#i would love to attempt to polish this up but i just really wanna post this so im gonna :)

[rapidhighway]

they love beating each other up

[diamjem]

blame the champagne

pairing: sebastian sallow x f!mc

summary: sebastian sallow attends his ex’s engagement party and he is fine.

word count: 7.1k

warnings: angst, alcohol abuse (sort of), marriage is a prison, 19th century high-society, no y/n, sebastian ruins everything he touches

a/n: first fic i’ve ever posted on tumblr pls be kind im jus a girl (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) ANYWAYS i wrote this while listening to exile by ts over and over and over again so maybe give that a lil listen while you read if u wanna set the mood. can you tell by the end i was just excited to get it done with lols. also this is really far from my usual writing style (i mainly post on wattpad ik boooo) but here ya go. im well aware of how all of u eat up angst like it’s a happy meal YES THERE WILL BE A PART TWO. if the hyperfixation persists this might even be a longer series BUT god knows how many wips i already have pls have mercy on my poor soul

[ao3] [wattpad]

it was a nice party.

no, really. it was.

sure, there were some things sebastian could’ve done without—the awkwardly stiff ballroom, for one, with its velvet curtains that probably cost more than his entire wardrobe—but on the whole, he couldn’t deny credit where it was due.

the music was stimulating enough to have ballgowns spinning around endlessly on the dancefloor. food, exquisite; hors d'oeuvres that looked more like art than appetizers, but delicious nonetheless. and the decor? a tad too extravagant, maybe, with gold ribbons draped from every chandelier, catching the candlelight in a way that felt more like a royal procession than a social gathering. but who was he to judge? he was certainly drinking enough to blur any such distinctions, and there was more than enough champagne.

so, yeah, it was a really nice party.

well, save for the fact that it’s his ex’s engagement party to some guy from a prestigious pureblood family or whatever. sebastian still couldn't quite remember his name, though he’s pretty sure it starts with the letter h. he read the invitation, the fine lettering that seemed too fancy for its own good, but the moment he’d seen “engagement” paired with her name, his brain had short-circuited. he didn't need nor want the details. it was enough to know that she was moving on—and he, apparently, was not. but that's fine. he’s fine.

sebastian would have preferred to avoid the entire affair, but anne had insisted—no, berated him—into attending. "just be grateful she even thought to invite you to such a special day." she'd demanded.

ominis, bless him, had tried his best to offer some well-meaning, clumsy attempt to soften the blow, but when all was said and done, suggested sebastian defer to anne. there was no doubt (maybe a little) ominis was his best friend but he was also anne’s husband now. and a wife’s word, especially in the sallow family, was the law. infuriating, as if they haven't ganged up on him enough their whole lives.

speaking of those two, where the hell are they? sebastian was already this close to hexing them for dragging him here in the first place—much less leaving him alone in a crowd of polished, tight-lipped strangers. not that he hadn’t been to his fair share of these high-society events. as an established wizard, a decorated auror, top of his division no less, he had his place at these things, his duty even. in fact, somewhere deep down, part of him even liked the glitz and glamour. it was the sort of thing that would make most people feel important, like they were part of something larger, something better.

but this? this wasn’t his crowd at all. not when he had to stand there, watching the one that got away and her decorated hand clutch her husband-to-be’s arm. the sight of it churned something deep in his gut, like a bitter knot that wouldn’t untangle.

alright, maybe it’s time to admit it.

it was not a nice party at all.

the music? too stiff. too classic. she usually liked it loud and roaring. she used to love a ceilidh, for merlin’s sake. the food? too tiny. he could practically see her at the table, scarfing down a full plate before reaching for seconds, her stomach always growing faster than her appetite. the decorations? too gaudy. too excessive. then again, she never had a good eye for interior decor—at least, not according to the proper standards. her idea of decoration had been finding old furniture abandoned in the highlands and somehow hauling it back to their (now just his) flat in london.

salazar, this whole party is wrong. she never even cared for this kind of thing. she would always roll her eyes when he dragged her to some work event, muttering something about she’d much rather be laughing over a pint in the pub with him.

but it wasn’t just the party, was it? not the music or the food or the decorations. it was the fact that none of this felt like her anymore. it felt like she had become something else. something he wasn’t a part of.

sebastian watched her over the rim of his glass as he took a long swig of his drink.

now, the party may be no good, but the champagne? that's another thing. it was crisp, sharp, and cold, slipping down his throat with a tingle that almost made him forget where he was and who he was supposed to be celebrating. almost.

they were standing on the opposite side of the ballroom, where they were entertaining pompous-looking guests with what sebastian could only assume was ostentatious conversation. by they, he meant her and her fiancée (horace? henry?)—who, by the way, is the exact opposite of sebastian, with his raven hair, pale and freckle-free skin, and posture so impeccable that it even made sebastian straighten his own back.

she held out her hand to a lady she was talking to as if to flaunt her ring and sebastian crinkled his nose at the sight. he had to squint, but even from across the room, he could see that blinding diamond on her finger, catching the light like some cruel trick of the shadows. she’d always blabbered about how diamonds were too overrated, how emeralds were the only stones truly worth their weight. he never saw the appeal before, but now he did.

even her own hair wasn’t her. neater than usual, pulled up into that impossibly tight bun. it had always been free before, with that little curl by the side of her neck that always seemed to escape no matter how much she tried to tame it.

and that smile. it was perfect and even like it had been practiced for this very occasion. her real smile was never perfect. it was always a little crooked on the right side and it made her eyes squint into crescents.

pretentious. all of it. most of all, this engagement party. but at least, he had a drink in his hand and a healthy amount of champagne sloshing in it, which, at this point, was enough to blur the sharp edges of his cynicism.

or perhaps it wasn't his cynicism he’s been trying to drown in champagne all night but bitterness. who’s to say, though? certainly not sebastian—his pride would never let him admit that aloud, especially not when he’s supposed to be making merry with the very thing that made him bitter in the first place.

merlin, this engagement party is beginning to feel more and more like a funeral with every passing second, and he'd already dug himself a deep-enough grave just by showing up to this affair—by allowing himself to be here, in this strange limbo between the past he had to let go of and the future he no longer had any part in.

okay, funeral might be too near the knuckle. a stage play, now that's more fitting—complete with its flashy set, monotonous musical accompaniment, even the lead cast and audience. it all felt like a performance, and he, the unwilling spectator, had been cast in the worst role.

all that is to say, it really was not a nice party.

and it seemed he wasn’t the only one with grievances about the whole thing when just a few feet away, he caught the rasp of a shrill, hushed voice, rising above the ambient murmur of polite conversation like a knife through velvet.

“what a pity he's off the market. and to her, of all people. disagreeable little shrew of a witch, if you ask me.”

sebastian turned toward the source of the sound, narrowing his gaze. two women, dressed in garish, overly elaborate gowns were leaning in, exchanging what could only be described as venomous whispers. one of them, a woman with too much rouge on her cheeks, elbowed her companion, who, scandalized, raised a hand to her lips in mock surprise.

“an odd pairing, wouldn't you say?" the second woman chimed in, her voice betraying her amusement. “the hero of hogwarts and a pureblood heir. i wonder how they ever came to be.”

“if all the rumors about her past are to be believed, there has to be a conspiracy behind this. perhaps she slipped him an amortentia or, merlin forbid, blackmailed him.”

the second woman raised her glass in contemplation, her eyes gleaming with the sort of cruelty that only gossip seemed to nurture. “or maybe it’s for status,” she mused, “a marriage of convenience, perhaps? the hero marrying into a respectable family for a bit of security. a trade, if you will.”

he would have been inclined to agree—if only they hadn’t so thoughtlessly insulted the woman he once (still) loved. he could almost feel the heat rising to his face, the bitter sting of their insinuations making his hand ball into a fist at his side. but stepping in would be too over the line, even for sebastian. because she wasn't his to defend anymore. she’d made sure of that by giving her hand to some pureblood prick that wasn't him.

“well," the first woman continued, her voice turning sly, "whatever the case, she’s certainly fortunate. there aren’t many men left nowadays willing to be tied down, what with all the modern notions of ‘free love’ and 'unconventional living.' most prefer the arrangement where marriage is simply a word they needn't bother with. she’ll never want for anything, i suppose.”

“come to think of it, wasn't she in a long-term relationship just before this? witch weekly was quite abuzz about it. detailed how they’ve been together since their time in hogwarts and how everyone thought they'd be married by now, only for them to end in ruins all of a sudden.”

"oh, i think i remember that. though, as i recall, they never revealed the identity of her beau." the first woman pondered, tapping her fan against her cheek. "such a mysterious fellow, wasn't he? can you imagine what it must be like for him? finding out his beloved is to marry one of the wizarding world’s most eligible bachelors so soon after their parting?"

"oh, i’d be positively reeling," the second woman chimed in, a wicked grin playing at her lips. "i’d hardly be able to hold my glass steady."

that was it. he’d had enough eavesdropping for the night. no, scratch that—his whole life, actually.

this was precisely why he never engaged in gossip—not because he didn’t know it was often rooted in half-truths or outright falsehoods, but because on the off chance it was a truth, he couldn’t endure the sting of it especially when rubbed in his face. the incessant chatter, the giggling, the way their voices danced around his very existence like a cruel little game. it was as though they had found some perverse pleasure in prying open wounds that had barely even healed, turning them over in the light for sport.

but there was nothing like alcohol to cleanse the wound, so he had the snack steward pour him a fresh glass of champagne to flush out the muck that clung to the gash.

and it shouldn't even hurt in the first place. he was over this. he’d already accepted how things had come to be. hell, he wouldn't be here at this godforsaken party if he hadn't. this was not the time or place for this. he was a professional, damn it. he had been through worse than a half-forgotten heartbreak in his time, for merlin’s sake. this wasn’t about him, or what he thought he could have had. he was fine.

it was just the champagne. the party had so much damn champagne. it had clouded his head and muddled his thoughts. it made everything hurt more than it should. he just needed fresh air, something sobering, something to clear the fog.

so he excused himself without a word. before he knew it, he was standing on the balcony, the cool night air hitting his face with an almost brutal clarity.

as the cool breeze ruffled his hair, it felt like he was standing at the edge of a cliff, looking down into the chasm below. maybe that was the real feeling—falling. that's what it had always felt like with her. a leap into something that he couldn’t control. something that was already lost before he had the chance to catch it. he’d never been able to get his footing, never been able to catch the ground beneath him before it slipped away.

and tonight, he was just watching her from the bottom, wishing he could climb back up.

