#give u the lighter save your money

[femmefaggot]

this weed man either wants tips or wants to fuck me so bad and i explicitly didnt have enough money for tips today soooo

[themaclean]

hi i just came from ao3 and firstly, i have read ur vaultghoul fic probably 20 times already it’s just so good with spot on characterization and amazing writing, thank u so much 🙏

secondly, i was reading the comments on it and came across one abt wanting to see a pre-war au where cooper and lucy start an affair and immediately my ears perked up like 👀 all i could imagine is her being cast as his love interest, her being a big fan of his already, and them having a wedding scene where they fuck in her wedding dress after they call cut

n e way so sorry for rambling haha but unfortunately ive got the brainrot now

I MEAN HYPOTHETICALLY -- I'm mobile (and somehow wrote 2k words still wheeze) so I'll finish this when I'm on my PC but I played around with the idea a bit thanks to this ask. :)

...

Summary; Cooper Howard x Lucy MacLean, 2077 AU where Lucy and Cooper star in a movie together.

...

There's a whole host of ways that Vault-Tec could have cracked down on Cooper. Given the infringement of their security protocols and the divorce and the way they choked him out of all the good roles...

It wasn't such a far stretch that he'd have to take place in the biggest circle jerk of a film production where his super-fan shoved his daughter into a starring role using Cooper's connections.

Because, so far as the public knew, he was still a supporter of Vault-Tec and he'd do just about anything to sell that delusion.

Cooper crushed the heel of his palms against his eyes, a limp cigarette hung between his teeth.

The girl was a nightmare.

Stiff, picky, absent-minded. No emotion, either, no semblance of self-awareness. It was like some Disney Princess popped out of the cartoons in the worst way, quick to parrot the lines she was meant to say with perfect diction but nothing more than that.

And it was somehow his fucking job to coach the girl -- Lucy -- into a leading lady. The idea was that she was the daughter of the Overseer, played by her actual father, and Cooper was some vault dweller from another section.

The whole thing was convoluted. He did cowboy flicks and the sort that had a showdown at the end. This sci-fi garbage went right over his head, this future projection of the what-if. He didn't have time for the what-if.

He had a daughter he needed to vy for custody of and an expensive divorce on the horizon. And Barb had the best lawyers money could buy and he'd never thought they'd end up like this. There was no pre-nup and nothing to protect him.

And he didn't have a goddamn lighter.

"You shouldn't smoke."

Cooper near growled around the butt of his cigarette, only just keeping himself civil at the last moment. He turned towards Lucy, unable to mistake her for anyone else. There was something about her vacant, pretty face that irked him, those giant goddamn eyes.

"It's bad for you. I read an article about it."

"Maybe you'd be better off reading your lines again," Cooper said with a wave of his hand. He dug in his jacket pocket, the one he'd worn to set.

Bingo.

Lucy crossed her arms and leaned against the vault railing. It was strange to do the filming down, a hundred feet or so beneath the surface, but it made for impressive sets. They were around the corner from the rest of the camera crew and cast.

And they were alone for the first time since shooting. Most times, Cooper had a few stage hands or interns at his heel. And he didn't see Lucy around much, except for scenes. Didn't chase her down, didn't much think of her.

Except now he's aware she's still in the wedding dress she'd been in earlier. Stage blood soaked the stomach of it, thick streams of blood from where she'd been stabbed. But he'd saved her and they'd shared a chaste kiss for the camera.

And then he hadn't seen her.

"I thought you'd be a better kisser."

Cooper didn't withhold the glare, couldn't bring himself to give a fuck. "Pardon?"

"Just -- the kiss. Didn't really..." Lucy narrowed her eyes at him. "I grew up watching your movies. My dad is a big fan. I always figured you'd be a good kisser, but you aren't."

"You ain't much yourself, either," Cooper said with a raised brow. "Like a fish, sweetheart. Cold."

"I'm not a fish," she snapped back. "That's very mean. I -- I know I was mean first but I just thought you could do better."

Cooper couldn't help but laugh to himself at this miserable brat who'd sought him out to complain about an on-screen kiss. He took a long drag, his gaze slanted across the backs of his knuckles.

"You're here 'cause your daddy yanked some strings," Cooper shrugged a shoulder. "My only obligation is to make a movie for the studio. I'm not your damn boyfriend-for-hire, trying to get you off for the cameras."

Cooper was a professional and on his best behaviour -- usually. But the long days of filming for a corporation rooted in the exploitation of the country he'd fought for... That patience wore thinner with each moment he was alone with this brat.

"I'm here as an actress -- "

"You can act?" Cooper asked, mock surprise as he pressed a hand to his chest.

Lucy had the gall to look offended.

Cooper took another drag, his hip notched against the railing. "It's a movie, darling. I've been doing this shit for years. They ain't gonna let people tongue each other to high hell."

"That..."

"That is exactly how it works," Cooper said as he ashed his cigarette onto the grate beneath his feet. "It's not about you, it's about the shot."

Lucy looked at him like he'd slapped her. "I know it's about the shot."

"Could've fooled me." Cooper huffed out a breath. He'd kissed plenty of women for his films and he was a consummate professional. If the audience bought into it, that was all he needed. He didn't give a damn if his co-star got butterflies over it.

Especially not the daughter of some jackass at Vault-Tec, for a project that was nothing more than an empty propaganda piece. But he didn't have much choice.

"I'm here because it's important to my father. Vault-Tec wanted to keep as many roles as they could within the company -- "

"Nepotism."

"To promote the culture they want within the movie, which is carefully curated -- "

"Cultish."

"To their... Could you stop doing that?"

Cooper crossed his arms, his cigarette nearly finished. The vault had good enough ventilation that the smoke disappeared but the smell lingered. He pushed away from the railing, his expensive smile slack across his lips.

"I had my fill of the Vault-Tec propaganda, sweetheart. Don't make a difference if it's from a pamphlet or a pretty girl, I'm just doing what I'm being paid to."

"Wasn't it your wife -- ex-wife -- who brought you in originally?"

Cooper's neck twitched as he looked down at Lucy, as she smart-mouthed her way right into some shit she didn't know anything about. He tipped his head to the side, the annoying collar of the vault suit biting into his jawline.

"So you believed what Vault-Tec thought originally." Lucy toyed with the stain on her white dress, her fingers tugged at the frayed edge. "What changed?"

"Nothing," Cooper said, his voice flat.

Lucy met his eye, her head tilted to contrast the angle of his head. She settled a hand on the railing, uncertainty replaced her uppity edge from before. "I'm not trying to spy on you or get information. You just -- had your life together, and then you're getting divorced."

"It happens," Cooper said, aware now that she was between him and the crew. The vault split into spidery webs in all directions, though. He could leave her if he wanted. But then he'd end up who knows where, deep in the belly of this steel nest.

But they were alone, and she'd inched closer to him.

Cooper saw the leading ladies he worked with as colleagues. Sometimes they'd have to kiss or imitate gentle moments or intimacy -- but for the most part, he could compartmentalise it. But Lucy didn't act. She couldn't. She was an atrocious leading lady and she read everything as if she were saying it herself.

Like a porn actress, saying shit to get through to the action, rushing through the writing like it didn't matter.

It wasn't her fault. He had the sneaking suspicious she had no interest in acting or in this movie; that she was only doing it because her father asked her to do it. Maybe even so she could have an excuse to meet him, he realized dimly as she looked up at him with wide hazel eyes.

That separation -- of leading lady and of a romantic partner -- muddled with her. Because he didn't even like her. He didn't want to get to know her. He hated her father and he wanted nothing to do with this company.

And she was closer to him than not, and they'd kissed a handful of times, and she'd said he sucked at it.

Cooper rolled his jaw as Lucy didn't have the guts to do more than she had. Her moony eyes fixed up at him like a challenge. And then he felt his resolve snap because it wasn't like he had much to lose. This wasn't a real acting gig and she wasn't a real leading lady.

His hand snapped out, fingers and thumb dug into her cheek. He brought her close, to see what she'd do. The answer was -- not much. She didn't shout or push him away, their mouths inches apart as he hovered close to her, examining her beneath his lashes.

"Bad kisser -- that what you said?"

Lucy swallowed hard enough to nudge his hand. "Well, you were. I'm not going to lie to you to spare your ego."

Cooper made a soft sound from the back of his throat as he kissed her. The distant crack and shift of the crew as they moved their cameras from one vault room to another should be a deterent but Cooper doesn't care.

He's single, isn't he. Has been for a few months. He'd not acted on it, hadn't felt the urge to, but he's as trapped as ever in the shadow of what Barb had done to him. It's only fair he make use of that shadow to indulge, even if it's just to prove a point to this girl Lucy.

There's some inherent amusement to how she melted into the kiss. She wanted it far more than she'd let on, that soft mewing, moaning neediness as he stroked her long brown hair out of her face. He threaded his fingers softly through her hair, hand on either side of her face, fingers combing through her hair.

Her back was arched over the railing as he gave her the kiss she'd probably expected earlier, the one he wasn't about to throw out on camera. There's standards for cinema and he didn't want to waste film or time.

But then her fingers were on the zipper of the stupid fucking vault suit. He didn't stop her, even as she yanked it down and slipped her hand along his stomach.

If anything, he pushed harder against her. The fluffy white skirt of her wedding dress made it hard to get much for himself. But with a yank of her knee and the shift of her weight, he had her seated on the railing. Her shoulder caught one of the metal frames, to keep her pinned in place.

If this were any other job or any other actress, he'd give a fuck.

But it's Vault-Tec, through and through.

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[circethegoblin]

STAYING ALIVE MASTERPOST, FROM A BROKE TEEN WITH ADHD

here you go. some down to earth tips on how to not die metally nor physically.

tired of those "drink three liters of water everyday uwu" and "wake up at 5 am" and "buy a bath bomb and a fec mask and some other things you don't have the money for" shit? i'm here for ya.

1. NOT DYING

eat at least three meals a day, one of which m u s t be warm and above 300 kcal (it can be istant ramen with an egg added if you have to)

you technically should shower everyday, but we know how it is. A change of clothes is sometimes enough.

DRY SHAMPOO AND BABY WIPES!!!

keep bottles with water everywhere. On your desk, near that spot on the floor you always end up sitting on, near your bed, basically whenever you know you spend a lot of time. No need to get up and go to the kitchen will help. Obviously change the water in the bottles as often as you can.

Get some form of physical activity. It doesn't have to be much, you can for example replace scrolling on tiktok by walking around your room and scrolling on tiktok! Brilliant, isn't it? Obviously, running or doing those 10 minutes workouts from youtube is better, but you are still getting like an hour of walking.

Buy blankets. Steal blankets. Summon blankets from other dimensions. Just make sure you have a lot of warm, soft blankets in your house. You will thank me when you won't have the anergy to wash your sheets (just take them off and throw some blankets on your bed), or when the power goes out.

If you have pets, ALWAYS keep spare food that'll last for a week for them.

things to always have in the kitchen: milk, eggs, flour, rice, pasta, yeast, cheese, oil, a leafy vegetable, onions, tomatoes, apples, patatoes, some flavourful sauce, sugar, salt, spices and an emergency chocolate bar. You can make a lot of food with those. Just make sure you won't eat the chocolate too fast.

Have a lot of spare batteries. A lot.

Get urself a flashlight, a lighter, and a pocket knife.

Remember the apples? eat one a day. if you don't like apples or you can't eat them for any other reason, you can take a kiwi, banana, orange, basically something that will give you vitamins and non processed sugar.

do the dishes before your sink starts developing it's own ecosystem

drugs from that one guy around the corner = very bad time

2. NOT DYING INSIDE

Open the damn window.

Don't watch so many commentary videos. You are probably not even checking the sources, so you can easily make unjust judgement, and like. did you even hear of half of those people before?

make a discord server just for yourself. get into the habit of writing little things that happened to you there. rant about the fanfics you read. or the movies. vent there if you don't have anyone you can vent to. write your ideas there, write e v e r y t h i n g. make a section for passwords, for quick ideas, for your to do lists. you won't lose it as you do with sticky notes or notebooks. there is no risk anyone will see it. oh, and when you'll have a strong impulse to tell emily that you hate her? write that message in your private server and list all ur arguments. look at tat the next day and decide if you really mean that.

life sucks. come to peace with it.

cuddle ur pets if you have them

1 hour a day without a lot of sensory input. if you have to, reduce to half an hour.

if you find yourself scrolling endlessly through social media, make sure it's pintrest (just don't compare urself to the people here; if you have issues with that, tumblr may be better)

delete. twitter. from. your. phone.

influencers are lying to you; maybe not even intentionally. remember when you were watching that cute-aesthetic-productive morning routine, and you were wondering why your life isn't that pretty? why your room is a mess? why you cannot for the life of god be aesthetic 24/7? its the filter. don't worry about it, their lifes arent that nice either.

realize there's actually nothing stopping you from screaming as loud as you can right now. like there is no physical barrier. think about it. realize there's no actual physical barierr to many other things.

your body is your body. you can decide how it looks like; just remember it's in your greatest interest to keep it healthy.

3. BEING A LITTLE BETTER THAN JUST ALIVE

If you wear make up, take it off before you go to sleep.

moisturize your body; everything is better when your skin doesn't feel dry

have a one brand of cosmetics that you love and buy things mainly from it. they often have sets of products that complete each other. i like ziaja. it's a polish brand, it's surprisingly cheap and has nice quality

cleanser, moisturizer, face mist

of you can, change your sheets once every two weeks

do the dishes before your sink starts developing it's own ecosystem

do a deep house clean once a month (don't beat yourself up when you don't tho)

keep your workspace organized (it doesn't have to look organized to other people, remember)

sunscreen

cook your own food

keep a calendar

no money for scented candles? got ya. make a simmer pot: throw some apple peel, a couple of cinnamon sticks and whatever spices that smell good you have into a pot, add some water and simmer. boom. your house smells good, and you haven't spend 20 dollars.

If you really like candles, buy scented wax melts. it's cheaper.

Buy urself scented mists. they're pretty cheap and will make you feel A LOT better.

keep your clothes clean. if you aren't sure if that shirt thats on your chair is dirty or not, throw it in the washing mashine anyway. better be sure.

if you can, make your bed right when you get up

wear clothes that make you feel good. put some effort into your outfits. really.

4. OTHER PEOPLE

be nice to essential workers.

if you have money, give tips.

remember, you do not owe anyone love; it is not something you can force. even if they saved your life. even when they helped you in your darkest time. if you don't love them, you don't.

you don't have to be in a romantic relationship to be happy.

if you want to, date! date everyone! date girls, date boys, date nonbinary people! date people completly different than you, date people from different countries, date them!!! just make sure they're kind and won't kill you. even if you don't end up in a relationship, you can learn a lot.

don't be afraid to piss off people that deserve it

smile to strangers :)

5. NOT FAILING SCHOOL

heard of dark academia? check it out

romanticize the heck out of studying

do not let your studying be just reading the same partagraph over and over again. it won't work. believe me.

seterra for geography, quizlet for everything else

try to make yourself intrestet in whatever you are studying (watch veritasium, listen to podcasts about weird history facts)

notes are for you and you only; don't worry about them looking pretty. doodle on margins, make weird metaphors, squeeze in as much info as you can.

when you're studying, listen to music without words/in a language you don't understand.

chew gum while you study

get the forest app, get attached to the trees, focus.

don't feel guilty for taking breaks

grades aren't everything, but they are important.

eat something in school

don't just use the cheapest pens. invest a couple dollars in something that will make writing enjoyable and smooth

those study with me videos? they're great

if you like to argue with the teachers, take care of your grades becouse. they may not like you afterwards.

be nice to your classmates and help them with homework. if you don't do your homework they'll help you

executive dysfunction won't let you study? been there. sometimes it's better to wake up ealier tommorow and do that homework then.

don't feel guilty for failing a test

go to the goddamn class

don't pull all nighters oh my god don't especially on weekdays

6. OTHER LIFEHACKS

don't get involved in the crime, and if you do always have a believable explanation why you were doing it

have different alarm sounds for every day of the week

set a daily limit of money that you spend

great hobbies that don't require a lot of money; urban exploration, writing, hiking and learning other languages

thrift stores

don't eat grapefruits while on meds

nail polish removers dissolve most strong glues.

if you have a cut on your skin, desinfect it. do it. please just do it.

always have pads with you. even if you don't get periods, at least one of your friends probably does

sign up in your local library. its free

[fnf-amateur-writing]

Hello! Can I request a scenario where l Updike with an s/o who got kidnapped and now he has to go save them- if u feel uncomfortable with that you can just do general relationship headcanons for him!

Hey there, Anon. I'm cool with your prompt, no worries!

TW: Kidnapping and violence.

Updike finding out S/O was kidnapped

Everything was rather dull at work. Sure, dealing with anomalies can be cool, but it wears on Updike after a while. Everyday was starting to become nothing more than paperwork, keeping tabs on the freely roaming safer anomalies, and trying and failing to kill Whitmore. Fortunately, his lunch break finally started after a long and boring morning.

Once he readjusted his tie and tucked away his trusty gun in his pocket, he went on a near daily walk to a local cafe. To be honest, it wasn't all that boring, since he now got to be with you during his lunch breaks. About a month ago, you two found out that you took your breaks at the same time. The cafe was also conveniently in between your workplaces, allowing you to walk an equal distance.

Without any incidents or that pestering metal head, Updike made his last turn, with the cafe now being just two buildings down. Strangely, the police were also two buildings down, talking to an employee that Updike recognised in front of the prematurely closed cafe. Avoiding involvement, Updike quickly turned around, waiting until he out of sight of them before checking his phone. You were always there first, so you probably texted him a heads up, but his phone showed no new messages.

It was pretty annoying, but no big deal. He'll just go somewhere else, and maybe you'll be there too if he's lucky.

~~~

The phone next to him rings, whilst Updike sat alone in his office, showing the front desk receptionist's name. That was rather unusual; that number almost never calls him directly, so it was probably important enough to be an exception. "Updike speaking," he spoke in his monotone voice, which was in a tone that easily showed how he says that a dozen times a day.

"Mr. Updike, the police are requesting your presence outside."

Okay, now that was very unusual. Not that the police are here, they show up all the time whenever a case involves an anomaly. But for them to make him go outside, when they usually go up to see him or a collegue, was odd. And he had a clean record too, so it's not like they were going to arrest him.

"I'll be right there," he said. He felt somewhat stressed from the sudden request, so he went a faster pace to the lift--to which he almost pressed the wrong button. He and a cop quickly made eye contact the moment the lift opened, and he followed the man as he beckoned him outside.

"Now, I know you're busy, so I'll get right to the point," the officer says, pulling a phone from his pocket. "Do you recognise this phone and the owner of it?" Updike wish he could say no, but he couldn't; it was clearly your phone, except it now has a large crack on the screen. "Yes, it belongs to my partner. Their name is (Y/N) (L/N)." As clear as he made those sentences, his throat was sore from the dread.

"Sir, are you aware that they've been kidnapped."

... No.

~~~

Looking back at it, he wasn't sure how he kept calm the whole time as the police explained what had happened. Some man had taken you right in front of the cafe. It happened so quickly, that the witnesses didn't seem to notice anything wrong until it was too late. They contacted him when told by employees that he always sat at the same table as you.

As he rushed home, he didn't quite know what he felt. It was a mixture of sadness, anger, stress, and whatever the hell else that couldn't be named that made his hair grey. But he wasn't going home just to wait in misery until the police did something; he was going to look for some clues, as recommended by the authorities. He wasn't aware of any troubles you may have wih your family and friends, but he was informed that most kidnappings are done by people the victim knows, so he had to snoop around your stuff to see if he could find anything to report.

However, he almost slammed himself into his own front door when something else caught his attention: a plain white envelope taped to the door. There was no markings or writing on the outside, Updike noted as he took it for inspection, but he could tell it had a letter in it. Surely, it couldn't be a coincidence this showed up the same day you were taken.

As he went inside, closing the door behind him, he didn't take another step away from the door before tearing the letter open. Within the envelope was a typed letter, which had a clear message despite never mentioning you or Updike by name. Also made clear was that this was nobody you knew, nor was it an anomaly trying to spite him, but rather a particularly greedy criminal who took notice of who you were with.

The letter demanded an absurd amount of cash to be hand delivered, an amount that clearly overestimated even his own wealth. And if he brought anyone with him or brought a weapon, then you would be shot on the spot. Finally, he had until midnight to do so, too, adding onto the stress.

The stress started to become a bit much as his hair grew darker. He had no way of knowing whether the bastard was bluffing, but it wasn't worth trying to find out. But still, there didn't seem to be a good way out anyways. It felt like he was about to snap, feeling some sparks from his head and... a spark of an idea.

He went up a flight of stairs to a closet within the hallway. There wasn't anything remarkable about it's contents, but he took interest on one side, where some suitcases of his were stored. Only one of these was useful right now: a sleek metal suitcase he can't remember even using, but he remembered it being there. After grabbing the case, he ran back downstairs while neglecting to close the closet door.

