#i miss her snifle

[saetoshis]

me when me when when kitagawa when she when

[s-darling-art]

‘Always Forever’ by Cults playing in the distance

[garoujo]

hiiiii !!! what are your thoughts on reader bumping into ex!gojo at a party, after not having seen him for years? his unboxing has taken a toll on me i’m patiently waiting for anyone to write fics for him 🤸🏻‍♀️

✩ ˛˚ . GOJO SATORU — you don’t realise how much your heart still calls for your ex until you see him again, years later.

ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ contents! sort of angsty but mostly fluff! ex!boyfie gojo, ex’s to lovers sort of vibe, very much right person wrong time ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! i’m so sorry this took me so long to get to nonnie, i’m also sorry this turned out sad snifle! i wrote it to this song so i blame that! i’m sorry i just had to post for him tonite!

maybe you should’ve just stayed at home, you think despite the way you know you don’t mean it, as you let the drink in your hand swirl around it’s cup a few more minutes longer. it’s lost its bubbles slightly, it’s leaning more towards an hour old— still untouched as you lean yourself against the kitchen counter while your friends catch up around you.

it’s been a while since you’ve seen everyone like this, a few years atleast you’d assume and it was fun, recalling back the memories— the drunken nights and the time you spent together, the seasons you experienced. there’s a sentimental sort of feeling to it all, you realise.

everyone’s different now, not only in looks— in spirit maybe, married and settled down, running their own business or jet setting abroad. your childhood bestfriend is taller, she smiles softer now— maybe it’s the ring on her finger or the love in her life. it suits her.

“hey! you still with us?” she calls to you, just as you hear the apartment door close again— alerting you to more guests despite the way there’s probably around fifteen of you here already. you jolt slightly, sending her a smile before you’re placing down your glass and excusing yourself to the bathroom.

you allow yourself a few breaths to relax before you smile at yourself in the mirror, it’s nice being able to see everyone again— not realising how much you’d missed them and suddenly you realise that you’re so happy to have lived.

you pat yourself on the cheeks as you give yourself a silent little nod, soft sort of smile in place as you push your way through the bathroom door again— maybe a little too determined to seize the night when you send yourself into a hard chest as you clumsily leave the room.

“ah! sorry, are you okay?” you begin as you try to steady yourself but there’s hands there to keep you from falling before you even realise you’re on your way down.

“oh? it’s been so long you’re jumping into my arms already?” familiar, you think as the teasing response sounds smoothly and you can’t help the way your body seems to stiffen at the sound— like instinct. you look up and there’s a warm sort of squeeze on your heart at the crystalline gaze that looks back, cheeky grin in place.

you should’ve expected to see him here after all, gojo satoru had always been a constant in your past, up until a few years ago. he was your now ex-boyfriend after all.

he always had this air that seemed to follow him around — this noble sort of presence but he was even more handsome now, unfortunately. he’d grown a little more in height but he filled it out better now. his hair is longer but his gaze is just as pretty, as breathtaking when it meets yours.

you’re pretty sure if this were a movie there’d be a trail of women at gojo’s feet — back of their hand against their forehead and fawning for his attention.

you can still recall the nights you cried on your kitchen floor for him.

“hey, after all these years, you’re getting shy on me?” you didn’t realise you’d zoned out until you blink up to see gojo looking at you, teasing tone and his long fingers flicking gently at your forehead until you’re sending him a cute frown. he remembers that look all too well.

“no, shutup! i just didnt expect to see you.” you fall back into the dynamic quickly, like he’d never left— both of you parted ways gradually you think. it’s not that the love wasn’t there, but you just felt like your life had taken you down separate paths.

gojo satoru was your right person, wrong time is what you’d tell strangers at parties.

“are you sure? it seems you had an attack planned for my arrival, pretty suspicious i’d say.” he goads, teasing you again and you roll your eyes before you’re shoving playfully at his chest.

“you’re still so annoying.”

“hm? are you just embarrassed i figured you out? did you really think you could catch me off guard with a move like that?” you wish you could say you hate gojo, truly. but it’s been years and instead you realise that it’s quite the opposite, because he’s already got you laughing like you’re both teenagers again.

sometimes you wish you’d known him sooner, even just so you could love him longer than you can now.

“yeah right, i could totally beat you if i tried.” you laugh again, teasing as a cheeky grin settles on your expression and gojo squeezes at your shoulder playfully before you’re both finding yourself returning to the group. but the laughter doesn’t falter.

“you want a beer, satoru?” your friend asks as you both enter the lounge and you cast the snowy haired man to your right a glance before he answers. he won’t take one, he never was a drinker.

“nah, aren’t i fun enough already? it wouldn’t be fair.” he jokes, you all laugh. like old times.

the night continues and you catch yourself looking in your ex boyfriends.. in gojo’s direction a little more frequently than you’d like to admit. but you’re having fun, you realise as you all exchange jokes— even going as far as to pull up videos from your old phones, little vlogs from your days at the beach, shopping trips and more.

you breathe again, nestling back into your place on the couch as the rest of your friends get up to dance to one of your old playlists from a few years ago. you remember it well, like the soundtrack to some coming of age movie.

you allow yourself to look at him once more, to take in the cut of his features— the way his lips still upturn at the corners when he grins and the way he still talks with his hands. you think it’s cute that he still wears his hair down, still doesn’t do the top button of his shirts— you wonder if he still takes four sugars in his coffee.

you feel something twist in your chest with the thought before you look away again. you think it’s embarrassing in a way, the way you’re wanting must show when you look at him. maybe it’s because you already know the feel of his hand on yours or the soft voice he’d always use to call you out of sleep, the taste of his coffee on his lips when he’d kiss you as the sun woke up.

you liked the now, but then you remember how gojo satoru loved you and it’s like you’re aching all over again.

you breathe deep before the couch cushion to your left sinks as someone sits down and you know it’s him when it grounds you.

“you’re not dancing, gojo?” you begin before he can say anything, giggle despite the turmoil in your mind, your heart, and he sends you a soft sort of look before he chuckles.

“oh no, after all those times you told me i was a terrible dancer? it broke my heart so much, i’ll never dance again.” still a drama queen, you think to yourself as you watch him press his palm to his chest — throwing his head back against the back of the couch as he sighs.

“yeah right, you had a great dance partner to level you out back then though.” gojo laughs at that one, nudging his thigh into yours slightly when he does, but neither of you seem to pull away at the touch.

he settles down and you let the silence hang in the space where you both take a breath before he speaks again,

“satoru is fine, you know. i was always satoru to you, no?” gojo questions gently, although still trying to make it more lighthearted than awkward, and you feel the tension leave your shoulders when you exhale.

“okay then, satoru.” comes more naturally than you’d like to admit, but you’re not ashamed of it either when you notice the soft sort of glow in gojo’s eyes when you speak it with fondness.

he looks at you, nods like he’s smug, then pushes himself up to stand. emphasising how tall he is as he sends you a cheeky sort of grin, followed by his arm outstretching to offer you his hand.

“well oh great dance partner, i may need your expertise. you wouldn’t want me to embarrass my handsome self infront of all our old friends, would you?” gojo whines playfully as he bows towards you, free hand on his heart like he’s begging you for his life.. just his pride this time though.