—

sebastian stood there, the cold seeping through his coat as the social raged inside. glass of champagne still clutched tightly in his hand since he excused himself—how long ago had that been? a while. he wasn’t sure. time had started to lose its meaning out here. the muffled hum of the party drifted through the heavy stone walls, but he didn’t have the energy to care anymore.

it was a dreadful party, anyway.

at least out here, in the chill, there was a kind of comfort in the solitude. even if it felt like he was slowly being frozen into the stone.

the sound of the balcony doors opening caught his attention, followed by a soft click as they closed behind whoever had dared to step out into the cold.

“oh, my apologies! i didn’t know someone was out here. i—sebastian. there you are.”

sebastian turned towards the commotion, and there she was. with her too-primped hair, too-tight smile, and too-bright ring.

his gaze met hers, and for a moment, there was something there—a flicker of recognition, of shared history, that made his breath catch, almost rivaling the buzz the champagne gave him.

“there you are,” he replied, his voice hoarse, as if he hadn’t spoken in days. it was almost instinctive—like a beck and call he didn’t even realize he was still answering to.

she let out a breath, looking as if she had been holding it in for far too long. “sorry, i just needed an escape from all that.” her hand swept vaguely behind her, motioning to the pantomime behind the balcony doors.

“i’ll take my leave if you like.” sebastian said, already moving to turn away.

her brows immediately shot up, her hands instinctively raised as if to stop him. “no, stay. please. i’d like some company that isn't somewhat of a stranger for once tonight. unless… you’d rather leave?”

“i’ll stay.”

the words slipped out before he had a chance to stop them, much to his chagrin. he could almost hear his own internal voice, the one that had always been a little too self-assured, a little too sure of himself, yelling at him for it. though he never really knew how to say no to her, he thought by now he’d learn to. maybe it’s because he’s out of practice, or maybe it’s just the champagne dulling his senses.

but then, a small, crooked smile curved on her lips—a smile so familiar, so raw, that sebastian swore it made his heart skip a few beats too many. it was a glimpse of the real her. the one without all the pretense. and gods, it hit him harder than any amount of champagne in the party—no, the entire world—ever could.

she lifted the hem of her skirt just enough to kick off her heeled shoes with a frustrated huff. “these shoes are killing me,” she muttered under her breath, her voice a touch more vulnerable than she probably intended.

sebastian watched her for a moment, his gaze lingering on the shoes she discarded with such finality, as if casting away a part of her carefully constructed image for a moment of relief. then stepped up next to him, leaning casually against the railing. she folded her arms across her chest, her gaze sweeping out over the city lights as if they held some unspoken truth.

the silence stretched between, but it felt oddly familiar—like the space between them had never really grown so wide. maybe he was just deluding himself, but for a moment, it felt like they hadn’t changed, like they could still slip back into those old rhythms. it wasn’t comfortable, not exactly, but it was natural in a way.

“congratulations, by the way. it’s a nice party,” sebastian said, his voice a little too casual. a lie. he knew it, she knew it. and yet, neither of them dared to say it aloud.

“the very picture of grandeur,” he added, lifting his glass in a half-hearted toast, as if the motion might somehow mask the gaucheness creeping into his tone.

she hummed in response, but it wasn’t in agreement. It was more like a sardonic chuckle, a sound that told him she saw through it all. “and then some,” she replied, her voice dripping with dry humor. “i think it’s quite over the top. but don't tell hector i said that, he’d have a fit.”

hector? oh, her fiancée. that must be his name.

for all his loquacious nature, sebastian didn’t quite know how to respond to that. there was a pang of something—jealousy, regret, resentment—that made the words catch in his throat. there was a part of him that wanted to ask how it felt, to ask if hector was everything she had dreamed of. but he knew he didn’t have the right. so, he stayed silent, letting the questions churn inside, only to swallow them down along with another gulp of champagne.

she smiled then, warm at first, but it quickly shifted into something more melancholic. “but i’m glad you’re here, sebastian,” she said, her voice gentle. “to be honest, i wasn’t sure if you’d come, considering, well, everything. if i were you, the last place i’d want to be is my ex’s engagement party.”

he shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “i could be in worse places,” he said, the smirk tugging at his lips as he raised his glass. “and hey, what could be better than a party with an abundance of champagne?”

“i know you’re joking, but take it easy on the champagne, alright? you’re a lot more indulgent than you like to think.”

sebastian leaned back, giving her a sidelong glance. “ah, there it is. your trademark nagging. i’m already starting to feel sorry for hector.”

the words were flippant, but his chest tightened the moment they left his mouth. the thought of someone else being on the receiving end of her odd brand of shrewish affection gnawed at him more than he wanted to admit. he would have swallowed every word he'd ever said if it meant he could keep all that cavilling to himself again. but that's neither here nor there.

she scoffed. “oh, trust me, he does enough nagging for the both of us. quite the pedant, really. i don't know how you put up with me for as long as you did. might be a good idea to ask for your advice."

her words were wrapped in jest, but sebastian didn’t miss the small shift in her expression. the tiniest of pouts tugged at her bottom lip, and he caught it—just a flicker. it passed so quickly he almost convinced himself he hadn’t seen it. but he had. and it twisted something in his chest, a reminder of all the ways he used to know her. again, he found himself telling himself that it didn't concern him. not anymore.

“advice?” he said, his voice forced into a casual tone, but it cracked just a little. “you’re asking the wrong person, hen. i’m hardly an expert on relationships. evidently.”

the irony in his own words didn't escape him. no, what did escape him was just how much the slip of that term of endearment landed with weight.

her gaze flicked over to him, brow raised in mild surprise, the corner of her mouth twitching with amusement. “hen?” she echoed.

ah, of course. yet another symptom of too much champagne that also falls under a lack of control—the slip of the tongue.

“force of habit.” his excuse came, quickly trying to backpedal.

hen was a relic of their past, something he’d used to call her when things were simpler, before everything had gotten tangled and messy. she would always mock him for using such a twee nickname, but there was always something in her expression when he said it, a brief flicker in her eyes that made him wonder if, deep down, she didn’t mind it as much as she let on.

but to his surprise, she just smiled, the curve of her lips soft, almost fond. she didn’t mock him, didn’t even raise an eyebrow. no judgement. no laughter at his expense. there was a quiet in her gaze, one that lingered longer than usual. recognition, maybe. nostalgia. the kind of thing that shouldn’t have been there, but it was. and it echoed in his chest, so painfully familiar.

she hummed, the kind she used to make when she was content, and turned back to the night sky, as though the way she looked at sebastian didn't just send him reeling right then and there. as if she knew that that one look would make him more flustered than she would if she’d just mocked him.

“so, what’s been keeping you busy these days?" she asked, her voice softer now, a hint of genuine curiosity underneath her teasing tone. "the world’s still spinning, i presume?"

"ah, you know. work, as usual," he replied, his tone flat and yet cautious at the same time.

if it were anyone else, he'd have launched into a long-winded spiel of his latest case. after all, his work had become the one thing he clung to, the only thing that made getting out of bed in the morning feel necessary. but with her? the words didn’t flow so easily. even back then, it had become a touchy subject between them—something that both defined him and drove a wedge between them.

okay, so maybe it wasn't his work that drove them apart and more so his obsession to it. or rather, his obsession to prove himself. his obsession to be part of something larger, something better. but that was a thing of the past, and there's no point dredging it up now when they're supposed to be celebrating the future.

"of course, still married to your job, i see. i mean, i get it, you've always been a workaholic.” she nodded, a knowing yet bittersweet smile playing on her lips. "i even heard you took down yet another beast trafficking ring. well done, sebastian.”

sebastian's brow arched involuntarily. had she been keeping tabs on him? the idea that she might still be keeping track of him, that he’s still running around in that mesmerizing clutter of a mind of hers? he wouldn't dare say it out loud but it tickled him pink. it was both absurd and somehow thrilling. maybe she had asked around—natty, perhaps? he had worked on a handful of cases with her over the past few months—there was no reason natty couldn’t have mentioned something about the work they’ve been doing. or maybe she’d been watching him? he wouldn't put it past her to do such a thing, sly little witch she is.

“oh, would you wipe that look off your face?” came her voice, the playful edge in her voice obvious. “i know what you're thinking, and no. i just happened to read about it on the daily prophet.”

sebastian couldn’t help the slow, satisfied smile that crept across his face. she could feign ignorance as much as she liked, but the flush on her cheeks told a different story. and it sure as hell wasn’t just the rouge she wore. it spread slowly, a warm pink creeping up her neck, staining her cheek.

“is that so?” he said, trying to sound nonchalant, but it came out a little softer than he’d intended. “i guess i make the news more than i realized.”

“i’ll have you know the daily prophet reports on anything these days. they even had an article on what the best flavor of bertie bott’s beans is.” she rolled her eyes, her lips twitching with barely contained amusement. “beans, sebastian. on the very same page of your ring-busting article. i guess that's the kind of highly important news they decide to prioritize.”

“next thing you know, they're reporting on the right way to sneeze.” he added with a wry grin.

“oh, you’d better read that then,” she said, shaking her head, her eyes alight with a teasing sparkle. “merlin knows how many have suffered at the hands of your loud sneezes.”

“well, you know what the daily prophet won't be able to tell you? i adopted a cat.”

her eyebrows shot up, clearly surprised. "a cat?" she looked at him like he’d just announced he’d learned to juggle fire. “you? this happened when, pray tell?”

sebastian shrugged, his smile widening just a little. "oh, you know. a few weeks ago. felt i might do with some company that wasn’t a case file or a bottle of firewhisky.”

the glint in her eyes only told him she was intrigued, so he kept going. "yeah. you’d love her. she’s a restless bugger, but she can be so affectionate. she reminds me a lot of you, actually. it’s why i got her in the first place. i even named her hen after—”

he froze mid-sentence, his smile faltering as soon as he realized what he’d said. sweet merlin, is there any chance he could cast a shrinking charm on himself so he could be small enough to jump into his glass and drown in the champagne?

or maybe that’s just it. he’s had way too much champagne. it had messed with him already more times than he could count tonight, so it wouldn't be too far-fetched. but then again, he didn't really care enough to stop drinking. not when the alcohol made it easier to suppress the bitter feelings that threatened to spill.

she stared at him for a long moment, eyes wide with surprise, then a small, entertained twist of expression tugged at the corner of her mouth. if earlier hadn’t been enough to spark her teasing, then surely this would be.