Now, he wasn't going to place any money in it. No, nothing would be in it. But he had an idea, because maybe the guy didn't quite know who they decided to mess with.

~~~

Updike parked his car on the side of the road, getting out in the abandoned yet familiar area. It was a small part of the outskirts of the city that eventually lost it's population and was left to rot, which amazed him that it hasn't been torn down yet. The only people who regularly come here are the homeless and obnoxious teenagers with cameras who pretend that one of the buildings are haunted for internet clout. However, he does remember coming here too a long time ago to hunt down Whitmore a couple times.

The meeting place was a short walk away, having used to be a local library. The evening sky was getting darker by the minute, and the sun was near set behind Updike as he looked into the old library. As dark as it was, a light was barely visible from the entrance, partially blocked by empty bookshelves. With the case in hand, he walked through the shattered glass double doors and in between two of the shelves.

"I'm here."

The light across the library shifted and footsteps approached. The man looked as dodgy as he expected, except with a bit of a 1950's greaser look to him, and the gun the man held never pointed to anything but Updike. He placed the lantern onto the shelve and approached, saying "hand it over." Definitely not a negotiating type.

Time passed too slow, yet also too fast. Though he normally used his head, Updike had to channel what was within him elsewhere or else the man would shoot him seeing the thunder from his head. Hard, sure, but dong it for you was a pretty good motivator.

In three, two...

As soon as both hands were on the case's handle, Updike managed to give a hard zap through his hand. The case's material made it guaranteed it would shock him, and shock him very badly. He shouted at the sensation comparable to that of a taser, unable to pull the trigger before collapsing. Updike wasn't sure if he was conscious, but it didn't matter since he was already slamming the case into his face. Giving a man a free nose bleed such as this one was usually seen as too barbaric for Updike's taste, but damn it was satisfying.

He took the man's gun and briefly searched his pockets for anything else he might use as a weapon. He pocketed the lighter for the box of cigarettes he carried, since he might wake up and pull a fast one by burning the place down. And then there was a key, and not a usual key one would think of. In fact, Updike knew from the shape that it was meant to unlock a pair of handcuffs. It may be best if he took that as well.

"(Y/N)!" he called out, "are you there?" He made his way to the back, peeking into some rooms as he passed. He heard some sounds coming from nearby, causing him to peek through the old bathroom door. There you were, gagged with a cloth and both hands cuffed to a pipe beneath a sink. You were trying to say something, so he quickly worked the cloth off your mouth and let it fall under your chin. Upon closer inspection he now saw how disheveled you looked and that one of your eyes was black and swollen.

"G-GABRIEL!" you finally managed to scream before coughing from finally having your mouth to breathe through. "I thought you- I thought..." He hushed you before using the key he found on your cuffs, allowing you give him a much needed embrace. "Shhh, it's okay," he said as you cried, "I've dealt with him."

"Now," he picks you off the ground and carries you away from the dreaded building, "let's go. I have an interesting story for the cops."

Now for a surprise bonus ;)

Aftermath headcanons:

Unsurprisingly, you both took off work for a while.

Regardless of how well you can handle trauma, Updike WILL take you to a therapist. He's already got one booked, so you don't have a choice really.

For the first time in the relationship, Updike has been the one to initiate cuddles. He's also just as paranoid as you are, and has become somewhat clingy as a result.

When it was nearing the day you two would return to work, you discussed plans on preventing another incident. Though it may seem a bit far, you agreed on wearing a small tracking device clipped to your clothes until the fear wore off.

The forced therapy sessions did come with benefits for the future. When you eventually had to testify against your kidnapper in court, you felt more confident in your words and managed to tell them everything without a breakdown.

The man didn't stand a chance and earned himself several years in prison.

Finally, once you felt everything was behind you, you walked together to the cafe again. It was a nice cafe and it would be a shame if they stopped visiting.

Some of the regulars and employees recognised you two, and welcomed you back. And as you two sat in your usual spots with drinks on the house, you could finally say it was a pretty nice day with nothing to worry about.

[cinnachuu]

DATING MIDARI HCS

a/n: we’re coming to the end of the kakegurui girls, only a few left on my list! hope u enjoy this one! Midari is one of my personal favorite girls <33

warnings/genre: this one will heavily mention Midari’s masochistic nature and heavier violence, along with self harm. please practice self care and avoid reading this if that’s not your style. thank you!

•this relationship literally needs a warning sign plastered on it

•let’s be honest here, you’d have to be madly in love to date her

•obviously I acknowledge all negative attributes to the girls, but I feel like this relationship would be the most dangerous

•you’ll spend countless nights thinking if Midari is okay, it she’s landed herself in trouble or gambled herself dead in a ditch

•it’s very unhealthy, and I definitely think that if you wanted a good relationship, seek someone else.

•she’s very arrogant and selfish, often belittling you or disregarding you if try to scold her for her behavior

•she reminds me of a feral Dazai, begging you to join her to commit acts of violence to yourselves.

•she begs you endlessly to gamble with her, growing agitated when you say no, bounding about to desperately throw away your lives to gamble

•dating her is similar to descending into madness. All she wants is to throw it all away with you and bury yourselves in risk and intensity

•she honestly doesn’t care for your safety at all, and expects you to do the same

•she doesn’t like you coddling over her

•but at the same time, she’s desperate for your affection, she just doesn’t know how to properly recieve it, or what healthy affection is

•you can take this relationship two different ways

•right, so obviously you can put yourself into a care taker role, not in the way that’s used in certain communities, but in the traditional way.

•you can try your best to be patient, reassure her with positive affirmations and do everything in your power to try and keep her mindset in healthier places

•will it work? depends :)

•see, Midari is such an instinctive person. She would need to trust you, and her instincts would tell her to listen

•but would anyone allow her to go sane?

•Kirari would strongly dislike you. She enjoys Midari masochistic nature in contrast to her sadistic one, she’ll threaten you until you stop trying to care for Midari in the way no one else has.

•so, you can love her slowly, help her find healthier coping mechanisms and ways to handle her nature, and be absolutely hated by Kirari, and god knows how long it would take to help stabilize the mind of Midari.

•so! the alternate is enabling this behavior

•honestly? none of these options are safe but Kirari won’t be at your throat so...lol

•this is gonna be at the sacrifice of your health

•Midari is so selfish, you feel like you’e just an obstacle in her way at times

•and you won’t sleep, constantly thinking of her and if she’s okay

•but she doesn’t care, she just wants more risk, more and more filling her cup until she snaps

•but ahem

•we’re here for a good time and not a long time, so let’s get on with some fluffier aspects of your relationship :))

•alright, so she’s not very good at giving in relationships.

•but she does do a lot of absent minded physical affection if you two have been a pair for a while

•throwing you onto her lap, holding you close, wrapping an arm around you

•her love is tough, get used to it

•she doesn’t use pet names other than darling. I just feel like she’s not the type, she already loves the feeling of your name on her tongue

•she loves pulling you into her arms hehe

•she doesn’t like receiving gifts or giving them

•I feel like affection is very very difficult for her, she’ll have a hard time processing a proper response or she’ll feel really weird about it for a while

•a healthy relationship with her won’t be the easiest, it’ll require all your time and effort, so in the nicest way possible, don’t try

•there’s no way you’re gonna break Midari and help her safely, she can never love you that much, she’ll never be able to process loving you enough to be saved

•but if you’re nice to her, she’ll obsess over you

•the way she shows her infatuation with you is gambling

•she’ll get really upset if you’re not good so get practicing !!

•gets so excited whenever you beat her, even if you insist you don’t want her stacks of money she offers

•she claims that if she’s not losing anything, the experience doesn’t feel right

•she always begs to harm herself in order to pay off the debt she owes to you, it’s terrifying and it takes all of you to stop her

•oh! She practically worships you and is constantly begging for your attention to be on her

•she loves loves loves gambling with you

•just pretend the game isn’t totally rigged by you from the start so you don’t end up dying, and everything will go as planned

•she gets so upset if you don’t enjoy the same things as her, and verbally goes off on you when she gets very agitated

•anyways, slipping back into negative nancy mode

•she’ll hold you dear, as long as you never step out from the image she sees you in

•I would love to go on and on about your relationship, but let’s do some more light hearted stuff :,)

•takes you around when doing her beautification duties

•she likes placing flowers in your hair, and you have to fight her away from the scissors

•she tries really hard to look her best for you, she wants your attention and love so badly

•is just desperate for your affection, it’s just so hard for her to understand how you can love someone healthily

•I rlly cant imagine u getting into the situation of you dating her

•I’m not saying that dating anyone with a mental illness will be a hassle or painful, I’m saying that Midari is so far gone and traumatized that there’s no possible way that you can manage to help her stabilize and find healthy coping methods by the time you graduate

•no that isn’t a challenge you are going to get killed

•kirari hates you <3

•I just have a feeling that Kirari absolutely despises you JANDKSJD

•Midari thinks you’re beautiful though and will often laugh and caress your face, admiring you, tracing your features with a sharp nail

•desperately begs for you to kill her one day

•she thinks you’re a goddess, groveling at your feet

•her camera roll is full of photos of you, it’s honestly a little bit creepy

•ive never written explicit yandere but that’s definitely what I could classify her as

•I just feel like she would be absolutely obsessed with you, and once she descends to that level you can’t stop her

•I’m sorry this one was so negative!! but I promise the next one will be lighter on the heart <33

•Midari is not, and I don’t think she could be a great girlfriend in the near future.

•but you can try to help her :)

•and honestly, you’re just as mad as her for loving her.

[platypanthewriter]

Pillow

Harringrove April prompt 28, Pillow.  Billy fixes some things, for Max. (It’s another short one omg guys praise me)

Billy got home a little drunk, spreading his hands occasionally when his boots hit nothing, stumbling on the sidewalk.  He thought—maybe—he could crawl in through his window, his dad would be asleep—but the closer he walked, the higher up it got, and he stopped, squinting.  

Better sleep in the car, he decided, fumbling the keys out of his pocket, and he walked over to the curb, only to see the back seat lit up with a flashlight already, the light flashing off the dash and the rearview mirror.  He stalked over like a jungle cat only to see Max curled up with her walkie-talkie, the flashlight hanging in her hand, lighting up wet tears on her cheeks.

It took like ten flicks of his lighter to light his cigarette, and he wondered if he was drunker than he thought, leaning against the car, listening to her on the walkie-talkie through the open windows of his Camaro.  

“I was gonna say something,” she said shakily.  “I can’t—I can’t take him anymore, and she—my mom knew, she grabbed my shoulder, just trembling, you know?  She knows if I fight him he’ll hurt me, or her, I can’t—”

She took a long, shuddery breath, and she must have clicked the button, because then it was a boy’s voice.  “Don’t make him mad—”

“You don’t know what it’s like living with somebody like Neil,” she said, flatly.  “You don’t know, okay, don’t tell me—” she cleared her throat, and then clicked it again, and the boy came on.

“—don’t know, I don’t, but don’t let him hurt you—”

“There’s nothing I can do to stop him,” she said, dryly.  “He keeps saying he’d never hit us, you know?  He tells me this.  He pushes me up against the wall, he says ‘I’d never hit you or your mom,’ and you know what I hear?”

“...what?” came the other voice, a whisper.

“I hear he can’t hardly stop thinking about it,” said Max, laughing like she was trying not to cry, and Billy stared up at the skies, smoking his cigarette, listening to her try to sleep, curled in the tiny back of his Camaro, her head against the molded vinyl instead of a pillow.

He watched the stars, thinking. 

 When he figured it was light enough the next morning, he pushed himself to his feet, shoving himself upright against the car door and staggering a little.  He winced as he stretched, feeling like he was a hundred and ten.  He walked around and dropped into the driver’s seat, listening to Max’s muffled yell with satisfaction.

“Billy,” she whispered, scrambling to the other side of the car.

“How bad you wanna get out of here,” he asked, glancing at her in the rearview mirror as he tapped his pack of cigarettes, frowned into it, and lit the last one.  “You okay with shit like dishes?  Laundry?”

“...I can do my own laundry,” she whispered warily, glaring at him.  

“You gonna pick up your own shit?” he asked her, raising his eyebrows.

“...won’t pick up yours,” she shot back, and he couldn’t help grinning, a little.  

 He skipped school and visited a realtor that day.  He had to hit the bank and show her the money he’d been saving for a deposit on an apartment in southern California, but she let him in a few places, and two days later, he hauled Max in the car after school even though she was trying to go to the arcade.  He grabbed her friends for good measure.  “Come on, you little titsuckers, we’re moving out,” he told them, and one of them called Harrington to come and help, with his bigger car.

He mostly ignored Billy—he talked Susan down, though, when Billy and Max stomped in and announced they were blowing this shithole, and she started to cry—and he grabbed Billy’s stereo from the kids, and he was careful.  

It was perfectly obvious the big shit wasn’t gonna fit in either of their cars, and Billy was packing boxes of Max’s clothes in Steve Harrington’s car when Steve told the kids to haul the furniture out, too.

“We can’t fit that,” Billy told him.  “He’ll be home in a couple hours, we can’t fit it anyway—”

Steve glanced at him, but told them to haul everything out, and of course they listened to Harrington, instead of leaving Billy’s bed where it was.  Steve snapped under Billy’s nose and pointed to the passenger seat, and Billy got in, because Steve was right about one thing only, and that was that his Camaro trunk was the size of a small cat, and he’d waste more gas than he’d manage to haul belongings.

Halfway through town, he stopped, and even though it was nowhere near Neil’s office, it wasn’t where Billy told him to go, and his heart nearly stopped with the engine.  But all Steve did was hand him the keys, his eyes tired, and climb out.

“Don’t crash my car,” he said, as Billy stared at him.  “...go unload,” he added, when Billy glared at the keys, still bewildered, and then he walked off, and Billy decided to take advantage of some good luck for once, and take Harrington up on his offer.  He drove over and got the car unloaded—and rethought the number of stairs he’d accepted—and then drove back to find the kids and Harrington loading up a U-Haul truck.  Billy stopped his borrowed car right in the road, staring again, until some asshole honked, and then pulled up and parked, trying to figure out what was going on.  

“We’ve got nearly everything,” Harrington told him.  “Check around and see what we missed.”

Billy nodded, wandering into the house to find his room stripped, and Susan crying.  “I went to the bank,” she said, sniffling, and held out a wad of cash.  “You tell me if you need anything,” she sobbed, “—you—you tell me,” she dropped her voice to a whisper, grabbing his hands, and pressing them around what looked like a roll of hundred dollar bills.

“I will find a place soon,” she said, setting her jaw.  “Keep yourselves safe until then?”

“...what,” Billy said, and she bit her lips together, swallowing hard.  

“...stay safe, both of you,” she said.  “Billy, I pulled out the records I know you like, they’re in a crate on the table.”

He stared at the money in his hands, and she pushed the crate into his arms, and maneuvered him out the door.

 When they got most of the furniture up the stairs of Billy and Max’s place, the kids were horrified there was only one bedroom, and Billy just shoved Max’s bed into it, and waved them and their boxes inside.

“No, it’s fine,” Max breathed, unsteadily, as Will—kids kept showing up, and Billy honestly wasn’t sure whether one was giving him a different name every time, or whether he was the same kid—offered to paint designs on her walls.  “It’s—it’s good, it’s amazing.”

The one she’d talked to the night she’d decided wedging herself in the back seat of his car was a more relaxing night than any with Neil was there, and Billy remembered trying to kick his ass, and tried to grab all the heavier boxes from him, and the kid watched him, as tiredly as Billy felt.  

Once they were basically moved in—with no food, or cleaning supplies, but moved, anyway—Harrington ordered everyone pizza from the payphone on the corner, and left to return the U-Haul, and Billy watched him go, wondering how the hell his life would balance that all out.  Maybe he’d get flattened in a freak accident.  Maybe somebody would drop a cow on him from a plane.

Harrington returned and brought food—milk, apples, sandwich stuff, cereal, and TV dinners he stuck in the avocado-colored fridge that looked older than Max—and Billy tried to give him the money Susan had given him, but Harrington shoved it back, rolling his eyes.  “Didn’t do this for you, Hargrove,” he said, wrinkling his nose, and then frowning over at Max.  “...but this is a...good thing, you’re doing.  Lemme know if I can help.”

Billy wished furiously, his eyes burning for a long second, that anyone would have helped if he’d been alone, and then rubbed his face.  He took a slow breath.  “Yeah,” he said, smirking.  “I know it’s not for me.”

“No, I didn’t—that’s not quite—” Steve said, groaning.  “I didn’t know you...were the kinda person who’d wanna help Max.  I...thought you were...not like that.  I wanna help the kind of brother who’d do all this.”

“...she’s not my sister,” Billy said, out of habit, watching Max laugh at everything her friends said, out of sheer relief.  A girl had shown up, and Max was half collapsed on her, giggling, with tears rolling down her pink cheeks.

“Even more so, then,” Harrington said.  “You’re trying to do the right thing.  I’m...I’m glad to help.  I don’t need your money.”

Billy nodded, his eyes burning again, and he blinked rapidly, sniffling hard, and rubbing his nose.  

 Everybody stuck around until Billy chased them out, and then it was Max, Billy, and Steve Harrington, who’d done so much Billy didn’t dare tell him to go home.  Max curled up on the couch, mumbling sleepily after a day of hauling furniture up stairs, and Billy dug around in her boxes until he found the bedding.  Steve came in and helped him make the bed, and then went out and walked Max in, muttering angrily until she flopped across the bed with a groan of delight.

“...she was sleeping in the back of my Camaro,” Billy told Steve, watching her lazily kick one shoe in the air as she hugged an armful of comforter.  “Head wedged up against the vinyl, to get herself far as possible from...Neil.”  Steve nodded, glancing over, and Billy laughed, scrabbling at his hair, and looking around at the boxes to be unpacked, and the shit piled everywhere.  “...now she has a pillow, at least,” he whispered, forcing a laugh.  

Steve reached over and squeezed his shoulder.  “Let’s find yours,” he said, frowning around, and rolling up his sleeves.

[igirisuhito]

Title: Live for the Night Relationship(s): Komaeda Nagito/Hinata Hajime  Rating: Explicit Summary: Hinata has been single for quite a long time. Wingman Souda seeks to change that by bringing him to his favourite nightclub and introducing him to his rave buddies. Hinata, however, has eyes for much less favourable company. Based on @devilcouldweep‘s Rave AU Trigger Warnings: Recreational drug use, alcohol, sex under the influence, Mentions of drug overdose, discussions of stabbings, Public sex. Disclaimer: Other old fic with some stuff I’m embarrassed about. Quality is lower.

[Ao3 Link]

♫♪.ılılıll|̲̅̅●̲̅̅|̲̅̅=̲̅̅|̲̅̅●̲̅̅|llılılı.♫♪

"Souda…I look like a twink."

Hinata stared at himself in the mirror, reflecting on how long it had taken him to wrangle those fishnets that now clung to his chest and three quarters of the way down his arms. The elastic around his neck rubbed uncomfortably against his adam’s apple and every now and then the netting would catch on his nipples. The stockings had been much worse to put on, but weren’t uncomfortable in the same way the top was.

Over the fishnet top was a white crop top he had borrowed from Souda that sported a neon sunset and the words ‘Jabberwock.’ He recalled thinking ‘What the fuck is a Jabberwock?’ whilst slipping it on. To cover the fishnets on his lower half he wore a pair of ripped skinny jeans, less ripped and more gutted than anything. And to top it all off were these white platform sneakers he’d bought because they were ‘cool’ way before he realised they were platforms. Oh well, it’s not like he couldn’t use a few extra inches.

Hinata crossed his arms over his midsection, a pathetic attempt to hide the exposed skin. Souda simply laughed, joining his soul friend's side and slinging an arm over his shoulder. "That's the point man! We gotta reel you in some dick somehow!"

Hinata groaned as the boy cackled, threading his fingers under the fishnets adorning his hips. This was the first time he'd worn something like this, and no amount of shitty vodka cruisers were making him feel less insecure.

Souda himself was wearing these baggy pants with reflective stripes and numerous pockets and a pair of those popular light up shoes, the ones that change colour with every step. On the top half he wore a studded white leather harness that settled snugly just below his pecs and a sleeveless hoodie to make him look almost modest. His hair was it’s usual dyed neon pink and spiked as if he intended to use it as a weapon.

“Souda...you know I give more than I take, right?” Hinata muttered, almost offended that his ever-so-supportive friend had just assumed he was a bottom.

“Well lately you haven’t been doing either!” Souda grabbed his shoulders with both hands, practically shaking the poor boy. “C’mon man you look sooo good! If I was gay I’d fuck you!”

