you gave it to me before we got in" he mumbles,pulling out the shiny tub from his pocket as he handed it to you. "thank you" fixing your black lather corset before taking out a kuromi hand mirror and reapplying the shiny gloss. "so,are we heading inside for that beer pong or not?"

After a game or two of beer pong you find yourself slowly tipsy,leaning a bit more into Rafe as you tug at the material of your skirt. "I'm starting to get tired" you mumble,coming out more annoyed that you intended to "hey,fix that tone and maybe I'll think about bringing you home" Rolling your eyes,you take a sip of the coca cola in your cup,humming to the song playing through the speakers of the house. You move to sit on an available chair as you look at your makeup,making sure your spiky eyelashes and eyeliner are still intact; Rafe's quick to follow you as he stands protectively behind you,his arms wrapped around your neck as you chuckle. "you don't have to stay here like a guard dog,I know how to protect myself." "yeh,I know...but I want to"

Deciding to let him stay you lay your hands over his arm, sometimes running your sharp nails over the skin,leaving red traces behind. "you know" you start slowly,tilting your head back to look at him. "you know that a cockroach can still live a week after you cut their heads off,isn't that cool?" This information causes your boyfriend's face to scrunch up before he nods slowly,still not used to your antics. "yeah...super cool baby" "and...and,did you know that spiders have clear blood" Humming at your words rafe press a kiss to your head "hm,always have weird facts up your sleeve don't you?"

giggling to yourself you nod in response "my weird,scary girlfriend" Rafe mumbles to himself before leaning down to kiss you,smearing your lip combo all around. "rafe..my lipstick" you mumble,pulling away as you wipe at your chin and around his face. Rafe chuckles "hm...sorry about that" "yeah yeah..." you hum before he speaks again "tomorrow,I'll take you to that weird stone place you like- the one with the old lady and the books about amputation and stuff like that that you like" "hm...they're called crystal,but thank you handsome" you smile,holding onto his bicep as he presses a sloppy kiss against your neck "I'll be with the boys over the couch to get my stuff and then I'll take you home,okay?" "hm...okay, love you"

"love you too kitty cat"

[m3hgumi]

— pop a coke

pairing: fushiguro megumi x f!reader

genre: fluff, mutual pining

summary: the calm and collected megumi freaks out internally (and unintentionally, externally) after he accidentally drinks from your soda can. the end result? even better.

word count: 890

arms wrapped around your figure, you laid in megumi's chest under the tree near the dorms. the canopy sourcing from the abundant of leaves that covered the branches shaded the two of you from the blazing sun of the weekend's noon. in the distance further away, you saw nobara chasing yuuji for reasons unclear to you, and panda trying to break up their fight, but as a result also becoming a target to her current rage. you chuckled at their playful antics, sending a sense of enjoyment to megumi’s heart. he fought a smile to his face, bringing his chin down to feel your hair under his face, hoping the others weren’t looking in his direction. he wasn’t one for pda, but every so often he isn’t afraid to show his love for you around others, given that fact that none of his classmates and upperclassmen were watching anyway.

next to both of you were two sandwiches neatly wrapped in aluminum foil per megumi’s effort and two cans of coca cola from the school’s vending machine to go along with your food. finally, a batch of cookies were covered with tissues to maintain their freshness. your hand moved towards the sandwiches, handing one to megumi. you took a bite into the remaining sandwich, indulging in the synergy of multiple ingredients within your meal, leaving a smile of satisfaction on your face. megumi also smiled in agreement, shifting the hold of his sandwich to one hand and bringing a finger of his empty one towards your hair, wrapping itself in its strands. his fingers continued to fiddle with your hair, which were responded with quiet chuckles.

once his fingers were untangled from your hair, he took a second to process his need to quench the thirst lingering in his throat. it had been pretty hot that day, as it was still late into summer, so it was no wonder that his body requested for fluids to cool down. his hand involuntarily reached for his soda can, which was already opened from when you had brought out the sandwiches. feeling the melting icy water drip from the can onto his palm, he picked it up and drew it closer to his mouth, gulping down several, but small sips.

just as the coldness of the tin grazed his upper lip, a familiar scent was detected. his nostrils filled with the smell of mint, not one from an edible, but a flavor of some sort. immediately retracting the can away from his face, he spotted a colorless smudge hinted with sparks of glitter near the can opening. his eyes widened in shock as he put the two together as realized what he had done.

it was your lip gloss. that was your soda can.

somewhere in his head, he could hear the annoying incessant voice of gojo saying that’s an indirect kiss!

his face heated up from the embarrassment; a physical sign of this emerging as his cheeks (and not long after his whole face) reddened. his emerald eyes quickly turned towards you, staring off into the distance, paying no heed to his current dilemma. quickly, he tried to calm himself down, figuring it was for the best you didn’t know. it’s a secret he could never live down himself anyways.

“megumi are you okay? your face looks really red. is it getting too hot for you?”

his body jolted from suddenly hearing your voice. he could see the questioning glance on your face, making him even more embarrassed than before. there was no way for him to hide from you now. nonetheless he still tried to put up a front.

“no, i just choked on the soda from drinking really fast. i’m alright though.”

great lying megumi. if it couldn’t be anymore obvious. until you saw right through him.

“wait, is that my soda can?” you had realized what just happened, and now it was your turn to start getting red, turning your cute weekend picnic date into a heated blushing competition. megumi could only nod slightly before sinking deeper into the endless abyss of embarrassment.

“can i have it back?”

you were the one who started the conversation after moments of awkwardness. it hadn’t been that long since you two started dating. about a month and a couple days to be exact. while you two were very much in love, shown in your display of affection towards one another, kissing wasn’t really something either of you had considered yet-

“yeah sorry about that, here you go” megumi replies, handing you the cola can as you chuckle at his reddened face. you didn’t think he’d be so guilty about it, very cute of him. and you know exactly how to get back at him for it.

“y’know, you could’ve asked for a real kiss if you wanted one.” you mentioned before quickly giving him a peck on his cheek.

megumi was caught off guard, but a sense of giddiness bubbled in him feeling the stickiness of the lip gloss remaining on you face touching the side of his. he would not admit it to you or anyone really, but he liked it a lot.

he could’ve continued relishing this very adoring interaction, until he noticed nobara and yuji, who had seen the entire event unfold, staring from afar.

now he was really embarrassed.

© m3hgumi 2023. all rights reserved. do not copy, modify, or repost my works anywhere

[cherri-the-role-playaz]

𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐚 𝐀. 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥.🍒

𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐬.

"𝐇𝐢, 𝐈'𝐦 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐚, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲."

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

𝐅𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞: Chrysta Anastasia Campbell.

𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬: - "Cherry" By most people, specifically The Lost Boys.

- "Chrys" by people like Sam Emerson, and Michael Emerson. "Miss Chrysta" By Lucy Emerson, Grandpa Emerson. "Anastasia" By Max Lawerence. "Juice-box" Used by the Frog Brothers, Edgar and Alan. "Chick" and "Babe" by Michael Emerson.

-Pet names include and exclusively used by David Williams are "Doll" "Baby-Doll" and "Kitten"

-Pet names include and exclusively used by Dwayne Stephens are "Mama" "Mi amor" "Doll-Face"

-Pet names include and exclusively used by Paul Harris are "Mama" "Baby" "Baby-Doll" "Angel"

-Pet names include and exclusively used by Marko Bianchi are "Angel" "Angel-Face" "Bimbo" "Amore"

༺♥༻

𝐀𝐠𝐞: 19 years old.

𝐒𝐞𝐱: CIS Female.

-She/Her pronouns.

-𝐒𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲: Bisexual, Polyamorous.

༺♥༻

𝐃𝐨𝐁: August 8th, 1968.

-𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧: Leo.

-𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞: Peridot.

-𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫: Gladiolus

༺♥༻

-𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧/𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡: Salt Lake City, Utah.

𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲/𝐄𝐭𝐡𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲: American, White.

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: Alive.

༺♥༻

𝐎𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: 𝐂𝐨𝐬𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐬𝐭. Chrysta is a worker and helper at her Aunts small salon shop along the strip at the boardwalk. She usually is running register and stalking dyes and nail polish or sweeping up hair while her Aunt deals with clients, but when there's a rush or two in the week, Chrysta is there to help aid in cutting hair, or doing nails. It is her main source of income even if her allowance isn't that plentiful with all her work.

-𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲. Since he's a stay-at-home client, Chrysta runs deliveries to mister Emersons home upon the request of her Aunt, who makes him microwave ready meals that he can use and make throughout the week, so he isn't living off of Oreos and root beer. She also comes over now and then to give him a haircut/beard trim.

"𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐮𝐭 𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭? 𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐈 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫... 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐡?"

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞: Apple, square.

-𝐁𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝: Toned arms and inframammary. Soft, and slight plump in stomach, hips, and thighs.

-𝐇𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭: Five foot four inches.

-𝐖𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭: One-hundred and twenty-eight pounds.

-𝐕𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞-𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦: Brooke Sheilds.

-𝐓𝐨𝐧𝐞: Very soft, smooth, low and flirty.

༺♥༻

𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫: Natural brown/brunette.

-𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡: Short, mid-length to her neck.

-𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞𝐬: Usually worn down with large, loose curls or full volume waves.

༺♥༻

𝐄𝐲𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫: Deep green.

-𝐄𝐲𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞: Big doe-eyes.

-𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬: None.

𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐬: None.

𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬: Two beauty marks dotted on her cheeks and one on her chin. Also, multiple sunspots along her arms, legs, and backside.

༺♥༻

𝐀𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬: Large red lensed sunglasses with cherry charms hanging from them.

-Red, almond-shaped acrylic nails.

-Large silver hoop earrings.

-Cherry scented lip-gloss always on her person at all times.

༺♥༻

𝐀𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐞𝐬: Fake metals, pollen.

𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞: A-negative.

𝐏𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐚𝐬, 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬: Fear of loneliness.

-Fear of abandonment.

-Fear of disappointment.

-Fear of heartbreak.

༺♥༻

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬: Dancing, makeup, music, sweets, candy, hair styling, teen magazines, gossip, the boardwalk, rides, carnival games, jewelry, nail art, clothes, swimming, surfing, bike rides, summer.

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬: Being alone, being grounded, missing out, rude people, being scared, rude people, catcalling, school.

-𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐝: food truck corn dog with honey.

-𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤: Cherry Coca-Cola.

-𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐭: cotton candy.

-𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫: Baby pink and crimson.

-𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞: Legend.

-𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: Rebel Yell by Billy Idol.

-𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫���𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐲: Sneaking out to the Boardwalk.

༺♥༻

Chrysta's boardwalk wardrobe consists of tightly fitted jeans and a jean jacket with rhinestone spangles along the back, arms, and pockets. She wears a simple white tank top with silver hoop earrings and a cross necklace, along with charm bracelets and a couple rings on her fingers. Her makeup is a striking silverly blue eye shadow and pink glossy lip with a pack-ton of blush.

-Other appearances includes her more casual fit for a day in at the Salon, which is jeans and a fuzzy white sweater with multi-colored polka dots all over it.

-Her Pajamas which one would consider the most casual lingerie one could get with it consisting of a lot of silks and lace.

"𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐝, 𝐌𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐲... 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞..."

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈: 𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐏. 𝐄𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜, 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲, 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜, 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬. Chrysta is a very charismatic, flirtatious young lady who's always up for any thrill you can offer. Chrysta is the personification of a lady straight from the 80s- a California dream from the magazines. While she gives of an intimidating presence, she's extremely kind, and a very sweet, soft-hearted young woman who is welcome to friends and meeting people. 

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐭, 𝐄𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐭, 𝐨𝐫 𝐀𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐭: Extrovert. Chrysta is very much a people person, any adventure she has on the boardwalk is involved in random groups she tags along with for concerts, sneaking onto rides, or running to the secluded parts of the beach to go swimming.

𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬: 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭. Chrysta is very confident, and it projects in her appearance or attitude. She's very bold and striking, that of a bird, always trying to show off her colors and striking feathers. When she walks on the boardwalk her head is held high, and she struts with boldness.

-𝐎𝐮𝐭𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠. Chrysta seems like she'll say yes to anything, which makes her come off a little reckless. But Chrysta is simply a sheltered girl who is somehow trying to catch up and enjoy her youth all at the same time. With adulthood seemingly around the corner, she wants to jump at any opportunity it seems she'll never get the chance to have ever again.

-𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐲. Chrysta has an overwhelmingly kindness and want to make everyone her best friend. Within an instant she's dragging you to every store and shop at the boardwalk, yapping your ear off with the newest gossip she's heard from the salon or read in her magazines. 

-𝐅𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲. Heavens above this girl is a flirt. Doesn't matter what gender you are, Chrysta will do anything in her power to see a shy smile or a little blush on someone's cheeks. She enjoys flattery and seeing people's self-confidence bloom if all she has to do amp up a bit of sweet-talk. Another thing is it's a lovely perk for a free meal or sneaking onto a ride without having to pull your wallet out.

-𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. Chrysta's a very sympathetic person, especially toward kids. She's a caretaker of Laddie a lot of the time, mostly tag teaming with Star on watching him when they go to the Boardwalk or beach. She continues to visit Grandpa Emerson as often as she can before Lucy and the boys had showed up, wanting to keep the lonely man as much company as she could. She knows what it's like to feel lonely or abandoned, and she does everything she can to make sure the ones she loves don't feel that way when with her.

𝐍𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬: 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲. Chrysta has a bit of an envy bug and can be quick to jealousy. It's a habit she isn't proud of, knowing a big part of it is due to most of her life yearning for a life like in the movies, with the newest fashion and hottest boys, sometimes she can't help but wish for more.

-𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬. Chrysta can be very reckless in her choice making. Once again, having the 'only live once' mind-set can lead her to making some wrong decisions in the long run. Her fear of not living her life to the fullest in turn causes her to act foolishly, and sometimes even dangerously in acts of peer-pressure.

-𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐧. With her reckless nature in the debacle, Chrysta's stubbornness added onto that is a recipe for disaster. You can't talk her down from the cliff she's willingly walked herself onto, once her mind is set you can't change it. Especially if one openly dislikes her decision, it seems her urge to rebel grows stronger.

-𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬. Chrysta can be very self-conscious. Shocking from a girl who shows off confidence to the public eye, but behind closed doors she tends to be very worried about her image and her fragile pride. She seems to see every flaw that needs to be fixed or covered up with pounds of makeup. 

-𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬. Chrysta doesn't like to be told what to do and in return and can cause her to act out. From sneaking out to getting her ears pierced or a tattoo, it doesn't help with the individuals she spends her time with and influence.

"𝐋𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞... 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐀𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐲, 𝐤𝐚𝐲?"

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

𝐅𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲: Andy Sansbury [Biological Mother], Charles Campbell [Biological Father], Susan Campbell [Stepmother], Danny Campbell [Younger stepbrother], Markus Campbell [Younger stepbrother], Violet Campbell [Younger stepsister], Jessie 'Aunty' Sansbury [Biological Aunt].

-Chrysta grew up in Utah with both of her parents till about the age of six when her mother d fathers marriage began to grow strained. The divorce wasn't very messy, but her life afterwards was much harder. Her parents seemed to be constantly at each other's throats over the smallest things, wanting to make their lives miserable as much as they could without having to be a part of it. It resulted in a lot of Chrysta's life being ignored or used as an excuse in their mistakes they had made through their marriage.

Chrysta grew up living with her father, Charles, given he was a wealthy businessman and could keep income, unlike her mother, Andy, who was constantly in and out of medical care due to her worsening health. Her father was quick to remarry after the divorce, and met a lady named Susan, who- to put it bluntly- tried to replace Chrysta's mother. She was always pushing and pressuring Chrysta into their lifestyle, forcing her to call her 'mom' and take care of her new stepsiblings. 

It felt as though her only escape was when she'd spend her summers in Santa Carla at her Aunts home. No school, no fights, no dad or stepmom, just fun, living, thrill seeking. It started out as a wholesome, familial tradition that had been in place since she was about seven years old... But the older she got, the clearer it was to Chrysta that these 'visits' were starting to become a way for her father to get rid of her. Her relationship with him is very tense, because it's obvious he wants to restart with his 'new family' and Chrysta is in the way of that. So now she's working at her Aunty's salon, scrounging up enough money to run away and live in Santa Carla permanently.

It didn't help that it feeling like even in her summers, Chrysta couldn't even be a girl. Her Aunty was always an extremely over-protective woman, and it never changed. If anything, it only grew worse as the years went on, and Chrysta grew older. Don't be out on the boardwalk after eight, no inviting anyone inside after dark, don't move or touch any of the crosses on the walls, doors stay locked, and the salon doesn't open no later than seven in the morning or when the sun rises.

And no matter how many times she asks, or always begs to go out with her friends, her Aunty always tells her one thing, the same thing night after night: 

"That's when the Vampires come out to play..."