“merlin, i’ve been replaced by a cat.” she tilted her head. “i don’t know whether to be offended, relieved, or touched.”

sebastian’s eyes narrowed, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed his attempt to look disinterested. he rolled his eyes dramatically, though the teasing wasn’t lost on him. “oh, come off it,” he muttered.

“look at you,” she spoke again. her voice was soft, as if overflowing with a solemn pride. “sebastian sallow, slytherin’s finest, accomplished auror, and now, cat owner. everything you ever wanted to be.”

if one word could be used to describe sebastian, it would be amour propre. granted, that’s two words, but the point still stands: he’s everything he’s ever wanted to be, and he’s proud of it. hell, he’d sacrificed more than he cared to admit to get here, to prove himself, to show the world that he was enough.

but if so, why did her words feel like a punch to the gut?

because all he’d ever wanted was to be hers. that was the truth of it, buried beneath all the ambition, all the success, all the work that had consumed him. it had never been about the accolades or the recognition. it was all just smoke and mirrors, an illusion from what he truly wanted. to prove himself worthy of her hand.

and when his eyes landed on that diamond on her finger, he’d realized all of it was for nothing. true to sebastian sallow fashion, he became too focused on the end goal he’d lost sight of where it all began.

"and you?" he finally managed, voice rougher than he intended. "you’re becoming a... wife."

the words felt like lead in his mouth. he swallowed hard, as if trying to chase the bitter taste out of his throat.

she sighed softly, almost wistfully, and her hand moved to absently fiddle with the diamond ring on her finger. the band slid up and down, just a little too big for her, a subtle movement that made it seem like it didn’t quite belong.

"i know, right?" she said, a faint, almost bitter edge creeping into her voice. "everything i ever wanted to be..."

“do you ever wish things could have panned out differently, sebastian?” she asked the question softly after a beat, but there was a weight to it, like she already knew the answer.

sebastian tried to find the words, but only stayed silent. he would be lying if he said he didn’t—if he didn’t wish, deep down, that things had turned out differently. but he’d had a year to accept it. a year to make peace with the reality handed to him, to bury the gnawing what-ifs under layers of duty and time. he’d convinced himself he was moved on. convinced himself that this was what was meant to be.

but that was before today. before this party. before the sight of the ring—her ring—shining like a cruel reminder of everything he had lost.

well, what good was wishful thinking, really? what was it but a self-inflicted wound that only festered into regret? what was done was done. and what was done was them—two separate paths now, carved out by the choices of time.

“why am I even asking? i’m sure you wouldn’t have it any other way.” her voice broke through his thoughts, laced with a softness that almost felt too painful.

“but... isn’t this what you wanted?” he forced himself to meet her eyes, though the words scraped his throat like nails. “to settle down, build a family?”

her eyes dropped to the ring again, the weight of it between them. she didn’t answer right away, as though she were trying to decide how to put it into words. the silence stretched thin before she spoke, her voice almost wistful, a quiet ache behind it.

“i… it is. just not like this.”

sebastian frowned, his brow furrowing deeper with confusion. not like this? what did she mean by that? was she implying that this—this life, this marriage, this future she was about to walk into—wasn’t what she had hoped for?

but he knew better than to be presumptuous. the last time he'd done that, he’d assumed she would be there, waiting, standing beside him until the end of time. and look where that had gotten him. he had learned, painfully, that hope could be a dangerous thing when it wasn’t tempered by reality.

and for all he knew, maybe she wasn’t so much regretting her choices as she was adjusting to them. the end of a decade-long relationship. the move from a cozy one-bedroom flat to a grand, unfamiliar manor that seemed more like a cage than a home. an engagement. the pressure of it. the weight of the new, the unfamiliar. it had to leave her feeling a little unmoored, a little lost. after all, hadn’t it left him feeling the same way when he was forced to step into a future he never wanted?

so instead of speaking, of pressing her for answers he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear, sebastian did what he’d become so adept at doing in the last year: he held his tongue. he let the silence stretch between them, a thin, fragile line neither of them seemed willing to cross.

but then, after a long beat, her voice broke through the quiet, softer than before, hesitant and unsure.

“i mean... i…” she hesitated for a fraction of a second, her fingers twisting slightly around the diamond ring. “i just miss going out on adventures, taking down bad guys, the daily prophet reporting about my adventures. i’m sorry, i know, i sound so green-eyed.”

“well, if it’s any consolation,” he said, trying to lighten the mood, “i think you were in a witch weekly article.”

she elbowed him lightly, her lips curling into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “not a consolation. you know i don’t like being treated like a celebrity.”

“moot point when you’ve got a whole wingding for a marriage that hasn’t even happened yet.”

she rolled her eyes, a hint of exasperation creeping into her voice. “oh, hush. it wasn’t my idea. if anything, i was against this whole thing but a husband's word is the law.”

her words were casual enough, but there was something beneath them—a quiet fatalism that rang through her tone, as though she had long since stopped fighting against the roles others had set for her. it was so unlike her. the woman he had known would have never allowed herself to be so... tame. it made him wonder if, had she heard him say that, would she still have hexed him like how her normal reaction would have been?

she had always been a force in her own right—a woman who did things her way, consequences be damned. and for all his own reservations about this hector, sebastian couldn’t deny there was a certain respect in the way she spoke of him. no, not respect—submission. it was the resignation of someone who had, for better or for worse (pun unintended), accepted their fate.

well, if it had been him—if he had been the one to give her that ring—things would have been different.

oh. there it was again—champagne clouding his judgement, making him think of what-ifs. but really, how much longer could he hold onto the intoxicating delusion that things could still be different? and most of all, how much longer can one blame the champagne?

sebastian set his glass down on the railing, the crystal making a sharp, definitive clink that cut through the silence. the sound seemed to echo, as though marking a turning point in the conversation, a shift in the air between them.

“i ought to warn hector,” he said, the playful edge to his voice sharpening in the thick air. “you can be quite scary when things don’t go your way. i remember once, ominis asked you to stop breaking and entering into random homes, and what did you do? used a very advanced locking charm to lock him out of his own apartment. took him days to get back inside. perhaps i should share that delightful story with your fiancée.”

her eyes narrowed slightly, but the smile that tugged at her lips betrayed a knowing amusement. “oh, i’m sure hector would enjoy that just as much as he’d enjoy the scolding he'd give me after,” she said, her voice smooth but tinged with something heavier. “he’s a man of strong opinions—loves to hold court on matters of... propriety. and best believe, he doesn't sway easily.”

“ah, but you forget my irresistible charm. you were the most relentless person i know, and it worked on you, didn’t it?”

“more like it wore me down.”

“same thing.”

she laughed. actually, more like guffawed. the sound bubbled up from her chest and filled the space between them, louder and freer than he’d heard in ages.

for a moment, everything seemed to fall away—the lingering heartbreak of their separation, the party, the expectations, the wretchedness of it all. they were just two people, lost in the simplicity of shared history, the ease of old comfort.

her shoulder brushed his, the smallest of touches. sebastian hadn’t even realized how close they’d gotten, how their space had slowly shrunk until they were practically leaning into each other. he could feel the warmth of her next to him, the quiet rhythm of her breathing.

it made his head spin and he didn't know what to blame this time. was it the champagne he’d been nursing all night? or perhaps the party had made him stir crazy? maybe he’s gotten a cold from all this biting air? all he knew was that if she were any closer, he would surely die. but in that same breath, he didn’t want it to stop. he didn't want the dizzying rush of this feeling to end. to be this close to her, so near, so... alive—if this was what death felt like, he would die happy. hell, he'd beg for it.

and it seemed the universe, in all its cruel, whimsical glory, did indeed want him to die. because in the next breath, she moved again—just a slight shift, but it was enough. her head, soft and weightless, found its place against his shoulder, a gentle pressure that sent a shiver through him, down to his very bones.

it was a dangerous thing, this proximity. it made him ache for the things he couldn't have anymore. but for the first time in a long while, he didn’t mind the pain.

“i haven’t laughed this much in a while,” she said, her voice almost dreamy. “i forgot how easily you could do that.”

“you know for someone so talkative, you're awfully quiet today.” she added.

sebastian exhaled, trying to force a chuckle past the lump in his throat. “ah, well... it’s not every day i come to my ex’s engagement party."

the words were dry and brittle, a thin veil over the mess of feelings roiling beneath. he could feel the weight pressing down on him, his usual charm lost to the quiet ache that had been building ever since he’d walked into this damned party.

she looked up at him, her head leaving his shoulder. sebastian fought the urge to wince at the loss of contact. he hated how it made him feel—small, like a child caught in the act of wanting something he could never have. a pathetic little loser, lost in his own head.

“right. the party,” she said, her voice distant now, like she was already stepping away, back to the world she was now leashed to. “i should get back in there.”

sebastian could feel the words coiling in his throat, but he couldn’t make them come. the lump was too heavy, the ache too deep. he didn’t want to stop her, didn’t want to be the one to hold her in this fleeting moment, knowing it was already slipping away. so he simply nodded.

she nodded back, a small, quiet acknowledgment. and in that brief exchange, something shifted—like a subtle current pulling them together without either of them willing to fight it. they were both standing still, suspended in the space between them, as though the world around them had melted into a blur. neither could look away. their gazes locked, drawn together by the gravity of everything unspoken, everything left unresolved.

for a long moment, there was only the sound of their breathing, quiet and steady, as though time itself had momentarily paused. sebastian could see the subtle flicker of emotion in her eyes, the fragility of it. the distance between them was vast, but in that instant, it felt narrower than it ever had before. she wasn’t just the woman he’d lost; she was a stranger, yet also someone he knew more intimately than anyone else in the world.

her lips parted, but no words came. it was as though they were both afraid to break the fragile tension that hummed between them. they were too fixed on each other’s eyes, as if speaking would shatter something delicate, something that might never exist again.

but then the sound of the balcony doors opening broke the stillness. a shift in the air, sharp and unwelcome, as if the universe itself was demanding they face the reality neither of them wanted to acknowledge. the doors clicked shut behind the intruder.