Hinata rolled his eyes. “I’ve never met a straight man who’d wear a harness.”

“Uh, what about, literally every dog ever?”

“You’re not a dog.”

“Whatever! Let’s just go!”

Hinata snorted. It seemed entertaining Souda in his shitty attempts to get him a boyfriend was going to pay off. “Yeah, okay.”

“Yeah!” Souda cheered, pumping his right fist in the air and slapping Hinata’s ass with his left hand simultaneously. He couldn’t even be embarrassed, not when it was from So-not-gay Souda.

The duo took a cab to their destination, despite Souda insisting that they should walk to save money. Hinata would pay anything to not be seen outside in this. Especially not by somebody he knew. They were headed to a rave club in a less favourable part of town, one Souda insisted ‘wasn’t as bad as it seems!’ It was definitely as bad as it seems, like, there had been 3 stabbings in that club. Twice it had been the same fucking guy, and Hinata wasn’t sure if he should chalk that up to bad luck or blatant idiocy. Who would go to a club where they had already been stabbed once, just to get stabbed again?

Souda seemed to notice that Hinata’s thoughts were quickly going in a poor direction, so he decided to distract him with idle chatter. “I think you’ll like some of my friends there.”

Hinata turned to the boy sitting to his left, wearing a rather curious expression. “You have friends?”

“Shut up, you’re awful!” Souda whined, trying to sound mad but failing miserably. “Anyway, there’s this guy named Tanaka, he works at a zoo, how fucking cool is that?! Though he refers to himself as ‘The Supreme Overlord of Ice.’ I think it’s meant to be some kind of stage name or something?”

Stage name? What fucking stage is he working on at a zoo?

“Sounds like quite the character, huh.” Hinata murmured.

“You’ll get it when you meet him!” Souda beamed, glancing out the window. “Oh hey, we're almost there!”

The nervousness Hinata was feeling finally overtook the embarrassment. Souda gave him a reassuring tap on the shoulder as the taxi pulled up outside of the club. He could already hear the muffled music blaring from inside.

Hinata paid the driver and the two of them stepped out. The first thing they noticed was how fucking cold that breeze was, espeically when neither of them had proper sleeves. They both rushed towards the entrance, the bouncer barely looking at them before allowing them in. Hinata added that to the list of 'things that make this place sketchy.'

Nothing could have prepared him for the absolute assault on his senses that occured the second he entered the building. Loud music with heavy bass blared throughout the venue, drowning out the sound of Souda excitedly chattering next to him. The air reeked of sweat, booze, and artificial smoke. The strobe lights dancing around the place were quite dizzying, something that forced Hinata to look down to avoid the nausea. Oh, his shirt is glowing, they must be using blue light.

Hinata took a moment to admire the neon on his shirt, beginning to understand exactly why Souda had lent him this one in particular. It looked much less tacky and actually kind of cool under the bright lights.

“Oi, Hinata!”

A voice close to his ear startled him. He jumped back, sighing with relief once he realised it was only Souda. He too was glowing under the nights, his neon pink hair shining like a beacon and the leather harness glowed a soft shade of blue. It was really aesthetically pleasing.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Hinata spoke loudly, trying to make himself heard above the music.

“I’m gonna go find Tanaka and Mioda, you wanna get started at the bar?”

“Yeah, alright.”

And in the blink of an eye Souda was gone. Hinata sighed, disappointed but not surprised that his friend had run off almost immediately. He stepped out onto the dancefloor, shoving his way through the numerous bustling bodies and making his way towards the glowing neon lights of the bar.

He finally made it out, breathing a sigh of relief as he leant his elbows onto the scarred wood of the bar. If the amount of people wasn’t already overwhelming, the atmosphere just strangled the breath from him. It felt as if eyes were boring into him from all directions, judging, enticing. Hinata shook off the feeling, drawing it up to just nerves and the sensation of his exposed skin.

“Can I get you anything?” A voice snapped him from his thoughts, Hinata looked up, seeing the bartender staring him down like an unwanted guest.

He swallowed the nervous lump in his throat. “U-um, yeah...could I get a shot of Smirnoffs?

The bartender nodded and grabbed a bottle from under the bar. She carefully poured him a shot of the cheap vodka, sliding it towards him before wandering off to serve other customers. She was quite a busty lady, definitely put in this kind of place as a means of encouraging more people to buy more overpriced liquor. She sounded cheery as she sparked up conversations with clubgoers, but Hinata could see those dark bags under her eyes, the way her smile dimmed as she listened to them. It was quite obvious she hated her job and was well aware that she was being exploited.

Hinata lifted the small glass to his lips, downing the shot quickly before setting the glass back down on the counter. He sighed off the burn and turned around, scanning the crowd to see if he could find Souda.

Instead of Souda, Hinata found his eye being caught by the boy to his left who was also leaning against the bar. He hadn’t been there a moment before, but Hinata was immediately intrigued by his glowing blue hair and odd getup, one not so different from his own.

His hair was a gravity defying mess, with the blue glow it reminded Hinata a bit of cotton candy. His chest was clad in a cropped fishnet quite similar to his own, though his arms were covered by a dark coloured coat decorated with glowing blue squares on the right shoulder. There was a pair of green and pink glow sticks fixed to his left sleeve just above the elbow, similar to how a student council member wore a red armband. Perhaps it symbolised something in a similar way?

Below his exposed waist was a pair of low riding jeans that were a bit lighter in colour, but not light enough to pick up the blue light. His belt was, however, along with the cuffs of his jeans resting just below the knee above his boots. Speaking of the boots, they were...eccentric. They were sharp with a pointed toe and a slight heel and somehow made Hinata feel a little less insecure about his own choice in dangerous footwear.

The boy must have noticed Hinata’s gawking because as his eyes wandered back up he found that stare being returned. His breath caught in his throat as he tried to mutter out an apology. The boy interrupted him before he could get it out, however.

“You’re new.” He smiled, leaning in close to make sure his voice was heard. “What’s your name?”

Hinata forced his hands into his pockets, trying to look as casual as possible as if he hadn’t been ogling the boy just a moment ago. “Hinata Hajime.”

“Hinata Hajime…” Komaeda practically rolled the words around on his tongue. “May I call you Hinata-kun?”

“Sure. What about you, what’s your name?” Hinata narrowed his eyes, feeling a bit frustrated that the alcohol wasn’t taking the edge off his anxiety.

“Ah, how rude of me. My name is Komaeda Nagito, you can call me whatever you please.” Komaeda smiled widely, as if exchanging names was further than he expected to get. “What brings you to Hope’s Summit?”

“Eh, I was peer pressured into coming by a friend.” Hinata muttered, a little embarrassed now that he had to explain his presence to a stranger. “I don’t usually come to places like this…”

Komaeda pursed his lips together, bringing his hand to his chin. “Hm, that makes sense. I’m quite the regular here, but mostly because I-”

“OI! HINATA!!”

Hinata snapped around, not listening to the end of Komaeda’s sentence. Souda was waving from the crowd, quickly approaching him with two other people trailing behind him.

“Oh, how awkward. I’m gonna head off. I hope to see you again, Hinata-kun.” Komaeda spoke softly, but just loud enough for only Hinata to hear.

Hinata turned back around to farewell Komaeda but he was already gone, likely he had already slipped into the crowd. He sighed, bringing his full attention back to the excited boy in front of him.

“Mioda, Tanaka, this is Hinata, my soul friend! Hinata, this is Mioda and Tanaka, my rave friends!” Souda beamed, hopping up and down and gesturing wildly.

“Hajime-chan!” A girl with black hair dyed with colourful streaks that had been styled up into horns practically squealed upon seeing Hinata, instantly rushing up to him and throwing her arms around the confused boy. “Kazuichi-chan never shuts up about you! So, are you into moshing? Raving? OOOOH you HAVE to listen to my songs!!”

The scene girl stared at Hinata with wide eyes that practically sparkled in the dark. He took a small step, only to bump straight into the other boy that Souda had introduced, Tanaka.

“Be cautious, mortal! It appears that despite only having entered this building mere moments ago, you have already encountered a cursed being…” He boomed in a gruff voice, grabbing hold of Hinata’s shoulders.

This only startled him further, leading Hinata to push Tanaka away from him. “Take a step back! Geez! What the fuck are you saying?”

“Guys I know you’re excited but give him room.” Souda stepped between Hinata and Mioda, encouraging the girl to exit his personal space. “Tanaka was just pointing out the fact you were talking to...what’s that guy’s name again?”

“Komaeda.” Hinata mumbled.

“Komaeda! Right.” Souda affirmed, smiling a little

“OOH! Creepy drug dealer Komaeda?” Mioda somehow sounded rather excited about that.

“Creepy drug dealer?” Hinata questioned.

Tanaka nodded. “That’s correct. That fiend uses this venue as a means of dispensing his poison.”

“Yeah, yeah! One of Ibuki’s friends O’Ded on a bunch of the pills he sold him! He’s no good! He doesn’t even dance!”

Hinata was a little confused. Yeah the guy was intimidating but not...creepy? Also, isn’t it the responsibility of whoever’s taking the drugs not to take too many? It’s not like Komaeda shoved them down his throat… Though admittedly the prospect of Komaeda being a drug dealer did put him off a little.

“He doesn’t seem that bad.” Hinata defended him, despite not really being sure why.

“You should probably stay away from him anyway, Hinata bro. C’mon, there’s plenty of other fish in the sea!” Souda cheered, slapping him hard on the back.

The other boy winced, feeling somewhat shaken by the events that were going down. Man he expected Souda’s friends to be eccentric but...they were fucking crazy. He almost wanted to go back to chatting with chill cotton candy boy. At least he respected boundaries.

“Right, sure. Hey, I’ve already had a few drinks so I’m gonna go take a piss. Feel free to get started without me.” Hinata flashed the group a forced smile, before dashing off into the crowd before any of them could object.

Once he felt thoroughly out of sight, he sighed loudly. It was weird that he felt more comfortable being surrounded by random people who weren’t talking to him than he did with that little bundle of freaks. That was until that comfortable mass of people suddenly reached out and grabbed ahold of his wrist. He froze in pure fear.

“Hinata-kun! How lucky it is that I get to see you again!”

His racing heart slowed a little as he recognised the voice along with that fluffy bundle of hair and much too exposed chest. It was just Komaeda, creepy drug dealer Komaeda.

“Jesus christ please don’t scare me like that!” He hissed, drawing in a little closer so he could properly hear the other boy.

Komaeda laughed cheekily, giving Hinata a big grin. “I’m going to assume your friends told you about the kind of person I am, huh?”

“Huh? Were you listening or something?”

“No, but it’s what most people who drag newcomers along do. I’m surprised they didn’t warn you earlier!”

“...Is that why you pounced on me at the bar?”

Komaeda bit his lip, averting his gaze a little. “Ah, I must have come on too strongly. I'm sorry, it’s not often people don’t outwardly reject me. Not that they aren’t right to do so, I’m quite worthless trash, after all.”

Hinata ignored the self deprecation, deciding to instead tackle the root of the problem. “So Komaeda, why do you come here then?”

“Socialisation, appreciation of the music, the fact the business doesn’t care if I deal here, I can dress like a male stripper without being judged. There’s a few reasons Hinata-kun, would you like to hear more?”

Hinata shook his head, feeling a little embarrassed by the fact Komaeda actually admitted the last one. “No no that’s enough. So uh, why do you deal drugs?”

“Hmm, why do you think I deal drugs, Hinata-kun?”

Hinata pressed a fist to his lips in thought. “Poor financial situation?”

Komaeda cackled as if it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard before shaking his head. “No, god, if anything it’s the opposite. I do it because it’s fun. I like giving people a new perspective on the world, a chance to enjoy themselves even more so than usual.”

“I see…” Hinata mumbled. “You aren’t dealing any like...hard drugs, are you?”

Komaeda waved his hands innocently. “No no not at all. I’ve tried heroin, that stuff is way too addictive for me to just be passing it around. I don’t deal any kinds of opioids at all, actually. Mostly just cannabis, MDMA, LSD occasionally. Oh! And ketamine, that’s been really popular recently.” He clapped his hands together in completion.

“Wow...so Mioda’s friend who overdosed-”

“Was an idiot, yes.” Komaeda sighed, rolling his eyes and crossing his over his chest. “I did tell him to slow down, but you know how people can be. Getting overzealous isn’t going to make you any higher.”

“I guess...” Hinata was feeling a little guilty for bringing up something that obviously frustrated Komaeda. “Is that kind of high really worth risking your health for?”

“Well, if you’re smart about it you’re usually fine. Especially with stuff like ecstasy, the serotonin drawback is easily managed and the high is…” Komaeda’s lips curved into an impossibly wide grin and his voice dipped a little. “It’s really worth it.”

“R-really? I have heard that ecstasy is one of the more enjoyable drugs you can do...”

“Mm? You wanna try some?” Komaeda smirked, reaching into his coat pocket before pulling his hand out to reveal a small baggie containing several hot pink coloured tablets.

Hinata’s brain instantly recoiled. Years of anti-drug and peer pressure campaigns told him he absolutely shouldn’t. He didn’t know this man, he didn’t know this drug. Smoking weed in Souda’s garage didn’t compare to doing ecstasy with a complete stranger.

And yet he was completely entranced as Komaeda plucked a pill from the bag between two fingers. He smirked, looking down at the other boy like a predator eyeing up it’s prey.

“The choice is yours, Hinata-kun.”

Komaeda poked out his tongue, carefully placing the neon tablet onto it. Hinata felt as if he was on fire, especially after hearing his name on those sultry lips. The pill glowed under the bluelight, beginning to dissolve from Komaeda’s saliva. The boy huffed, urging him to make the decision before it disappeared completely.

That was enough to send the blood straight from the decision making centre of his brain and straight to the teenage boy part of his brain that said ‘Fuck it; he’s really hot.’

Hinata grabbed the taller boy, wrapping his fingers in the little fishnet crop top he wore. He stuck his own tongue out, pulling Komaeda in closely until their tongues made contact and he could pull the pill onto his own. It tasted bitter and tarty, but that elated look on Komaeda’s face kept him from pulling away.

The other boy took over, pushing the pill further onto Hinata’s tongue until the kiss had returned to his mouth. He eyed Hinata’s throat closely, continuing to kiss him deeply whilst watching for that telltale bob of his throat which came moments later. He’d swallowed it.

Komaeda broke off the kiss, not missing the little whine that left Hinata’s throat as he pulled away. He took another pill from the baggie and placed it on his tongue again before shoving the rest in his pocket. “H-huh...you want me to take two? Is that even safe...?” Hinata stammered, eyeing the other boy cautiously.

Komaeda drew his tongue back into his mouth, dry swallowing the pill as if it was what he was born to do.  “What? You thought you were the only one getting high? I can give you another if you’d like.”

“No no, I just assumed you were already high…” Hinata spoke at a normal volume, which made him quite difficult to hear.

Komaeda broke into a fit of laughter, startling Hinata. “Oh wow you really haven’t done this before have you? I’m not going to give you any more, one is more than enough.”

Logical thought was starting to return to Hinata; he was nervous now. “That’s fine...uh...what should I expect?”

“Oh, right. It takes about half an hour to an hour to kick in. You’ll probably feel nauseous first. If you need to hurl, just let it happen. You should start feeling the effects not long after that.” Komaeda took a hold of Hinata’s hand, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles reassuringly.

“Right. Cool. That’s exciting. Uh, say Komaeda…” Hinata trailed off for a few seconds, but jumped back in to the sentence before the other boy could question it. “You mentioned earlier that you like the music right? What kind of artists are you into?”

“Hmm, I’m into more obscure artists than anything. Uhhhh...Have you heard of EDEN?”

“Never. “

“That’s unfortunate. What about...Deadmau5?”

“Oh I know him! Classic. Not a big fan of his songs though. Have you heard of David Guetta?”

Komaeda clicked his tongue. “Of course. Generic, but he has some good songs.. Porter Robinson?”

“Ehh I’ve vaguely heard of him? What about Dillon Francis?”

“Also painfully generic. Krewella?”

“Don’t know 'em. Martin Garrix?”

“Appeals too much to the masses. Uhm surely you’ve heard of Daft Punk?”

“Duh, who hasn’t. Their music’s a little too mellow for me, though. Avicii?”

“GOD Avicii! His music is brilliant. All his songs are quite tragic to listen to now though.” Komaeda breathed a sigh of relief, thankful they could find common ground amongst Hinata’s painfully vanilla taste. “Such an unfortunate loss of somebody with such shining hope…”

Hinata nodded in agreement, also recalling how heartbreaking it was to lose such a talented artist. They chatted for a short while about their favourite songs by him, bonding over their attachment to the lyrics.  As if on queue actually, one of his songs started playing loudly over the speakers littered throughout the venue. The Nights, specifically.

“Huh. Ironic.” He murmured.

“Is it? He was a very talented and popular DJ after all.”

“Whatever! Dance with me.”

Hinata hadn’t noticed Komaeda let go of his hand during their conversation, so naturally it was his duty to remedy that. He grabbed ahold of those skinny fingers, pulling Komaeda closer.

Komaeda was quite surprised by Hinata’s sudden burst of confidence, but most certainly welcomed it. It wasn’t before long that they were both belting out the lyrics as loudly as they could whilst clinging to one another and swaying. Hinata felt absolutely ecstatic, as if he was walking on air with the prettiest boy in this stupid place.

Until the nausea hit him like a sack of bricks.

He gagged against Komaeda’s shoulder, cupping his hand over his mouth aggressively. Komaeda wasn’t kidding when he said he was probably gonna throw up, geez…

“Ah, sorry Hinata-kun, I wasn’t paying attention.” Komaeda chuckled softly as he slid his hand up the other boy’s arm a little, pressing his thumb into the soft part of his wrist an inch or so below his palm. Almost immediately Hinata’s nausea began to ease off, leaving him feeling quite delirious.

“Wh-what kind of spell did you just cast on me, Komaeda?” Hinata stared at Komaeda as if he were a god among men.

“It’s a pressure point.” He smirked, drawing in a little closer to bask in Hinata’s loving gaze. “If you feel better than you’ll probably be fine, luck is on our side.”

Hinata giggled, using his free hand to place his hand on Komaeda’s face. “You’re pretty.”

Komaeda returned the gesture, despite being a little upset Hinata completely ignored his explanation. “You’re high.”

“We both are! Y’know what that means?”

“What does it mean, Hinata-kun?”

Hinata answered the question by planting his lips on Komaeda’s. Which wasn’t really an answer, but he leaned into the kiss regardless.

It took no time at all for Hinata’s innocent kiss to turn more intimate. Soft swipes of wet tongues had the two of them melting into each other. Hinata’s hands roamed higher, fingers wrapping in those messy blue curls as he revelled in the texture. Komaeda’s hands drifted lower, settling on the other boy’s exposed hips as he lightly brushed his fingers over the skin.

Hinata curled a small chunk of hair around his fingers and tugged harshly, pulling Komaeda’s face even closer as their teeth knocked together. A low moan left his throat, absolutely enthralled by the pain rippling through his skull. This only roused Hinata further; the boy suddenly grinding his hips into Komaeda’s.

In all honesty, Komaeda didn’t expect to get this far. Of course he was attracted to Hinata, especially the innocent way he assumed no ill in his intentions. And Hinata was quite obviously attracted to him, evident by the was he completely undressed Komaeda with his eyes upon their first encounter. Hinata shouldn’t have come back after learning he was unfavourable company. Hinata shouldn’t have so easily warmed up to him. Hinata most certainly shouldn’t have taken that pill right off his tongue. Komaeda just kept pushing and pushing, trying his luck even further and it just kept working.

It was wrong, dangerous, but he couldn’t stop. Especially not now that both of them had  basically thrown away all fear and impulse control with just one little pill.

So Komaeda did the same thing he had been doing all night, acting on those shameful urges of his. His hands slid over Hinata’s hip bones, then down to squeeze his ass through his jeans. Hinata startled, squeaking as he pulled back to take a breath of air.

Both of them were left panting, the room feeling significantly warmer than before. Not once did they break eye contact whilst trying to regain their breath, as if each one was trying to figure out what the other was thinking. Surprisingly enough, it was Komaeda this time who decided to make his desires clear.

He leaned closer, down as close as he could get to Hinata’s ear before whispering out one word, “More.”

Hinata moaned loudly, despite all that was done to him was purely audial. Komaeda couldn’t help but laugh, bewildered by the odd reaction. He went to straighten back up, but Hinata’s grip in his hair tightened. “K-keep talking…”

“Hmm? What would you like to hear,” Komaeda’s voice dropped an octave as he dragged the name out, “Hi-na-ta-kun?”

A whimper was contained behind Hinata’s lips as he pressed his thighs together, a weak attempt to steady his building arousal. Komaeda smirked, knowing he’d hit the mark. The drug was making Hinata’s hearing sensitive, so every sound felt better than it was in reality. He couldn’t deny that he was feeling the same way, but right now there was only one sound he wanted to hear.

Komaeda kissed his temple, trailing light little kisses down Hinata’s jaw until he settled on a soft part of his neck, giving it a curious lick. The other boy writhed beneath him, practically begging Komaeda to do something. He sunk his teeth in, eliciting a high pitched whine from the other boy as he pushed himself even closer.

“Komaed-aaaaa!” Hinata squealed, hitching his leg around the other’s waist. Komaeda wrapped his arms around Hinata’s back, ensuring neither of them lost their balance in the process. He sucked at the irritated skin, occasionally grazing his teeth across the wound. Hinata seemed to be getting a lot of pleasure out of it, judging by the way he rubbed his crotch against the front of Komaeda’s jeans. Komaeda couldn’t deny that he was mimicking those motions himself.