“‘toru..” you begin, a soft sort of breathe and you wonder if he can hear the hope in it— your own hand twitching by your side.

“come on, for old times sake. you said it yourself, i cant dance without my partner there to lead me, right?” gojo satoru had always been terribly convincing, you realise as you recall all the other moments he’d whisked you off into other great things. memories that you still look fondly back on now.

“fine, for old times sake, satoru.” you finally answer before your hand is resting on his, noticing that is palm still feels warm when he pulls you to your feet.

for the love that once was, and the love that remains. 

© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[kaoharu]

ill play my flute for him when i wake up tmrw

IKUMI SOURCE BIRTH YAYAYAYAAYAYYY

[allegra-writes]

"Bad together"

Prologue: Benjamin Reilly

Peter Parker x Reader

General audiences

Warnings: none.

"And if I'm dead to you

Why are you at the wake?

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed"

My tears ricochet - Taylor Swift

"... It's a disaster! Look at her! It's like someone took a look at Black Cat, selected everything that made her sexy and then took it out!"

Black Cat. The name froze the young photographer on his tracks right outside his boss' office. He hadn't heard that name in a long time, the last sighting had been well over a year ago. He would know.  After all, it had been him, the very last person to have seen Felicia Hardy, alive or dead.

"What are you talking about? That looks hot af, not to mention badass!" Jade's persuasive voice reached his ears, making him smirk: It was no secret the chief editor had a soft spot for the young intern. And, on her part, the petite brunette was a firecracker. Poor old Jameson didn't stand a chance. "Come on, dad. Single handedly taking down three of the Kingpin's goons? That's impressive. It deserves to be one of the slides!" 

"Not if we don't get a higher quality picture. That blurry video is good enough for a thumbnail, but not for a slide" Slides were a big deal, they were the Dailybugle.net's equivalent of a front page, and if J. Jonah Jameson took something seriously, it was his web site. He prided himself in the quality of the "receipts" of his "tea", as if that validated the trashiness of the bullshit articles he posted, more fiction from hyper imaginative wannabe writers than serious work from real reporters. 

"Well, then let's get the pictures. Where is that star photographer of yours?" 

The photographer rolled his eyes, typical Jade. As if the queen of cool didn't know his name. As if she hadn't graced his bed a handful of times already. 

"That's a good question. Dolores, get me Reilly!"

"I'm here, Jonah" Ben finally stepped inside the office, throwing an envelope on Jameson's desk before throwing himself on a chair across it. He could feel Jade's eyes on him, almost like a physical caress, trailing from the long, slick back curls on the top of his head, to the muscles of his arms, threatening to rip open the seams at the sleeves of his white t-shirt, to his jean clad thighs. Still, he didn't turn to look at her, refusing to give her the satisfaction. 

"What do you have for me today, boy?"

Ben gesticulated vaguely with his head in the direction of Jade, and Jameson caught the hint. 

"Jade, out!" 

"But, dad, my story!" The petulant reply left her mouth before she could stop it, undoubtedly the product of years of habit. But she had the grace to look embarrassed and leave the office without another word, trying to save whatever professionalism she had left. 

Once she was gone, Jameson opened the envelope, flipping through the various pictures of a masked figure swinging around New York in a black and red suit. 

"Hmmm… these are good" the older man praised, staring at the images of a frustrated robbery at 5th avenue

Ben snifled nocomitically,

"There was a fire at 16th avenue happening at the same time" He offered, "we could use that. Spider-Man forgets his roots and leaves his old neighborhood to fend for itself, running off to save some pretty socialite…"

"Oh, that is excellent! See, this is why I like you, kid. You have initiative. Unlike these snowflakes out there. Oh, but Spider-Man is a hero. Hero, my ass"

"Well, when you watch your so called hero sit back and do nothing as your life gets destroyed" Ben shrugged, "the rose colored glasses tend to fall off…"

Jameson made a face at that,

"Yeah, about that… I'm sorry. For the role the Daily Bugle played on that…"

Ben shook his head, 

"You thought you were getting the truth out there. It's not your fault to have been played, along with half the world. Plus," he added, sounding genuinely enthusiastic, "you gave me this job. And now we can really tell the truth"

"Even when our idea of the truth is somehow different" The older man scoffed, flipping around a picture of Spider-Man sat on what appeared to be a hammock of his own webs, eating a hamburger and reading something that looked suspiciously like a comic book, "Still hung up on that high schooler theory of yours?"

"Well, if it talks like a brat and acts like a brat…" Ben took out another envelope, this time containing a few burger king wrappers and, effectively, a spider-man comic book. 

"Where did you even get these?"

"Harlem" was Ben's curt reply, and Jameson knew that was as exact a location as he was going to get. 

"So you still believe this is a copycat? Some kid playing dress up"

Ben simply shrugged again. 

"Well, there seems to be an epidemic of those lately" Jameson admitted, indicating Ben to come closer, passing a tablet to him, "Jade just handled me this, take a look"

Ben took a deep breath, steeling himself, already knowing what he was going to see in it. Yet, a part of him couldn't help but hope to be wrong. To hope the silver haired figure facing three much bigger, stronger looking ones as he pressed play, wasn't the same one he had spent weeks memorizing last summer. Wasn't the body he had found solace in, when everything fell apart, once again, for the hundredth time in his life. 

To hope it wasn't you. 

But when in his twenty-two or so years of existence, had things ever gone his way? 

Ben felt the screen crack under his fingertips.

"I've heard of her" he lied through his teeth, "didn't even think she was real, to be honest. Extremely elusive, and cunning." That much was true, "I don't understand how something as mundane as a security camera managed to catch her…" 

Unless you wanted to be caught, that was. 

"Well, I don't care if she's the fucking Loch Ness monster, I want an HD picture of her on my desk tomorrow to go with Jade's article. I already have a headline: New Catastrophe Jen wreaks havoc on Hell's Kitchen" Jameson's eyes lit up with glee as he weaved his hands up in the air, like writing on an invisible marquee. 

Ben snorted

"Don't you mean Calamity Jane?"

Jameson's face fell, the color rising to his cheeks, characteristic vein popping on his forehead. 

"I meant what I meant, boy! Now, what are you still doing here? You have 24 hours to get me that picture"

"I'm going to need 72," came Ben's unphased reply, "and I want twice what you pay me for the spidey pics"

Jameson's vein looked about ready to explode,

"48 hours. And deal."

Ben jumped from his seat and bolted out of the office before his boss could change his mind, not realizing until it was too late that he was on a collision course with a sweet looking short haired blonde girl. 

"Watch where you're going! Jeez!"

"Me? You're the one who crashed against me!" 

Ben rolled his eyes, but crouched next to the girl anyway, helping her gather the papers that had been sent flying on impact back together.

"Peter? Oh my god, is that you?"

Of course. What an idiot, he should had recognized that annoying, shrilly voice the second he heard it. It had caught him off guard, something he knew he couldn't afford. But how could he had ever imagine he could run into Betty fucking Brant, Yale cum laude, in the freaking dailybugle.net headquarters of all places?

"Sorry, sweetheart. You must confuse me with someone else…" He mumbled, lowering his head even more in a vain attempt to hide his face.