But, alas. Chrysta's nineteen, a teen girl, a little rule breaking won't affect her- especially when she has all her gal pals expecting her on the boardwalk to watch some totally hot performers that night! So Chrysta quickly creates herself a routine around when her Aunty goes to bed, crashed in her bedroom at nine o'clock, the TV droning some old soap opera, loud enough Chrysta can easily open up her window, and swiftly hop out and sneak right onto the boardwalk for a night of fun, and be home without catching any notice.

༺♥༻

Chrysta had been playing cat and mouse with a group of leather clad vampires since the beginning of summer that year- it seemed anywhere she was, they were there, or vice versa. Something about them seemed oh so tempting and curious to her, she felt as though she couldn't stay away.

And everytime she caught one of their attention, soon followed by the rest, she'd quickly shy away the second all eyes were on her. Disappearing into a store or crowd, some little anticipation in the back of her mind hoping they'd chase soon after.

It wasn't until one night they had followed her into the Video rental store she realized she might get caught in her 'playing hard to get antics' even leading them on just a bit more by sneaking around aisles just for a bit longer, before she was trapped in my David and Dwayne down one side, and Paul and Marko by the other, almost circling her as if animals hunting prey.

Of course now getting caught she was rather shy and quiet, the four sweet talkers asking her name and what she was doing tonight- even telling her they had a nickname for the mysterious chick following them around- Chrysta getting the name 'Cherri' from them. She's never gotten an answer why they choose to call her that... But the boys knew that when she was around, the faint scent of blood and cherry perfume would linger in the night air.

After a while of talking and playful banter, Max comes in to scold the four reckless teens and asked Chrysta if they were bothering her- but Chrysta quickly stepped in to defend them, fibbing her and the boys way out of any bad news that'd get her caught by her aunt.

As thanks for helping them get past the old man Max, David offers her 'just one ride' on his bike around the boardwalk. She's been hanging with the boys ever since. 

༺♥༻

𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬/𝐀𝐜𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬: Michael Emerson, Sam Emerson, The Lost Boys.

𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜/𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬: Lucy Emerson, Max Lawerence, Grandpa Emerson.

𝐑𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥: Star, The Lost Boys, Frog Brothers.

𝐄𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬: Max Lawerence.

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 (s): Any/or all The Lost Boys, your OC, or Michael Emerson. [I usually RP a Poly relationship with the boys, and if one is comfortable, your OC as well. But if you're not comfortable with that idea I'm OK with any of the boys for a singular love interest! I usually lean toward David as my favorite.]

༺♥༻

𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐄𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧. 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩, 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬, 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬: Chrysta had met Michael the day he, Sam, and his mom were new residence to Santa Carla. Chrysta was a regular to the Elder Emerson resident considering her aunt would send her there once or twice every week with some prepared meals for Grandpa Emerson in return for doing some freaky taxidermy of all her aunts' old dogs. So Chrysta had caught the two new boys to town and happily introduced herself, immediately sparking some flirty commentary between herself and Michael- of course nothing more really sparked from it, Chrysta knew she'd be in a little trouble if she got too caught up in those blue eyes and charming smile. But she does get caught on the job flirting and talking with him at the register a few times.

𝐒𝐚𝐦 𝐄𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧. 𝐒𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐨𝐧����, 𝐧𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬: Sam didn't really mind Chrysta before, he found himself a little annoyed with her teasing or her flirting with his older brother, but they seemed to not mind one another- even the smallest hint of a sibling dynamic between the two when Lucy had brought him over for a haircut and she got a bit more one on one time to get to know him. He grows a bit distant and skeptical of her after he finds out about her being with The Lost Boys, and the added fact of a lot of stories and rumors the Frog Brothers have about her.

𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐲 𝐄𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧. 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲, 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: Lucy met Chrysta the same time the young woman had met Sam and Michael. Chrysta's relationship with Lucy is nothing but motherly, the woman is just the sweetest person she's met in Santa Carla in a long time and given Chrysta's mother is currently undergoing illness and surgeries, it's nice to have an older woman figure like Lucy- especially with her aunt being a bit... Cooky. She gets closer to Lucy through Sam and his haircuts- and Chrysta even offers and has helped get her dressed up and all dolled-out for a few dates she goes on with Max.

𝐄𝐝𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐧 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐠. 𝐀𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐧𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧-𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: The Frogs are pretty hostile and suspicious of Chrysta since the moment she even stepped into Santa Carla. It only got worse when they saw her getting on the back of a bike with their top list suspects of being Vampires. They assume she's somehow hypnotized or being used as some sort of servant Juicebox they'll have to interview and get more information from. But, to Chrysta, it's like two pestering, annoying little cousins/brothers always trying to cause trouble to her poor clients.

𝐌𝐚𝐱 𝐋𝐚𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞. 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐲, 𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬, 𝐚𝐜𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: Max is a very... Off putting character to Chrysta. It isn't to say he isn't a nice man; he just has something about him that always make her feel some nagging in the back of her mind to keep her distance- which doesn't help due to the boys hanging around his Video store a few times- enough times that she's always pulled into the strange, offering for her to join their family on a more permanent basis. He's extremely vague and always calling her by her middle name, Anastasia, and every time she asks, he merely waves her off with a chuckle, saying: "Oh, I'm sure you'll understand eventually. Afterall... Those who don't know their history, tend to repeat it, miss Chrysta..."

The side note/reason Anastasia is used by Max referring to Chrysta is based off of the Lost Boys prequel script, where David fell in love with a Russian Princess Anastasia, but tragically killed herself when she had been turned into a vampire. Chrysta has a VERY distant relation to her, yet besides her hair, she's the spitting image of the girl David fell in love with centuries ago.

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫. 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐚𝐜𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬, 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬: Chrysta and Star are... Complicated. It's obvious the tension between them is awkward and tense after the new girl showed up all of the sudden, now Star has become Davids's favorite for the time being and Chrysta isn't happy about it. She isn't exactly mad at Star; it isn't her fault- but she isn't close to her either. But on Star's behalf she doesn't really want Chrysta getting any closer if it means keeping her safe from what the boys are hiding...

𝐋𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐬𝐨𝐧. 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞, 𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩, 𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧, 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫: Another attempt a making Star and Chrysta close is David ̶B̶a̶b̶y̶-̶T̶r̶a̶p̶p̶i̶n̶g̶  making the two Laddie's caretaker. Watching him while on the boardwalk, putting him to bed, etc. Chrysta is close to him, wanting to protect him considering Santa Carla isn't the safest place for a little boy at night.

"𝐌𝐚𝐱 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞... 𝐇𝐞'𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧' 𝐦𝐞 𝐀𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐚. 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐢𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞."

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

𝐃𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐝 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐬. 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬: Chrysta's relationship with David is something not many know what to put a label on. He calls, and she will follow. He asks, and she answers. A Devil and Angel dynamic shines as bright between these two as it would with a halo sitting atop her curls and a set of sharp horns atop his brow. Whether he's got her on the back of his bike, or he struts the boardwalk with the little lady attached to his arm, showing her off like a prized trophy, as something no one but him can touch. And who is his little Chrissie to deny such attention?

𝐃𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐬. 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬: Ah, Dwayne. Dwayne and Chrysta's relationship is very 'Beauty and the Beast'. This brooding, quiet giant is following after a bubbly talkative bundle of pink, her tiny little hand intertwined with his large, cold one. She's chatting up a storm about her magazines and rambling gossip while he's fixing and working on him and his boys' bikes, merely replying with a few grunts and 'yeah?'s here and there. He loves her, he truly does, she's like a little doll hugging onto his large frame while they drive around the boardwalk or across the bluff. And he'll be sure everyone knows that she's his perfect Queen, but he's putting an emphasis on His.

𝐏𝐚𝐮𝐥 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬. 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬: Like watching two lovesick puppies. Paul is the other half of Marko, and twice as wild and exciting. Paul is the closest to being anything akin to a boyfriend of his time, with his flirty persona and spunk, he loves taking his girl out for cruises on his bike, stealing her jewelry and items on the boardwalk, taking her on every ride, trynna win anything and everything at carni-stands just to have an excuse to get a kiss as a reward. But don't let his labrador boyfriend aura fool you, he's still Paul, he's still a vampire- and the most insane no doubt.

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐨 𝐁𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐢. 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬: Marko is definitely Chrysta's more wild side. Compared to David. Marko is labeled the guard dog of the coven- little but the fiercest of them all. And if David doesn't have eyes on their girl, Marko is making sure she isn't too far from their sights. Marko practically worships David, and Chrysta is a delicate possession that no one else is allowed to keep... Or even look at wrong, cause best assured, Marko won't take any backhand comment to his Angel lightly..

"𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧' 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐔𝐭𝐚𝐡. 𝐌𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐦𝐚'𝐬 𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐀𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐛. 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐚 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭... 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭.."

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

[dollykiller]

Cotton candy ,trailer park, older men,gas stations, roller-coaster, coca cola, heart-shaped sunglasses, cigarettes and lollipops, peach lip gloss, Jessica rabbit syndrome, precious moments dolls, the beach and mermaid motel, h2o, born to die on repeat, 60s Lolita on black and white tv 🍦🍨🍭

[dontsh0vethesun]

emily, i’m sorry

boy genius (the record) masterlist

emily prentiss x reader

18+ : super mild smut, kissing, alcohol consumption, implied alcohol use as a coping mechanism, smoking, angst, right person wrong time, a double dose of mommy issues, happy ending

word count: 2.9k

a/n: i started writing this so long ago and i feel like i only really like the last 500 words or smth 💀

You’d been sitting behind Emily since the beginning of the semester, two months in without an introduction, merely observing from afar. You’d never thought yourself to be a person to fall into those romantic clichés with your chin resting in the palm of your hand and your eyes on the side of her face instead of the professor at the front of the class.

Finding yourself smiling at the sound of her laugh, eyes darting away from her direction when she’d glance towards you. Because she’d noticed you too.

By chance your paths finally crossed at a party, a spilling of your overly strong drink from the red cup onto her arm and a rushed apology.

“Get me another drink and all is forgiven.” She smiled with a hand on your waist to keep you close as you made your way through drunken college students into the brightly lit kitchen. You’d never seen her this closely, her dark hazel eyes lined black and equally dark hair pushed behind her ear.

“So, what can I get you?” You asked, looking over the options scattered messily on the kitchen counter, space taken up by tipped over plastic cups and spilled liquor and mixers making the surface sticky. “We have beer, cheap vodka, something blue,” you twisted bottles to see their labels with a shrug at the poor selection the student budget could afford. “Or cheap vodka.”

“I’ll have what you’re having then.” Emily laughed, leaning her hip against the counter as she watched you pour bottles into two cups. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

You lifted a brow at her statement with a small smile as you passed her the drink. “You have?”

“Of course. Who wouldn’t wanna talk to a pretty girl like you?” She was bolder than you’d expected, what with the way you’d seen her blush.

“Well I’m glad you finally did.”

“Oh, so you’ve been waiting for this then, hm?” She smirked, keeping a fixed gaze on you over the top of her cup as she swigged at its contents.

“No, I was just getting a little tired of you staring at me so much.” You huffed mockingly, grinning into your drink at the way she stumbled over a response.

“I find that hard to believe,” she finally uttered, inching closer with a hint of alcohol on her breath. “I know you’ve been pining after me. It’s cute.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Emily.”

Her name sounded delicious as it rolled off your tongue and she just had to hear it again. She was overcome with a need for you, to talk with you and dance with you and learn each centimetre of your skin.

Neither of you were very good at dancing, especially with the liquor pumping through your veins, heads dazed with the buzz and a coating of sweat lining your foreheads. She kept you close, a hold more possessive than you’d expected on your hips moving your bodies together.

She dragged you away to somewhere quieter where you could actually hear the mutterings of one another’s voices. You got to know each other as well as two drunk people could, conversations barely scratching the surface but in the back of your mind you knew there’d be more time for that. You could hardly let her go now.

The closeness of your bodies set your skin alight, hardly able to keep your eyes off her. The way her fingers held a cigarette and her lips parted with a stream of smoke. You could taste it on one another’s tongues when she finally kissed you, escaping to a bathroom with your body perched atop the counter; the flavour of ash and coca cola, the bitterness of vodka and the sweetness of cherry lip gloss.

The way she slotted her lips with yours was sublime, a heat pulsing through you at the hand on the back of your neck. Her hair was soft and perfect between your fingers and the sound of a moan falling from her throat to yours made your stomach flip.

Movements were sloppy and fuelled with drunkenness and lust, a building tension of the evening finally being untangled in the transference of warm hands beneath your shirt. Her touch wandered desperately and yours was just as hungry, grabbing at any part of her you could reach, the material of her t-shirt clenched in your fist.

Neither of you thought it through, giggling in your tipsy haze when she haphazardly pulled your jeans down your legs and trailed her nails upwards across the skin of your thighs. Her breath was hot against the column of your throat where her lips lay kisses and licks of her tongue, her teeth grazed the crook of your neck while her fingers inched past the waistband of your underwear.

Your head fell backwards and your hands kept her head where it was, where she made you dizzy with sucks against your flesh. It was as though she’d already learnt your body off by heart with the way her fingers pulled noises from you that the both of you could only hope were kept within the four walls of the bathroom. With your legs wrapped around her waist you were as close as you could be, the heat of each other’s bodies pulsing through you like lightning and a thick tension simmering.

It was a moment you’d come to find amusing, being walked in on by a girl stumbling over her heels. It would become a memory of that first night together, that fateful night you met and you’d laugh wondering where that stranger was now.

–

It was routine by now to be sprawled on the living room floor with textbooks and papers scattered in front of you. Overused highlighters scratched across printed sheets with a bright pink left behind, less and less information seeping into your brains as the hours would add up.

You’d forgone buying desks, using your shared apartment floor as an infinite display of university work - it was a definite benefit of sharing a degree with your girlfriend.

Your evenings were either spent with bleary eyes straining to read for hours on end, shooting one another questions to test knowledge whilst you drank copious amounts of coffee. Or you’d be dancing together tipsily with a bunch of other students, rooms blurred with smoke, smelling like cigarettes and the sourness of cheap beer.

You were happy together, you could never imagine your love for Emily to fade away.

There was a perfectly intimate domesticity between you; smiling conversations half asleep over breakfast and evenings watching tv, lighting incense and candles to mask the smell of nicotine.

She’d smiled to herself this evening at the sight of you staring at the ceiling in frustrated boredom, lying on your back on the ground with an open textbook face down on your chest. You’d been studying for a while and she could see the burnout all over you.

She went to the kitchen wordlessly and poured two glasses of the cheap wine from the kitchen counter; she always swore she’d be able to afford the good stuff when she was older.

When she came back you took it from her with an appreciative smile.

“You read my mind, Em.”

“Reading your mind is a stretch, I just saw you staring at the ceiling despondently and I know you like the back of my hand.” She laughed and you shrugged - she wasn’t wrong.

“I bet you can’t guess what I’m thinking now then.”

“I think I have an idea.” She smirked, letting you take another sip of your drink before she took your glass and set it aside, lowering herself to straddle your legs. She pushed your back against the ground with her lips ghosting yours with her voice. “Something like this?”

The taste of her lips was so familiar, cigarettes and wine. They pushed into yours sublimely with her hand cupping your cheek while yours held her closely by her belt loops. The kiss grew heated as it always did, that perfect electrical heat that never failed to make your skin alight with goosebumps and your body arch into hers in an effort to get closer than possible.

“There’s a party across campus. Wanna go?” Emily muttered once she’d pulled away to catch her breath. Of course you agreed, diving head first into a night of liquor fuelled sex, rooms misty with smoke. Intoxicated by each other, dizzy from the lust.

—

And now you’re walking home alone, feet scuffing against the loose debris along the cement with your dazed steps, struggling to keep your footsteps linear with the way your head buzzed with the swill of unmoderated alcohol.

It wasn’t the same without Emily. Parties were just an excuse to get drunk, to let your mind finally drift away, distracted by the overly loud music and crowds of people hiding you away. They used to be fun, a way to let yourselves loose, drinking together and laughing and enjoying the night before giggling drunkenly on your way home.

But you were here and Emily was at home, her head buried in textbooks as she crammed for the same exams you should be focussing on.

It’s hard to know when it began to go downhill, when the parties stopped being fun and the stress of graduation overtook you both. When you started to spend more and more time apart with different focuses and goals.

All you’d yearned after for so long was a freedom your bones ached for. Free from the judging gaze of your mother, living up to the expectations she loomed above your head. And you’d found it, you felt liberated, truly able to smile and laugh and party with friends. You were finally figuring out who you are with this freedom you’d always wanted, who you are with Emily and on your own; who you are in your own apartment and in the cafe down the street.

You just want to be free but even this freedom is dotted with downsides.

While you’re making your way home to her, Emily is finishing another cup of coffee, blinking away the exhaustion in her eyes in hopes to unblur the words on the paper in front of her.