“K-komaeda...I can’t- I can’t keep doing this…” Hinata huffed, seemingly out of breath.

Komaeda pulled away from the boy’s neck feeling a little disappointed. “Oh? Have you finally realised what worthless garbage I truly am?” He topped the sentence off with a little laugh, one that he intended to be dark but was just high and giggly.

“No! Not at all! You’re amazing Ko! You’re making me feel so,” Hinata gyrated his hips, moaning out the rest of his sentence, “ so good.”

Never did Komaeda expect that sentence to make him so flustered. He swallowed hard, attempting to regain his self-control so he didn't start fucking him right there on the dancefloor. “W-we should take this elsewhere…”

Hinata’s eyes lit up as if he were a little kid on Christmas. He slid his leg down off the other boy’s waist and let go of his hair before straightening up and tugging his fishnets back up his hips, acting all proper as if he hadn’t been dry-humping somebody moments ago. “Yes. That sounds...great.”

They shared a nod, then Komaeda wrapped his fingers around Hinata’s wrist and began to lead him through the crowd. Hinata could barely contain his excitement, grinning from ear to ear at the thought of spending more time with Komaeda, being touched, touching him. It all felt much too good. It would also be great to relieve the throbbing boner that was chafing against his underwear.

Komaeda pulled them from the dancefloor, more towards the back of the building. Hinata swore he saw a flash of pink hair as they passed the bar, but he concluded that it was probably just the strobe lights. Komaeda pushed open the door to the men’s restroom, and suddenly they were stood in a bright room trying to blink away the burn of the lights. Hinata whined and squeezed his eyes closed.

The taller boy pulled him into the very end stall, clicking the lock shut behind them. “Hinata-kun, c’mon, open your eyes…”

Hinata grumbled, slowly blinking and rubbing at his eyes as they adjusted to the foreign light. Despite still squinting he was able to actually get a good look at Komaeda now. He was paler than expected, and that cotton-candy coloured hair was actually a snow white. His eyes were a soft grey, well, what he could see past those blown pupils. Those thin lips were swollen and red from their passionate makeout. He was just as attractive without those neon lights.

Komaeda stared, shocked by what he was seeing before him. Not because Hinata looked different without the dark lights, or the large red hickey decorating his neck. He threaded his fingers into his own hair, making a wheezy little laughing sound.

He couldn’t believe it, Hinata’s pupils were quivering.

“Hmm? Do you like what you seeeee?” Hinata giggled, clearly appreciating the attention.

“Yes, it’s just, wow...we should do this before you get over your peak huh?”

“Peak?”

“Mhmm,” Komaeda leaned in close to Hinata’s ear, “right now your senses should be at their highest point.”

Ridiculously enough, Hinata’s knees immediately went weak upon hearing that seductive voice again. Komaeda took the opportunity to place his hands on Hinata’s hips and force his back into the wall, the cold tiles burning at his exposed waist.

They kissed again, but this time it was sloppy and desperate. Komaeda’s tongue in Hinata’s mouth, then Hinata’s tongue in Komaeda’s mouth. Drool dribbled down Komaeda’s chin when he lost focus for a moment whilst unbuttoning Hinata’s jeans.

Komaeda brought his hand to Hinata’s front and began to palm him slowly through his boxers. Hinata moaned into the kiss, leaning into Komaeda’s touch until he suddenly changed his mind. He brought his hand to the other boy’s wrist, pulling back.

“Wait wait wait...could you fuck me instead?” He whispered, voice low despite not possessing a hint of hesitation.

Komaeda chuckled. “Here? Seriously.”

Hinata was confused for a moment before he noted the lack of space in the toilet stall. Komaeda shifted slightly, drawing attention to the way his shoes kept sticking to the floor. On the stall door and walls graffiti told tales of unrequited love and scrawled phone numbers. Everything about this was so gross, so filthy, so obscene. But that only seemed to make it all the more appealing.

“Pleeeeease fuck me, Komaeda Nagito.”

Komaeda put up his hands in a defensive pose, desperately trying to keep a grip on things before both of them got too out of hand. “Hooooold on, do you even have a condom?”

“Uuuuuhhh…” Hinata patted his front pockets then his back pockets. Fortunately his wallet was still there, but- Wait, something crinkled in the other pocket.

He pulled out the offending object and held it between two fingers. It was a condom in shiny green packaging. He couldn’t help but giggle, of course Souda had planted it on him earlier. “How lucky.”

Komaeda smirked, almost as if he knew this was going to happen. “Well, since you asked so nicely and even have a condom, I guess I can’t say no can I?”

“Y-you can say no!” Hinata protested.

“I know, I’m just messing with you.” Komaeda winked, plucking the wrapper from Hinata’s hands and shoving in into his front pocket. “I’ve wanted this, wanted you, all night.”

If he wasn’t already feeling impossibly hot, Hinata would have gotten even hotter at those words. The sheer desperation dripping from his voice reminded him of his own poorly neglected erection. Komaeda wiggled his thumbs underneath the waistline of Hinata’s jeans and pulled them down, letting them sit about halfway down his thighs. He then looped his fingers into the elastic of the fishnets, pulling it back a little before letting it snap back against Hinata’s stomach.

Komaeda laughed at the way Hinata yelped. “God I would’ve loved to fuck you in just the stockings. Just look at the way they squeeze into your chubby little thighs! Soo cute, Hinata-kun…”

"You can fuck me in them next time, just pleeeeeeease hurry up!" Hinata whined, puffing his cheeks out to express his frustration.

"Next time? Well, that better be a promise." Komaeda smirked to himself as he pulled down the boy's stockings, leaving his underwear now completely exposed.

Komaeda crouched down to his knees, feeling a little performative with the way Hinata's eyes burned into him. He placed his hands on the boy's hips before bringing his mouth to the wet patch on the front his boxers. Perhaps he should warn Hinata that this was going to feel a lot better than he remembered…or not.

Hinata gasped, his fingers finding their way back into those curly white locks. This seemingly egged Komaeda on and he pressed his whole face against Hinata's crotch, taking in a deep breath.

"You smell really good…"

"Grooooss!! How perverted are you?" Hinata put on a chastising tone, but his intrigued expression was very much betraying him.

"Veeeeerry." Komaeda mumbled against Hinata's clothed cock, sending small vibrations along the skin.

He slid his hands back up, tugging down the waistband of Hinata’s boxers. The exposure of his hot dick against the cold air made a shiver go down his spine. Komaeda just gaped, in complete awe at how hard and wet he already was.

Komaeda stuck out his tongue and licked a long stripe from the base of Hinata’s cock to the trip, drawing out a long and high-pitched moan. Hinata couldn’t believe how fucking good it all felt. Komaedas breath hot on his dick, the texture of every single taste bud stimulating the sensitive skin, the fishnets digging into his thighs and the way Komaeda’s nails gently grazed over his hips. It was too much, especially now that the boy’s lips were teasing at the reddened head and sucking in such a lewd way.

“K-komaeda...I think I’m already going to come…” Hinata huffed, tugging at the hair of the boy below him.

Komaeda took his hands and mouth away. “C’mon Hinata-kun, at least try to keep it together.” He teased, despite wanting nothing more than for Hinata to completely lose his mind.

Hinata whined at the lack of contact, but he seemed to recover slightly as he panted and leaned further back against the wall. “It’s just...it’s really good.”

“It’s supposed to be. Ah, screw it, even I can’t wait. Turn around.” Komaeda murmured away to himself, beginning to undo the clasp of his belt. This action was followed by the undoing of the front of his jeans, then both his jeans and boxers being messily pushed down.

Oh! The carpet does match the drapes!

Unsurprisingly, Komaeda was just as hard as he was. Precome shimmered under the bright lights coating nearly the entire tip of his cock. He reached into his jeans pocket, pulling the condom packet out and tearing it open with ease. Carefully he pulled the object from the wrapper (which was swiftly shoved back into his pocket) and brought it to the head of his dick, pinching the little tip as he rolled the latex down the shaft. It was a translucent green colour…

Hinata didn’t realise he had been gawking until Komaeda let go of the tip and spun his finger in a little circle in the air, reminding him that he was asked to turn around. He nodded quickly and bit his lip, attempting to suppress the child-like excitement bubbling up in his chest as he pressed himself against the cool tiles.

Hinata stepped his lower half back a little from the wall, allowing his back to curve in a way Komaeda couldn't help but adore. To express this newfound adoration, he brought his hand down hard on Hinata's right ass cheek, relishing in both the debauched sound he made and the red handprint marring his skin.

“So meaaaan…” Hinata snivelled, sniffing away fake tears.

Komaeda giggled a little at the comment, tracing his index finger down between Hinata’s cheeks until he settled at his entrance. It was slightly lubed from what he had picked up off the condom, but definitely not well enough to cause Hinata no pain. He could only hope that the boy could handle it.

He pressed the finger in, finding there was little resistance. Somewhat relieved, Komeda added a second, an action that caused the Hinata to squeeze his eyes closed tightly and huff. “That burns…”

Komaeda planted his other hand on the wall and leaned in close to his shoulder, whispering as closely to his ear as he could. “It’s okay, you’re doing great.”

The next noise Hinata made was one of pleasure, likely from hearing Komaeda’s voice again. He took advantage of the opportunity and pushed his fingers deeper, separating them slowly as Hinata made another pained expression.

“You’re such a good boy, just open up for me please.”

Another moan, Komaeda spread his fingers fully, another cry of pain.

“Yes, yes, that’s it Hajime-kun.”

Hinata’s whole body shivered upon hearing his first name. He could see himself getting really addicted to this, but he wasn’t sure if he was referring to the MDMA pumping through his veins or the praise of the boy above him.

Komaeda’s fingers disappeared, leaving him feeling empty but not upset. It was a sign of more to come. Hinata felt his heart begin to race impossibly quick as the head of Komaeda’s cock rubbed up against him.

“T-this is going to hurt.” Komaeda murmured.

“Do it. Break me.”

The little self restraint Komaeda had left snapped immediately upon hearing those words. His hips jerked forward involuntarily, and with some guidance he was already pushing into the other boy much too quickly. Hinata keened, his voice breaking halfway through that loud cry and he was left making a quiet raspy sound.

His whole body was on fire. He could feel Komaeda’s cock throbbing inside him, so desperate to start moving. His heart was pounding in his ears, feeling as though it was matching the muffled 180bpm music blaring beyond the walls. Telling Komaeda to do that was clearly not the best decision he had made this evening...along with pretty much everything else.

“You’re so ridiculously hot Hinata-kun...I...I think I’m losing my mind…” Komaeda wheezed, laughing softly as his breath huffed hot against Hianta’s ear.

Hinata moaned again and rolled his hips back onto Komaeda, he was getting antsy, he needed more. The pain didn’t matter, not compared to the urgent need to be touched and burn off this excess energy. “I stand by what I said, please, don’t hold back. I need more, Nagito.”

That was motivating enough for Komaeda, who moved his hips back before snapping them forwards. It didn’t hurt so much this time, in fact, it was actually starting to feel good. Komaeda nestled his head into the crook oh Hinata’s shoulder, smiling wide as he brushed his lips against his neck.

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Hinata nodded, pressing his lips together tightly as he felt a drop of sweat roll down his forehead.

Komaeda thrust into the boy beneath him roughly, relishing in the whimpering sound he made along with the slap of skin on skin. “Whore.”

Hinata resented the way his dick twitched upon hearing that word. “Wh-whore…?”

“Hm? That’s what you are, aren’t you? You come to a club, you ditch your friends to go do drugs then get fucked by a random stranger. I’d say that’s some pretty whorish behaviour.”

Oh shit, Komaeda wasn’t wrong. He’d completely forgotten about Sou-

Komaeda thrust into him again, stealing the air from Hinata’s lungs. An intense pleasure shocked through his body and he gasped, shuddering with a moan upon the exhale. He swore his vision went black for a moment as all coherent thought was completely wiped from his brain. “H-holy shit…”

“Easy to please, too.” Komaeda grinned and he could hear it.

Komaeda placed a hand on his waist and finally started fucking him with an actual pace, something Hinata didn’t expect himself to be grateful for. He moaned unashamedly, fingers clawing at the tiles frantically for something to ground him; secure him in a hold that wasn’t just Komaeda’s. How did he even have this much control over his actions right now?!

“So pathetic. I bet you never thought things would end up like this, did you?” Komaeda whispered in that irresistible voice of his.

Hinata’s only response was to moan louder.

“Answer the question, Hajime.”

“N-ah! No! I-I di- hah- didn’t!”

A hand slid up his side, tickling the sensitive skin as he brushed over it. It felt as if fireworks burst under every spot Komaeda’s fingers touched, making him tremble all over. It was too much, too much, he’s so so hot. Even the tears on his cheeks weren’t helping at all to alleviate that heat in his face.

“It’s- hah- It’s so cute how worked up you are.” Komaeda’s composure dropped for a moment as he moaned right in Hinata’s ear. If Hinata could have broken right there, he would’ve.

Komaeda noticed the way Hinata’s muscles clenched around him upon hearing him moan. It was amusing and devastating all at once. Even if he tried to pretend it wasn’t, the ecstasy was still making his senses overwhelmingly strong. Instead of continuing to tease the boy, it would be better to let his actions push him over the edge. He quickened the pace of his hips, thrusting rather messily as he stopped suppressing the obscene sounds coming from his mouth.

Hinata’s brain was going haywire, soaking in everything at once to the point of overstimulation. The sensation of the smooth tiles against his hot cheek, the fingers lightly grazing his chest, the sweat dripping down his back, the loud moans of the boy in his ear, the hair tickling at his neck, the physical presence of Komaeda above him, the head of his cock grazing against Hinata’s prostate, the feeling of his balls hitting his taint with every thrust that signified he had taken the entirety of Komaeda’s-

Hinata screamed.

Komaeda wasn’t sure to be flattered or concerned. The other boy convulsed beneath him, making a sound somewhere between a sob and a moan. He was coming already after all that teasing? That's no fair.

Hinata’s knees gave out beneath him, which would have put both of them on the floor had Komaeda not wrapped his arms around the boy’s midsection. They were both wheezing and panting heavily, to the point that Komaeda didn’t even have the breath to tell him to snap out of it. He pressed Hinata harder into the wall to force him to stay up as he kept thrusting.

The boy beneath him near squealed as his overstimulated dick burned against the cold tiles Hinata couldn't tell if he was in pain because everything felt too good, much too good. His body only craved more of that stimulation, more touch more movement more sound. "M-more…"

If Komaeda was capable of coherent thought at this point, he would have definitely stopped to question it. But his thoughts were filled with one thing, Hinata, and how fucking good it felt being inside him. Either Kuzuryuu had supplied him pills cut with viagra, or Hinata was a fucking monster.

Hinata nodded, laughing a little as he looked down and realised he was still just as hard as before. "K-keep going…it hurts."

“Hinata-kun...hah- Hajime. ” Komaeda moaned, bringing both of his hands down to cling to Hinata’s hips and he pounded into him without abandon.

Hinata was completely pressed to the wall now, crying as his face was forced into the tiles. Every time Komaeda pushed back into him his body shuddered as pain and pleasure rippled through. There was no chance to push Komaeda away, he felt so light and weak, muscles completely surrendering as he whimpered against the tiles.

“I love you, I love you so much Hajime-kun!”

“I- hiii- I love you too, aha, Nagito…”

The logical part of his brain knew that that was wrong. How could he love somebody who he just met? But the logical part of his brain couldn't talk, and all he knew was that this kind of intimacy was loving, anybody who would touch Hinata was somebody he loved.

Komaeda giggled, his voice raising into a high pitched whine as he began to chant Hinata’s name. “You’re so good Hajime-kun! Hajime-kun Hajime-kuuuun!!!”

His thrusts became more erratic as he dug his nails into Hinata’s skin. He was so so so close he just needed a little bit more and he could-

“N-nagito!” Hinata wailed. “That hurts!!”

Koameda came with a loud cry, riding out his orgasm with slowed movements. Hinata was bawling now, snivelling and whimpering with small sounds that almost could’ve been Komaeda’s first name. The boy above him burned with shame as he realised he’d just come to Hinata crying his name and he liked it.

He pulled out of Hinata, then yanked up the boy’s underwear and sat him on the toilet seat, waiting for him to ride out the vertigo from his sensory overload. His tears had seemingly weaned off just from being sat down with nothing to touch him. Hinata stared with a blank expression, small sobs occasionally leaving his throat as Komaeda begun to clean himself up.

He pulled off the condom and tied it at the end, dropping it in the box designated for sharp waste, not that it was sharp waste, but rather it was convenient. Komaeda then tucked himself back into his boxers, pulling them and his jeans back up to where they sat on his hips previously before doing up the fly. Hinata made a whiny little noise, suddenly being brought back to earth. Komaeda knelt down in front of the toilet, bringing his hand up to the boy’s cheek. “Hey, are you okay?”

Hinata nodded. For some reason he was expecting the ecstasy to completely wear off once he came, but of course it didn’t. He still felt light and giggly, but even more so now that he was completely exhausted. “H-how can you still be moving…?”

“I’ve done this a few times before.” Komaeda smiled, before realising the implications of his words. “Ah, not having sex in a public bathroom, but MDMA.”

Hinata responded with a sound of acknowledgement.

Komaeda eyed his clothed erection. “I’m surprised you’re still hard after all of that. Would you like me to do something about it?”

Hinata shook his head. It was understandable, his nerves were probably on fire right now.

“Here, stand up so I can clean the cum off your stomach.” Komaeda stood up, extending an arm to the other boy.

He took it graciously, his knees stuttering a little as Komaeda hauled him to his feet. He flushed bright red upon remembering that they had been having very loud very public sex just moments ago. “That was....really good.”

Komaeda nodded, ripping some toilet paper off the roll, before bringing it to Hinata’s exposed belly. It tickled a bit, so he looked away to distract himself, only to stare directly at the white fluid that was dripping down the tiles now. God he was so disgusting.

“Oh, it got on your shirt too. Sorry…” Komaeda murmured, wiping that down as well.

“It’s f-fine, I’ll just wash it before g-giving it back to Souda.” Hinata stuttered out.

Komaeda snorted. “You sure Souda-kun’s gonna want it back?”

“Y-you’re a dick.” Hinata grumbled, punching the other boy’s shoulder lightly.

Komaeda seemed content with his job, kissing a soft reassuring kiss to Hinata’s cheek as he tossed the soiled paper into the toilet. He grabbed another bunch to clean up Hinata’s mess on the wall, which only made the boy feel more embarrassed.

“So what’s your plan now, Hinata-kun?” Komaeda asked the question without even turning to look at him. “Are you going to head back to the dancefloor or are you wiped?”

“I’m fucking wiped. But...I- I really want to keep going!” Hinata sighed, examining the damage to his shirt.

“In what sense?”

“Um, I wanna keep enjoying this...I guess? Going home alone to sleep just sounds like a waste…”

“Oh!” Komaeda spun around to look at Hinata. “I should’ve mentioned it earlier, but you’ll probably have a hard time getting to sleep.”

“Oh, great, that’s exciting!” Despite the remark being obviously sarcastic, the tone of Hinata’s voice didn’t quite express that. “Well, what do you plan to do?”

“Go home alone and try to go to sleep.”

“Oh.”

The silence between them stretched out for way too long, it was even more uncomfortable because Hinata couldn’t stop making these awkward giggly noises. Komaeda finished cleaning up and tossed the other bit of soiled paper into the toilet before flushing it.

Hinata suddenly broke the silence with a question. “Do you wanna come to my place and cuddle?”

Komaeda broke out into a loud cackle, one that made Hinata’s heart ache from the supposed rejection. “Oh Hinata-kun, please don’t toy with my feelings like that! We couldn’t do such a thing after I...defiled you in that way.”

“Huh?! What are you talking about?” Hinata pouted, grabbing his stockings and pulling them up. “C’mon it’s a good idea! Neither of us would have to be alone and we can still enjoy the high!”

Komaeda shook his head. “Why would you want to do something so intimate with somebody like me?”

“Because I like you! Is that not evident by the fact I let you fuck me in the ass?!” Hinata snapped in frustration.

A snort came from one of the other stalls. Hinata bit his tongue and pulled up his jeans, avoiding meeting the other’s gaze. Komaeda also looked incredibly sheepish as he did up his own belt. The two of them waited for whoever was in there to be done, wash their hands and leave before speaking again.

“What’s up with that scar on your abdomen?”

“Oh this?” Komaeda traced his finger over a small line near his navel. “Funny story actually, you remember that guy I mentioned earlier who overdosed?”

“Yeah?”

“I refused to pay his medical bills so he stabbed me!”

Hinata was shocked, but also not surprised as he laughed softly. “That’s terrible Komaeda!”

Komaeda seemed to find it even funnier than he did. “You’re telling me! That was the second time I’ve been stabbed here!”

The pieces clicked together in Hinata’s mind. Of course the guy who got stabbed twice at Hope’s Summit was the one he’d fallen for. It only made some stupid sense. He slapped his palm into his forehead and giggled. “Okay, you’re definitely coming home with me, I need to hear more about this.”

Komaeda sighed in defeat. “I’ll come home with you, sure. But you’re going to regret it.”

“I won’t.” Hinata reached up and ruffled Komaeda’s hair, eliciting a smile from the other boy as he pushed the stall door open.

-

Hinata blinked his bleary eyes open. He was hot, sweaty, and feeling incredibly heavy. A mess of white hair lay upon his chest, drooling onto his left pec. He groaned, slowly reaching over to the highstand on his left to grab his phone without waking the sleeping Komaeda.

5:19pm

29 / 4 / 2020