"Of course not!" She insisted, "You're Peter, Peter Parker, we went to Midtown together!"

"Miss, I have no idea what you're talking about…"

"Don't be silly, Peter!" She chuckled, completely deft to his tone or the way his whole demeanor had changed the second she had called him by the old name. "How have you been? Oh, just wait until I tell Ned, he's going to be so-"

CRACK.

At last, the tablet that had been in peril ever since Jameson had put it in Ben's hands, the one that contained his assignment, met its demise, both broken halves falling to the ground, along with all the papers he had picked up for Betty. It was several moments before he could get the shaking of his hands under control, before the tar black rage inside him subsided enough for him to be able to move without shifting. But it had.

"Peter Parker is dead." He deadpanned, dark brown eyes finally meeting Betty's stunned blue ones, "Tell Ned that, he'll probably be glad to hear it"

With that, he stood up and walked away, leaving a confused and agitated Betty behind. 

To be continued...

[ofsupernovcs]

Was there an expression of relief on her face. Maybe there was hope. "Well everything is a statistic-people call it fate but I don't belief in fate. Fate is too blind." Nova rationalized. "I missed your random quips too."

Nova found herself closing herself off as well. This was the time to be more inquistive more thoughtful. Get her closure all that cliche stuff like in those movies. But this wasn't clean this was messy. And Nova didn't know how to solve it.

"If I said it wasn't it would make me selfish." She whispered just barely audibly. She said quickly. The nurse shook her head. "Forget I said that. This isn't about me." Another snifle and two tears streaming her face. She took another sip of her drink- funny how bitter it was.

"Mikaelson. Briggs Mikaelson?" She said slowly as if she rationalized it. "Unless Briggs is no longer your name too." The sentence feeling like lead on her lips. This was the equilvalent of talking to a stranger.

"As long as Freya and Keelin." She paused trying to pronounce their names. "Have your best interests at heart then I'm glad they assisted off the streets. But-" Nova paused.

"As someone who followed the case of Briggs Vaughn-I am very invested." She confessed. "But I'm afraid Blank Mikaelson's rationale will frighten me." She looked at him.

"Dare I ask what is so taboo you couldn't reach out for seven years"

"I remember," he offered quietly, even as she questioned if he was the same person, even as he questioned if it was fair to admit to keeping any memories at all. "Never understood statistics or how they were useful, but I did miss your random facts anyway."

He never expected to handle this well, and he was proving himself right. It felt almost impossible to explain, maybe needing about an additional seven years to go through it all. But he owed it to her to try.

"No, it's not." He so rarely apologized, his moms had probably heard the words more than any other, but it was also something owed to Nova. It was not something, however, he felt should be met with forgiveness in return. He didn't say it for that. Not while the pain was still so clearly etched into her features, into her tears.

"A Mikaelson." The only thing in this entire conversation so far that had felt good to say, though he knew he couldn't leave it there. "Spent some time on the streets after I made it out of the fire, then I met Freya and Keelin. They took me in, adopted me, and I've been with them the last seven years. Mom owes this place actually." Downing the rest of his drink, he motioned to the bartender to keep it coming. "That's not what you really want to know though, is it? You want to know why."

[yahyahgukkie]

how he makes you cum| l.mark

mark would admit that he had never made a girl cum with just his dick before. it was something that; although he wouldn’t tell you, he was in the works of perfecting. mark knew that every girl was different, and that different things made different people tick. so, when he met you, he somehow felt like the gods had sent you to him specifically.

you were everything mark had every dreamt of. you wanted to explore and try almost everything in the book. in a sense, you were filthier than him, and mark absolutely loved it.

mark wanted you to be his metaphorical first time. he wanted you to pop his ‘dick only’ cherry. and the more he thought about it, the more motivated he became, it wasn’t just for him at this point any more, mark wanted to give this to you.”

“i love you.” mark mumbles into the valley of your breast, kissing his way up the delicate expanse.

“love you too.” you gasped, arching up into marks kisses. you locked your fingers into his dark locks, tenderly massaging his scalp.

“i’ve missed you so much, how long has it been?” mark feigning his innocence. looking at you through his lashes, kissing his way over, and over, until.

“fuccck, mark.” he took your nipple into his mouth, licking over the hardened bud. mark used his other hand to softly massage your other breast. he moaned against your skin, and tugged at the other nipple for added stimulation.

“m’gonna fuck you so good.” mark is over you now, looking down into your clouded eyes. you moan in response, biting your lip when you felt it. the large head of marks cock at your entrance, pressing forward until it was fully inside you.

“so good, s-so good mark~” he chuckles at you, amused at how horny you had actually managed to be.

“yeah? can you take me all? i know you cry sometimes, saying it’s too big.“ there’s a tingle of embarrassment that, when settled over your body, fades into pleasure.

“how long has it been baby? two months, three? do you still think you can take mark lee?” you almost laugh, your own wave of amusement washing over you. mark doesn’t give you the chance though, he shoves himself in you, his hips flush against your own.

“there’s my pretty little slut, i missed her.” you tremble in his hold, unable to catch your breath. mark rocks himself into you a few times, experimenting, testing the waters.

“mark, please. i want you to fuck me.” mark moans, mouth falling open, head tipping backwards in ecstasy.

“you want daddy to ruin you? you want him to destroy you? hm?”

“yes, please. i want daddy to ruin me.” if you could see yourself right now you’d see a blushing mess. mark talks dirty, but now, mark is dirty talking. the desire dripping from his words fuel your ego, and you don’t remember ever feeling so wanted.

“lift your legs baby.” you do as you’re told, following marks movements. he sits back on his heels, pulling you to him until he could widen your thighs by the knee.

mark smiles at you, his big bad dom demeanor deteriorating. you see a slight slimmer of uncertainty showing through before all absolute hell breaks loose.

mark has you pinned under him by the throat, fucking his unbelievably thick member into you. he doesn’t let up either, thrusts after thrusts of every inch mark is packing.

mark nearly cums on the spot, you’re so fucking wet that mark slides right into you perfectly. your hand is placed on the center of his chest, somehow steadying yourself. oddly you feel at peace, like this was your purpose in life; being marks cock slut.

“you’re so fucking wet jagi.” mark whimpers, his facade crumbling as he loses himself in you.

“kiss me, please.” you plea, whining into his mouth once it meets your own. mark smiles, resting his head against your own.

“i-i’m gonna switch- fuck.” marks hips stutter for a brief moment before finding his pace again.

“i’m going to switch position.”

you don’t have time to react, mark manhandles you into the new position, throwing your legs over his shoulders.

“oh my fucking god!” mark is so deep inside you that you can barely feel your toes. you don’t know where he starts and you end.

“gonna make you come all over my fucking cock, just like you fucking deserve. you want daddy to make you cum princess?”

“yes daddy, please, please, please!” you’re sure the other boys are in the dorms somewhere, all sitting in one room listening to mark fuck the shit out of you. you’ll apologize, smile at them and eat with them just like mark wasn’t molding you into the mattress five minutes before.

mark knows you’re close, he can tell by the way you keep clenching around him, and your hand on his chest is curling against his skin.

“look at me,” mark turns your eyes toward him, staring into your own with an unreadable expression.