“brother, i knew you’d be sulking out here,” came anne’s voice, sharp and too bright. sebastian turned, his jaw tightening at the sound of her footsteps.

her eyes caught the two of them, lingering just long enough to read the unspoken, heavy weight of the moment. then, her expression flickered, a mix of surprise and amusement, as if she were watching something she couldn’t quite comprehend.

“did i interrupt something?” anne asked, a sly edge to her words, as if she could see through the mask they both wore, but was too polite to say anything more.

before sebastian could even process a response, the woman in front of him beat him to it.

“oh, not at all,” she said quickly, brushing past him to put her shoes back on. her voice was light, but there was something strained about it now—an effort to keep her composure intact. as if she was already slipping back into the role she’d rehearsed for the evening. “i was just heading out.”

anne, ever the enigma, chirped with forced cheer. “oh, by the way, congratulations on your engagement!”

“thank you, anne,” she replied, her tone measured, smooth—too smooth.

with the speed at which her mask snapped back on, sebastian felt as if he'd just gone through the looking glass. the moment between them, that fragile flicker of rawness, shattered the second she spoke. the real her, the woman he’d known, was gone—swallowed by a perfect, polished version of herself. he could almost hear the click as the walls went back up, soundproof and impervious.

but just as she turned to leave, her eyes flicked back to sebastian, and for a split second, there was a crack in that mask. a fleeting moment of something raw, something unguarded. the way she looked at him made his chest tighten, the kind of look that carried a thousand unspoken words, a thousand regrets.

her lips parted as if she wanted to say something—anything—but she didn’t. the silence between them grew thick, heavy with all the things they never said and probably never would.

instead, he grabbed his champagne glass, fingers trembling just slightly as he raised it to his lips, swallowing the rest of it in one smooth, numbing gulp. anything to chase away the taste of the moment, anything to erase the feeling of her gaze and touch.

“excuse me,” she murmured, her voice soft and distant, as if this whole thing—this entire exchange—had already been written. she brushed past anne with the grace of someone who had long ago perfected the art of walking away, leaving sebastian with nothing but the bitter aftertaste of champagne and the cold, aching silence.

they say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. but sebastian knew the truth. watching her walk away, the woman he had loved with everything in him, the woman who had been his world before it all crumbled—it didn’t make him stronger. it just made him feel dead. and drunk.

or maybe it was just the champagne.

[zanarkandfayth]

Happy Storyteller Saturday!

What inspired you to write Monsters Running Wild (Inside of Me), if it's not too difficult for you to talk about (given the subject matter of the story)? If it's too personal to share, (or you can also treat this as a bonus question!), what was your favourite comfort scene to write in that story?

thank you for the ask! I don't mind sharing though it's definitely gonna be a long, personal answer. also I laugh every time I see the title written out in full because I deliberately wrote it that way in an attempt to maybe discourage people from reading (don't ask lmao) and it makes me cringe. I should really remove the parentheses, or shorten the title maybe. ahem. anyways.

hhhh okay so I tend to be an oversharer so I will try to tone it down. the less-detailed answer is that I started writing monsters around early August 2022 I think? towards the beginning of that year I had two friendships blow up, the important one being the one with my bestie where our problems had been building for two years.

then in June the stomach problems I'd been having on and off since late 2019 that my doctor dismissed blew up, like "pain so bad for three days until I broke down and asked my mom to take me to urgent care and they sent me to the ER" blew up. which led to constant medical appointments and "throw medications at the wall and see what sticks" approaches, because nobody could find anything wrong with me. scans and tests kept coming back normal. I also had some separate health problems crop up during this point which just worsened things.

it is also notable that I'd been trying to move to Japan and teach English, which my stomach problems forced me to give up on, and that hurt a lot too.

so, yeah, basically mad depression over everything, I found myself feeling suicidal, and like. I have a past attempt. the mental hospital I got forced into for four days nearly killed me. that's not an exaggeration. I passed out and stopped breathing because they gave me two clashing medications. I really, really didn't wanna wind up back there if I failed in another attempt, and tbh, I didn't really WANT to make another attempt. but thoughts were in my head and I have no access to mental health care.

so in desperation I turned to fic. I wanted a long, angsty fic set before the game with a suicidal noct and ignis taking care of him, but there were none that I could find. and at this time, I had been working on another ffxv fic since November 2019, it was over 500k and nowhere near being finished (it's not posted anywhere rn except privately for people who are interested, because it's now over 600k and still not finished, send help) and I was. getting a little burnt out lol. so I was like "yeah okay, I can take a break to write something short with noct attempting to kill himself that's just for me"

I wrote it in my private just-for-me discord server. I had nothing specific in mind, I just started writing and let the words take me wherever they wanted. it was still largely the first chapter of monsters that is posted now, except there was no ignoct. when it was done, I shared it with the not-bestie, who loved it and then said something about how "if ignis hadn't shown up when he did then noct would have died and how would Ignis have felt coming in to yell at noct only to find him dead" and that they wanted to see Ignis have a nightmare about that.

I had already been on the fence about whether I wanted to write more, because I'd wanted more comfort than what I'd written and I also wanted to have Ignis find a note from noct, but I still had other fic to work on, but the not-bestie wanting a nightmare made me decide to at least (probably) write a second part.

I didn't, though, for like a month? I went back to the other fic. don't remember why I picked up monsters again, probably just still struggling with thoughts. I polished the first chapter and added a bit to make it ignoct, then I wrote out the second chapter with Ignis finding the note and the third chapter with him having the nightmare, then I kept going with noct being in the hospital and by that point a rough semblance of a plot idea was starting to form, so I decided to keep going and see where it took me.

that is probably about the point where my rocky frienship with the not-bestie started inspiring/influencing the fic. because I was talking with them a lot, but we weren't okay and we both knew it and it upset me. though to be clear, noct and iggy's messed up frienship is nothing like mine, I gave them their own problems, but it still felt really cathartic to write something where they weren't okay for a long time.

so yeah, the really really short answer is "I was fucked up and my most meaningful (but platonic) friendship was fucked up and it inspired me to write a fic where noct and ignis were fucked up (but still gay for each other) and then it just kept going" (:

also, bonus question... the stargazing at the sky walk scene is my overall fave, but I'm not sure that counts as enough comfort, so I'll say the scene at the end of chapter 31, where noct asks ignis what it was like for him when he walked in on noct's attempt. because they're both so touchy-feely and vulnerable and intimate and for all ignis' denial about their relationship, he knows, THEY know, they know they know, and also for a fic that is largely about ignis comforting/supporting noct, I love that noct is the one doing the primary comforting and supporting in that scene. it was so lovely to write.

I think this answer is too long. sorry 💀

[lanaconfesses]

You know what my favorite movie is? Sara, some Polish film from the 1990s. It’s about a mafia boss’s daughter falling for her bodyguard. She’s 16, he’s 40 – basically the perfect film for my “Lolita-era.” Watched it again today. No idea why I suddenly felt like revisiting it.

It’s been almost a week since Alex blocked me again. I finally mustered up the courage to text him something like, “Why would you say you love me and then act like this?” He replied with, “It really was a mistake,” and, bam, blacklisted. I’m not gonna lie – I cried. A lot. Oh, did I cry. I barely survived our breakup the first time. I was just starting to get my wings back, got myself together, and then he swoops in, sparks some ridiculous hope, and crushes it all over again.

“God, Lana, forget that loser, just get him out of your head!” chirped Chris over the phone (yes, that bestie, the one who managed to get Alex and me talking again). Meanwhile, I was sniffling in silence, ripping Alex’s love letters into tiny, bitter pieces. Not his letters, though. I wrote them myself – esoteric practice, ever heard of Love Letters Method? Anyway. “There are so many guys out there! Just pick another one!”

Chris would know. She’s been firmly “picked” for a while now. At the moment, she’s in Vietnam, flashing a ring worth more than my annual income, while her husband does high-powered business-y things I won’t detail for, you know, anonymity’s sake. Chris always respected herself enough to marry a man who was somebody, too much selfrespect to settle for anything less than something grand. She’s probably that one person whose relationship advice I should actually follow. If I weren’t so busy looking at all the wrong people, maybe I’d be sipping piña coladas in Vietnam too, waiting for, I don’t know, some rich diplomat. (Yes, my “Lolita-era” also included reading “Emmanuelle”, don’t judge me.)

But here I am, in my room, watching a movie about a schoolgirl and her alcoholic hitman lover, and honestly? I feel… not great, but not as wrecked as before. It’s weird. It still hurts like hell, but I know it’s for the best. Those five months with Alex were awful – except maybe for sleeping in his arms. But still, why did he have to be so cruel so cynical about it all? He knew exactly how much I cared. He knew how deeply I felt. I just feel... dissapointed?

“Listen, princess, I’m not proud of what I’m about to tell you, but during my wild youth, I’ve been with a lot of girls,” Adrian told me. No news there – he spent his teenage rebellion racking up experience and only recently decided to… calm down and become normal, you know. “I won’t even try to count them; I’ve forgotten most anyway. Most were one-night stands, the rest stuck around a bit longer. But I never treated any of them the way Alex treated you. And I don’t just mean what happened this time. Not just now, but all along. Lana, do you hear me? He treated you worse than some junkie hooker in a drug den. Is that really the guy you wanna cry over?”

I don’t want to. But I still do. Nothing Chris or Adrian says helps. They’re trying their best, bless them, but it’s not working. Sure, it’s nowhere near as bad as six months ago when I came home after Alex and I bombed our attempt at living together. But it still sucks. It’s finally sinking in – Alex and I? Not gonna happen. Ever.

“You deserve someone better,” Adrian went on, as if I don’t already know. “Want me to bring you flowers?” he joked. “Post a pic. Make that little bastard jealous.”

“He blocked me,” I muttered, my throat closing up with tears.

“Then screw him. Someone else will get jealous.”