37 Missed calls from Souda Kazuichi

[jonroxton]

dceu fandom gothic

two year old meta being recirculated whenever a new dceu movie drops and remembering all your bvs fandom friends are deactivated and others have changed their names so you don’t know who they are anymore

it’s 2015 and you can talk about man of steel that’s been out for two years now. you find out it was well received and broke records. u openly cry about the hans zimmer score changing your life you still listen to it

realizing after the first bvs trailer dropped how many people you follow were unironic m(u stans and the veil is torn from your eyes. wait a second. all of tumblr is unironically into the m(u and female coded tony stark meta has10,000 notes and ignores six of the thirteen movies tony appears.meta about dancers in captain america that appear in one scene as 30000 notes. the meta about steve running laps in DC has 20,000 notes and these ppl use real math to calculate a path to ????? idk man i still don’t know but ON YOUR LEFT LOLLLLL dc pretentious losers with their artsy fartsy allegories and PTSD and character arcs and multiple POCS and WOCS pffff

HAhaaaa if they listen to the haters they’ll hire j0ss wh3don to take over justice league AHAHAAAAAA IMAGINE!!!!!!!!!!!sdkfsflhsdkf

bvs the 950 million dollar flop

suicide squad the 750 million oscar winning flop

ww the savior of the dceu makes 1 billion for zero reason without marketing or lead in gal gadot just appeared before our very eyeballs fully formed

no no nooooo aquaman saved the dceu makes another 1 billion for also zero reason it’s not like the first image zack released six years before justice league came out was of jason momoa as arthur that incorporated his culture into the mythos that was by accident

shazam saved the dceu

no birds of prey saved it

except no? birds of prey flopped

except birds of prey made its money back

except birds of prey was not exemplary of feminism so it failed as a female movie

it should’ve been pg-13 so little girls could see it

except the movie should not just be for little girls

and it shouldn’t alienate men

everyone who is going to this movie is being tricked into seeing it bc no one has any awareness about the media they consume whatsoever

except it should have had absolute mass appeal to matter

trying to explain the difference between performative diversity and inclusiveness and actual diversity and inclusiveness but lol hot topic MARTHAAAAAAA grim dark NOT MYYYY SUPERMAN

you don’t actually hate the m(u and while this has always been true you are constantly surprised when you remember that you don’t hate the m(u actually you’ve never thought as much about the m(u until you joined the dceu fandom

being nostalgic for 2015-2017 even tho you received death threats 

the joker as a domineering unpredictable gangster who abuses his girlfriend? nope sorry can’t have that! also doesn’t matter that margot robbie worked on her costumes with the female costume designer who won an academy award for her work or that the most exposed amazons were professional body builders holding up a thousand tons of rock to help their queen escape it’s all exploitive bc zack snyder hates women and wants you to sexualize their bulging muscles faora who what now? marthat LOL MARTHAAAA lois has sex with her boyfriend of two years the slut how dare she be vulnerable

every single dceu movie is a rip off of an m(u movie but also somehow too fake deep and too different stylistically to appease m(u fans and you have stopped trying to make sense of why these people want the same movie ten thousand times, movies they actively ignore and outright hate

you try not to think about how the wb chose to listen to the haters who were never going to like their movies instead of the people who passionately loved and defended them. you don’t know if you’re going to see the next dceu movie. you listen to old MOSAIC podcasts and discover something you missed in bvs even though it’s been five years and you’ve seen it a hundred times

there is ONE single cbm news site you trust but you expect them to let you down any moment now. 

james gunn had to delete 10,000 tweets with p3do jokes about little boys and he made a parody of man of steel where a little super powered boy turns evil. the wb gives him suicide squad. zack snyder’s daughter suicide is fair game. the wb fires him.

critics still hate dceu movies despite them being brighter, lighter and more fun standalones with zero consequences like they wanted. almost as if they never gave a shit and won't ever give a shit! you want to tok about this but the dceu fandom doesn’t really exist any more not like it did

every single dceu tag gives you anxiety

you are ready at any given moment to fight j0ss wh3don. buffy isn’t that good and neither was firefly and you should say it. ANGEL 4EVA

[poisxnyouth]

bad influence dave part 2 (d.d)

A/N: i’m sorry this is so short ): i think it’s a vibe tho. enjoy. talk to me while you read & let me know what you think. love u. thank u for reading. grateful for y’allllllll

WC: 5.1k

You see David again a week after you give him your first handjob, and it’s almost embarrassing how much you’ve begun texting each other – about anything and everything. He texts you on his lunch breaks, when he gets off of work, when he’s going into work, when he’s bored, before he goes to sleep – you name it. You text him when work is slow, in the middle of church, during the weekly family dinner at your parents’, anytime — constantly attempting to see each other. 

 At noon, David texts you while you’re about to go on lunch break, usually an uneventful hour:

 It’s so slow rn. Come see me whenever you go on break. Pls. I’m losing my mind. This old woman won’t stop hitting on me. All she wants are mimosas.

 Of course, you tell him you will. Why sit in the break room and waste your own time when you can go see him? 

 He had mentioned to you in passing where he bartends; a few streets up and over, but not too far – speed walking distance if you wanted to see him for longer than thirty minutes. 

 You make it as quickly as you can, composing yourself before opening the door. As soon as David gains sight of you, the look on his face indicates you saved him from a bartender’s Hell. He fakes an excuse to the woman, the only other person in the bar, to come speak with you. He leans against it when he’s in front of you, eyes on yours.

 “Hi, baby. Do I need to card you?” he asks, watching the familiar blush spread across your cheeks, “It’s so good to see you. What are you drinking?”

 “I’m still working!” you excuse, bitching him out playfully, “Nothing!” 

 “That’s no fun,” he rolls his eyes, “It’s on me. What do you want? Actually, don’t answer that. I’ll pick.” 

 “By the way, that’s what you wear to work?” David questions, looking you up and down approvingly as he pours a shot for you, “Sexy.” 

 “If I take a shot, you have to take a shot, too,” you bargain with him, ignoring his comment as you blush even more, “We’re both working!”

 “The only way I can drink on the job is if you buy it for me,” he explains, looking around the room and the older woman, “buuuut...is anyone looking? And I’m not the lightweight here, remember?” he chuckles, “Miss Two Drinks and I’m Drunk.”

 You flush as he places your glass on the bar, “It’s tequila. Salt on the back of your hand, honey.” 

 “I know how to do a shot of tequila,” you gripe, eyes rolling as you lick the back of your hand, “Just ‘cause I’m a virgin doesn't mean-”

 “Okay,” he shrugs rudely, not caring about your defense, “Just do the shot, baby. Cheers.”

 “Cheers.”

 You clink your glasses and David’s eyes follow your tongue when you dump some salt on top of the wet skin. You lick at it, meeting his eyes and downing it. You reach for the lime and suck on it as he finishes his, taking your glass from you.

 “When can I see you again?” you ask, gazing at him as he leans against the counter, “I’m off at five.” 

 “I’m off at six. You wanna go dealing with me tonight? I need some company, and we can go back to my place afterwards,” he questions, eyes on yours, “You can weigh everybody’s shit for me and split it up.” 

 “Okay,” you agree, slightly excited at the prospect, “Do you want me to come back here when I get off?” 

 “Yes,” David replies, “I’m getting you high afterwards, though. Don’t say no. I’ll give you, like, the whole experience. Are you working tomorrow?”

 You shake your head, blushing, before he responds, “Great. Me either, so you’re spending the night.” 

 You gape at him, “I don’t have my stuff-”

 “I’ll take you by your place beforehand,” David offers, shoving his hands in his pockets, “Stop stressing, baby.”

 You sigh, hating how many hearts are filling your eyes as you gaze at him and hating that you have to leave, “Okay. I have to go. I’ll see you in a few.”

 He tells you to wait, slipping out from behind the bar and leaning his head down, kissing you. “Okay. You can go now. I’ll see you later. Wish me luck with that one over there.” 

 ++

 Five-thirty seems to be around the time the bar is getting busier due to everyone getting off of work, and the stress on David’s face is evident. He hasn't even noticed your arrival yet, attempting to keep polite conversation with his customers. 

 Six rolls around and he’s immediately clocking out, gruffly wishing his coworker good luck and making his way over to you, “Sorry, sweetheart. Fucking busy tonight. Let’s get out of here.” 

 You do, and David’s immediately lighting a cigarette and unbuttoning his black dress shirt as soon as you step outside. He had rolled the sleeves up since you last saw him, and he slips the garment off while his cigarettes and lighter are still in his hands and out of his breast pocket. 

 His black t-shirt remains, tucked into his slacks which are secured with a belt. He’s guiding you to his car silently for a few minutes, tossing out his cigarette before unlocking the vehicle and climbing in. 

 “I gotta shower before I do anything else,” David tells you, starting the car and pulling out of his spot, “It’s been like that in there since three. I’ve been sweating like a bitch; I feel disgusting.” He casually rests his free hand on the inside of your thigh as he drives, leading the small talk – as he always does. 

 David doesn’t mind being the talkative one; he likes bringing up subjects that are taboo to you, watching you refuse to meet his eyes and blush as he presses the topic, becoming more detailed as he speaks. 

 He usually goes until you tell him to stop, reacting with an affectionate rub at the skin of your thighs, “Sorry, baby, you know I like seeing you get all worked up and not know what to do about it.”

 Once at his place, he quickly showers and changes while you patiently wait on him. It takes him ten minutes, tops, before he’s ready to go. 

 “Alright,” David says casually, grabbing his keys and motioning to his bedroom door, “Come here, follow me. My roommates and I all deal at least a little bit — I’m the best one of all of us — so this is where we keep our shit.” He takes you into another bedroom, turning the lights on and pulling out his phone.

 “Okay, baby,” he sighs, “This is the part that sucks. We gotta go through what everyone wants and weigh this shit. I don’t like weighing as we go. It’s time consuming. It’s gonna take some time. Let me explain how this works. Hand me that bag.” 

 You do, grabbing it and passing it to him, “So, I’ve got a pretty big amount of this shit – for Chicago, at least. I buy from a guy who grows in Iowa, so I can get his bud for cheap and sell it for good cash here. Weed’s legal now, so it’s kind of fucking me up, but kids eighteen to twenty-one can’t buy, so they’re who I sell to the most. I don’t sell to minors — obviously.” 

 He continues, “This is a pound, and it’s the best weed I’ve had in a while. Here, in Chicago, this is worth two thousand.” 

 “Dollars?”

 “Yeah,” he laughs slightly, “I buy it for half that, but the most people usually buy at a time from me is an ounce. I go see him like, once a month? It depends on how much people are buying. It’s a long fucking trip and I always have to do it in one day because of work – maybe you can come with me next time I have to go.”

 “Anyway,” he sighs as you try to not think about how much money he must be making under the table, “We gotta do this, baby. Here’s the list of people and how much they want.” 

 Admittedly, he does all of the work, but talks you through the process and answers your questions. He weighs the weed and puts them in plastic bags according to size, writing their name and amount in Sharpie on the front.

 You get to a certain guy named Luke, and David reacts, “Oh, fuck Luke. He doesn't get the good shit and never will – I hate his stupid ass. I have a whole stash of shitty weed for him in the cabinet right there.”

 David weighs Luke’s weed and describes why it’s shitty and how you can tell, bitching about the kid, “He’s a fucking idiot, though. I overcharge him for terrible weed, and I get texts from him saying how good it is. It takes, like, an entire eighth to feel anything. He’s a rich white nineteen-year-old, so I don’t really feel bad about it.”’

 “So, how much will you make tonight?” you ask as he puts it all in one bag, sighing and doing the math in his head.

 “Fuck, I don’t know – six hundred? Six fifty? Maybe seven at the most? We can count it when we’re done,” he shrugs, “Let’s get going; it’s getting late. This is my favorite part.” 

 David goes down the list in his notes and calls them on speaker phone as he drives, script usually sounding the same for every person: “Hey, man. Do you want me to pull up or meet you somewhere? I can do either one.”

 Before he meets his first guy, David reaches over and gently tucks your crucifix into your shirt, slightly rubbing at it over your blouse affectionately, “Druggies are atheist shitheads. They’ll talk about it if they notice it. Keep it there until we’re done. I’m sorry.” 

 It’s too hot seeing him get out of his car, weed in the palm of his hand as he daps his customer up and sneakily slides the cash into his pocket before bidding them a polite farewell, keeping the conversation short. 

He has to make about fifteen stops before he’s completely done for the night; some of them ask about you, wondering your name and age, before David defends you, “Alright, bruh, just pay me. Stop hitting on my girl.” 

 After every time he says it, he feels the need to immediately apologize once you’re alone again: “Sorry again. I know you’re not my girl, but I know you don't want them trying to talk to you. It’s just easier to say you are. They’re not going to fuck with their dealer’s girlfriend – especially since you go to the parties, too.” 

 David’s parked outside of your apartment building as he quickly begins counting how much money he made, murmuring under his breath as his thumbs do all of the movement. He counts it in under ten seconds, passing the stack of cash to you, “Seven thirty-five. I was close – sold a little more. We didn't even sell that much, honestly.” 

 “Count it again,” you tell him, “I want to see that again.” 

 He chuckles, eyes glancing between you and the cash, biting at his lips as he quickly counts it again, “Seven thirty-five, baby.” 

 “Hot.”

 David laughs at you and stuffs the cash into the pocket of his shorts, “Let’s get your shit and go home, honey.” 

 It's his first time visiting your place, and he expects it to be littered with misplaced Bible references and at least semi-unorganized, but it's not: you’re as organized as he is and oddly, there’s no clear evidence of your beliefs – something which surprises the shit out of him for someone who wears a cross around their neck every single day. 

 He keeps his eyes mostly to himself as you rifle through your belongings in your room, glancing at your walls and around your living room.

 “Jesus, sweetheart, how long are you planning on staying?” He motions towards your bag once you come out, watching your eyes widen.

 “I mean...you’re saying could stay longer than tonight?” you suggest, bargaining, “Two nights. I’m off the next two days.”

 “Fine,” he gives in, eyes rolling and giggling at you slightly, “I work the day after next, but you can stay as long as you want to, baby. You’re always welcome.”  David takes a step towards you, kissing you quickly, “Put your clothes back. You’re gonna be wearing mine.”

 “No,” you resist, his hands coming to your waist, “Those are yours.” 

 “Put them back,” he repeats, kissing you, “Don’t make me tell you again.” 

 “Ugh,” you groan, listening to him and doing as you’re told – you love when he tells you what to do, and he knows it. It’s his favorite button to push. 

 You return to him, and his fingers gently tug the chain of your necklace out of your shirt, fixing it so the clasp sits at the nape of your neck. “Better. It feels wrong to see you without it.”

 ++

 David’s two roommates are home, now, and he briefly speaks with them with you standing at his side, his arm shamelessly thrown around your shoulders. 

 “Dave,” one of them calls out, “Come here. Dude. Ester called the house. Call her back.” 

 “What?” he replies, “Why the house? She has my number. Fuck, okay.” 

 You don't know who Ester is, and David sits on the couch, tugging you into his lap in front of them as he pulls his phone out. His roommates don’t seem to be paying you any mind as they watch TV and smoke, and you wonder how many other girls he’s brought home. 

 “Bro, she didn't even call my phone,” he states, rolling his eyes, “I didn't think she did. Me and Y/N were just out delivering for, like, two hours.” 

 “Oh, shit!” the other one exclaims, “You’re Y/N? Sick. Nice to meet you.”

 “Sorry, baby,” David apologizes quickly, dialing Ester and introducing you, “Dima. Ilya. Both are idiots and shitty dealers–”

 “Heeeey, Ester!” David’s tone changes immediately, “What’s up? Why’d you call the house and not me? Is something wrong?”

 You hear a voice on the other line, his arm draped around your waist as he listens, eyes rolling back, “No, Ester, I can't help you with your Precalc homework. I’m sorry, kid. You know that I took idiot classes in high school. You’ve always been smarter than me. Ask Dad! Or, better yet, why don't you just look it up?” 

 David shuffles slightly with you in his lap and lights a cig, letting you rest your head in his neck, “I’m sorry I can’t help you, honey. You know that I miss you. I want to come up next Friday...I’ll be off. Will everyone be home?” 

 It’s now obvious that he’s speaking to his sister as he listens to her chatter, absentmindedly rubbing at your back, his leg bouncing up and down, “Okay. I’ll be there. I promise. Tell Ma that I’m coming. I love you, Es. You know you can call me whenever. You’re my best friend.”

 He hangs up shortly afterwards, taking a drag from his cigarette and sighing, “Christ. Vernon Hills next week, you guys. It’s official. You fuckers are coming with me, so make sure you’re off,” David demands, motioning towards Dima and Ilya. 

 “Whatever,” he continues, standing and putting his cigarette out, pulling you with him, “We’ll be upstairs. Leave us alone – she’s staying the night and I’m off tomorrow.” 

 David daps both of them up, before Ilya speaks, “Sick. Have fun. Goodnight, bro.” 

 David quickly tells you to ignore him and leads you up to his room, shutting the door behind you. The first thing he does is rifle through his drawers, tossing clothes at you. He’s surprised at how quickly you react, requesting that he unzip the back of your dress.

 He does, slowly, pushing your hair away from your neck and patting your waist politely before removing his touch. You pull on his smallest pair of sweats, still having to tighten the draw string around your hips and slipping on one of his t-shirts. 

 You’re not sure why it feels so easy to be intimate with him in ways you never could with anyone else while only knowing of him for a few weeks; maybe it's how nonchalant he is, or how unabashed he is. Nothing is too embarrassing or unbearable for him, and it rubs off on you. 

 David’s polite, and doesn't judge you over things you’re ignorant about; he’s happy to explain and guide you if you want to know about what he does, and he fucks heavily with your eagerness to please him and learn. 

 He doesn't know if this will turn into casual hook ups or something more, he’s going to leave that up to you, but he enjoys your company and bashfulness. It makes his dick hard. 

 David casually makes out with you on his bed, hands to himself and not grabby, before pulling away and asking, “You wanna smoke?” 

 “Sure,” you reply, sitting up with him. He digs through his bedside table, muttering, “I’m gonna teach you how to roll. It takes a little bit of practice, I guess. I don’t know – I’ve been doing it for so long, I don't even pay attention anymore. Hand me that tray.” 

 You lie down on your stomach, facing him as he sits cross legged on his still-made bed. He breaks open a pack of Berry Dutch cigarillos with his teeth, "So, the first step is to split it. Some people can crack a blunt with just their hands. I can't. I need a blade for it." He grabs a razor blade from the tray before sliding the edge of the blade down the middle of the blunt precisely.

 "You want it to be a spliff or a blunt? You pick, I don't care," he asks you, watching your clueless features, clarifying, "A spliff has tobacco still mixed in with the weed, and a blunt is straight weed.”

 “Um,” you shrug, meeting his eyes, “Blunt, I guess.”

 "Okay," he replies, dumping tobacco onto the tray, "Scrape out the tobacco. I’ll clean it up later."

 David grabs his weed and his grinder, "Grind your weed down into shake – it takes, like, a gram or a gram and a half to fill up a blunt." He stuffs the grinder and closes it, twisting it and tapping the top.

 “I don't smoke what I sell,” he explains, “My personal stuff is from one of my buddies in Vernon Hills.”

 “Oh,” you reply confusedly, “Why not?”

 “‘Cause Biggie said not to,” David shrugs, quoting, “‘Rule Number Four: I know you heard this before, ‘Never get high on your own supply.’ You know, like, Scarface?” 

 “...What are the other rules?” You ask, not getting it.

 He chuckles, scoffing slightly, “Later, babe.”

 “Anyway,” he says, getting back to the subject, “Some people put in a filter at the front, but...I don't have time for that. I’m too impatient for it," he explains, "Hold the blunt wrap and dump it, but make it even."

 He spreads out the shake into the blunt while flattening it against the tray, folding the seams over each other, "Roll."

 "You lick," he demands, leaning down and holding up the edge for you to lick, "Along the line. Not too much, though. Just enough."

 You obey and he watches your tongue, making a soft noise at the sight, "Goooood. Now, we stick it."

 David sticks the seams together, folding and pressing them together, "Okay, now you bake it, baby."

 He fumbles for his lighter, a fancy refillable Zippo, flipping it open and running it over the sides to ensure they stay conjoined. He puts it between his lips, lighting it and blowing out the flame at the end.

 David hits it, placing the tray on the floor by his bed, passing it to you, “Done. It’s pretty easy, just remember: split, empty, grind, stuff, roll, lick, stick, and bake.” 

 You get better at hitting it by yourself every time you smoke with him, exhaling easily as you scoot over to him. You pass it back to David as he lies against his headboard, tugging you into his chest and placing his hand on your waist. 

 “David,” you say after a few minutes of passing it back and forth, him grunting out a Hmm? a response, “Um. You asked me last week what I like. I don't know, but what do you like?” 

 “I’m not telling you yet,” he stifles a laugh, moving to put the roach out in an ashtray on his nightstand, “‘Cause I don't want you to like something just ‘cause I do. You wanna find out what you like?” 

 “Yeah,” you nod, blushing, “For you.” 

 “Okay,” he gives in, shrugging, “Can I touch you?” 

 You nod as he sits up and stands from the bed, “Whatever you wanna do. Go ahead.” 