“i’m gonna make you cum so fucking hard, and i want you to look at me the entire time.”

you stare up at mark, just like he wants. a cock drunken look on your face. mark swears his heart skips a beat, you’re so goddamn perfect and all his.

“m’yours.” you promise, cumming with a sob.

you shake, on the bed. tears falling from the corners of your eyes as you cum. you can’t get a single breath out completely, as sob after sob racks through you. your fingers now lay limply over his shoulder as you silently pant.

you feel mark cum, spurt after spurt of milky white cum filling you.

“w-was that too much?” mark ask, wiping away your tears hurriedly. he kisses you, really trying to quiet you down before someone came to investigate.

“baby, hey hey, it’s okay. shhhh.” mark soothes you, kissing along your skin. he squeezes your hips softly, calming you slowly.

“i’m sorry.” you snifle, shyly cuddling into him.

“no, it’s um, it’s okay.” mark looks down inbetween you both.

“oh,” he muses.

“i made you cum, i made you cum a lot.” you whine, shaking your head softly.

“i’m not doing this now, i want to shower.” mark gets off you immediately. he finds you one of his shirts and then dresses himself.

“mark.”

he looks up at you, like you’re his everything, his goddess, the love of his li-

“don’t fucking tell anyone about this.”

[ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult]

What a Night-Chuck Bass Imagine

Requested: Yes

Warnings: mentions of sexual harassment and usual party shenanigans

Gif is from slytherinnpride

 Estelle’s “American Boy” blasted throughout the entire Plaza penthouse. The penthouse was filled with the Upper East Side elite’s teenage children, all wearing the nicest night out clothes money could buy. The endless flow of Dom Perignon, multiple seduction attempts, and short trips to the back bathroom would have one convinced that it was a typical Friday night high school party. In a way, it was a typical high school party.

  But it was Wednesday.

  Y/N Y/L/N had been snapping about that fact since Y/B/F/N burst into her bedroom an hour prior, commanding that Y/N join her at Dina Maxfield’s party. While Y/N was not the biggest party animal, she did like to attend a few here and there; she could not get into Princeton with subpar grades after all? But, her enthusiasm for attending parties was drastically diminshed after Lucas broke up with her via text. So, Y/N was more than happy hiding away from high school and all other high society parties in the safety of her room, watching Buffy: The Vampire Slayer.

   “Y/N, it has been a month since it happened!” Y/B/F/N had declared as she teetered further into Y/N’s room in her towering Louboutin stilettos. “The appropriate mourning period is over and it’s time for you to have fun!”  

  Y/N’s nose immediately wrinkled in distaste and she had burrowed herself further into her bed, as though her blankets were steel and not cashmere. “Go away,” she’d groaned. 

  Y/B/F/N had continued to ignore Y/N as she stormed into her closet and began rifling around the expansive area. “You have all these amazing pieces and you refuse to take any opportunity to wear them.” After selecting the most amazing dress to go with some Chanel pumps, she returned to Y/N.

  The poor girl had simply laid in her bed, y/e/c eyes looking dead as she watched the plasma TV mounted on her wall. For Y/N, it could have always been worse, she could not have the energy to try to go to school. At least she was moving. 

  Y/B/F/N had sighed and sat next to her. “I know this breakup hurt you a lot, but, you cannot let him hobble you like this. He definitely hasn’t been holed up in his house watching TV every night.” She shook her head. “I know you don’t wanna hear this, Y/N, but, things will only get worse while you’re here.” 

  “But...I need to know how this episode ends,” Y/N had muttered. 

  “You have TiVo!” 

  Y/N was not quite sure when she broke, somewhere between being forced into that Gaultier dress she thought she’d never wear and arguing against having her hair flat-ironed, but she did know, deep inside, that Y/B/F/N was right. She was sick of missing out on all the coolest parties and the most insane antics. Lucas was never that fun to go out with anyway, he always got too jealous if a boy even glanced at Y/N. Y/B/F/N had to be a better party partner. 

  Y/B/F/N snatched up some glasses of Dom and handed one to Y/N. “To getting out of the house!” 

  “To getting out of the house,” Y/N echoed. 

  The glasses clinked and Y/N savored the taste of the expensive champagne. The song switched to Lady Gaga’s “Paparazzi” and Y/B/F/N coaxed Y/N into dancing to it. 

   “One second.” Y/N downed the rest of the champagne, grabbed another glass, and let Y/B/F/N drag her out onto the dancefloor.

   Y/B/F/N shimmied her hips to the music and playfully twirled Y/N around, causing the other girl to laugh. As she kept drinking, Y/N found it even more enjoyable to laugh and laughed so hard, her stomach cramped. 

   “It’s been so long since I laughed like that,” Y/N breathed absent-mindedly.

  “Hey, I’ll have whatever you’re having,” Serena teased as she hugged her from behind.

   “Hi!” Y/N squealed as she clumsily threw her arms around Serena. 

   Serena chuckled as she helped Y/N balance. “How much has she had to drink?” She mouthed to Y/B/F/N.

   Y/B/F/N held up two fingers in response and Serena’s eyes widened. “It’s been awhile.” 

  Y/N and the blonde were not the best of friends, but they were close enough since second grade. Whenever Blair didn’t go to a party, Y/N would be the one to hold Serena’s hair back as she threw up in the bathroom. Y/N was so proud that Serena was doing better since she came back. 

  Serena wore a white sequined mini dress with silver pencil-thin Jimmy Choo pumps. Her hair fell down to her back in free curls. 

  “Hey, I’m glad that you came out tonight; I’ve missed you,” Serena said as she pulled Y/N to stand at arms-length.

  “Same. I would have been out sooner but Y/B/F/N dragged me,” Y/N giggled.

  “She’ll thank me later,” Y/B/F/N breathed.

  Y/N was not sure how much time past but she knew she had around four drinks when she heard Rihanna’s “Please Don’t Stop the Music”. Y/N threw her head back. 

  “I love this song!” Her closed eyes and high pitched voice punctuated her emotions.

  Kati and Isabelle, who had been sitting in the same area of couches as her, giggled at Y/N. 

  “Do you wanna dance?” Y/N swung herself forward, gripping the couch beneath her for leverage. “I’m gonna dance.” 

  Y/N bounced back out onto the dancefloor, giggling as she threw her hands in the air and twirled. She tossed her head back and forth, rolled her neck, and kick, ball changed at some point. She didn’t care, she didn’t care and it was wonderful. There was no Lucas to drag her off the dancefloor, no students who may be documenting this for later; it was just her and Rihanna.

   And something hard pressing against th small of her back.

  Y/N lazily opened her eyes and furrowed her brow. At first, she thought it may be Y/B/F/N joking around, but then, she spotted Y/B/F/N across the room, doing jello shots with some basketball players. 

  “You’re so hot,” a guttural voice husked in her ear.

  Y/N’s stomach tightened and she felt her body tense up. “Thanks?” 

  A pair of thick hands began roaming over her body, squeezing harshly in the places with more fat. Y/N yelped and grabbed at the wrists. 

  “Okay, that’s enough.” She tried to keep her voice ligthhearted as she took some steps away from the person. She did not get far in the crowd when she was yanked back by her wrist. 