He actually brought me flowers. And chocolate. Told me to snap a pic and post it somewhere, so… well, here it is. Posting.

[jilyesplz]

My Fic List

A very wise anon suggested that I pin TLAT so...

Hi! I'm writing fic of Jules's beautiful classic James/Lily fic The Life and Times, which everyone in the fandom should read because it's a masterclass in dialogue, characterization, and romantic build-up, and her Lily and James are both so wonderful and so distinct and grow so much as people, and...guh. I could gush about Jules all day. Whether or not you read my stuff, please please read TLAT! But it is unfinished, and Jules said she was not writing it anymore, so...

Potter and Evans—This is my TLAT continuation fic! I wanna give Jily a first kiss, but won’t go much past that/through the prologue. I love constructive criticism, requests, anons, theories, anything about this fic because this is an act of catharsis for me and I want it to feel the same way for readers, so I want the characters/world to feel as true as possible to Jules's! WIP (2/3 chapters published)

Saving Seats and Sugar Quills—Slice of life of TLAT!Jily six days into their relationship. In which James is a git, and it is very high school but also...if I do say so myself...kinda hot. One-shot.

I also have a couple established-relationship TLAT!Jily drabbles here (Christmas Eve) and here (Christmas morning) and here (afterglow...utter nonsense) and here (post-Quidditch final). And my personal fav TLAT scene I’ve ever published is a “deleted scene” of James writing his letter to Keepdown here.

Also, I have done other stuff!

Professor(s) Potter—Jily Lives AU where both Lily and James teach at Hogwarts during Harry’s second year. 80% fluff and smut, 20% intense war angst (I swear I was just trying to write a sexy sitcom. James decided to make it angsty) WIP (2/~6)

Dear Tuney—This is my first attempt at smut, which I inexplicably wrote in 1st person. LOL. We all make mistakes. James and Lily try to get sexy at Petunia and Vernon's stuffy dinner party, but they keep getting bloody interrupted. WIP (3/4)

Ginger Bread Girl—Lily Evans is working for Petunia's bakery (and having a crap time) when James Potter walks in with a terrible pun and a twinkle in his eye that screams Mischief. Two-shot.

And from long, long, Long Ago:

Meeting the Potters—James has invited his girlfriend of six months home to meet the parents, but the more Lily thinks about it, the more this seems like the world's worst idea. One-shot.

Howlers and Nail Polish—This! Was my attempt at a Jily epic from many moons ago, and there are future scenes from it that I'm genuinely really, really excited about, but I can't say with confidence I'll ever pick it back up. Fair warning. WIP (6/many many)

Eclectic Like a Thunderstorm—James isn't exactly fluent in Muggle, but that doesn't mean he's not going to try. Jily fluff! One-shot.

For Surfing Purposes—"Right, right, right. I'm a surfing instructor. Obviously. Because why else would I be standing behind this counter? It's not like I'm some weirdo who just has a compulsive need to break every single rule I see," James muttered, eyes darting to a sign on the counter that read, "EMPLOYEES ONLY". One-shot.

[crystallinearts]

yoyoyo fans of chosen.!! GOOD NEWS!

I know it’s been a while since the last chapter, but I’m working on the next one

HOWEVER, that’s not the good news! the good news is actually kinda twofold

first off, I’m revising and adding/polishing up earlier chapters! the first maybe 5 chapters were particularly egregious with regard to the way Chara spoke and the voice for Reader-chan, but I’m on chapter 12 trying to revise things and still finding some places to add or change little bits

it’s a lot of refining dialogue (Reader-chan was supposed to do a little more stammering, “um/uh” and repeating words in earlier chapters to convey her nervous/shyer personality, AND in the first several chapters I noticed a lot of places where I broke the rule that Chara barely uses contractions in their speech, as well as they were supposed to use a bit more formal language choices) and putting in some additional jokes/foreshadowing/mini interactions between the Dreemurr sibs

and WHEW I’ve got over 200,000 words to go through so it’ll be a hot minute before I actually get these updated chapters posted or anything, but I’m really hoping they’ll read a lot better than they used to

AND THE OTHER PIECE OF GOOD NEWS...

I’m starting to do fanfic readings of my own works on my YouTube channel, and chosen. is the first one I’m going to attempt! THIS is what got me to kick my ass into gear and revise the earlier chapters, because I knew I always wanted to do this, but I didn’t want to start doing it until I’d revised the chapters, fixed things up, etc.

I’ve already got the first chapter’s reading recorded, but I do wanna get a couple of request videos out before I make a video of my reading the first chapter of chosen.

and, that said... I need some art for the videos. =)

I’ll probably use my own art for a lot of chapters, because ideally I’d love to have a different piece for each chapter’s video

WHICH MEANS... if anyone who has already drawn something for it would be okay with me using their art, PLEASE LET ME KNOW!! obviously I would link to your Tumblr (or wherever else you’d like to be credited) in the video description (and probably in the actual video as well)

and if you’d like to create a piece specifically for any chapter, GO FOR IT, TAG ME, AND LET ME KNOW THAT I CAN USE IT!!! I love to give all the incredible artists and my supporters ALL THE ATTENTION!

but please note that you don’t have to! my fanworks are free projects created because I love them, and I can’t pay for art, so it would literally just be something for you to do ONLY IF you would like to, and I absolutely do not expect it! as I said, I’ll probably do most of the art myself, I just thought I’d put that out there that if anyone would like their pieces featured in something like that, I would absolutely LOVE to share your creations with the world

anyway, that’s it for now... hopefully I’ll have a new chapter of something out for you guys soon!! love youuuuuu <3 <3 <3

[vixenpen]

Fuck A Fan (Bakugo x Camgirl reader pt. 1)

You had gotten the idea from one of your best friends in the cam industry.

“You sure this will work?”

“Trust me boo,” he had replied, “sometimes the best motivation for a man is a little friendly competition.”

Your bestie had insisted that a fuck a fan contest would be the perfect way to get CallMeKing to finally make good on his unfulfilled promise to see you.

Putting the finishing touches on your flyer, you finally posted the announcement to all social media. You knew CMK was still lurking. So he’d definitely see it. Hopefully, this little contest would be enough to spark his interest, if this failed, you were going to scream.

Because for the first time in your cam career, a man had you chasing him.

The audacity!

To be fair, he did say that he wanted to see you too, but had to keep a low profile due to his career. He promised as soon as worked dialed down you guys would meet up.

Well that had been over a year ago, and not only had you guys not met face to face; he also didn’t seem to check in on you as much anymore.

He still tipped and re-subbed to your page. He had even cash-apped you money for Christmas and your birthday.

But aside from that, there were no more late night, sexting sessions, no more random check ins, no more nude trading.

At first, you brushed it off.

He was apparently a very successful man. Successful men were busy. They couldn’t give you every second of their time. As a successful woman, you could relate to that.

Not to mention, you were a bad bitch and bad bitches did not pine over any man.

PERIODTTT.

Buuuut...when the man in question was fine as hell with boulders for biceps, a big dick, and long money, well...you’d like to think the City Girls, Meg the Stallion, and all the other bad bitches you looked up to would understand your thirst.

“Alright, King,” you sat back in the furry, white computer chair and glared at your laptop screen. “Ball is in your court now.”

“Mr. Ground Zero, can I get a picture too?”

A precocious looking blue haired kid asked. He stared up at Katsuki with wide, hopeful eyes.

Katsuki grimaced.

“Whatever kid, c’mon.”

He leaned down, attempting to keep a safe distance from the walking germ pool, while keeping in the lens of his camera phone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Thanks a lot, Mr. Ground Zero!”

The kid giddily ran back to his group of friends.

Kirishima slung his arm around Bakugo’s shoulder, weighing down on his slightly shorter friend.

“Wow, Bakubro, looks like those public relations training classes have really been working, huh?”

“Whatever, I just don’t need anymore shitty press with kids.”

“You still have energy for happy hour with Sero and Me tonight?”

Bakugo replied with a noncommittal shrug. He scrolled absentmindedly through his phone as he and Kirishima headed towards their agencies to call it a day.

He decided to check in on (cam name’s) IG page to see how she was doing.

A pang of longing tugged at him. He missed her. A lot. Sure, she was a cam girl, and being friendly and flirty was her job, but she always brightened his days. With crime picking up steadily over the past year, Bakugo could use her presence in his life now more than ever, unfortunately, nothing in his schedule would permit it.

He was researching a new threat that had been developing in the crime world. Apparently the new mob of villains seemed to have some connections to the crime world in America, and Bakugo found himself flying back and forth to the west for meetings and to make media rounds to help put the public at ease.

His sleep schedule was completely out of whack with all the stress he was under, so any spare moment he wasn’t working, he was sleeping. Which meant no time for his virtual boo thing. Though he did try to make it known he was thinking about her with bill money.

As he flipped through her newest posts, something caught his eyes.

Fuck a fan contest? Winner gets to make content with me at secure location!

What the fuck was this shit?

Whatever it was, he was certainly going to get to the bottom of it when he got home.

CMK: Hey, (cam name) what’s this all about?

Y/N: what does it look like? Fuck a fan contest

CMK: fuck u mean? You don’t do meet ups!

Y/N: 🤷🏾‍♀️ first time for everything.

Anger hummed beneath Bakugo’s skin. Since when did y/n start doing meet ups? She had always told him she didn’t trust her fans as far as she could throw them.

He had encouraged her to not be forthcoming with personal information and never feel like she had to meet up with randos online for money. He would take care of anything she needed before it came to that.

So what was the meaning of this? Had he not been taking good enough care of her? Keeping her bills paid? Her nails and hair done?

Y/N: u entering or what? 👀

CMK: hell no im not entering and neither is anyone else. Now take that shit down.

Y/n: (voice note) first the fuck of all, you don’t tell me what to do. Second the fuck of all, do you know how much money is in this? You ain’t stopping my bag boo. Period! 💅🏾

He was practically seething. Who the fuck did she think she was talking to like that?

Who the fuck did she think she was saying no to?!

His dick stirred in his pants as he re-listened to the voice note of her cursing him out.

CMK: how much does it take to win?

Y/N: just whoever has the most.

CMK tipped $150,000

CMK: now take it the fuck down

Y/N: nobody else has entered yet.