She could only sigh when she looked at the clock. 1am and you weren’t home, it wasn’t new but it was frustrating. It was frustrating how your newfound freedoms had led you down different paths.

Sure, she was no longer living with her mother, peering over her shoulder with bated breath waiting for her to fail. Her freedom may be literal, oftentimes in a differing country to the ambassador, but nothing had truly changed. Elizabeth’s voice was always there in the back of her mind, with each assignment and exam. Each time her phone would ring she’d prepare herself with a deep breath before trying to appease her mother on the other end.

Keep her happy, keep her proud and satisfied at her academic progress. She’d placate and be agreeable, thanking her for helping her pay for the apartment all whilst fidgeting with the lighter in her pocket, desperate to ease the anxious tension her mother never failed to arise in her.

With each passage highlighted, page turned and hand cramped from scribbling notes for too long, she thought of Elizabeth. The standards she couldn’t help but stare at with each decision she made. She’d tried to let herself live and breathe but she wasn’t ready to be free yet. She knew she would be eventually but for now she needs to get her degree, excel or disappoint, and let herself be free with you.

You were the only true freedom she could hold on to but she could feel it slipping away.

The door closed behind you when she poured herself another cup of crappy coffee and she habitually grabbed another mug - your favourite one with the chip in the handle.

You took it from the counter with an appreciative smile when she pushed it towards you and you both sipped without a word. It was quiet. Too quiet. Neither of you knew what to say, there were so many words you wanted to utter yet neither of you could form any.

“I thought you weren’t gonna be out so late tonight.” She murmured to break the silence.

“I lost track of time.” You shrugged with the slightest slur decorating your words.

“You’ve been saying that a lot lately.”

“I didn’t realise I had a curfew.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know that.” Emily sighed. “We’re about to graduate and you’re out at any party you can find while I work my ass off. You’re not taking it seriously.”

“My grades are fine, Emily. I just want to feel like I have a life outside of all this.”

“Well I can’t keep being woken up with you stumbling in at night. I can’t keep being interrupted by you coming back drunk when I’m studying. You know I can’t afford to fuck this up.”

“I know.”

“It’s like we’re on different wavelengths.”

“I know.”

You couldn’t meet each other’s eyes with the way they stung with tears, so scared that you’d both break with just a glance.

“I love you so much but it’s as though we’re different people now, y’know?” Emily uttered through a shaking voice, wiping at the tear on her cheek with the end of her sleeve.

“Mhm.” You nodded, clearing your throat to find your voice again. “We’re not who we were at the beginning. We’ve changed.”

You’re so right for each other. Perfect. But the world is cruel and time is painful and sometimes things don’t align the way they should.

“I love you, Emily. I’m so sorry. I wish I could be better for you. I wish I didn’t feel so suffocated and trapped in this hole that I’m trying to climb out of. The hole my mother buried me in. God, I wish I could be better for you.”

“No. You don’t have to be sorry.” She returned with tears matching your own and her arms wrapping around your body. “You haven’t done anything wrong. We’re just not ready for the same things. The timing isn’t right, no matter how much it fucking hurts my heart to admit.”

The taste of salt coated your lips when you kissed and each breath that sounded in the room was stuttered, lingering in an embrace you so desperately wished to last forever. It was unspoken for now, you’d work out the formalities another time but for tonight you let yourselves live the night with freedom. Teary freedom with each other, kisses and touches so perfect, falling asleep entwined with puffy eyes.

“You are the truest love I could have ever imagined.” Emily whispered. “Nothing could ever take away this feeling I have for you. I think it was created for you. I think that you were made for me.”

“You will always have my heart, Em. I can only dream of one day being able to take it back.”

—

Years passed. So many years with an Emily shaped space looming near. Though she lived in the back of your mind it wasn’t uncommon for her to be the only thought your brain could focus on. But that was a different time. You hadn’t seen her since graduation and even that was merely a smile across the room, you couldn’t bear anything more, not with the inevitable ending. You’d thought it best to interact as little as possible, sparing yourselves of the agony. There was no cure for the pain, only the numbing of time.

The ding of the elevator closing behind you was the beginning of your new job, the career you’d been working towards. A bubbly blonde grinning at you from across the room caught you off guard and her excited announcement made you want to hide your face in embarrassment.

“You must be the newbie.” She smiled with quick steps carrying her towards you. “I’m Penelope Garcia.” She introduced with an excited shake of your hand with hers as she guided you towards the others.

She looked the same. Her jaw was sharper maybe and her eyes sported lines of laughter but it was still her. Emily Prentiss, the one who’d kept your heart. Perhaps you could feel the thumping in your chest again if she’d be so gracious to let you. If she could forgive you.

You didn’t quite know what to expect. Would she pretend your past was nothing, brush you off like a tarnish? Would she unleash some kind of anger she’d been holding onto, send you running, wishing you’d never even applied to this job? You felt your palms grow clammy with the way her eyes were so set on yours, unwavering for what felt like eternity.

It was like it was just the two of you, soul peering into soul. And then you had your answer, as though nothing had soured between you. Like the clock that once was broken had been repaired and the time that once controlled you was being steered into place by your own wanting hands.

She smiled that smile you’d been dreaming of for all this time; a beaming upturn of her lips that told you all she wanted you to know, that she still held your heart for safe keeping. That just seeing you again, both of you free, standing on the line of time with one foot in front of the other, was all she ever needed. You were the same people but time had changed for the better.

And in that moment, for the first time since that night, you had your heart again.

And you smiled back.

[thisfeelslike-iykyk]

omg omg omg congrats! can i have you know without you, I'm so lonely!" with me x dallas winston? i’m so in love with him

maddie x dally. dark brown and cherry red. bad boy x good girl. a coquette angel. dallas winston's love is one that you're lucky to have. you're the only one to see him cry and genuinely laugh. dallas's love is late night stargazing on the roof of his house, listening to the worries and secrets he only spills to you when he's a little tipsy. (these fears and secrets, of course, are safe with you.) going a little crazy at parties. dates at the drive in movie theater. pink lip gloss and coca colas. and in the same way that dallas is honored that you would have him as he is, he could not be more thankful that you would be willing to give yourself to him in return.

song: "mantra", jennie

@glxsyymads hey maddie! I hope you liked your moodboard! it's my first time making a moodboard for a topic like this so I hope I did okay 💛 also the dallas love is so real

[klaroveins]

Casual | A Klaroline song-fic

An unstable and intense relationship between Klaus and Caroline based on the song 'Casual' by Chappell Roan, Klaus looking for sexual release and Caroline looking for a genuine connection. A relationship doomed to fail.

— — — — — — — — — —

My friends call me a loser, ‘cause I’m still hanging around.

“You’re still hanging around that asshole?” Bonnie arched one of her dark brows, a skeptical look on her face, swirling the straw in her Coca Cola around, the ice quietly clinking together quietly.

“You’re acting like a desperate loser.” Katherine downed one of her many shots of vodka, scoffing at her friends desperation for a man who only wanted sex, “Klaus is a dick who doesn’t deserve you.”

Caroline silently stirred her own straw in her drink, her glossed lips pressed into a line. She knew Katherine was right, Klaus was a dick. But she held out for hope that maybe he’d felt more for her, maybe he felt for her like she did for him.

READ HERE ON AO3

[machinegrl]

—OC(S) AS OBSCURE ASSOCIATIONS

ty for tagging me @vicciouxs ! ♡

tagging: @skaterboisims , @scifidreams , @lilamausmaus (idk if u've been tagged already feel free to skip tho!)

[ MAKINA ]

ANIMAL: luna moth

COLORS: june bud

MONTH: june

SONG(S): world ♡ princess - grimes  , i wanna be software - grimes , metadata - willix and ZØMB , stargirl - yameii online

NUMBER: 13

PLANTS: wisteria

SMELLS: peppermint / menthol

GEMSTONE: alexandrite

TIME OF DAY: midnight til dawn

SEASON: summer

PLACES: metaverse / a bustling city

FOOD: cotton candy

DRINKS: pixel flavored coca cola byte or ramune soda

ELEMENT: space / akasha

ASTROLOGICAL SIGN: gemini

SEASONINGS: paprika / black pepper

SKY: starry night skies

WEATHER: summer breeze

MAGICAL POWER: teleportation / shapeshifting

WEAPONS: laser guns

SOCIAL MEDIA: twitch / myspace

MAKEUP PRODUCT: lip gloss, glitter & graphic liners

CANDY: pop rocks

METHOD OF LONG DINSTANCE TRAVEL: spacecraft

ART STYLE: contemporary

FEAR: kenophobia

MYTHOLOGICAL CREATURE: android / virtual girl

PIECE OF STATIONARY: neon gel pens

THREE EMOJIS: 🤖🌌⭐

CELESTIAL BODY: star clusters

[y2kbeautyandother2000sstuff]

Bonne Bell Coca Cola, Black Cherry Vanilla, Cherry Coca Cola, and Barqs Rootbeer Lipsmackers

Christmas 2006

Found on Ebay, user kerrybluevintage

[frogwithgun]

Writing time!!!!!!