  Y/N gagged on the fog of CK One and looked up into some angry green eyes. Then, she noted the navy Brooks Brothers polo and chinos. Trevor Addison, captain of the swim team. 

  “C’mon, Y/N, relax, it’s a party,” he chided. 

  “I am relaxed. I just...I just need to find Y-Y-Y/B/F/N,” she stuttered out.

  Trevor tsked at her and pulled her against his sweaty chest. “You don’t sound too good; let me take you to the bedroom so you can lie down, it’s the least I could do.” 

  Trevor started pulling her in the direction of the bedroom and Y/N did her best to fight it. Unfortunately, her inhibited motor skills were making her fumble and flail instead of fight.

   “Let go of me!” she cried, but no one could hear her over the music. 

  Trevor laughed callously. “Please, don’t act like you didn’t want this, dressed like the slut you are!”    Y/N pushed against him, tears welling in her eyes. “Stop it, Trevor!” 

  “No!” Trevor snapped. “Peter, Jack, Will, and Lucas all bragged about how good you are in bed. Now, it’s my turn!” 

  Y/N’s stomach dropped as the tears started to roll down her cheeks. With everything going on with Serena, Blair, Nate, Chuck, Dan, and Jenny, Y/N’s stunts went under the radar. She felt the dark cloud of shame hang over her and wondered if that was why no one really approached her after her breakup with Lucas despite her not really being social or open. 

  “Trevor, can’t you hear? Y/N isn’t into it or you,” Chuck drawled. 

  Y/N perked up and could not keep herself from gaping at Chuck. He stood behind Trevor, his shoulders relaxed and dark eyes staring right at Trevor. An outsider would think Chuck looked bored, but it was the total opposite. In fact, he was enraged and it looked like it was taking everything in his power for him not to punch Trevor.

  Trevor laughed in Chuck’s face. “Oh? And what are you gonna do? You can’t buy me off, Chuck, my father owns the biggest media conglomerate on the east coast!” 

  “That assumption is almost laughable, but I can assure you,” Chuck took a step closer, “if you do not leave Y/N alone, you will be thrown out of here once every member of the soccer team has a turn kicking your ass.” 

  Trevor narrowed his eyes at Chuck. “They wouldn’t!” 

  “Sure, they would.” Chuck continued glaring at Trevor for a moment. It felt like a decade to Y/N and she would have moved if she didn’t think it would escalate the situation.

  Trevor huffed and pushed Y/N towards Chuck. “Whatever, you can have the whore.” 

  Chuck grabbed Y/N by the forearms. “Oh, I wouldn’t have said that if I were you.” 

  Chuck waved someone over and seconds later, Trevor was surrounded by Nate and the rest of the soccer team. 

  “Let’s take this outside, shall we?” Nate asked rhetorically.

  A couple of his teammates pushed Trevor in the direction of the door and everyone stared after them in shock. As soon as they disappeared, the party resumed. 

  Chuck scanned over Y/N’s face. “Are you alright?” 

  Y/N nodded. “Yeah...I’m fine.” 

  “You’re crying.” 

  “What?” 

  “It’s fine.” Chuck gently led Y/N to another bathroom, sat her on the counter, and handed her some tissue. “It’s not your style to come to parties alone.” 

  Y/N snifled as she blew her nose. “I’m here with Y/B/F/N.” She sniffed and shook her head. “She wanted me to come out tonight and this happens.” 

  “Don’t let that neanderthal keep you from having a good time. Tonight’s the first time I’ve seen you not looking like a zombie,” Chuck argued. 

  “Chuck Bass has been watching me? That’s a shocker,” Y/N dead-panned. “I thought you were busy with the nightclub and Blair.” 

  Chuck glanced away and his jaw clenched at the mention of the brunette. “While I appreciate your concern, Vitrola is doing just fine. As for Blair, that isn’t a matter of concern.” 

  “Oh, sorry, I haven’t been keeping up with, well, anything going on.” 

  Chuck nodded. “Lucas had you in a vacuum, didn’t he?” 

  Y/N shrugged. “But it was nice, he was nice for a while. I’d like to say I don’t know where anything went wrong, but I do know. He didn’t like that I wasn’t always available, but, I have a life!” 

  Y/N was unaware of the force of her words until they came out and she immediately shrank back when she realized what she had said. 

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say all that.” 

 Chuck shook his head. “It’s fine. I’ve been through worse.” He straightened up. “We should find Y/B/F/N.” 

  “Do you think I’m a slut?” 

  Chuck raised an eyebrow at Y/N. “What?” 

  “You heard what I said,” Y/N groaned. “Trevor kept calling me that, like I was something to pass around.” 

  “No, I don’t think you’re a slut. You’re a girl who takes what she wants and not many guys can appreciate that.” 

  Y/N sighed and rolled her eyes. “Great.” 

 Chuck stepped closer to her. “But I can.” 

 She looked back up at Chuck and felt like he was staring into her soul. Y/N and Chuck never had any kind of falling out or negative interaction. In fact, Y/N spent a lot of her time staying as far away from him as possible. She supposed he had some sort of change of heart the first time he and Blair got together. When they broke up, there was no way Y/N was going to go near him lest she wanted to face the wrath of Blair. But, Y/N and Chuck spoke occasionally after his breakup and it was always entertaining. Plus, there was that one night at Vitrola...

  Y/N still blushed at the memory. 

  She’d had one too many margaritas and happily joined the burlesque dancers onstage. There were not many people in the audience, but the most notable member was Chuck. He looked deliciously mischievous in the velvet booth as he watched her belt out “Big Spender”. Y/N loosely followed the choreography of the other dancers. At one point, she’d straddled Chuck’s lap and crooned, 

  “Spend a little with...me,” into his ear. 

   The Monday after, Y/N was forever grateful that Chuck had not mentioned anything about that night to anyone. Plus, she’d met Lucas at an opera after party that Monday night. Lucas probably would have never approached her if he’d heard about that night, but, Y/N probably would not have felt as numb for the past month if he hadn’t. 

  “Chuck,” she breathed. 

  He kissed her cheek. As much as he wanted to go straight for her pouty lips, he was not that kind of guy anymore. He could wait and he would wait. “Let’s go find Y/B/F/N and get you some water, okay?” 

  Y/N nodded absentmindedly and allowed Chuck to help her get off the counter. She felt robotic as he led her over to Y/B/F/N, who was cackling with some juniors. 

  “I hate to interrupt,” Chuck said over Kanye West’s “Heartless”.

  Y/B/F/N stopped giggling, turned, and her eyes widened as soon as she saw Y/N. “Y/N!” She hopped up and hugged her. “What happened?” she asked Chuck accusingly.

  “Relax, Y/B/F/N/L/N, I helped her when she was getting harrassed by Trevor,” Chuck said.

  “That douchebag!” Y/B/F/N hissed. “You okay?” she asked, turning back to Y/N.

  “Yeah.” Y/N looked at Chuck. “Thank you so much, for everything.”

  “Anytime.” 

 “Let’s get you some water.” Y/B/F/N waited until Y/N had some water in her to call a car to take them back to her house. As they skirted by the shiny skyscrapers and 24 hour restaurants, she asked, “What was that look Chuck was giving you?” 

  “What look?” Y/N muttered. 