CMK: nobody else up here has the money I have.

Y/N: if you’re not meeting with me, I ain’t takin it down.

CMK: god fucking dammit y/n. Tonight. 9pm. Text me the addy. I’ll have my driver pick you up.

True to his word, CMK had his driver pick you up an hour and a half before the time he had mentioned.

Your knee bounced, causing the black mini dress hugging your shapely thighs to ride up. You pulled it down absentmindedly.

You could count on one hand how many times you had been flown out by one of your fans. It certainly wasn’t a weekly occurrence for you the way it was for other models.

Fear and excitement fluttered in your stomach.

You wondered what the driver thought of you. Heading to this rich and powerful man’s house in the middle of the night.

You had tried to dress up as if you were going to be taken on a fancy date. Your hair styled, silver chandelier earrings dripping from your lobes to match the long silver necklace that dipped between your pushed up cleavage.

If the driver gave two shits, you at least hoped he thought you were going to get a nice meal before getting dicked down.

The community where CMK lived was on the outskirts of town; hidden in a forest of natural and manicured foliage. One could go literal miles between each home before they saw the next one.

You pressed your forehead against the window to take in the flora and fauna, manicured lawns, and huge mansions. So. Many. Styles. Of mansions!

“Here we are ma’am.” the driver announced.

He drove you up a looping, stone drive way that led to a very modern home that reminded you a bit of abstract art what with its odd angles, jutting sides, and square architecture.

The driver stepped out and opened your door. Once you were faced with the massive stairs and wooden doors before you, the song: Pretty Woman blared in your mind. You certainly felt that way.

Before you could knock, the door swung open revealing a pair of red eyes that were devouring your body head to toe.

“Oh my god...”

“Wasn’t expecting to hear that before I even touched you, beautiful.” He chuckled. His lips quirked into the cocky half smirk you’d grown familiar with from his interviews.

Was this real? Call me king was Ground Zero?!

“C-call me king?” You managed to stutter out pitifully.

“I would prefer to call you by your real name.” He joked. “Come in, beautiful.” He grabbed your hand gently and pulled you through the door.

You couldn’t even appreciate the high ceilings, polished wood floors, and tasteful stone wash colored furniture as you followed Ground Zero through the door.

He took leggy strides into the airy kitchen taking out a couple of glasses from a cupboard. You could only gawk.

He looked good as hell in his short sleeved denim button up shirt and ripped black jeans. His physique flexed under the well tailored clothes showing off the broad chest and bulging biceps you’d seen in the Nudes. His spiky Blonde hair looked soft and a bit damp.

“You wanna drink, beautiful?”

“I don’t accept drinks from new people in new environments.”

He looked up to shoot you a half smile. The usual mischief was missing from his red eyes, replaced with genuine affection.

“Of course you don’t. My (cam name.)”

“F/N,” you replied.

“Bout damn time you gave me a real name. Mine is Bakugo, babe.”

He strolled over with a glass of water for himself.

“So, f/n,” his ruby colored eyes darkened with a predatory gleam as he stepped right to your face. “Why don’t you have a seat? I promise the couch won’t bite.”

He brought a hand down to smack your round ass, making you jump.

“Can’t say the same for myself though.”

Licking your lips, you lowered yourself into the couch. Bakugo settled beside you so close the sides of your bodies touched. He draped an arm around your shoulder.

“I know you got a camsona and all, but damn, y/n, where’s my feisty little c/n? Huh? Lil Ms. Period!” His voice took on a lighter tone as he tried to imitate your twang.

The attempt earned him a giggle.

“Well excuse me, sir, but I wasn’t expecting the number two pro-hero in Japan to be my biggest fan.” You snapped back, playfully rolling your eyes. “Forgive me if I’m still wrapping my brain around it.”

“There’s that smart ass mouth I love so much.” He tucked your chin.

This close to him, you could feel his warm minty breath fanning against your lips. A familiar warmth was already growing between your legs.

Pulling away you asked: “Why me?”

“Hah?” His brows knit in confusion. “Fuck kinda question is that? What do you mean why you?”

“I mean, I’m a bad bitch or whatever, but I’m just...me and you’re...you.”

“Tch. You just answered your own damn question, dumb ass.” He tilted your face back towards him. You felt his other large hand roam the bare skin of your thigh and shivered.

“You’re a bad bitch. You don’t seem to forget that any other time, don’t fuckin’ forget it now, got that? Your confidence is what’s sexy about you.”

A smile tugged at your lips as heat flooded your cheeks.

“You know, when you’re not being a fuckin’ asshole, you can be pretty damn charming when you wanna be.”

“And when you’re not being a defiant little brat, you can be real fucking cute.”

A moan slipped from your glossy lips as his hand crept steadily up your thigh

“Please,” you leaned closer to him, “you love my brattiness.”

He scoffed, amused.

“I’ll show you just how much I like it.”

Without warning, Bakugo scooped you up. His large, rough hands dug into the soft flesh of your round ass as he straddled you on his lap.

Your wet, bare pussy pressed into his bulge as he stole a greedy kiss. Your gasp quickly morphed into a moan as desire burned in your core and flooded your entire body.

His tongue overtook your mouth effortlessly.

“No panties, huh, brat? I can feel you leaking through my jeans.”

“I hate panties,” you managed between kisses. “And bras.”

That little confession just inspired more arousal in Bakugo. He deposited you on the long couch and let his hot tongue snake along every sensitive bit of exposed flesh he could find. Goosebumps rose on your skin.

“Damn, beautiful,” he managed between kisses, “can’t wait to taste the rest of you.”

His bulge rubbed your aching clit deliciously.

You tugged his shirt up over his mess of blonde hair.

He grabbed the deep ‘V’ of your dress and ripped it open, drawing a gasp from you.

“Now we match.” He grinned

“You ass—“

“You’ll have a new outfit by tomorrow afternoon, now shut up.”

True to his word, Bakugo tasted every inch of you. He nibbled your ears making you shiver, licked your nipples making you hiss his name, and devoured your toes like blow pops.

Your body was trembling from sensory overload.

“God..” you moaned.

“You look like you want something, babe,” Bakugo smiled wickedly as he hovered above you. “What is it?”

“Eat me.”

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

Shelbys at Somme: Chapter 10

Thomas X Reader

Word Count: 1451

Summary: Reader almost gets shot.

by @adventuresintooblivion

Y/N watched as Thomas approached, a heavy weight settling in her stomach. She wanted nothing more than for the floor to swallow her up; only the ivory beneath her fingers kept her grounded.

He flashed her a small smile as he gestured towards the piano, "Hey, Y/L/N. Does she hold up to your standards?" 

She nodded. "Yeah, actually it's even better than I could've hoped for. Probably the fanciest instrument I've gotten the pleasure to play. A real beauty she is. Can’t believe you bought this."

Thomas' brow furrowed as he joined her on the bench, "You're rambling."

Y/N flashed him a weak smile. "Tired."

"You don't wanna tell me what's bothering you."

"No…" 

He glanced down, reaching back to rub the back of his head. "Will you tell me when you're ready?"

She didn't answer at first. "Today is the best day I've had in a long time. It feels selfish to be upset."

Thomas chuckled, "You almost got beat to death a week ago. I don't suspect the bar ought to be that high."

She leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. "You don't know the half of it."

He didn't move. Something inside him refused to let him enjoy the moment. Then he caught Grace's reflection in the polished wood, watching them.

He cleared his throat. "Ready to head upstairs?"

"I think so. The Pub has been busy, and I've been filling requests all day." 

He looped an arm around her waist and soon enough he was depositing her onto her bed.

"Do you need help?" He gestured to her dress, only the slightest pink tinging his cheeks.

"Can you get the back? I don't think I'm flexible enough to reach it right now."

He nodded and after getting her initial layers off he began unstringing her corset. He cursed softly.

"I thought these infernal things were out of fashion." He growled. 

Y/N chuckled, "It's starting to go, yeah. I've had this thing from before the war.  It seemed wasteful to throw it away."

Once it was finally loose enough, he slipped the undergarment over her head, mildly teasing her for her old fashioned chemise.

"We're going to have to get you some new clothes." He tossed her a robe.

She slipped into it easily, rolling her eyes. "That's the plan. Though I might have to invest in another dress or two. I don't get as many compliments when I'm dressed like a man."

Thomas paused. "You got compliments today?"

"A few." 

He leaned against her bed posts, feigning a casual expression. "What're their names?"

Y/N frowned, "Why does it matter?"

"I just don't think they should be bothering you." He shrugged.

"I can handle myself." Y/N folded her arms. "Besides, you don't get to act like that if you're looking at Grace the way you were."

He snapped, "And how was I looking at her?"

Y/N huffed, "You were undressing her with your eyes Thomas."

He knew he had been but getting caught didn't make him feel any better.

Thomas stood. "Am I not allowed to look at other women?"

Y/N recoiled, pulling her covers closer about herself, "No, Thomas you're allowed to. Just don't be a hypocrite about it."

Then it dawned on him, "Wait, is that what you're upset about? My talking to Grace?"

"I…" she looked away. "I know I have no right. That's why I didn't want to bring it up."

Thomas deflated, "What do you want?" 

"Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answer to."

"If I didn't want to know I wouldn't fucking ask," he growled as he stormed out the door, slamming it behind him.

〜

Y/N was once again awoken by muffled shouts coming from the room beside her. Something cruel curled inside her chest and bid her to stay still. To listen to his screams and do nothing.

She shook her head and stood, eyes blurry with sleep as she shuffled down the hall. Y/N wasn't paying attention, why would she be? It was her own home. 

"Thomas?" She knocked on the door yawning.

Two shots rang out. The wood just above Y/N's shoulder exploded as bullets ripped through them.

She didn't say anything, hell she was afraid to move. To make a sound. What if he isn't awake yet? Is he gonna shoot me if I breathe too loud?

There was a long moment before the sound of metal clattering on the floor filled the night air. "Y/N? Fuck Y/N!" Thundering footsteps. Then the door flung itself open. Thomas stood there in the dark gasping for breath. Dark shadows made his already angled face more severe.

Y/N just stood there shaking. She didn't feel the raw pure pain of being shot. Tears stung the corner of her eyes as she blinked them away, the sound of shells hitting packed earth rang in her ears.