 David tells you to stay where you are, rubbing at his eyes and grabbing his laptop, tossing it on his bed in front of you, “We’re gonna watch porn. Take the sweats off.” 

 “Wait-,” you say nervously, chewing at your lips, “Nevermind. Okay.” You obey him, untying the string and pushing the garment past your hips, already nervous. 

 “Don’t get anxious, baby,” David reassures as he climbs into bed with you again, “I’ve got you – this is just the easiest way to find out. Sit between my legs.” 

 He leans his head over your shoulder and logs into PornHub, wrapping one of his arms around your torso comfortingly as he feels you already blush against him. You’re visibly mortified as he clicks a video in his recommended tab, his free hand coming to palm you over your underwear. 

 You make a slight noise before he hushes you quietly, “Watch. Don’t touch yourself.” 

 David doesn't move his hand as he reads your body language, not watching the video at all as you buck up into his touch. “You like that or you like me touching you?” 

 “You,” you reply, clearing your throat and repeating yourself, “You.”

 “Stop thinking about me being here,” he advises, voice gruff behind you, “Think about me doing the things to you that they’re doing. Think how you would if I wasn't here. Got it?”

 You nod against him, eyes on the screen as he holds you close to him, your back pressed against his torso. Your breath becomes heavy as you watch the man eat the woman out and finger her, wanting it to be you and David. Your pussy must be thinking the same thing you are as you involuntarily twitch and clench against his touch.

 David murmurs in approval, “Good. Just like that, baby.” 

 He switches to another video, a deep throatfuck, and watches your face as the woman gags around her partner – lips parted and breathing heavily. Again, you want it to be you and David, but you tell him this time, cheeks red: “I wanna be able to do that for you.” 

 “We can work up to that,” he presses a sloppy kiss to your neck, “I like that too.” 

 “That’s enough of that for now,” David says, reaching forward and shutting the computer, “We can do it again tomorrow. We’re not done – I want to touch you.” 

 He breathes over your shoulder, muttering and tugging at the waistband of your underwear, “But can you take these off for me?” 

 You do, slipping them down your thighs and legs before he moves from behind you. David props you against the pillows, where he was, and lies on his stomach between your legs, scooting himself closer.

 “Jesus fucking Christ,” he comments as his eyes land on your pussy, gasping softly and glancing back up at you, “Can I touch you?” 

 You say a quiet yeah before his fingers are spreading your pussy apart delicately with one hand, the other arm wrapping around one of your thighs. He places his free hand on top of your stomach affectionately, eyes flitting between you and your pussy. 

 “Oh, God,” David says to himself, fingertips running over your folds and collecting your slick. You’re so wet he can hear every move his fingers take, and David takes it upon himself to press kisses up along the inside of your thigh, meeting your eyes and watching your face as he slips his middle finger inside of you.

 There's so much resistance that, even with your wetness, he can barely get it inside of you. He watches your mouth drop open silently in response, before he speaks, “Holy fuck. I don't know what I was expecting, but you’re so tight.”

 “If it hurts at any point, tell me,” he advises, moving his arm from around you to spread you apart again, still in disbelief at the sight, “Fuck me.”

 You’re embarrassed as he spits on you for more lube, spreading it around and rubbing it in before trying to move his finger again. You gasp as he hits the knuckle and he glances up at you quickly, not saying anything – he knows the difference between a good and a bad gasp.

 “Jesus,” David advises, pulling his finger out slowly and spreading you apart, “I can literally see your…”

 He cuts himself off and trails, not wanting to finish his sentence, moving from between your legs and into his nightstand. You make a noise before he hushes you, “Shh. Give me a sec. I’m not done. This’ll make it easier.” 

 He grabs lube and settles between your thighs once more, putting some on his fingers and beginning to touch you, “It doesn't even look like you touch yourself.” 

 “I don’t,” you admit, embarrassed as he gapes at you slightly.

 “Oh, my God,” he says simply, slipping his middle finger in easier this time, “So you’ve never cum?” 

 You shake your head and he exhales sharply, beginning to move it in and out, “I’ve got you, baby. Don’t be nervous.” 

 “Relax, babygirl. You’re too tense right now – even with the weed,” he comments, still working, “Stop thinking so much.” 

 You sigh and nod, trying to relax yourself, but it doesn't work, and David pulls away entirely, “Now’s not a good time.” 

 “What? Yes-” you attempt to reply before he cuts you off, shaking his head.

 “No. It’s not,” he moves to lie next to you as you slip the sweats back on, kissing your forehead, “It’s okay. It’s not a bad thing, I promise. You’re just super in your head right now. We can try again later.” 

 “Ugh, I just want to be able to-”

 “I know,” he replies, moving to light a cigarette, “I know, honey. We’re both high, though – maybe when we’re sober.” 

 You move to rest your head in his neck as he gazes at the ceiling, “Your pussy is so nice, no cap.” 

 “It is?”

 “Hell yes,” he says confidently, “Ugh. Wow. I’m gonna have dreams about that one tonight.” 

 “David...” you trail nervously, anxious to ask your question, “Can I ask you something? How many girls have you been with?”

 “Honestly, sweetheart,” he replies with ease, still nonchalant about something so personal, “I don't know anymore. I don’t keep track. Maybe thirty? I don't even remember most of their names. If you’re asking because of, like, STDs - you don’t gotta worry about anything. I’m clean.” 

 “That’s not why I was asking,” you clarify, getting the guts to take his cigarette from him and taking a drag, easily now, “I wasn’t worrying about that, but literally, like...how?” 

 He shrugs as you pass the Camel back to him, “You’re a nice girl, baby. I’m not nice. That’s how.”

 Your eyebrows scrunch together as you move to look at him, “You are nice, though.” 

 David scoffs, “Honey, I’m a drug dealer. Just because I’m a good man doesn’t mean I’m nice.”

 “Yeah, but...you’re nice to me? You don’t even have to be. You could be mean and I’d still want to have sex with you and stuff.” You’re still confused as he takes a final drag and puts out his cigarette, tugging you closer.

 “You saying that is exactly why I’m not a nice guy,” he promises, “Because you don’t even have to tell me that. I know you would.” 

 You don’t understand at all and you sigh against him, David continuing, “I know that I’m nice to you, baby, but that’s because I like you. Why are you even picking me to do this with?”

 You roll to settle on top of him, looking up at him, “I don’t really know. I just trust you. Don’t deflect...You like me? I thought you just wanted to fuck me once and leave.”

 “Ew, it’s so weird hearing you curse,” David reacts, nose scrunching up, “Yeah, I like you. No shame in it.”

 He pushes your hair out of your face and licks his lips as he watches you blush at his words, replying, “I like you, too.”

 “Yeah?” he says, “Your parents definitely wouldn’t.”

 You roll your eyes, “My parents can - Ugh. I’m twenty-two. I can date who I want. I don’t want my father knowing what goes on in bed, and honestly? It’s kind of weird that he feels the need to know.” 

 “Jeez,” David’s eyebrows fly up, “I thought you were, like, devout.” 

 “I am,” you shrug, “But just because he took a celibacy vow doesn’t mean I can’t get laid. He’s not even a priest, ‘cause he has kids. The Church won’t let him be. Ever.”

 “So, what is he, then? My parents are Catholic, but they don’t go to church here. They said they liked Slovakia’s better,” David asks, eyes on yours, “‘Cause, you know, they speak Slovak.” 

 “I don’t even know what he is,” you admit, “He won’t tell us. My mom knows. He’s just not a priest. I think he resents me and my brothers for it.” 

 “Bruh,” David says informally, rolling his eyes, “I’m sorry, but, like...fuck your dad.” 

 “No, I agree. It’s okay,” you shake your head, “Fuck my dad.”

 “Ew,” he reacts the same way, “Stop it. It sounds so dirty coming out of your mouth.” 

 You giggle and move up to kiss him slowly, arms wrapped around each other, before David breaks, “After we fuck, lemme meet your parents.” 

 You laugh slightly, surprised, “Okay. Why? You’re gonna have...to not be you.”

 “Because,” he kisses you again, “I just want the satisfaction of knowing I railed the fuck out of their daughter when it’s something they fear so much.”

 “You’re such a bad influence,” you press, rolling your eyes, “You’re gonna ruin me.” 

 “You want it,” he rolls both of you over, now hovering over you, “That’s the goal.”

 “I guess so.”

[chxmpionofjustice]

BASICS

Name: Tsukino Usagi Nicknames: Usagi-chan, Usa-chan, Usa, U-chan, Rabbit Age: 18 Role: College Student/ Aspiring Social Worker Zodiac: Cancer Blood Type: O

APPEARANCE

Long blonde hair worn in her signature style of two odango buns with twin ponytails cascades down to just below her knees. She stands at 151 cm, falling just short of 5 feet. Even so, thanks to her short torso, she manages to have long legs, which she loves. She is nowhere near being a twig though, having full curves which filled out quite nicely as she grew up. Her skin is pale, with light freckles dusting her shoulders and cheeks. Big, cerulean blue eyes framed by dark lashes are usually the first thing that people notice about her face (Her hair is obviously the first thing people notice in general), along with her bright, infectious smile because when she smiles, it’s the kind of smile that takes over her whole face. She normally dresses in whatever she deems the cutest thing she could wear. She tends to wear skirts just because she does like showing off her legs and sticks with lighter colors for her general aesthetic.

SELF

Family: 

Tsukino Kenji (News Editor)

Tsukino Ikuko (Housewife)

Tsukino Shingo (Little Brother)

Luna (Family pet)

Aino Minako (Maternal Cousin)

Crescent Diana (Paternal Cousin)

Some Personality Traits: Empathetic, Naïve, Impulsive, Protective, Determined, Social, Loud, Loving, Bubbly, a Bit of a Crybaby (still), Lazy, Always Hungry

DESCRIPTION

Usagi grew up living a normal life as part of what could be considered a nuclear family: she had two loving parents, was 1 of 2.5 kids (the 0.5 being the family cat Luna, though she’d argue that Luna was a better sibling than Shingo was) and they lived quite comfortably due to her father’s job as a newspaper editor. Her mother was a housewife and doted on her children endlessly. 

Usagi wanted for nothing growing up, laughed often and basically knew very little of the darker aspects of life until she grew up. She did not do well in school, which was more due to the fact that she was lazy and did not apply herself, so when it came time to decide what she would do with the rest of her life, she was not sure just where she would go and what she would do. That was, until, reality knocked her upside the head and, after coming across some younger children who were less fortunate than she, she realized just how good she had it. 

Usagi’s ability to love and empathize lit a fire in her heart and she decided that she would go into Social Welfare so she could do her best to help anyone she could. After (miraculously) graduating high school she entered university with the goal of going into the Tokyo School of Social Welfare for graduate school. 

She’s currently rooming with Kagome and Sango and is friends with them, Ami, Mako, her cousin Minako, and Rei.

RELATIONSHIPS

Minako (Cousin/Friend) @aphrcdite​

Ami (Classmate/Friend) @mercurami​

Kagome (Roommate/Friend) @kyudome

Sango (Roommate/Friend) @dokusedai

Makoto (Friend) @forceofnxture

Masato (Mako’s BF/Friend) @nephrmore

Rei (Classmate/Friend) @loveandfire

Ayame (Minako’s Boss/Acquaintance) @anchoredstowaways

Kouga (Roomie’s Ex/Not Friends) @greathunderhowl

Shippou (Mako’s Kid Brother/Friend) @kitsxnebi​

Kata (Mako’s Kid Sister/Friend) @ningyc​

Kaede (Shop Owner/Mako’s Grammy/Psuedo Grammy) @wisdomacrosstime​

Totosai (Kaede’s Hubby/Mako’s Grandpa/Pseudo Grandpa) @swordsmithtotosai​

Kimi (Adderall Supplier) @whimsical-elegance

Mamoru (Pain in the ass Love Interest) @fatefullythorned

HEADCANONS

🐇 Has known Minako for most of her life as they are first cousins, their mothers are siblings 🐇 Is close with her other cousin Crescent as well, Crescent is her cousin through her father 🐇 Met Makoto and Ami in Junior High and lost touch with Mako for a while, but picked up strong when she came back into her life again 🐇 Buys Adderall when she needs to focus and cram, which she is generally not good at so the medication is welcome even if it does get her even more wired than she normally is 🐇 Plays video games and even streams on Twitch, when she has time, for extra money under the username RabbitOfTheM00N. She does NOT like scary games 🐇 Usagi cannot sing to save her life, but she at least has rhythm and can dance. Don’t ask her to do a waltz or anything fancy though, she’ll kill your toes 🐇 Has a Manga-fund. Because she lives for manga and romance anime/dramas 🐇 She gives nearly everyone nicknames, especially if she considers them a friend 🐇 Has a personal style that is very very Larme Kei, barely owns anything black except shoes and maybe a bottom or two. 🐇 Serious relationships? Who is she, we don’t know her yet 🐇 Vices include: Eating, sleeping, playing video games, Adderall (every now and then), buying cute things 🐇 Her lack of impulse control can get her into hairy situations

[moskaisley]

fear and loathing

gif: @pedroispunk​

pairing: javier peña x reader

rating: NC-17!! explicit!!! this is literally porn!!! if ur under, 18+ go away.

warnings: mentions of drugs, alcohol, crime, SMUT MSUSTMSUMUT

word count: 2.9k

summary:

“Oh, maybe I was a little too wild in the 70s Back down to earth with a lounge singer shimmer Elevator down to my make believe residency From the honeymoon suite Two shows a day, four nights a week Easy money”

In the years before Agent Peña was shipped to Colombia, he spent his time lost in the lights of Las Vegas, entangling himself with the lounge singer of the Flamingo Hotel and Casino.

a/n: aka me romanticizing my own city knowing it’s actually a piece of shit town. i would highly recommend u listen to star treatment by arctic monkeys bc i had that record on repeat while writing this :) enjoy space cowboys!

masterlist

The neon lights of Las Vegas were so bright they could burn skin with sin. 

People called New York the city that never sleeps, but the Big Apple couldn’t hold a candle to the mirage of chaos situated in the heart of the Mojave. This place was hotter than Hell and the citizens were like snakes, hiding from the beating sun at dawn and slithering out to hunt at dusk. The city was designed to overwhelm its “guests” with temptation. What happens here, stays here: an empty promise disguised as a secret. People talk, and the name had its own proud implication.

You didn’t have to say what you got up to in Vegas, everyone already knows.

The year was 1979. Javier Peña sat in a smoky lounge of the Flamingo, eyes lazily trained on a suited piano man playing away on stage.

He’d never come here willingly, but the DEA had him sent to Sin City investigating its suspicious abundance of every drug under the sun. Though Bugsy Siegel and many of the mobsters were long gone, the mafia still held Vegas by the balls. Their influence was atomic, going so far as to halt Metro in making any sort of move against them. Javi noticed it immediately on his first day in the office; the officers on the force only ever responded to petty crimes and traffic violations. Any call involving suited men and blow were brushed off and away. When Javi confronted one of the detectives, he only laughed in his face,

“Their lawyers are too good, Peña.”

It was only when Javi took a walk down to a shitty convenience store for a pack of cigarettes did he realize the state of the city. He saw a group of kids who couldn’t have been older than 22, high off their ass and stumbling along the sidewalk. He did his best to ignore them, but the group suddenly got louder as a girl was tripping over her heels into the street, an oncoming car only seconds away. He acted quickly grabbing her arm and pulling her flush against him, Rolls Royce tearing down the road, horn blaring at the two of them.

“You saved my life there, Mr. Mustache,” she cooed, “How could I ever repay you?”

When he looked back to her, he tried his best not to cringe. Her pupils were so dilated, he was surprised her eyes didn’t pop out of their sockets. Then, he saw the white powder off the corner of her nostril and his stomach turned. She cackled at him, and he pushed her back to her coked out friends.

Javi learned two things that night: Vegas has horrible drivers, and anyone who came close to this town rotted from the inside out. 

He figured that, in order to make any progress here, it would have to come from Hell itself. If he stuck around long enough, maybe he’d find something amongst the fields of ringing slot machines and gaudy carpet.

“Lose all your money already, son?” A voice drew him out of his thoughts. He turned to see a sharply dressed older man.

Javi faked a smile for the sake of being polite, “No, not yet. Maybe in a bit.” 

The man chuckled and sat in the leather chair to the left of him, “You should stay. They’ve got quite a show coming up.”

Fancyman bristles beside him reaching inside his breast pocket. The little bag that he pulls out is unmistakable. The high roller notices his stare, “It’ll be especially good with a little bit of this.”

Javi cocks an eyebrow at him and waves him off, “No thanks. I think I’ll just stick with these.”

He gestures to his pack of cigarettes on the small table.

“Suit yourself,” the man settles. He takes the powder on his pinky and snorts it into his nostril.

Javier holds back on rolling his eyes and instead leans into his seat. He pulls a cigarette to his lips, settling in for this magnificent show that Fancyman promised. He rifled through his leather jacket for a lighter, but nothing turned up in his pockets. 

“Let me get that for you,” a new, sultry voice whispers into his ears.

Heat creeps up his neck as a hand splays itself across his chest, tracing the exposed skin under his black button up. A golden zippo in perfectly manicured fingers appears before him, flickering to life with a tiny flame. He leans in and takes a drag, acutely aware of the lips inches away from his ear. 

“Speak of the devil,” he nearly forgot about his company for the evening, “if it isn’t our little songbird.”

“Always a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Hughes,” Javi is strangely disappointed to hear the voice had drawn away, “Who’s your friend here?”

He turns around to introduce himself, but his name dies in his throat when his eyes catch yours. You could easily be a movie star with your bright red lipstick and perfect waves of hair. His mouth goes dry when you round the corner of his chair and sit on the armrest, lighting your own thin cigarette and storing away your zippo in your fur coat.

“I don’t know, darling, but I think he’s in love.”

“Is that so?” Your perfect lips form a smile as you curl them around the filter, “What’s your name, lover?”

He coughs into his sleeve in an attempt to prevent his voice from rising three octaves.

“Javier,” he says, “It’s just Javi, though..”

Idiot. 

“Javier,” he could get drunk on the way you say his name, “Well, just Javi, could you hold onto this for me?”

His breath hitches when you slide the coat off your shoulders, revealing your body in a silk black strapless dress and a gold necklace with diamonds spilling onto your collarbone. You all but throw the fur onto his lap and stamp out your cig in the ashtray in front of him. 

“Enjoy the show, lover.”

-

Describing you as a “songbird” was a serious understatement. Javi found your voice fucking heavenly with the way it crooned out some old torch song from the 40s. He wasn’t the only one who felt this way; sober or not, the audience hung onto every note that left your lips and the room was at your command. Your smooth, honey-sweet voice melted through one melody to the next. Soon enough, you were thanking everyone for coming out and wishing the crowd a lovely stay at the Flamingo.

And then your eyes met Javi’s once again, and blood rushed to his ears.

Eyes glittering mischievously, you point directly to him, “This last song is dedicated to that man right there.”

The spotlight whips away from the stage, landing directly on Javi’s chair. He tried his best to remain stone cold, jaw clenched and dark eyes boring into yours from across the room. But his embarrassment was quite literally on display as he shifted uncomfortably under the white hot heat of the light behind him.

“Just Javi was kind enough to hold onto something very special to me,” you purred into the mic, “Please give him a round of applause.”

Thank God, for your coat. Had it not been there, the world would’ve seen the way Javi’s cock strained against his jeans.

He finally let out a huff of relief as the spotlight left his back and veered its way back to your place on the stage, your last song starting. Javi was quick to scramble for another cigarette. He looked at the coat in his lap, pausing in contemplation. His eyes darted between the fur coat and yours as you began to sing again.

“I found a place

Full of charms

A magic world

In my baby's arms....”

His hands slithered their way to the folds of the coat on his lap, dipping into the pocket and pulling out the golden lighter. He flicked the sparkwheel, a tiny fire illuminating his the curves of his face as he kept his steely gaze on you.

“Her soft embrace

Like Satin and Lace..”

Javi took a long drag, nicotine setting his chest aflame. Your black dress ripples along your legs as you cross the stage. You’re smooth in the way you pull yourself onto the grand piano, lying down and arching your breasts upward as you belt out the lyrics, shooting a dazzling smile to him.

“Wondrous place”

-

“Excuse me, miss? There’s someone here to see you.”

“Tell him he needs to get in line.”

You see Tom, the baby-faced stagehand, bristle in the reflection of your dressing room mirror. He’s heatedly whispering with the person next to him. You always felt bad for giving him the chore of turning your suitors away.

And while you expect Tom to close the door and leave you in peace, he presses on.

“He-uh-he says he has your coat, ma’am.”

Your lips curl into a devilish smile, and you turn to your sweet blushing assistant.

“Oh, send him in then. He’s okay.”

The kid obeys, pushing your door further open. The man you’ve had your eyes on all night walks through, your fur coat wrapped along his forearm.

“What a lovely surprise, Just Javi.”

You watch him in amusement as his Adam's apple bobs in his neck. You relish in the paralyzing effect you have on him.

“I just came to return this,” his voice is tight as he tries to return your fur to you. You don’t miss the way his eyes trail over your body; your black stage dress was replaced by a cream silk robe loosely tied at your waist.

“Sure you did,” you tease. His jaw clenches. A small laugh spills from your lips, “Tom, could you give us a bit of privacy?”

Silence follows after the door shuts closed. You cross the room to stand inches before him, raising a hand to caress his cheek. The other rests on the coat in his arms. His ragged breathing is music to your ears. 

“You were great tonight.”

“I aim to entertain,” you rub your thumb over his cheekbone, “Thank you.”

He clears his throat, voice growing low, “That was a pretty mean stunt you pulled out there.”

“Not a fan of the limelight, Javier?”

“No, not particularly.” 

A coy smile creeps on your face when he leans in closer, lips parting in an attempt to catch yours. You slyly dodge Javi's mouth, and it connects with the crook of your neck instead. In his frustration, he bites down hard. A satisfied mewl escapes you.