 “That look like you were the only important thing in that room,” Y/B/F/N quipped. “ I mean, I guess he’s better now since he saved you, but, it’s kind of weird. What are you gonna do?” 

  Y/N had no idea. 

  “I’m too drunk for this...conversation” Y/N stated. 

[angrylizardjacket]

i keep digging myself down deeper // charlotte&lola

Summary: Lola takes Charlotte to confront her mother after finding out that she lied about Lola’s dad’s death. Lola is plotting a murder. Charlotte is trying to fix her moral compass. They still end up in a graveyard.

A/N: tagging @misscharlottelee as always, and @local-troubled-writer . this made me so fucking sad folks. also i think lola is overall a better person in this au and im so sad about the main story too now. wrote it at work.

[run to paradise au]

“Take Charlotte,” Doc says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world, like he knows Lola’s on a knife-edge and can trust the younger woman to pull her back. He says it like he’s trying to throw a wrench in whatever malicious scheme she’s concocting that she thinks he doesn’t know about it. 

Take Charlotte. Unlike you, she’s good. Is what Lola hears, and it sets her teeth on edge. It could have been Tommy, but Doc knows better than anyone that Lola’s got that man wrapped around her little finger, though he’s the backup if Charlotte won’t go, because god knows Lola hates Mick enough to murder him on a trip out of state, and she and Nikki together will never do anything good. He could ask Vince, but that’s asking for trouble, and Vince has actually kind of settled down. Lola on a rampage is liquid heroin, and Vince is finally in recovery. So take Charlotte, somehow the only stable one of the lot.

“We’re going to pay respects to your dad, right?” Charlotte’s got a backpack full of clothes for if they stay longer than intended, and Razzle on her heels, offering to drive them both to the airport. Lola confirms. “And Doc doesn’t trust you?”

“No he does not,” Lola grumbles through her teeth, throwing a glance over her shoulder at Nikki, on the sofa wearing only his boxers, covered in scratches and hickeys.

“He’s a smart man,” Charlotte says with a smile, but Lola’s not matching her energy, just rolls her eyes. That being said, Lola’s at the very least grateful that Charlotte’s not walking on eggshells around her the way everyone else seemed to, Nikki notwithstanding, since she’d found out her father had died when she was nine, and her mother had lied about it to her, and she’d believed that he’d just left because she was a bad kid ever since.

But now she was out for revenge, had told Doc she’d just wanted to visit her father’s grave, but the moment she’d been given the go-ahead, she knew she was heading home to confront and kill her mother for everything she’d put Lola through.

When they get on the plane, Lola’s pretty sure she can see Razzle waving from the terminal, and when she points this out, Charlotte leans over her and waves back, despite Lola’s noise of disgust.

“Don’t be like that Lols, notice how I didn’t say anything about your hickeys and band aids on the way here? You look like you had a raccoon try and rip out your jugular,” Charlotte tells her with a smirk, sitting back before avoiding her gaze, “and I don’t think Nikki would give it up that hard if you were still really grieving, so what’s your real plan here?” Cutting straight to the point, she’s so unbelievably no-nonsense about it, seeing through Lola before Lola had even fed her a lie. Lola knows she could convincingly lie to Charlotte in a heartbeat, but it’s not worth the effort; either way she’d have to tell her.

“I’m gonna kill my mom,” Lola tells her under her breath, before smiling at the stewardess doing final checks, while Charlotte sits in stunned silence.

“You’re gonna murder her?” Charlotte matches her volume, though her voice is full of disbelieving rage. They haven’t even taken off yet. Lola hums in agreement. “What? Just gonna shoot her in the face? You don’t even have a -”

“A plan? Of course I do. I’m gonna burn her house down. With a flare gun,” Lola fires back easily, before adding, “shooting her is Plan B. Also with a flare gun.”

The flight is only a few hours long, and Charlotte spends it fuming in silence, not wanting to cause a scene on a plane, in the airport, or in the taxi to the hotel. There’s no words for the rage, for the betray, for the being an accessory to murder, and she’d probably fight Lola if the older woman didn’t have biceps the size of a rotisserie chicken.

Lola leaves, claiming to get dinner, and comes back with a greasy burger and a flare gun, and Charlotte wants to cry, wants to scream, wants to believe this is all a bad dream.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” is what she says, and Lola gives a patient smile.

“Charlie, please just remember she set me on fire,” and she puts the flare gun on the bedside table, puts her trash in the bin, and goes to bed.

Maybe Charlotte considers taking the gun and throwing it in the ocean. But she doesn’t. Deep down, she’s pretty sure Lola’s not capable of murder, enough that she leaves the gun there; it’s trust. Lola wouldn’t make her an accessory to murder. Probably.

“You’re only an accessory if you come,” Lola tells her over a room service breakfast, and Charlotte feels like she’s going to be sick, “go sight seeing, meet me at the airport,” she shrugs, “if the cops ask you questions, just play dumb, like you do every time they come looking for Nikki or Tommy.”

“You’re not going through with this -”

“I’ll be done by midnight,” Lola’s not usually so focused and sincere, seemingly trying to ignore Charlotte’s negativity.

“Please, Lols, don’t do this; don’t do something crazy that you’ll regret,” Charlotte almost begs her, and Lola’s teeth stretch into a snarl.

“So I’m only allowed to be crazy when it benefits you, right?” She snaps, finally, and Charlotte swallows hard, eyes going wide in surprise. “Because when we rock up to your cheating ex’s house and I’ve got a baseball bat, you can call me crazy and be proud -”

“I never called you crazy,” Charlotte says through her teeth, completely unprepared to handle Lola, who’s never actually lashed out at her before.

“No, Duff called me a psycho, and you believed him, didn’t you? But I was your psycho, wasn’t I, Miss Lee,” Lola’s voice turned cruel and mocking, “it’s okay if I’m a psycho so long as you can wind me up and point me in the direction of whoever you want fucked up -”

“After fucking everything we’ve been through, you’re gonna accuse me of just using you?”

“No,” Lola said easily, flipping from feral to collected with an almost terrifying speed, “we’re friends, Charlotte, I know this, I just don’t think you’re used to my anger not benefiting you.” Her lips twitch into a cool smile, “I think you forget that we’re very different people, Charlie; before I met you, I was blowing cops to get me and Nikki out of trouble every other week, and all that’s changed is that Nikki has started bribing his way out.” it almost seems like a point of pride, and Charlotte has no fucking idea what to say to that. “But sure, I can be crazy when we’re hurting the boy who broke your little heart,” she coos in a mocking falsetto, before her expression just turns cold, “but when it comes to the woman who abused me during my formative years and set me on fire, sure,” she rolled her eyes, miming screwing a lid on a jar, voice dripping with sarcasm, “I’ll put a lid on it, for your sake.” She spat.

“I’m sorry I don’t want you to commit fucking murder,” Charlotte blurts out, realising far too late that she’s crying, and Lola’s hard resolve instantly crumbles, “I’m sorry if it seems like I’m just, just, just using you for your anger, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry,” and she’s just crying now, sitting in the hotel with her head in her hands, “obviously I don’t think you’re a psycho.”

“Yes you do,” Lola sighs, but it’s neither angry nor an accusation, its defeat, a label she’s worn for a long time finally spoken by one of the only people she actually respected, “and I am; there’s nothing you can do to help it.” 