"Tommy?" She stammered.

Her words broke a spell. He closed the distance between them in a single quick stride. Thomas' arms circled around her. He curled his fingers in her hair, pressing her forehead against his shoulder and murmuring into her hair, "I'm so sorry. I swear I didn't mean to… I would never hurt you."

Y/N shook her head. "I know you didn't want to shoot me Tommy."

His voice shook, "I should've been more careful."

"Stop blaming yourself; shit happens."

His thumb brushed ever so gently across her cheek, "Then why're you crying?"

Y/N didn't answer. She let him tilt her head back as he turned her towards the light. His skin left behind burning trails of fire. The concern in his eyes shredding every wall she'd put between Thomas and her feelings.

"Tommy." Y/N felt a tremor run through her as he brushed his thumb over her lower lip. 

She wasn't sure who moved first, but she found she didn't really care; he was kissing her. His chapped lips were rough against hers, but she didn't mind; it helped ground her in the here and now. The echo of bomb shells slowly faded away.

Y/N blinked as she pulled away, her thoughts muddled. 

Thomas let out a shaky breath in an attempt to collect himself. "Does this mean I'm forgiven?" She could hear the smirk in his voice.

She gently tugged on his lower lip in retaliation. "I don't think I was properly mad to begin with."

Thomas groaned as he pressed his forehead against hers, "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Make me want more," he growled before tilting her head back once again.

This kiss was tender. A slow exploration of each other that drew out her darkest secrets. Everything she wanted to say but didn't dare swam in her head, battling with the need to enjoy this. 

Suddenly she was in the air pressed tightly against Thomas' body. She let out a soft hiss of pain. His grip lessened slightly. "Sorry, love."

"Don't call me that." Say it again. Please.

He flashed her a smile that took her breath away, "Whatever you say, love."

Y/N snarled and captured his mouth in a hungry kiss. He gasped softly as her tongue brushed against his lower lip. Thomas fumbled as he carried her down the hall to her room. The occasional impact sent a small wave of pain through Y/N's torso, but Thomas managed to take the brunt of the force.

It wasn't until he sat on her bed, pulling her close to straddle him, that her mind cleared enough to understand what was going on.

"Thomas," she gasped, her words silenced by a kiss. 

His fingertips slid beneath her nightgown, sending sparks up her body. Her hand reflexively clutched at his shoulders. 

How the hell does he still remember?

Y/N tried again, "Thomas, wait."

He paused before pulling away just enough to catch his breath, "What's the matter?"

Her heart shattered as she spoke the words, "I'll not be second best. I can't, hell, I won't share your affections."

Thomas cleared his throat, "I… I understand." 

He glanced around a moment. His movements were uncertain as he lifted Y/N off his lap and deposited her onto the bed. She winced as she shifted into a more comfortable position. 

Thomas waited patiently before he stood. "I should go." 

The need for each other was still evident as Y/N reached out for him. "Why don't you sleep here tonight? I... don't feel like getting shot through the wall because of a nightmare."

The excuse was a weak one at best, but she didn't miss his smile as he crawled into bed beside her.

[theheavenlymoon]

I totally did this out of order, so let’s try this again!

I would like you to meet Uzuki Hanako! (うづき- Uzuki はなこ- Hanako)

(My first introduction was a hot mess, so I wanted re edit that one and put up this one instead!)

(I can’t draw for crap so I’m using picrew.)

This will basically be me talking about her rather than all the fandoms she’s in. I’m gonna be making post about her and the fandoms later, but for now it’s all about her!

First Name: Hanako

Last Name: Uzuki

Gender: Female

Race: Demigod

Age: ??? (Depending on the fandom, her age changes)

Birthday: December 27

Zodiac: Capricorn

Height: 6’3.3

Sexuality: Bisexual

JP CV: Ami Koshimizu

ENG CV: Amanda Céline Miller

FRENCH CV: Indila

(Couldn’t find a Greek CV 😔)

Nicknames: Shachi-chan (Floyd), Child of Hearth (Malleus), Ms.Herbivore (Leona), Princess, Wifey (Gojo)

Favorite food: Cheesecake, literally anything sweet

Least favorite food: Hummus, mushrooms, candy, and beans

Likes: family/friends, cooking, singing really loud to her music, working out, making clothes, nail polish, memes/vines, rain/cloudy weather, animals, purple, doing anything around the house, video games, anime, fictional books, roughhousing, and day dreaming about her crush/significant other

Dislikes: Fights between friends and family, Candy, crying in front of people, and bookshelves

Since I can’t draw I have to use picrew, but sadly some of the makers that I find have limited options so allow me to go into detail about her looks. (I’ll probably make another post about her abilities later)

Hanako has bright gold eyes and long lavender hair that goes all the way down to her mid thigh. She has two beauty marks, one under her right eye and one on the left side of her lip. Her signature hair style is space buns with the rest of her hair down in the back. Like I’ve said before, I can’t draw so I’m using characters I know as reference! This is what her body looks like.

(^ This is Flare, a character from fairy tail! I recommend watching it if you have time. Fairy tail is a very long series, but it’s really good!)

(I’m pretty sure you can look at almost all the women in Fairy tail and get the idea.)

Obviously I know that Hestia doesn’t have any demigod kids but demigods don’t have to be born the normal way. Hanako was born from fire and was given to her father. With that being said, when Hana was first claimed she was given a fire place poker but traded it in for a sword so she it could help control her pyrokinesis. (Her sword is disguised as a charm bracelet!)

As for her sword...

Hana’s sword helps her control her pyrokinesis a little better and it’s fun to try and see who can pick it up. Her sword can reach up to about 2000°F (1093°C). She has a few special moves but those are for another time.

Although Hana acts like her mom in some moments, she met Apollo and Hermes when she was quite young and those two have had a big impression on her personality. One moment she giving motherly advice, and the next moment she screaming vines across the room.

Random facts about Hanako 🌸✨

Since Hana means flower I use cherry blossoms and lavender to represent her.

Has a huge soft spot for children!

Hanako is super understanding and open. Wanna try something new? She’ll come with you, so you aren’t lonely and scared. Skydiving? What time are we leaving? Want to be left alone? Call her if you need something! Wanna try working out? She’ll be your personal trainer! Feeling down? She’s coming over with movies and snacks! Can’t make it to game night? It’s alright just be safe with whatever your doing!

Once Hanako falls, she falls hard.(Romantically speaking) She is a SIMP. She’ll wear the most giddiest smile after talking with them. Probably screamed in her pillows at least a few times. “They make my heart beat so fast, and they make me feel like the happiest girl in the world!!” - Hanako.

Attempts her best not to be obvious about her crush, and for the most part it works. Until anything other than platonic stuff comes up. Her face is gonna turn crimson if ANYONE mentions her crush in not so platonic ways, gods forbid anything even more intimate. Children of Hestia are so shy when the idea of sexual things is even bought up that they blush deeply and cannot articulate any coherent words, and any fire nearby also turns crimson as if it were blushing like the child of Hestia. This shyness is amplified if they are around their crush.

Gets kind of anxious when she’s beside a bookshelf.

She’s a smart ass. It’s gotten to the point where she does it automatically. It doesn’t even have time to process, it just comes out.

Hana is actually really good at acting and singing. She was in a few commercials and videos when she was younger but only as background characters.

Hana is amazing with kids. She grew up with 3 little brothers before she was moved into the orphanage, which meant even more kids to watch over. (she takes her big sister role very seriously)

Since she was born from fire, she can raise her body temperature up if she wanted too, and she rarely gets hot or cold. Heat based attack have no effect on her. Hana’s hugs feel like a warm blanket wrapped around you while sitting next to a fireplace, all in all just really comforting

Hana grew up around a lot of guys and so she calls everyone ‘bro’ and ‘dude’ a lot. She has a few friends who are girls but most of them are guys. That being said, she grew up rough housing and yelling.

Hana also comes from a very affectionate family. (Hugs, kisses, feeding food to each other, smashing food into someone’s face, etc.) So it’s not uncommon to see Hana tackle all of her friends into hugs and kisses.(platonically)

Hana also likes to tease a lot (curtsy of Hermes) so don’t be surprised when she tease about you burning food.

Is super flexible. I’m talking like, Mitsuri flexible. Her friends have at least saw her in the scorpion pose a few times. The more flexible she is, the easier it is to move in battle.

The woman is a tree. I’m pretty sure all of her lovers (with the exception of Gojo) are shorter than her.

She can not, for the life of her, wear heels. Anything above a 3 inch that isn’t thick, would make her snap an ankle. Besides she’s already tall enough

In terms of anger, Hana has the patience of a saint. She still gets annoyed here and there, but very rarely does she get genuinely angry. On the rare occasion that she is angry, she gets pretty violent. Veins showing from her forehead, her body temperature spikes, and she wears one of the most nastiest glare ever. (from what she’s been told) Only a select few have seen her mad.

When thrown into a new situation (or a new world-) that isn’t familiar, Hana will come off a bit sarcastic (more than usual) and aloof. She wants to get a feel for her surroundings before she can actually be herself. Give her some time to come around and she’ll be back to hyper and happy.

Hana has a bunch of hobbies. She plays volleyball and is known as the queen of the court. She loves to paint her fingernails and her toes as well. Her cooking is top tier! As a Hestia child obviously she would excel at anything that has to do with domestic and home type things.

She 100% would/will make her own dress. Once made a huge ball gown dress because none of the place had what she was looking for.

When she isn’t doing any of her hobbies she’s working out and practicing her pyrokinesis. Hana trained a lot back where she was from, so she could master her pyrokinesis and her sword. She’s gotten to the point where she can lift a car. Just because she’s in a different place doesn’t give her the excuse to slack off!!

Ironically her mother is a virginal goddess and isn’t married to anyone. Hana on the other hand, wants to get married and have kids. She shooting for 4 but it all depends on what her partner wants. (2,6,8 it just depends)

Hestia children can induce serenity and make tense situations a lot more calmer. Hanako has defeated a lot of enemies and monsters this way.

Hanako knows 4 different languages. English, Japanese, Greek, and French. She was taught Japanese by her father and Greek by her mother. She learned French and English herself

Even though Hana loves to do girly things, makeup is not one of them. She always thought it was pretty cool but she never had the time to sit down and practice it.