“You’re driving me insane,” he huffs against your clavicle.

“What can I say?” he pulls away to look at you with wild eyes, “I like to play with my food, Javier.”

Chest heaving, Javi throws the damn coat onto the plush velvet chaise behind you. His strong, calloused hands are at your waist, feeling the curves of your body and pulling you closer towards him. You giggled in delight at his touch and your hands flew to clutch the back of his neck, fingers entangling themselves in his hair. You squeal when he goes to grab your ass, hoisting you up and wrapping your legs around his torso. He makes his way over to your vanity, and with a sweep of his right hand, he pushes off the contents of the table to the floor. Javi sits you up against the mirror, and takes your face in his hands.

“Let me kiss you, mi amor.”

Your body swells with warmth. You didn’t plan on kissing him, but the way his accent echoed in your ears made you dizzy. Your hands drop to the opening in his button up, and you pull him in, lips crashing together. He shudders against you, tongue swiping across your bottom lip. You let Javi in with fervor, huffing against his lips. Your fingers work their way down his torso, unbuttoning his shirt. They come back to his shoulders, desperately pushing his leather jacket off his shoulders. Javi’s hands leave your face and shrug off both his garments onto the floor. Your face flushes with heat at the sight of his bare chest. He pushes himself closer between your legs, and traces his right hand towards your inner thigh. His other hand pulls the bow at your waist and your robe spills open revealing your naked body.

Javi groans at the sight before him, and his hand palms at your breast.

“Fuck, you’re stunning.”

“Take a picture. Lasts longer.”

“I intend to do way more than that, cariño.”

Your heart flutters when he pulls your vanity chair in front of you and takes a seat. He spreads your legs out wide, hooking one of them over his shoulder. You hold your breath as he kisses along the inside of your thigh. Two fingers come up to your dripping pussy, massaging against the folds and spreading them open. His fucking tongue traces against your opening and you nearly cry at how good it feels. Javi drinks in every part of you as you squirm under his mouth like any parched man would in this desert. He moves his lips upward to suck gently on your clit, and inserts two fingers into you. 

“Javi!” you croon, “Javi, baby, it feels so good.”

“Yeah? Sing it for me, sweetheart. I love hearing your voice.”

You gasp when his digits curl inside you. You wrap your hand in his hair, and pull him back up to face you. He’s still pumping into you when he stands from the chair, and your leg falls back onto the table. Trouble flickers across your face as you reach down and grip his wrist. You pull his fingers out of you and take them into your mouth, swirling your tongue and tasting your cunt on his tips. 

“Shit, baby,” Javi grunts and uses his free hand to pull you flush against his hips. You moan at the feeling of his cock through his jeans. He presses his forehead against yours and removes his fingers from your hot mouth. Your deft hands fly to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. You claw at the waistband of his boxers, dipping your soft hands below to palm his thick cock.

Javi’s eyes shut at the contact, cursing under his breath when you wrap your fingers around the tip and squeeze.

“I knew I was gonna fuck you the minute I saw you,” You shift under him to whisper in his ear, “I’m so glad you don’t disappoint.”

“How?” Javi is barely holding it together, head spinning as you slowly stroke his shaft, “You couldn’t even see my face in the lounge.”

“No, I couldn’t. But I saw you in the lobby,” you push down his underwear and his cock springs out, “It was just my luck you came to see me.”

You pull him into another searing kiss, dick still in hand. His heart races as you rub him along your wet entrance. He leans forward and his arms pin themselves beside your head against the vanity mirror. He thrusts his length fully inside you, and the sound you make is ungodly. Your tight cunt is so warm and tight and he begins to move faster. The slapping of his torso against the back of your thighs reverberates around your dressing room, and your vanity table shakes with every push into you. Anything remaining on your table shifted and fell to the floor with the rest of Javi’s clothes. 

He pulls his hands away from your mirror, and he presses them into your shoulders for stability. His lips move from yours and attack your neck, sucking at the supple skin below your jawline.

You let out a strangled mewl, but chide “Not on my neck, lover. I’ve got a show tomorrow.”

Javi nearly whines in frustration and pushes you backwards, forcing you to arch your chest into him. He kisses along your sternum instead, sucking down hard and marking you with a purple hickey between your breasts. The sight riles him up further, and he plows into you faster.

“Fuck, Javier, I’m gonna cum!” 

“Look at me, mi amor. I wanna see you,” he tilts your chin upwards with his finger.

A wave of pleasure washes over you and your lips are chanting his name as you ride your orgasm. Javi has his own shortly after you, cum spilling into you and leaking around the sides of his dick. He pulls out of you and leans against the table, arms flexing next to your legs.You sit up and kiss the corner of his mouth. Pushing yourself off your vanity, you push past him and bend over your chaise lounge, shuffling through your forgotten coat. You turn back to Javier leaning against the armrest and you light one of your slim cigs. You take your first drag and pull it from your lips, offering it to him as you exhale. When he goes to take it from your fingers, however, you abruptly tug at his arm, throwing him onto your chaise. 

His bewilderment made you chuckle, “What are you doing there, sweetheart?”

Your mischievous smile returns as you twist the cig in your fingers, 

“Hold onto this for me, Javier.”

You stick the filter into the corner of his mouth as you straddle his legs, and you peel off your robe to reveal all of yourself to him.

“I hope you’ve enjoyed your stay,” you coo as you lick your lips “but I don’t think I’m quite done singing for the night.”

You were no songbird. You were a siren. A succubus. Like everything else in Las Vegas, you would take and take and take and leave nothing but dry bones and dust in your wake.

.

a/n: disclaimer: las vegas is actually lame as fuck. 

but i hope u liked the very basic history lesson i peppered in there anyway haha. fun fact: the lawyers for all those mobsters actually became mayor at some point. 

the song mentioned in this fic is wondrous place by billy fury! 

the title is totally ripped from fear and loathing in las vegas! because we love references.

idk if there’s gonna b another part for this?? mayb if y’all rly want it i have a few ideas but after this i want to focus back on to migraine. lmk if u like it!! bc it was actually fun just writing about a place i know. hope you all enjoyed!

taglist 

@starkstranges​  @mysterihoeee​

thanks for reading! see u space cowboys <3

- leo

[artificialqueens]

All I’ve Got To Keep Myself Sane, 2/8 (Jackie/Widow) - Juno

Chapter summary: Jackie is becoming more and more tense as they journey to New Jersey. Widow tries to get some answers from her, but staying awake in the passenger seat is proving difficult.

A/N: Thank you for your support on this. No CWs but there is a lot of angst in this chapter so… yeah. I hope you enjoy part two.

WIDOW

“Queen of Wands – Fire – feisty woman, confidence, passion

The Tower – upheaval, disgrace, liberation

Five of Cups – Water – loss, abandonment, forgiveness.”

Widow read Dahlia’s spidery handwriting for what felt like the thousandth time since she’d gotten out of the car. The meaning of the final reading that Dahlia had given her was becoming clearer. Widow knew the feisty woman was herself, and the upheaval was this moment, more than likely.

It was the last part that troubled her still.

She was still mentally kicking herself for sleeping the entire way down so far. She hadn’t meant to sleep; she’d just closed her eyes to think and the next thing she knew, she was in the middle of the Tuscarora forest. But she reasoned to herself that as she’d had no sleep at all the night before, it was no wonder the metronomic rhythm of the car had lulled her straight to sleep.

Widow dropped her cigarette into the ashtray at the picnic table, wishing it was something a little stronger maybe.

Speaking of which …

She replaced the notebook with her phone, and sent a text to Crystal.

Widow: Crys! I’m hitting u up girl! Gonna be in AC before 7! Xx

Widow had known Crystal since high school, and she was one of the warmest people that Widow knew, even if she never replied to messages within six hours. Widow was sure she’d let her stay if it came to that. Get a job. Maybe even restart her accounting classes next semester, and finally get her qualification.

She checked her savings on her online banking on her phone, the excited twinge she always felt as they grew and grew providing some comfort even now. She didn’t need much more now to have enough to pay for her final year, even though she’d dipped into it this morning, to bring her to AC.

Jackie was walking back over to her on her perch at the picnic table, an uneasy silhouette. Widow internally cringed at her awkwardness, as if she still couldn’t believe she was taking a woman she’d only just met on a trip.

“Can we – shall we get back on the road?”

“Sure.”

Widow brushed the ash from her skirt as she stood, following Jackie silently back to the car.

Jackie insisted on no music for this round of driving, which didn’t make sense to Widow; the constant silence was more unnerving than the music, she thought. But Jackie was doing her a huge favour, and Widow didn’t want to rock the boat, to disturb this woman.

Especially as she seemed to be running away from something. Her face was grimly fixed on the road, her eyes blank and dull, lips pursed.

The warm weather was starting to get to Widow, even with the window wide open. She kicked off her shoes and busied herself wriggling out of her pantyhose, before balling them up and tossing them to the floor of the car.

“That’s better,” she muttered with a sigh. “Just need one more thing to make it perfect.”

Without asking, wondering she could get away with it, she took her cigarettes from her jacket pocket and popped one into her mouth as fast as she could.

Jackie didn’t notice until Widow clicked the lighter.

“What are you doing?”

“Smoking,” Widow replied simply, leaning out the passenger window to blow the smoke. “See, I won’t harm your precious car.”

Jackie’s mouth opened and closed, before that same strange dullness appeared in her eyes once more. “Alright. Cool.”

Widow turned back to face the front, chewing her bottom lip.

Something was going on with this woman.

Jackie had had a blank look on her face since Widow had asked if she’d give her a ride to AC. In fact, Widow had been almost certain she’d refuse. Hell, Widow herself didn’t think she’d do it for someone she didn’t know. And she definitely expected – hoped for, even – a reaction just then in lighting her cigarette, but nothing.

A theory started to form in Widow’s mind. A theory she hoped she was mistaken on. She resolved to try to establish what was going on in this woman’s head. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but it hadn’t hurt Widow much in her twenty five years on this planet.

“So, you liked Pittsburgh then?” Widow asked as nonchalantly as she could.

“No.”

“Why not? It’s a great city.”

“It sucks.” Vitriol dripped like poison from the edges of Jackie’s words.

She was so focused on the road that her filter between her mind and her tongue was loosening. Widow had hoped that would be the case. Some people simply couldn’t drive and tell a lie at the same time. Widow had to keep pushing her a little.

“Alright, it sucks,” Widow nodded. Just as nonchalantly, with a shrug, she added “Man trouble?”

“More like woman trouble.”

“Alright. So, what’s her name?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does if you drove all the way here from New York for her,” Widow smirked. “She must be amazing.”

Jackie’s knuckles tightened at the wheel as Widow mentioned New York.

“Girl, don’t panic, it’s on your fucking license plate!” Widow cackled. “What do you do in New York, then?”

“I work in sales, for an IT software firm. Trying to get new deals, new customers.”

“Oh, cool,” Widow nodded. Jackie didn’t sound too enthused about her job.

“What do you do?” Jackie murmured distractedly, her eyes still on the road ahead.

Widow tried to stop the smile from spreading on her face. “You saw me! I worked at a gas station until about three hours ago!”

“Oh, yeah,” Jackie said with a quiet giggle.

“It’s just for now,” Widow continued, “I was studying to become an accountant. Been saving the last year or so I’ve been in Pittsburgh, for my final year. Then I can qualify and join an accounting firm, or something.”

“Yeah,” Jackie murmured.

Her eyes were fixed on the road, and Widow could tell she wasn’t listening any more.

Crystal had always called her boring for being so into her accounting studies, and Widow had always grinned and agreed with her. Maybe she was a little boring, being an aspiring accountant, but she was just a fully-grown Math nerd at heart, and damn proud of it.

It had been her accountant uncle who had encouraged her to start the course after school, and she’d done the first two years back in Kansas City. But Widow hadn’t felt inclined to study, in the year since her mom had passed away. Since she’d moved to Pennsylvania to live with him.

Hastily she pushed the memory aside. It was still too raw.

Widow finished her cigarette and tossed it away, winding her window back up.

The rhythm of the car, combined with the fact she hadn’t had a proper sleep the night before, just turned into background noise as she curled herself into the seat and closed her eyes, falling back into a doze.

——

Jackie stopped for gas again a little way past Harrisburg, a little over an hour from Philadelphia. Widow woke with a start, freed from another one of those dreams which she never quite remembered, but didn’t seem to let her wake up.

She waved some bills at Jackie, but Jackie ignored her as she got out the car.

That riled Widow up, and as soon as Jackie got back in the car, Widow shoved the notes into Jackie’s hand.

“I don’t mind,” Jackie held them back out. “You don’t have to pay me.”

“Hey, I’m trying to pay my way.” Widow frowned. “You don’t need to be like that with me. I’ve got cash. I can pay you for what you’re doing for me.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Widow’s skin was starting to prickle with anger. “Stop feeling sorry for me. I’m not some fucking sympathy case. I’m a grown woman just like you. We all know money is tight, right? Let me contribute.”

“Look I – I don’t need the money. It’s fine. I –“ Jackie mumbled, pushing her hair out of her face, “I don’t need the cash.”

Widow spluttered with the absurdity. “Bullshit. Now you’re being patronising. I don’t need a fucking pity party.”

“I just – it’s fine!”

Widow reclined for a split second at the frantic cry in Jackie’s voice – not an angry sound, but a perturbed one. Widow’s own anger was already starting to fray a little at the edges, never lasting for long; the heat prickling in her skin starting to simmer down. Jackie, on the other hand, looked slightly hysterical.

“I’m sorry, I’m just …” Jackie’s voice shook with emotion as she trailed off. Widow felt it was worth one more push.

“Just tell me what’s going on. You don’t know me; I can’t judge you!”

Come on, Jackie. Tell me. Talk to me.

But Jackie breathed once, twice, and Widow watched the dull, blank veneer creep back over her face, as she folded the money with one hand and put it into her pocket.

“It doesn’t matter. Thank you for the gas money, Widow. I appreciate it.”

Widow turned back to face the road as Jackie started the engine again, and the car purred back onto the highway. Something was definitely going on. But Widow had barely started to contemplate it before the steady rhythm of the car sent her back to sleep.

——

Widow was glad to be awoken from yet another dream by Jackie leaning on her horn, someone leaning back on theirs in front of them. They were stuck in traffic on a road through Philadelphia. Her throat was dry, but she took out a cigarette and lit it up, blowing smoke rings out the window.

It was just gone five before they cleared Philly, and the roads were still a little congested, but Jackie turned off the turnpike, and into a lay-by next to a service station, trees sat all around them.

“What are you doing?” Widow asked tentatively.

Jackie stopped the engine. “Just hungry. I’m gonna get a sandwich.”

“Alright, sounds like a plan.”

Widow stepped out of the car too, following an exasperated Jackie into the building. She picked up a cheese sandwich and paid the assistant, cringing at the similar uniform to Widow’s own, and was back at the car before Jackie arrived.

The wind was picking up the nearer they got to the coast, and Jackie’s dark hair whipped around her as she approached; she held the sandwich up to try to shield her face from her hair.

They got back in the car, sitting in silence once more. Widow had unwrapped her sandwich and had eaten half of it before she noticed that Jackie was staring at her, expression unreadable, having barely touched her sandwich.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m just … confused!” Jackie said, her voice rising again.

“Why?”

“You’re – you just got in a car with me, today, and you’re fine with me just taking you across the state?”

Honestly, Widow was as surprised as Jackie was, and more surprised it had taken Jackie this long to even bring it up.

She’d fought with the impulse for a few seconds, back at Pittsburgh, somewhere between the gas station and Donegal. She was in a strange car, with a total stranger. An increasingly intriguing stranger, but still a stranger, someone she had never met until ten minutes earlier. She’d just done all the things she’d always advised her cousins back in Missouri not to do.

She barely understood it herself, but Jackie had put herself in danger too, getting her away from that creep earlier. And it wasn’t like she was planning on making this kind of thing a regular occurrence, anyway.

“People still hitch rides from vans and shit,” Widow muttered finally.

“Do you?”

“No.”

“Then tell me why you’re here. Why AC. And why me. Why do you trust meenough to do this? I don’t get it.”

Widow looked at Jackie, whose anxiety was palpable in the air. She sighed, realising that she would have to give Jackie some sort of explanation to ease her mind a little.

“It’s kind of hard to explain. Atlantic City keeps coming up for me at the moment. My friend Crystal, she moved there back in April. And then me and my friend Dahlia, back in Pittsburgh, did some pendulum work for a meaningful location, and it came through. And when you offered me a ride … well, you said you were going there.”

Jackie was frowning slightly.

“It’s too much of a coincidence. Dahlia did a fortune for me last night. She reads Tarot, has done for years. I only asked you about Atlantic City because the rest of the fortune seemed to ring true. When you said you were going there …” Widow shrugged. “It’s crazy, I know, but it almost felt like this was meantto happen.”

Widow watched as Jackie calmed, her breathing starting to calm, her knuckles no longer white against the wheel.

“You’re right,” Jackie muttered finally, “that does sound crazy.”

But she was starting to chuckle. Quietly, but amused rather than frightened. Widow joined her, and soon they were laughing along with each other.

“I’m sorry for being patronising earlier, too,” Jackie said solemnly, gazing at Widow, but she didn’t need to; Widow could feel her sincerity. “I don’t know why I said that to you. It was rude of me.”

“It’s alright,” Widow brushed her off. “It’s done. Gone. So, can you tell me why you came to Pittsburgh in the first place?” She asked tentatively.

“I –“ Jackie turned to face the front, licking her lips. “This isn’t about me right now.”

“It is.”

“What?”

“Why the hell are you doing this, too?” Widow kept the same quiet tone of voice, a vague attempt to calm the frightened woman before her. “This isn’t just about me. We’re both fucked up.”

“I’m not fucked up.” Jackie’s meagre protest wasn’t fooling anyone, and Widow knew that she knew it.

“This woman, the one you came to see,” Widow said quietly, and Jackie’s sharp inhale told her that she’d hit a nerve. Jackie looked out the front, the hand on the wheel clenching again.

Suddenly, all the lines of thought connected in Widow’s mind..

Something had gone wrong with her, and now Jackie was running from her.

“What’s her name?” Widow asked, the same quiet tone.

“Stop it,” Jackie whispered.

“Just say her name.”

“Stop it.” More firmly this time.

“Get it off your chest, girl.”

“Stop IT!” Jackie’s fists came down onto the steering wheel, the horn blaring, a group of birds scattering, taking flight in the fields before them before settling back.  

Widow watched her helplessly. As she watched, the calm veneer returned to Jackie’s face. The only thing that gave her away were her shaking hands, even as she forced a smile back onto her lips.

“Do you – do you want to carry on then?”

“You can’t drive like that,” Widow motioned to her hands. “We’ll be wiggling all over the highway.” She grabbed one of Jackie’s hands from the steering wheel, holding in a gasp at how cold they were. “Just – just calm down. Take a few minutes to calm down.”

“Jan,” Jackie whispered.

“What?” Widow looked up suddenly.

Jackie clenched Widow’s hand as if she were an anchor, keeping her on the ground.

“Her name is Jan.”

And Jackie broke down.

[anonbebe97me]

Somebody Else (Changkyun Short Story || Part 2)

Pt.1 ||

Warning: some smut; will label parts accordingly.

“You’re in love with somebody else. Maybe I can offer some help; get over them by getting under me…”

“Y/N,” Changkyun’s voice is a low whisper, “Stop…” he pulls away and looks at her.

Y/N is breathless and her nose and lips are red from the blood flow to her face, “What?”

“I- I don’t want to do this while you’re sad. It’s-it’s not right,” He sits up, turning his back to her slightly, “I’m not that kind of guy.”

She bites her lip, embarrassed and feeling rejected- for the second time tonight. 

“Yeah, I understand…” She sits up and avoids looking him in the eye, “it would probably end up being a stupid mistake anyway…” 

He looks at her, disappointed by her words.

“Just go to sleep. I’ll take the couch…” He says, standing up and walking over to a small closet and taking out a pillow and some blankets.

She nods silently, pulling back the covers, but pauses before getting in,

 “Do you have any clothes I can borrow? This dress is uncomfortable,” She says.

He briefly glanced down at the dress; clinging to her body, every curve outlined perfectly- too tight to dance in, too short for church. 

“Yeah…” He looks away quickly, trying to keep his word.

He walks to his bed and bends down to open one of the built-in drawers. He focuses all his attention on taking out a shirt and sweats; trying desperately to ignore that her smooth, toned legs were so close to his face, and if he were to look up-

“Here,” He stands up quickly, and hands her the clothes.

She nods and grabs the clothes from him, still trying not to look him in the eyes.

“Thanks.”

He lets out a deep sigh and drops onto the bed after he hears the bathroom close. 

“What the hell…” He mutters in disbelief as he replays their kiss.

Picking up his phone, he unlocks it to find a bunch of notifications from the groupchat with Shownu and Kihyun, and then some from Jooheon.

Shownu: Did you see the post?

Kihyun: Dude… wth is going on? They’ve known each other for like what? A week?

Shownu: It may as well be a week.