“Please don’t hurt anyone, Lols, please,” Charlotte begs, and Lola heaves another deep sigh.

“Go home, Charlotte, go back to Razzle and pretend this was all a bad dream; I don’t want you living in my reality. You’re better than that.”

“You shouldn’t live in this reality; Lola, you’re scaring me, I’ve known you for half a decade, and for the first time,” Charlotte snifled, sitting up a little straighter and avoiding Lola’s dark gaze, “I’m fucking terrified, okay? You’ll go to jail for the rest of your life.”

“Small price to pay,” Lola shrugs, and Charlotte’s going from guilty to frustrated fast, but Lola’s voice turns hard, “go home, Charlotte.”

“No.”

“You’re not a felon,” Lola finally snaps, voice flat and angry, “you’re a romantic at heart with terrible taste in friends.” Finally, Lola stands, and Charlotte’s shocked into silence. 

“You’re the worst friend I’ve got,” it’s like it’s finally hit her, voice a little breathless, a little disbelieving, and Lola gives a wry smile.

“Now you’re getting it.” And she leaves. In the middle of the day. Leaves Charlotte alone and fragile in the hotel, off to do god knows what, possibly off to commit murder.

Charlotte calls Razzle; she’s never been scared of what Lola’s been capable of, maybe it’s that she’s never really thought Lola could commit murder, but now she’s afraid. The only thing that’s ever terrified Lola was her mother, and now, knowing what she knows, the truth about everything she’s been through, in some twisted way Charlotte can easily see how Lola’s made herself believe that the murder is just. Charlotte’s never known a killer, not really. Razzle reassures her over the phone, tells her that Lola’s just gone to blow off steam but that she’s got a good heart under all of it. She’s motivated by loyalty, not revenge. But then it hits them both; Lola’s mother besmirched her father’s name for years, the first person Lola ever truly loved and looked up to. The only man she’s been even more loyal to than Nikki is her father; and she’d kill for either of them in a heartbeat.

“I need to stop her,” Charlotte’s still got tear tracks drying on her cheeks when she sits bolt upright, phone still to her ear, “do I- should I call the cops?” She asks, and Razzle hesitates. It would be a betrayal that would send Lola spiraling further. 

“Go to her, you know you can talk her down; she loves you, she listens to you,” Razzle tells her, and when he says it, so sweet, so gentle, so self assured, she almost believes him, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She tells him, before sniffling loudly, “wish me luck.” She tells him, feeling far more capable than she had minutes before; Razzle was good like that, was supportive like that, knew just what to say when Charlotte needed to hear it.

Charlotte knows the address that Lola was given, and heads there first, but the street is quiet, the house is quiet, and there were no signs of Lola to be seen. She drives for a bit down the road, heart beating in her throat, anxious and mind jumping to all sorts of terrible conclusions, but there’s no signs of any disturbance. Lola had been on foot, and had left only an hour and a half ago, she couldn’t have gotten far. 

At the end of the street, there’s a park, and Charlotte comes to realise that school must be on break, because it’s teaming with parents and children, and she searches, wonders, thinks she sees someone who looks a bit like Lola, but doesn’t stick around to make sure. That woman looks too old to be Lola. 

She checks bars and liquor stores and gas stations, and finally has a hit from a cashier who sold her two bottles of vodka, and the gas station attendant who had given her a pack of smokes, despite her having already gone through a quarter of a bottle in the half-mile between stores.

The only thing at the end of this street was a graveyard.

Lola’s wasted, unable to stand, sitting with her back against a faintly worn grave, mumbling to herself. 

“How could she do this to us, dad?” Is the first thing Charlotte hears from her, an angry growl. With one hand around the neck of a mostly empty vodka bottle, the other comes to forlornly pet the gravestone. Catching sight of Charlotte out of the corner of her eye, Lola’s entire expression crumbles, and for the first time in their whole sordid history, Charlotte watches Lola begin to cry. Angrily, almost defiantly, she searches her pockets, before pulling out a cigarette, lighting it.

“Dad,” Lola says to no-one in particular, looking out ahead instead of at her best friend, face scrunched with angry tears, “meet Charlotte,” she announces, and Charlotte’s words die in her throat; “Charlotte, meet my dad,” and she nods to the headstone she’s leaning against. 

“I thought -” Charlotte tries, but no words come to her.

“We’ve just been catching up,” Lola takes a long drag from the cigarette, coughing when she follows it with a swig of vodka.

“What happened?” Charlotte asks quietly, approaching like Lola was a wild animal. Lola grumbles something unintelligible, mostly under her breath, and Charlotte gingerly sits beside her.

“He was a really, really fucking good man,” Lola murmurs, forlorn, resting her head on Charlotte’s shoulder, startling the younger woman, who wasn’t quite sure how to deal with this situation just yet, “he would have loved them, Motley,” she clarified, and she takes another smoke, “he was always a huge fan of rock, always had the hair to match. Mom would call him a long-haired yahoo but it was never malicious, it just-” she was crying now, and she had to pause, “she would have loved them too, back then, but when he was gone, I think she just started hating everything that reminded her of him.” She pauses, taking another drink, her voice defeated when she finally spoke, “probably why she hated me so much." 

Silence, then;

"She has a kid.” Its the most defeated she’s ever sounded. Even Charlotte feels it like a punch to the gut. “She gets to play happy families, and I get to slowly dig myself an early grave,” she finishes her cigarette and immediately lights another.

“Lo, what happened?” Charlotte asked once more, and Lola turns to her, eyes bloodshot and mouth in a thin, unhappy line.

“Nothing.” It sounds like it hurts to admit, “because I’m not a psycho,” she says quietly, “I’m not gonna hurt that kid.”

“Your… sibling?” Charlotte almost winces as she says it, but Lola laughs in an almost disbelieving way, leaning her head back against her father’s gravestone.

“My little brother; Milo, I think. I didn’t stick around long… she doesn’t even know I’m here." 

Charlotte wraps her arm around Lola’s shoulder, pulls her in for a hug, and Lola melts into her, lets herself be pulled into hug, her head on Charlotte’s shoulder as she cries unashamedly. They sit on the grave of Lola’s father until it gets dark, wrapped up in each other, giving comfort and getting drunk, and there’s stories spilling from Lola that she’d never told anyone; happy times from before her shit got dark, before her father passed, stories she’d thought she’d forgotten. 

"Did you mean what you said?” Charlotte asks finally, voice fragile, vodka burning through her veins, “do you think I have bad taste in friends?” Lola contemplates for a long while before humming.

“I think you deserve better than me. And Nikki. I think you’ve got good friends, Peach and Eileen, they’re good friends,” Lola nods resolutely, “they wouldn’t drag you down to Boston just to argue with you and watch them chicken out on murdering their mom.”

“They don’t wanna murder their mom to begin with,” Charlotte agrees with a half laugh, her arm tucked into Lola’s, resting her cheek on Lola’s shoulder. Lola hums an agreement. Gently, she rests her head against Charlotte’s.

“I’m sorry, Charlie.”

They gaze out into the graveyard, tired, drunk, and world-weary beyond their years. Moments like these are a sharp reminder to Charlotte, of just how terrifying Lola’s world can be, and just how lonely she once was. The way Lola clings to the band, to Charlotte, it very suddenly made clear and perfect sense. 