Got this idea while listening to Sleepless 10/10 song would recommend.

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

4:05 AM. Big bold letters on his clock tease him with the fact that he still can't sleep. And how could he? How could Geto possibly sleep soundly when his best friend is just down the hall unaware of how he feels? He couldn't.

It drove him up the wall. So instead of trying to sleep any longer he just got up and went to the showers. Hoping that maybe the warm water would help him rid his mind of those clear blue eyes that reminded him of summer skies.

It didn't. Fuck.

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

He goes back to his room and flops down onto his bed. His hair splaying all around him. He sighs. Then he sits up and looks at the clock again. 5:01 AM. He reaches for the nightstand and grabs a hair tie. Carefully putting his hair up into a ponytail.

There's nothing to do so early in the mornings. So he gets up and decides to get dressed for the day. He had a long day of missions and classes ahead of him after all.

And hopefully he would get to see him.

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

"Suguru! You're awake!"

He jumps and turns to look over his shoulder. Ah there he is. Hair tussled from tossing and turning all through the night. Somehow looking perfectly imperfect. And his eyes are not yet covered by those sunglasses. Geto has to stop himself from swooning.

"Yeah. I've been up for a while. Couldn't sleep." Gojo nods. A wide grin on his lips. Geto can see the slight gloss from those candy flavor lip blams he loves to wear. He wonders, how do they taste?

He forces those thoughts away. "Why don't you come to my room next time then?" And Geto struggles to find out if he's being serious or teasing.

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

9:00 AM.

"And he's messing with me! I know he is! 'You can come to my room next time.' But I'm onto him!" Geto is in the infirmary with Shoko. Forcing her to listen to him ramble about his boy troubles. She hands him a cigarette. "Need this?"

Get immediately takes it. "There's no way he was being serious. He was probably just teasing me again." He's sitting on one of the beds and pouting. While Shoko tries to work. "Well maybe he is being serious." Geto scoffs and takes a drag from the cigarette. "Yeah right. You know he loves to mess with me."

Shoko rolls her eyes. "Look you're his one and only or something. He calls you two the strongest. And you're the only one he let's call him by his first name. If that's not enough of a sign I don't know what is!" She throws her hands up exasperated.

Geto rolls his eyes again. "I'm just waiting for him to say something more. Maybe tell me that he likes guys with black hair. Or purple eyes." He shrugs. Shokos buries her head in her hands. "I swear you two make me wanna kill myself." Geto laughs while Shoko glares at him.

"If you don't tell him I will." Geto shrugs. "Really? Let me show you something my dear friend." Shoko nods and they both leave to find Gojo.

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

10:30 AM. Geto finds Gojo. Shoko trailing behind him. "Satoru!" Gojo turns and lights up. "Suguru!" He runs to Geto and jumps into his arms. Something Geto had to get used to. So he catches Gojo with ease. "My mission was soooooo long!" He complains. And Shoko feels like ripping out her hair.

How is he so oblivious? "Satoru I love you. I love you so much it hurts." And Gojo, with the biggest smile, says, "Aw Suguru! I love you too! You're my best friend." Geto looks at Shoko, still holding Gojo, and glares at her. "Damn. So maybe you need to try harder?" Getos eye twitches.

Then he nods. "Ok fine." He full on kisses Gojo. Tasting that coca cola flavored lip balm. And Gojo just smiles. "I missed you too! We should go get some mochi!" Shoko blinks.

He's hopeless.

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

For some reason I love the idea of an oblivious ass Gojo and a very obvious Geto. It's so cute to me

[softlyapocalytpic]

Alright saw… @gingerbreton do this thanks to @persephotea’s reblog, and now I’m doing this and tagging her. I might be back, we will see. ANYWAY.

Amy

SEASONING: Pepper

WEATHER: Blue skies with fluffy clouds

COLOR: A bright red that you see on baseball uniforms, and a dark blue that you see in the bright night sky.

SKY: A night sky so clear that you can see millions of stars in the sky and variations of blue, or a summer sky with big fluffy clouds, anytime between 12 - 6pm.

MAGICAL POWER: You know how Wolverine & Deadpool can regenerate? Like that and then also flight.

HOUSEPLANT: You got this plant from the grocery store because it’s pretty, and it flowered that one time and hasn’t flowered again. And despite everything it’s still alive and green, but you’re never sure if it’ll flower again.

WEAPON: Laser Rifle- heavily modified and chunky.

SUBJECT: Art or Film Lit.

SOCIAL MEDIA: MySpace

MAKEUP PRODUCT: Coca Cola Lip Smackers Lip Gloss

CANDY: Sour balls & big pink chewy bubblegum

FEAR: Apeirophobia

ICE CUBE SHAPE: Crunchy

METHOD OF LONG DISTANCE TRAVEL: Midnight/Early Morning Flight, Greyhound, or Motorcycle

ART STYLE: Either cartoony influenced by comic books & cartoons, or very realistic almost botanical

MYTHOLOGICAL CREATURE: Idk why, but my brain is giving my gryphon.

PIECE OF STATIONARY: Graphite Pencil & Washable Marker

THREE EMOJIS: 🥱🤔🖕

CELESTIAL BODY: The Big Dipper

[hannahthepalindrome]

Lipstick

Ever since I was little, I have been obsessed with lipstick. As young as five years old, I was enchanted by the bright reds, shimmery pinks, glassy corals–almost every color imaginable in a bottle, tube, or jar. By the age of nine, I had memorized the layout of Wal-Mart’s beauty section as I wandered the aisles, gazing at those forbidden tubes. From the sleek black of Revlon to the tempting gold of Milani to the bright, plasticky pinks of Hard Candy, the containers stared at me, tauntingly, seeming to ask “When will you put us on?” as I traversed the beauty section, imagining a future in which I would inevitably wear bright red lipstick every day of the week. 

When I was a child, of course, my mother would have never let me out of the house in real lipstick, so I had to content myself with lip balms. Lip Smackers–particularly Dr. Pepper, Coca-Cola, and Vanilla Malt–were my go-to. Every morning, I would slather my lips in synthetic flavor as I prepared to march out the door on my way to school. I knew that the balm was a weak substitute for the “real deal”, but I enjoyed the flavors and the grown-up feeling of the closest thing I had to real lipstick.

The next logical step in this journey? Lip gloss. My mother finally decided it was fine for me to wear the little kid stuff, and I was thrilled. I loved lip gloss; it was essentially lip balm, but with a much more sophisticated shine (or so I told myself). I wore it all the time…at least, when I had it. I ran out fast due to overuse, and it was usually a while before I got more, so I figured out pretty quickly that I should continue to use my Lip Smackers for “everyday use” and only wear the grown-up gloss on what my young brain deemed “special occasions”. This worked fine, and I was somewhat content to simply wear gloss and lip balm, but I think even then all that I really wanted was a bright red lipstick. As I became a middle schooler, my mom allowed me to wear her plain, nude lipstick occasionally when we went to church, though the color was never as bold as I would have hoped.

Finally, in seventh grade, the day came. While taking me shopping for basic makeup in the fluorescent aisles of Wal-Mart, my mom casually agreed to let me wear lipstick every day. I tried to stay collected as the little girl inside of me squealed and jumped for joy. Laughing at my excitement, my mother selected a more “everyday” color for me: a soft, rusty reddish-brown called Rum Riche. That was the first official lipstick in my now-expansive collection that contains every color I can get my hands on, including my beloved bright red.

The cool-toned bright red in question–Russian Red by MAC–is my current choice whenever I need a pick-me-up, or when I just want to feel fancy. I don’t wear it as often as my other shades, but the compliments abound when I do. Just last week, my gym teacher told me that she loves it when I wear bright red lipstick, because “No one expresses themselves anymore–it’s nice to see young people doing their own thing.” I love this, because to me, that is what lipstick is: an expression of the self, worn proudly on the face. In fact, it is unlikely that you will ever catch me without a colorful product of some sort on my lips, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. 