Kihyun: Poor Y/N… 

Shownu: Changkyun, where are you?

He sighs, exiting the chat. He can’t deal with them right now… He taps on Jooheon’s conversation.

Jooheon: Are you okay? You seemed weird on the phone. I wanted to invite you out for drinks, on me. Help me celebrate, asshole

Changkyun rolls his eyes and tosses the phone across the room to the couch. 

When the bathroom door opens, he looks up.

If he wasn’t already having a hard time holding it together… he definitely is now.

His shirt is big on her, and goes just past her finger tips in length- and the sweats…are in her hand.

He swallows and looks down, trying to pretend not to notice, “Sweats didn’t fit?” 

She shakes her head, “No, but it’s find- I’m wearing my own shorts,” She raises the shirt up slightly to show him the tiny shorts she’d been wearing under her dress.

He nods, “Cool. Toss ‘em to me, I’ll wear them.”

She nods and then pauses for a moment, “Changkyun,”

He looks back up at her, “Yeah?”

“Catch,” She balls up the pants and launches them at his face, more forcefully than one might imagine for just a pair old sweats.

“Hey!” He laughs.

She smiles and crawls into his bed, “You’re welcome.”

And just like that, the awkwardness and confusion seemed to dissipate between them.

He chuckled softly as he walked over to turn the lamp off.

“Good night…” He says into the darkness.

“Good night, Changkyun…”

Sun pours in, shining on Changkyun’s closed lids. “Mm…” He whines, slowly coming out of his sleep.

He blinks a few times, adjusting his eyes to the harsh light. He gets up and walks to the window, irritatedly sliding them closed. 

Looking over at the bed, he notices it’s empty. He looks over and sees the bathroom door closed, and he assumes she’s probably inside. 

He sits back down on the couch, and rubs his face. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the t-shirt he’d let Y/N borrow the night before, folded neatly and placed on the bedside table. 

“Huh?” He walks over to the bathroom and knocks on the door. When he hears no answer, he turns the knob slowly and opens it up;

Empty.

He scratches the back of his neck and walks over to get his phone from the floor next to the floor. Three missed calls from Jooheon, one text from Y/N.

He opens up her text first.

Y/N: Hey- had to go take care of some stuff. I didn’t wanna wake u but dnt worry, caught an uber. Ttyl.

Sighing, he moves on to the missed calls from Jooheon. He braces himself for the call; Jooheon’s always been a morning person.

The phone rings once, twice, and on the third, Jooheon answers- as expected, his voice is chipper and riddled with excitement.

“Finally, dude!”

It makes Changkyun want to gag.

“Hey…you called?”

“We’re gong to breakfast.”

“I’m not sure I’m really up to it-”

“Shut the fuck up. We’re going. Get dressed, I’m on my way,” Jooheon hangs up before he can say anything else.

“Ugh…” He groans and tosses his phone next to him. 

He lazily throws on some clothes and stares at himself in the mirror as he brushes the alcohol out of his mouth. Though he isn’t hungover, he feels like trash. 

His phone lights up and he picks it up;

Jooheon: I’m outside.

Changkyun rolls his eyes and shoves his phone and keys in his pocket before walking out of his apartment.

Jooheon talks the entire way to the Denny’s Diner. He goes on about his fiance; the details of how he proposed, her reaction… a bunch of things Changkyun can’t quite bring himself to care about, because all he can think of is Y/N crying her eyes out last night at the bar.

“Are you okay, man?” Jooheon stares at him from across the table.

Changkyun looks down at the mug of black coffee in front of him.

“Jooheon…I want to be excited for you…”

Confusion fills Jooheon’s face, “What do you mean you ‘want to be’ excited for me?”

Changkyun brings the mug up to his face; the smell alone begins to wake him up. 

“You’re my best friend. I love you, man. I want no more than to cheer for you, and tell you that I’m happy for you- but you’ve only known this girl for a few months- don’t you think you’re going a little fast?” 

Jooheon stares back incredulously, “I mean, sure we haven’t known each other for a long time, but love doesn’t know time-”

“Don’t give me that shit,” Changkyun rolls his eyes.

“What shit? I love her. She loves me. I want to marry her- and either you’ll support me, or you won’t. It’s not like we’re hurting anyone-”

Changkyun slams the mug down on the table, and the few people eating around them turn to look toward their table.

“You know damn well that at least one person is hurt by the decision you’re about to make,” His eyes are filled with disdain for his best friend- a friend he’s starting to feel he no longer recognizes.

Jooheon leans back in his seat, “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

Lies.

“Oh really?” He leans forward, “Then tell me…why was Y/N the only one you didn’t tag in your engagement post, huh?”

Jooheon’s expression is a cross between guilty and sad, “I…forgot.”

More lies.

“Bullshit.” 

“Look, I didn’t invite you out here for you to bash me. Don’t I deserve to be happy? This is the biggest commitment I’ve ever made- shouldn’t I get to enjoy it?” Jooheon’s feeling sorry for himself, and it disgusts Changkyun.

“Then let me save you the money and leave now,” He gets up and throws a twenty down onto the table, “I’ll talk to you another time.”

At the bar last night, Changkyun wanted to take Y/N’s pain away- and if yelling at Jooheon is anything close to that, then he’ll do it.

Y/N sits, biting her nails as the anxiety builds in her chest. She’s non-confrontational by nature. If there’s a way to avoid argument or disagreement, she’ll do anything to do so- but this is one confrontation she can’t run from. Not this time…

“Y/N?” Jooheon asks, surprised to see her sitting on the floor outside of his door. He’s carrying bags of groceries, and his keys are in hand, ready to unlock the door.

“H-Hey Jooheon,” She puts on a small, fake smile.

He notices, but pretends not to, “What brings you here today?” He’s trying to sound casual, but he’s nervous. 

“I uhm…actually wanted to talk to you about something.”

He nods, not looking up at her, “Alright…come in.”

He unlocks the door and leads her into his apartment. It’s much bigger than Changkyun’s, and the furniture is a little more sleek, “What’s up?” 

He won’t meet her eyes, and she can tell he’s tense.

“I won’t be long… I just…I need to get this off of my chest…” She stands in front of him, and this time, he has no choice but to look her in her face…and what he sees in her eyes, breaks his heart.

“I’ve loved you for most of our lives. Everyone knows it. And even though we’ve never talked about it, Jooheon…I know you’ve known for a long time as well…”

“Y/N, I-”

“Don’t interrupt. I need to get this out.

I’m not telling you this because I’m expecting you to choose between her or me. In fact, I’m positive that you’d choose her, and that you’ll choose the next girl, and the girl after that.

I don’t want to be in denial anymore.

And I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide or tiptoe around because of me.

I just want you to know…” Tears well in her eyes.

Though the words coming out of her mouth are painful to speak, they’re equally freeing as well.

Jooheon’s heart is heavy, and he wants to hold her in his arms the way he usually would during a difficult moment.

“I want you to know that…I’m letting you go.”

Her heart feels immediately lighter than before.

Jooheon opens his mouth to say something, but she quickly turns around and walks out of the door before he can utter a single word. 

She doesn’t want to hear it.

Just like Jooheon, she’s made a choice as well;

herself.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Coming!”

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Dammit, I said I’m coming!”

Changkyun swings the door open, ready to snap at whoever dares to disturb the peace and quiet.

And there she is.

“Y/N?” He asks, confused.

Without a word, she quickly walks in and shuts the door behind her. 

He’s about to say something else, but before he can, she’s crashing her lips against his- and this kiss is different from last night’s;

It’s passionate, messy-

feverish.

He can’t think, can’t rationalize…

all that exists is her body pressed against him and her hands entangled in his hair.

“Changkyun...fuck me,” Her breathless whisper triggers a part of him that last night, he was able to successfully contain,

but now, he’s sober minded and the taste of her tongue in his mouth is too delicious to ignore any longer… 

“We can skip the wine and dine, go straight for the wind and grind; she wanna come, I can make it happen- fuck trying.”

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

Hey there! :) This is for the OC Ask Game, for Harrison: could you answer questions 1-6, 14 &15? Hope you're doing well!

Oh let’s just expose Harrison *cracks knuckles*

1: List five basic facts about your OC.

He’s turning 22 (just shy of his birthday in Moth Work)

He’s gay as fuuuuuh

He’s from Brooklyn, NY

He’s an only child

If you come for his jacket, he’ll come for your life (a very basic fact)

2: Post a line of dialogue from your OC.

This is dialogue from book 3 that I still can’t get over (for context, Reeve is criticizing Harrison’s choice of Walmart as a gourmet pie shop back when Walmart used to be a big thing in my books lmaooo):

Reeve: “So your gourmet pie shop is Walmart?”

Harrison: “Why yes, actually… Do you have a problem with saving money and living better?” 

lmfaoooo

Also an iconic interaction from Moth Work:

Lonan: “You’re patronizing me.”

Harrison: “You’re patronizing yourself.” 

3: Post a snippet from your writing that describes your OC.

So this is the first ever description of Harrison from book 1 (I had just turned thirteen when I wrote this):

There’s a faint click somewhere to my right and a soft glow soon illuminatesthe room, shattering the darkness into pieces. I shake off the fact that Ican’t see where the light is coming from, instead pointing the still loaded gunat the first thing I see, a boy who looks a bit older than me with what I makeout to be honey blond hair and the most pissed off expression on his face. 

(fun fact I really wrestled with describing the colour of Harrison’s hair at the time and probably changed “honey blonde” from “honey brown” like 5000 times, 13-year-old me had BEEF with his hair colour)

4: Post a snippet from your writing in which another OC describes your OC.

This is a very old description I scavenged to find from book 6 where Reeve vaguely describes Harrison in the first paragraph which is one way to go about it:

Beside me is wood smoke and copper, leather and strong coffee, all strung around human flesh. He moves with precision, like a player focused on a riveting chess match…

And here’s the most recent paragraph (and the last paragraph in Lonan’s POV) of Lonan describing Harrison when they meet up for the first time after brief hiatus (I haven’t shared this yet, so for context, Suzanna is Harrison’s mother):

In the kitchen, Suzanna laughs at Eliza’s joke, something vaguely about Geminis, or maybe she says alibis. He doesn’t quite hear it. He doesn’t mean to drop the rose, but it falls with a muffled thump between them, a floral border. Lonan blinks many times. He breathes many times. He counts many times. But after all the tests—the blinking, the breathing, the counting, the person at the door doesn’t change. Sunshine hair. Concerned mouth. Semi-crooked nose. Butterfly lashes. Eyes the colour of a kingfisher.

5: Describe your OC’s physical appearance.

Harrison’s the cutest guy in town, so cute he managed to convince @sarahkelsiwrites to get me to write book one! Without Harrison’s cuteness, this 8 book series/monstrosity would not exist! As I’ve said, Harrison’s a cutie and should definitely be treated as such (the downfall of Moth Work loool). He’s shorter than Lonan by just a bit tho I really can’t think of how tall my characters are because I am apparently short and can’t imagine anyone a foot taller than me, so all you need to know is he’s tall but still shorter than Lonan lol. He looks a lot like his Portuguese mother and takes on both her “semi-crooked nose, the same mouth, straight and concerned, the same markabove the eyebrow he always thought came from some sort of accident. Eventhough her eyes are brown and his are clearish and teal, it’s like he has hereyes too—soft and rimmed with lashes like butterfly wings” according to Lonan lool. He wears Lonan’s fake mom’s earring which is a pretty dangly blue gem. Though Harrison could look like anything and all he’d need to be Harrison is his leather jacket. In the book cover I designed, Lonan’s wearing it (ROOD) as he unknowingly takes it in chapter 6, but besides that one time, his jacket never comes off! He also wears his mother’s guardian angel necklace which is a newer edition, though a well-liked one as I always pictured him wearing a chain of some sorts! It’s important to note that when I was thirteen, the only way I’d describe Harrison’s eyes were as “burning turquoise” loool.

Here’s how I drew him for the book cover (though I couldn’t really get his eyes right are they burning turquoise-y enough??):

6: Describe your OC’s love life.

Messy! Harrison’s gone through a lot as a hopeless romantic, and has been lead to much heartbreak because of it. If he loves someone, he really loves someone, and this is very much seen in his feelings toward Lonan. Since we’re spilling the tea on Harrison, here’s his relationship with Lonan throughout the books + as Nothing But Thieves songs (because we’re going THERE):

Book 2

When the boys actually meet! Lonan didn’t exist in book 1 and I think Harrison’s sanity benefitted from this but anyway

They’re coworkers (back when this book was a dystopia lmao, Harrison took an open job as a tech analyst in Lonan’s government squad which was his pride and joy and I have since of course axed it)

They don’t like each other but can’t get enough of being enemies if u know what I mean

NBT song: Last Orders 

Book 3

This “love being your enemy” thing continues even when Lonan makes his redemption arc and he’s no longer an enemy lmaoo

We get to see their actual friendship develop toward the ¾ mark of the book

“Clearly these people care about each other” kind of vibe!

NBT song: Wake Up Call

Book 4

We see a new level of closeness develop between the boys, and though we’re in Reeve’s head, she def senses some tension mwahaha

NBT song: Afterlife

Book 5

Harrison really steps in as not only a friend for Lonan in this book, but a body of support while his mental health goes through it

NBT song: Reset Me

Book 6

They’re both mad at each other for almost this entire book but this gives us more of that tension we WANT

Reeve really notices this tea develop and she be sippin it the whole book

Toward the midpoint there’s definitely explicit suggestion of their relationship (Reeve can’t fully see this as she’s mostly concerned about herself but there’s definitely an ongoing relationship in this book that’s pretty turbulent):

NBT song: You Know Me Too Well

Moth Work

This relationship sees a lot of bad times

It ain’t a healthy relationship by any means and things start falling apart! Both boys have things they have to work out, that are currently causing lots of conflict!

The TEA I have not shared yet is that I *plan* for them to split up by the end of this book (though they never were really together in this book so it’s not really a breakup lol). Harrison moves to Brooklyn with his mom and Lonan stays in Vegas with Eliza (do with that what you will!!)

NBT song: Hostage (for Harrison) and Take This Lonely Heart (for Lonan)

14: What is one of your OC’s secrets?

That he likes waffles better than he like Lonan? Scandle! Harrison had an affinity for waffles in book one. Here are receipts:

A scene from book 3 (2015) that features a lot of iconic content (Harrison’s waffle kink, Foster being prime-time soft boi, grumpy Lonan, narrated by Reeve who manages to not inject her opinion once, my classic 2015 “witty” YA dialogue):

“Ah, well… your sister [the youngest, not Reeve lol] was talking about people, and how being mean is the only way that they listen… She may or may not have had a run-in with Harrison earlier, which is why the topic was brought up…” From next to him, Ris grunts over his steaming waffles, a full mouth when he turns his face toward Lonan who’s got the same laptop in front of his face, furiously tapping at the keyboard as he concentrates. 

Harrison actually reaches over and slams the lid shut.            

“Hey asshole,” he says around his mouthful of waffle. “Put the fucking technology away, and be a little social.” Lonan’s dead silent on the receiving end, and when I look closer at him, I realize it’s because his fists are tightly clenched and a vein in his forehead’s bulging. 

“That was three full days of work that you might’ve completely ruined!” Lonan hisses, eyes wide and angry as he stares at Harrison who’s scowling around his breakfast. 

“Anyway…” Foster continues awkwardly. “Basically, helping people is sometimes–” He’s cut off as a giant waffle is smothered up to his face, Harrison holding it out tauntingly. “What the hell are you doing?” 

“You know you want the waffle… Waffles…”  

Also to the waitress while he and Reeve bond at a diner:

“Thank you.” Harrison says with a wide smile, staring at the waffles like they’re the love of his life. “Oh my fucking god.” He mumbles, and I assume that I’m not meant to here that. 

15: Your OC is given the chance to go back in time. Where do they go and what do they do?

I think there are a lot of things he’d like to change in his past, namely his relationship with his mother who he’s estranged from until the end of Moth Work. I think he would’ve liked to see her more in his teens (despite being a hard ass when she does show up in Moth Work). He’d go back to Brooklyn and like chill in a pizzeria with his mom lol. On a lighter note, I think he’d also like, join ABBA or something.

Thanks for asking!

[haunteyed]

✧･ﾟ(   hecate + ming xi + cisfemale   ) 𝒎𝒂𝒎𝒎𝒂 𝒎𝒊𝒂 !!  have you seen (   heidi liu  ) around ? (   she  ) has been in kaos for (   one year   ). the (   thirty year old  ) is a/an (   psychiatrist   ) from (   henan, china   ). people say they can be (   shrewd   ) but maybe that’s not too bad ‘cause they can also be (   captivating   ). whenever i think of them, i can’t help but think of (   the faint, lingering smell of incense, weary 3 o’clock mornings and yellowed, dog-eared paperbacks   ).  ･ﾟ✧  (  penned by kon, 19, gmt+8, she/her  ). 

content warning: xenophobia, bullying, implied violence, dogs (pls let me know if i should tag anything else!)

she was born in henan, china on september 21, 1989. having a son would have been preferable for the couple but they settled for her instead.

spent more time with her mother than her father as he worked in the city.

her parents were pious buddhists and she was brought up with it so she was no stranger to lighting up joss sticks at the altar in their house, observing different special occasions.

on the year she turned twelve, her father had gotten the promotion he wanted. the catch? they had to move all the way to america.

at an awkward age, an awkward time, in a country where she barely knew how to speak the language, she couldn’t help but feel impending doom.

maybe she’s right on the money; she stands out like an odd thumb with her pale skin and jet black hair among the freckled, tanned kids with lighter hair. and that’s just in the small town airport.

she’s not one to let small things hurt her but when it happens everyday, any wound inflicted would be left to fester.

(bullying, xenophobia tw) these things spread and multiply; they start with schoolyard taunts, stinging chants, mocking words, told her to go back to china but the kicker was when one of neighbours suddenly provided them with more material.

it’s a small, christian town where everyone knew everyone and anything different that happens is bound to be noticed. and then shunned.

“she’s a witch. my mom saw her and her mom and dad burning stuff and incense thingies in their backyard. she said they had sacrificial offerings and were worshipping the devil.”

it’s not true, of course, but it didn’t matter if it wasn’t the truth. it only mattered if they believed it to be.

she suffered the brunt of it all, with her father working more often than he was at home and her mother staying at home if she’s not outside shopping for groceries.

(implied violence cw) the only time she loses control is when they make jabs at her mother and the teachers have to call her parents in to take her home.

the scholarship to an out-of-state college is an escape, and she dives into her studies like a fish taking to water. it takes long for her to complete her bachelor’s, medical degree and it takes a little longer for her residency when she suddenly made the decision to complete it in athens, greece.

finished her training and worked at the hospital she was a resident before eventually transferring to a psych clinic her senior opened in kaos.

she’s worked there for a little over a year and has no current plans of leaving.

i know this may be .. kind of vague save for some details but feel free to ask me about anything! you can also find other information on her profile (trigger warning: dogs! skip headcanon 4). i don’t have any plots up right now because i can’t think for shit but i’m pretty sure i could dive into ur messages and try think of one for our characters <33 LOVE YALL MWAH

p.s. im mainly gonna use discord for plotting bc my data is #dyin BUT do tell me if u prefer doing it via ims!!!

edit: yeah i thought of plots so i guess i take back my “can’t think for shit” statement lol

PLOT IDEAS: (edit: go here to see what’s taken and what’s not)

(dogs tw) a pet sitter: she has two dogs and one of them needs a lot of exercise!! heidi can’t do that on the daily so this is where u come in!! benefits for ur chara: loving dogs, nice person in need of ur service and occasionally free food bc sometimes heidi forgets to modify a new recipe for one person and ends up cooking for six ... or more

friends: say hello again to general term that’s pretty much self-explanatory; i’m gonna put more bullets down below to separate them but ur chara doesn’t have to be restricted to just one!!

met thru mutual friends and it’s only awkward when they’re alone together

former classmates that never really talked much before but right now it’s just like oh? you’re here too i see what a Weird Coincidence

met in the hospital she was a resident at in athens; could be there to see someone they knew there or a doctor, they worked there before, etc.

they got close to each other much faster than she thought they would and now they’re close friends!! cute!! the Fluff pls give me it 

someone who encourages her to “live a little”, meet someone new *wink wonk*; not necessarily a bad influence, could be related to a date plot

a former client! even though their condition has more or less stabilised, she still can’t help but worry a little about them

do they like cooking? do they like reading horror/supernatural books? or are they a fellow pet owner? chances are, she’s already struck up a conversation with them about it

current client: self-explanatory, could discuss how their doctor-patient relationship is generally like or how they feel about her 

a date: someone introduced them to her or vice versa / they matched on a dating app (which would be a friend’s idea) and we could see how it goes! doesn’t have to end up in a romantic plot lol

there could be more but PLEATHE give me all the plots thanks so much xoxo

you can find her pinterest board here (?? if it’s ugly i’m sorry?? i have no idea how it works but i will try to edit it once i do lol) and it isn’t much of a playlist but below are some of the few songs i associate with heidi!

reality / lew, joie tan

nocturnal / shaun 

the kids don’t wanna come home / declan mckenna

dancing with your ghost / sasha sloan

elusive / gentle bones

off she goes / bad suns

into black / blouse