“You’re not the worst friend I’ve got, Lols, not even close; you give a shit when it counts the most. About me, about our band-family; you give so much of a shit you’d kill for us. You’re probably the most loyal person I’ve ever met.” Charlotte tells her honestly, and Lola’s quiet, before sniffling loudly, and laughing.

“Stop it, Miss Lee, I promised Tommy I wouldn’t have a thing for any more of his family,” Lola jokes, but hugs Charlotte tightly as she squawks with horrified amusement. 

Its a considerable walk back to the hotel, but as Lola crashes onto the soft mattress of the bed, she feels worlds lighter than when she’d woken up.

[saetoshis]

moshiiiiiiii hiiiiii i miss you :( are you taking care of yourself? also tell me what you're hyperfixated on the most atm !!

OMGOMGOGMKFKAAA JUJU SNIFLE 🥲🥲 I MISS U SO MUCH I HOPE UR DOING WELL !! IM SNUGGKING U SO CLOSE N SQUISHING U TIGHT 🤕🤕🤕 but omgogmg i am hyperfixated on this adorabke genshin char coming in soon sob ! LOOK AT HER 🥲🥲🥲🥲 YAOYAO IS HER NAME SNIFLE HOW CUTE IS SHE HAAJAKKAKAKAKA

[cloudycrystalkpop]

Warrior Queen

pairing: Ravi x reader

sumery: she had missed her chance, and now it tore her apart.

warnings: sad but fluffy little drabble, mental illness.

notes: requested by @heart-baek-bleed 

she lay on the carpeted floor, staring at the white ceiling above her. it had been three days. three days of tears. three days of crying until she was dehydrated, than simply laying there dissociating because her body did not have the strength to move, then falling asleep, and waking up in tears again.

every negitave thought she could have had passed through her mind. ‘you’re an idiot.’ ‘you don’t deserve him.’ ‘he’d never want some stupid little girl like you. look at you. laying there for three days. you’re going to die like that.’ maybe death would be better.

she sniffled again, but no tears came. even they had left her. if only her feelings would leave her too. she looked at the calendar on her wall. today way the day. the day he was leaving. there was no telling when he’d return, if he would at all. she just couldn’t bring herself to say goodbye. 

she felt warnth sting her eyes again. it seamed her tears hadn’t abandoned her after all. she lay back on the floor, currling up in a ball and alowed herself to sob. she was so caught in her emotions, she didn’t hear her front door open.

i’ve got to see her again. i’ve got to say goodbye. i can’t just leave her.

Ravi used the spare key to open (y/n)’s front door. emedeatly he knew something was off. her candles had burned all the way down and there flams extinguished. it was deadly quiet. she always had music playing, or she was humming to herself. if she had gone out she wouldn’t have let the candles burn all the way down, so where was she?

it was then Ravi heard a heart shattering sob. no.

“(y/n)!” Ravi called, rushing to her room.

he found her, curled up in a little ball on her floor. he looked over her quickly for any ingeries, but she seamed clean. he could tell her pain was not phisical. 

“oh, sweet heart...” he sat behind her and pulled her into his lap, cradling her like a child. she was lighter then she should be, and extreamly pale. her sobbing didn’t stop as he held her. he rocked her back and forth, cradling her like a doll who could shatter in his arms at any moment. after some time, her tears stopped.

“it’s gunna be okay, precious. you’re safe. i’ve got you.” he mumbled softly into her hair. she hickuped, hiding her face in his shoulder. he shushed her, rubbing her back and placing his hand on the back of her head. 

“what is it sweet heart, can you tell me?” she hickuped again and shook her head, clutching onto his shirt. he hummed lowly, continuing to rock her. after a little longer, her hickups stopped. he continued to hum, and rock her, rubbing her back. 

she felt new fresh tears sting her eyes, and she tryed to hold back another sob. he only held her tighter, whispering to her that she was safe, that he had her, that she was safe with him. 

“i love you.” she said it so softly she couldn’t even really hear it herself. but Ravi understould. 

“i love you, baby girl. and seeing you in pain, hurts me.” he mumbled into her hair. she hickuped again.

“no, Ravi... you don’t undertand.” he pulled her head up to look at him. in his eyes she saw tears, she saw the stains on his cheeks. he’s been crying too. 

“don’t i?” he asked, there was no harshness in his voice, only softness and pain. “how long have you been like this (y/n)?” she snifled.

“three days?” she geussed. he let out a sob.

“three days? why didn’t you tell anyone? why didn’t you tell me?” he sounded hurt and betraid. she shook her head.

“i didn’t want to bother anyone.” she staited in a small voice. Ravi sobbed again.

“(y/n) listen to me please.” he held her cheeks in his hands, making her look him in the eyes. “you are not a bother. you are never a bother. and when you’re in pain like this, you need to tell someone. you need to tell me. please.” he was still crying as he spoke his beautiful face glistened with tears.

“i love you (y/n). do you understand?” his voice broke as he stared at her. she hickuped, but nodded. “i love you, i love you, i love you...” he repeated those same three words as he kissed her face. her forhead, her cheeks, her chin, her nose, her eyes, and finaly. “i love you so much baby girl.” he kissed her lips.

the next day Ravi was gone. no matter how much he loved (y/n), he still had responsibilities. to his group and to his company. 

when she woke up, she found a glass of water and a note next to her bed. she sat up, taking the small folded note, and opening it. 

“once upon a time, there was a queen. she was stronger then any would know, but even the strongest of warriors had there bad days. she was a fighter though and would not let such a little thing destroy her...” she reread the note, before looking on the back where she read “come and find me” 

she drank the glass of water, and took it and the note into the kitchen. there she found another note. she opened it and read, “she fought bravely, but found herself in a trap she couldn’t escape. she was to fearful to ask for help, and was nearly bested...” she turned the note over again. “keep looking”

she wandered her home again, and at the front door she saw it. there was a small vase full of her favorite flowers, and infront of it sat the last note. “just when she was ready to give up, he found her. never think that you haft to go though your pain alone, never let those negative voices best you, and never forget how much i love you (y/n). let me be your knight if you’ll be my warrior queen. please wait for me. i will be back soon for you my queen. i love you.”

[garoujo]

EMMIEEEEEEE the hanmas were animated!! shuji looks so very very massive in the episode too 😭 i was watching w my gf who knows some info about tr (aka what i tell her when i get in my rambling modes) and she just kept going “why is he so big??? why does he sit like that????” </3 she also said he looks stinky 🦨🦨,,, taiju had it MUCH worse though! anyway EMMIE HANMA CONTENT :D !!! the man!! the shuji!!! the shemmie content can be revived!!

omigosh !!! they were ??? !!! the hanmas aaaaaa i gotta see <3 nonnie i will literally die if he’s looking extra big i miss him so much snifle >_< i’ve not even watched any of the new season but i was gonna watch all the eps w shuji just so i could hear his voice ! that’s all i want ! HE ISNT STINKY ;__; he is big tho hehehe <333 im sooo gonna watch now .. THE CONTENT IS COMING ! i’ll be back 2 rambling bout shuji in NO TIME >///<