[demonictreegremlin]

Compiled Scents

Mustard

Peppermint

Whiskey

Dark Chocolate

Root Beer

Squid Ink Pasta

Wheat

Coffee

Custard

Popcorn

Meatballs

Chocolate Fudge

Chocolate Cake

Barbecue Sauce

Pepper

Carrots

Fresh Fish

Coca-Cola

Tequila

Wine

Bacon

Caviar

Oysters

Chicken Broth

Protein Powder

Ginger

Tea

Vodka

Calamari

Dog Food

Maple Syrup

Licorice

Coconut

Eggnog

Olives

Mud

Wet Forest Floor

Flowing River

Cedarwood

Rusted Iron

Wet Fur

Amber

Forest

Roses

Fresh Blood

Leather

Coal

Mahogany

Cactus

Driftwood

Bones

Salt

Ash

Flint

Shedded Fur

Graphite

Lava

Cattails

Hay

Tar

Obsidian

Charcoal

Gasoline

Vinyl

Engine Exhaust

Satin

Gunpowder

Wet Cement

Velvet

Hot Iron

Frayed Wires

Change

Corks

Cigarettes

Mochi

Pumpkin

Rice

Sushi

Cantaloupe

Gingerbread

Honey

Toffee

Cheese

Gingersnaps

Flour

Filtered Water

Champagne

Molasses

Butter

Tap Water

Breads

Macadamia Nuts

Almonds

Brown Sugar

Rotting Fish

Tuna

Sake

Grapes

Figs

Yogurt

Milk

Hazelnuts

Chestnuts

Banana

Macaroni and Cheese

Peanut Butter

Silver

Earth

Oil

Aluminum

Copper

Clay

Aloe Vera

Fresh Rain

Lilies

Ice

Sand

Glue

Melted Wax

Ironed Laundry

Shoe Shiner

Spray Paint

Rubber

Soap

Wet Plaster

Sparks

Cotton

Instant Film Accord

Fresh Laundry

Burnt Sugar

Lemons

Pina Colada

Bubblegum

Melted Marshmallows

Crème Brûlée

White Chocolate

Sugar

Cinnamon

Whipped Cream

Pineapple

Shortbread Cookies

Maraschino Cherry

Cotton Candy

Lollipops

Papaya

Apricots

Margarita

Peaches

Mint

Candied Orange

Cranberry

Caramel

Raspberry Jam

Key Lime Pie

Frosting

Candied Apple

Meringues

Coconut Pie

Macroons

Sugar Crystals

Honeycomb

Cherry Blossoms

Tulips

Daises

Lavender

Pulveroboletus Ravenelli (a type of sweet-smelling mushroom)

Lip Gloss

Sandalwood

Maple

Citrus of any kind (lemon, orange, grapefruit, lime, etc)

Berries of any kind (strawberries, blackberries, raspberries, blueberries, etc)

Rosemary

Sugar-clove

Moss

Pine

Chocolate

Lemongrass

Cloves

Pomegranate 

Cypress 

Sage

Teakwood

Pecan

Cherry

Rose water

Firewood

Myrrh

Mocha

Machine oil

Red velvet 

Cupcakes/cakes

Pancakes/waffles 

Iron

Shampoos/deodorants

burnt anything

Smoke

Pine Trees

Fireplace

Aftershave

Old Spice

Burning Wood

Apple Pie

New Car Smell

BBQ

Matches

Fresh Money

Patchouli

Seawater

Seaweed

Pears

Pesto

Sautéed Onions

Funnel Cake

Fresh Cut Grass

Ink

Snap Fire Crackers

Wet Dog

Rancid Meat

Blood

Sweaty Feet

Bamboo

Shortbread

Macaroons

Sharpies

Baby Powder

Butterscotch

Mangos

Sautéed Garlic

Marigolds

Lilacs

Vanilla

Soda

Vinegar

Chocolate Covered 

Jasmine

Spearmint

Old Books

Honeysuckle

Eucalyptus

Marijuana

Cinnamon Bun

Apples

Sea Breeze

Magnolia Trees

Thunderstorms

Cherries

S’mores

Cookies Fresh from the Oven

Sky After it Rains

Smell of Baskin Robins

Burnt Rubber

Rotten Eggs

Bleach

Nail Polish Remover

Fresh clean laundry

Wood

Paper (old or new)

Sugarcane

Straw

Rosin 

Cocoa 

Dough 

Oats

Herbs

spices‐ anise, clove, nutmeg, savory paprika cardamom 

Root vegetables 

[lethaldiablerie]

RED-VELVET, GUTS, WHORE.

Lights, Camera, Acción. Winter dusk’s constellations whistled transcendent dreams, bathed in the ethereal glow of aurora’s luminescence. Airy bittersweet radiant amidst melodrama in the air. Ensnared by the meaning of slumber, I existed in-between a haze cognizant disruption and somnolent reverie. Awakened by the silence, burdened by the aphasic blare of the alarm's siren. Still I lay, halfway slanted over my body draped on the pearly-white and ivory golden rounded couch in despair. Languishing, unfathomed by the remnants from the night prior. A hangover grippingly lingers, seeping within and regret chokes me tight. 

An aluminium can of Coca-Cola Cherry descends in echoes cluttering spillage on the white marble floor, as the scent of cigarette musk lingers in the atmosphere. Cursing breaths elicit underneath my throat and between faded red-stained lips. Wrapped in light's embrace, I’d wander through the resplendent marble vestibule interior of my apartment and enter its marbled white duluxe bathroom abiding inside the steamy mist. 

Moments within time passed by hastily. The water droplets that were cascading down my freshen skin and glistening diamonds were now dry. My platinum tresses blew out and straightened to perfection. With a glimpse of anticipation, I begin to apply skincare products on my adorning bare facade with the right amount of elixir. The serums and creams melt seamlessly, enhancing my features. I glowed, dewy like a glazed doughnut and metamorphosed the art besotted flawlessness. A reflection initiates an art canvas amongst finger painting various colors to create an illusion of beauty, soft pads of my fingers blend in Les Beiges foundation by Chanel, my perception of art would be naturals, delicately blending in to embrace color. Then, I conceal without a brush, it'll look natural and any imperfections underneath the eyes will magically disappear using The Chanel Radiance Concealer as a little goes along the way. I add another touch of a blush, reaching for the N°1 de Chanel lip and cheek balm, a little dab here and there would suffice a bit of warmth. 

Then, I use a brush to delicately dance, each stroke creates a symphony of shades and hues as I lace together artistry and self-expression.

I enhance my dewy glow, defining my features. Chanel's Les Beiges bronzer sculpts my sharp cheekbones. For my eyelids, I use the luxurious Ombre Premier cream eyeshadow, and for my perfectly shaped brows, I reach for Chanel's Le Gel Sourcils. A few strokes to shape and define my fuller brows. And at last, by accomplishing the look, I apply the Noir Allure mascara for voluminous lashes. Since my lashes are naturally long and I don't wear falsies, it makes other models presume they have feathers for eyes. With the Chanel Nude Brun lip pencil I trace the shape of my cupid's bow, filling in the corners. And a glossed layer for a mesmerizing finish. 

Passing through an elevator exit, alabastrine glow painted air illumination, heavenly renaissance interior upon the ceilings reconcile with a gaze before relinquishing for day. Bypassing the doorman who greets residents “Good Morning,” I feel a breeze of winter air wandering along the sidewalk around a nearest corner and a further pathway I spotted Au Cœur Couronné nestled upper-right in the corner, it’s sign in the shape of a reddened heart underneath a golden crown pendant embedded on peal-white cobblestone wall, arched windows and the doors infinitely ajar. Au Cœur Couronné beckons me inside without a second thought, saccharine pastry collides with the robust aroma of delicate brewed coffee and Chocolat Chaud. I preferred this place amongst other coffeehouses. The interior full of historical art statues, paintings attached upon carmine walls and golden panels ignite French architecture and monochrome checkerboard floors. Au Cœur Couronné's cake exhibit varied its delicacy with marbled macarons of scarlet cherry, pearly-white, and speckling gold leafs. Éclairs. Cupcakes of carmine served with velvety white chocolate frosting and on top a glint of glitter, on the far left array’s cherry and raspberry torté, blackberry red wine chocolate gourmet and decadent strawberry tarts. A burst of redness captivating the art of passion and desire, but lastly among it all was the heart shaped red-velvet cake embroidered in its velvety texture, tiny hearts and rich palate. Adrifting, I withheld from the cake stand, making a note to order one for Friday. My attention temptingly drawn to the savoury salads. I was enticed, gazing for no more than three seconds. Salade de fraises, épinards et laitue. I've been in this position before. But an error suffices, an allergy to strawberries. I loathe food as much as I'd yearned for it. A prying urge to endorse pain, satisfaction had won as my intrusive thoughts consumed the very best of me. Upon reaching the plastic transparent box and pomegranate dressing resting on top, I rested it on the counter as the barista behind greeted me with a warming welcome. 

“Morning, what can I get for you today?” 

Through the reflection of noir sunglasses, he is unaware that I am gazing while he harbours a smile with his ocean blue eyes, exhausted with genuine curiosity. I paused momentarily to ponder what I'd been craving for. 

“A regular on the go will do. Make it 170 degrees, but don't burn the foam and no sugar.” 

As he gestures towards the coffee machine, brewing a fresh pot with steam flowing and the aroma of fresh beans filling our senses. I wander off to claim my seat by an arched window, seeking a more subdued light. Craving for grandiose between my lips, I search for the heart-shaped Vivienne Westwood lighter and ignite a grandiose cigarette. The smoke swirls around me in a wistful dance. Coffee is served and I ask for the card machine, paying for the things I purchased.

Ashes burned in-between a few sips of brew and smoke. I'd take a break from intoxicants to inhale crisp, cold draft, then exhale. Amidst all tranquil, my own thoughts soon conspired upon me. They crept in and whispered as temptation overbared the bylaws of my consequences. I'd soon disremember about my allergic susceptible affect, the indulgence of pain this would bring. Embracing determination to my senses, it became apparent that I disregard haunting thoughts and savour Salade de fraises, épinards et laitue.

Lights, Camera, Acción. Strut on the runway, evade from jogging, running, or waving. Let your countenance remain stoic, and prevent smiles. Embrace the power of a resting bitch face. Stay focused and exude expressionism of the higher ground. At the Chateau Hall rhythmic melodies reverate, stroboscopic light and camera flare beaming within the distance. The upcoming fashion extravaganza, a spectacle of sartorial brilliance drew nearer with each passing day, casting a shimmering aura of anticipation upon our hearts. The runaway stage design was noir, monochromic, capturing attention with bold elements. Mirror pillars would reflect the stage and the centrepiece persists with an open wide mouth, symbolising the presence and nature of the fashion world. It almost looks surreal with a touch of mystery behind it, but overall its aesthetic would be an unforgettable runway experience. Models would walk in as others would exit out. I was supposed to be up there myself, but being already late, I'd face consequences. Leaning upon the door frame, gazes of the cosmos never faltered as colleagues who participated exulted the platform.

‘’Oh, look who decided to show up. Tardy Barbie thinks she's too prestigious for punctuality. Iris won't be thrilled, that's for sure. Guess nobody asked for your fashionably late entrance.’’ Ugh.. Ava’s voice is unbearable like chipped manicured nails on a chalkboard. I find it insufferable when I take a deep breath, the calmness I once abide shattered into pieces, and my body tenses up in utter cringe. Enduring in silence. 

‘’Fuck off, Ava.’’

In cold response, still gazing at the stage of catwalks and visuals. A flamed light ignites Gauloises attempting to search calming waters.

“No, I'm going to stay here and watch you get in trouble. Iris should be here any second now.’’ 

“Aw, like the time you had wandered in and saw your fiancé's cock down my throat, or the time he and I fucked in the bathroom at your wedding? God, he hated you.”

‘’You are such a cold-hearted /bitch/,’ I can hear her voice triggering in a wearing tone.

‘’And you’re a cunt. Maybe deep throat better and you’ll eventually keep someone.’’ 

I flicked the burning cigarette in her direction, walking in another. She tugs on my arm, her face glowing red but I divert by shoving past her side. Things were still intense between me and Ava, her attempts to taunt me and dredging up past indiscretions perceived as nonchalant. Faces turn at the small commotion across the entrance exit Ava follows like a lost puppy still raging on about the great mistakes I made. Dwelling in the past is far long and exhausting. We were never friends, not even close. In an inconvenient time, while I am still being provoked Iris walks down the hall, folders in hand, and her facade burning red. There is steam almost eliciting out of her ears. I knew Ava would get into shit for causing a scene with her intricate interplay. I watched as Iris dismissed Ava further away from me, disdaining the havoc behind, then turning to me with a stern faded glare. She inquired about my whereabouts. And I explain, though Iris seemingly visibly upset in her frustration with everything else.

“You can't just show up when you want to, otherwise, nothing will work out. I think we'll have to sit you out on this one.” Iris assigns me the task of designing for Alina, lacing her words with a subtle threat of consequences for being late again.

“And Carmilla, if you ever show up late again, I will fire you. That's a final warning.”

Alina Xialing abides in high fashion, soaring elegance at the zenith of 6.5. She is attired in delicate lingerie, and her confidence scaled the rooftops, alluring the ethereal glowing atmosphere. It reflects on her soft, glowing skin. We both have diverse aesthetics but identical concepts for every design, as if it were the art of fate drawing us together. She informs me that my work is immaculate, admiring the designs almost warmed up my icy cold heart and would be honoured to wear every piece. Upon the attire fitted on her slender figure is a translucent skin mesh top laced with Lady Gaga’s “Born This Way” in noir infinite artwork. Her skirt is shortened to her slender thighs, and she wears high-knee heels creating a stunning visualisation. The tattoo on her right arm adds an edgy glimpse to her final ply of artistic expressions. I perceive as if I’d near despise her.

On the runway an array of girls find solace in intoxicated elixirs for confidence and courage, others imbibe for ketamine and a variety while the majority use the pleasure in any substances they can get their hands on. They’re driven by famine and insatiable hunger exhilarated by their own experience, it's no wonder they seem halfway through their demise.  I stood on the top floor, leaning over the balcony, I couldn't help but observe the disastrous scene unfolding on the runway. The model, seemingly under the influence, stumbled along the path, her eyes drawn to something beyond the gleaming, flashing lights. It was as if she had taken more than enough substance to charge past her limits. Beside me stood Iris and her boyfriend, engaged in a conversation laced with flirtatious undertones. He shamelessly tried to win her over, while Iris, seemingly tipsy and lightweight, laughed uncontrollably. Just like the model, she stumbled like an idiot, and my eyes widened in shock as I heard something crack, I almost dropped the burning Gauloises.The entire place seemed to synchronise its gasps, stifled laughter, and the model's face was now full of blood, dripping onto the floor. To my surprise, Iris rejected her boyfriend's advances, adding another unexpected twist to the chaotic scene rushing past to aid the falling model’s side.

‘’You’re staring.’’  

I hear a deep, stoic voice say in one ear. 

‘’What?’’ Caught off guard, I respond. 

‘’I said, you’re staring.’’ Repeating his words. He takes the half-burned cigarette and settles it in-between his lips. I can’t believe my eyes won't tear away from his intense gaze. It’s consuming me. 

‘’Way too much.’’

He reminded me so much of…

‘’I was gazing.’’ Sternly, I managed to say.

��’And?’’ He challenges.

‘’Why are you with Iris? She’s out of your league.’’ 

‘’I keep some women for entertainment purposes.’’ He shrugs in response, a smirk forming upon his lips.

‘’You’re disgusting.” I whisper, secretly intrigued by this. Half-smiling. We both step closer, feeling the tension build around us. I reach into my pocket and hand him a slip of paper with my apartment number written in red. I slip it into his white, golden, and silver ringed palm. As my eyes wander away from Iris' boyfriend, I notice the untouched bottles of champagne on the table. I end up taking one with me as I head back home.

Back at the apartment, I sit, indulging in a delicious tub of ice cream. The bottle of champagne is almost half empty, and I can't help but get swept away by the scenery, glamour, and drama of Gossip Girl. I admire the art of Blair Waldorf her epitome of ambition and determination, always striving at the top, and a little like Serena, effortless with beauty and a free-spirited nature. The one who has it all. But just as the show on the screen reaches its peak, there's an interruption at my door. I get up from the pearly-white and ivory-golden rounded couch, dragging both feet on the white-marbled floor. The timing couldn't be worse. I'm caught off guard, trying to find the right words to navigate this unexpected encounter. 

He would only want one favour from me with his heartless demeanour, add it with a few lines of ketamine and coke and we’re both all over the place. It's a moment of confusion, conflicting emotions, and the lingering question of whether I should let my ex-boyfriend inside. 

And I do, surrendering into his embrace. The door closes.