Thank you for reading✨ I had a lot of fun making this and I can’t wait to write more stuff about her! I’ll probably have to learn how to make a master post so her stuff is easier to access. If you have any questions about Hana my inbox is open, or you can message me in private, either way works!

I hope you stick around for more content with Hanako! 🌸🔥✨

[mopeytropey]

a beer buds series: chapter 6

Timeline: takes place during chapter 5 of ‘apu’ just before Lexa and Clarke get a little too drunk while watching movies (oops!) in which they fall asleep on Clarke's couch together (oops again!), subsequently commencing what I like to call The Separation

Beer: Free Rise (MOSAIC) DRY-HOPPED SAISON

This edition of Free Rise highlights locally sourced Danko Rye from Valley Malt and Mosaic in the dry hop. A nuanced fruity hop profile is balanced with subtle, crisp malt character and expressive notes of pepper and clove. Light in body, with a clean, bone-dry finish.

ABV 7.3%

Posted on AO3 here or below the cut :)

Free Rise: Trillium Brewing Co (Fenway/Boston, MA) :::

“This newer location is great, but you really need to experience their beer garden next summer on the green. Clarke is obsessed with it—chances are she’ll probably drag you there at some point.”

Lincoln says it so casually, and the image that Lexa begins to paint comes effortlessly.

She and Clarke on a day trip to Boston in mid June, sharing sips of beer and sampling local food trucks in the afternoon sun. Clarke’s rasping laughter drifting through the park as Lexa is further charmed, relaxing in the warm sun and nearby ocean breezes.

She would allow Clarke to drag her any number of places, Lexa thinks. Given the opportunity.

“I’m excited to see both locations,” she says to Lincoln, as if her mind hadn’t drifted into an idyllic landscape of some potential future.

It’s what she’s begun to sense as of late: possibility.

A recent glimmer of hope has been sparking at the periphery of Lexa’s consciousness. There’s the exhilaration of what might be possible for her and Clarke, even in its uncertainty. Even if she doesn’t have any control over it. She can feel the potential of things to come buzzing through her even now, as she and Lincoln walk under the looming, green shadows of Fenway Park.

“Have you been?” Lincoln asks, nodding towards the infamous baseball park that sits in the heart of the city, surrounded by bars and businesses and gawking tourists.

“Not yet.”

“We should go—I haven’t had anyone to hate watch the Red Sox with in years.”

Lexa smiles up at him. “A cherished pastime.”

They swap baseball stats and playoff predictions while walking down the stretch of Brookline Ave between historic Fenway and Trillium. The city air is crisp and cool, and Lexa almost wishes for a jacket, but the chill invigorates her already vibrant mood. Upcoming plans with Clarke have filled her with an unchecked buoyancy.  

Costia had left that morning for her weekend away with a parting kiss to Lexa’s temple, a warm hand cupped around the back of her neck.

Safe, perfunctory. Everything that Lexa has begun to associate with Costia.

“Can we try to talk about this again when I get back?”

For once, Lexa hadn’t flinched at the mention of Costia’s research grant and its implications for their relationship. “Sure.”

The extent of their goodbye at the door of their apartment had been Costia’s soft look and Lexa’s small smile as she briefly squeezed Costia’s fingers.

There had been a time when impending distance felt torturous—longing would spring up after only hours apart, and Lexa would ache to see her again.

Those moments for them, like so many others, are gone now.

And, if they have lost their weight, if they are no more than performative interactions between them, Lexa has begun to wonder: what’s left?

What is it that has kept her clinging to Costia so willfully?

Lexa has always excelled at making sense of her life and maintaining control, even amidst the chaos and unpredictability that has so often plagued her. She considers herself a rational person with a reasonable sense of the world, particularly the mechanics of her interpersonal relationships.

Being with Costia had been no different. From the very start, they just made sense. Lexa has always found comfort in the expected, seeking logic and practicality in her daily life.

At least, historically.

Ever since Clarke (clumsily) breezed into her life, Lexa hasn’t felt entirely reasonable about much of anything. Clarke is still unfamiliar in many ways. Her entire friendship has been fortuitous, unprecedented. It’s the first time in Lexa’s entire life that she has been irrevocably drawn towards such palpable uncertainty.

“This weather is perfect—I love it up here at this time of year,” Lincoln says.

Lexa breathes in deeply, anchoring herself to this moment and quieting the thoughts of her indeterminate future. “It’s great,” she smiles and continues in stride with Lincoln’s comforting shadow cast over her.

:::

The taproom is stunning: polished wood in every direction, exposed light bulbs hanging from an open ceiling, and thirty-foot glass doors stretching along an entire wall. In the warmer months, Lexa imagines the doors opening to a cluttered patio. In the early autumn temperatures, the patio is empty and half of the room inside is bathed in natural light while the other remains dim and cozy.

Lincoln heads straight for the bar counter. While a handful of other patrons have favored the couches near the windows, the bar sits empty.

“Hey guys.” A woman around their age approaches from behind the bar. She slides two menus in front of them as Lexa takes her seat beside Lincoln. “Here’s what we’re currently pouring on tap. Cans are listed at the bottom. You need a minute?”

“That’d be great. Thanks,” Lincoln answers.

The woman walks away with a smile that Lexa catches only as she looks up from her menu.

Lincoln drums his hands against the counter top. “Oh shit, I know what I’m getting.”

“That was quick,” Lexa says, returning her attention to the draft pours.

“Their gose is ridiculously good.”

“I think I’m going to do the farmhouse.”

“Did you two decide?” The bartender is already approaching as Lexa glances up from her menu. “Sorry—I wasn’t trying to hover, but it’s pretty dead in here today.”

“No worries.” Lexa offers a brief smile and watches the woman’s face transform, brightening as she stops directly in front of her and braces her arms against the edge of the counter.

“I’m gonna do the gose,” Lincoln says.

“And, I’ll do the Free Rise,” Lexa adds.

“That one is my favorite,” the bartender responds, grinning at Lexa as she retrieves their menus. “Be right back with those for you.”

“Thank you,” Lexa says while reaching for her phone that has buzzed twice from the front pocket of her jeans.

She’s fighting a grin at the messages she finds, simultaneously typing her response as Clarke continues her barrage of nonsense, and doesn’t catch the odd look Lincoln is giving her until she slides her phone onto the bar top.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs, still looking too pleased for Lexa’s comfort. “So, what else are you up to this weekend? You wanna come check out the new poke bowl spot with me and O tomorrow?”

“I’m supposed to watch movies with Clarke tomorrow night—what time were you thinking of going?”

“No idea. I’ll let you know though. Or, you know, bring her with you. We can make it a foursome.”

His suggestion has her ridiculously flustered for what could be no more than an invitation to hang out with three of her friends. But, it’s Lincoln, and Lexa knows better than to underestimate his scheming.

“Yeah, I mean, I’ll, um, I’ll ask her,” Lexa answers, almost immediately distracted again by the vibration of her phone.

She’s still rolling her eyes at Clarke’s entirely ridiculous diatribe about the validity of poorly written screenplays of the early 90s when the woman behind the bar returns with their drinks.

“Here we go. Should I start a tab for you?”

“Um, sure,” Lincoln responds. He fishes out his debit card from his wallet and slides it across the bar counter.

“I really love your sweater, by the way.”

There’s a brief, weighted pause following the sound of the woman’s voice, and Lexa looks up from her phone when she realizes the compliment was meant for her.

“Oh. Thanks.” She flashes another momentary smile before reaching for her beer and sending off her scathing rebuke for Clarke’s lack of cinematic prowess.

The absolute ire that it will produce and the irritated messages that will follow almost make Lexa giggle in public. Pushing Clarke’s buttons has become an accidentally honed skill.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but are you not the same person who told me—not two weeks ago—that having beautiful women flirting with you typically grabs your attention?”

Lexa closes her phone instantly, replacing it to her jeans pocket where she hopes it will be safe from Lincoln’s insightful observations. Like getting caught with her hand in the cookie jar, she attempts to clear her face of any guilt as she looks over at Lincoln because Clarke had not been flirting with her in the first place. They have merely been discussing preferences in film through a medium of quick wit and lightly antagonistic banter.

“What are you talking about?”

Lincoln’s voice drops to an even lower volume as he leans towards her. “That bartender has been chatting you up since we walked in, and you seem to be on another planet right now.”

“She was not—”

“Oh-ho-ho,” Lincoln laughs. “Believe me. She definitely was.”

Lexa chances a quick glance down the length of the bar towards the woman polishing glassware. She looks up before Lexa can avert her gaze, and that same smile is back. Lexa’s stomach drops regretfully.

She hadn’t registered the blatant interest from their bartender nor her physical features, which are, objectionably, quite attractive.

Damn it, Lincoln.

“How is it?” the woman calls out, and Lexa raises her glass with a forced smile.

She takes a sip, pretending it isn’t her first, and can actually feel Lincoln fighting a smile to her left. “It’s great. Thanks.”

“Maybe having multiple beautiful woman flirting with you simultaneously is throwing you off,” Lincoln stage whispers, gleefully watching Lexa’s discomfort until she kicks his leg with the toe of her sneaker.

“I’m ignoring you now.”

“Oh good,” Lincoln laughs, “this should be a fun hang then.”

Lexa’s phone continues to alert her of Clarke’s persistence, or so she assumes by the rapidity at which it vibrates. Clarke never sends one, moderate length text when she could send 12 fragmented messages in quick succession. She reaches into her pocket to silence her notifications when Lincoln gently pokes a finger into her tricep.

“I’m just giving you a hard time. You know I don’t give a shit if you text Clarke while we hang out. She’s my buddy.”

“Why are you assuming I was texting with Clarke?” Lexa can hear the edge to her voice and reaches for a drink of her saison to lessen her defenses.

“Wild guess.”

Even Lexa is relatively powerless to Lincoln’s smirking charm and fights a smile of her own when their eyes meet.

“We’re debating movie selections for tomorrow,” she shares. “Her taste in film is generally abhorrent.”

“You two are always fighting about something.”

“Not intentionally. But, Clarke can be very … frustrating,” Lexa admits with a soft scowl into her beer. Lincoln laughs in response and she exhales. “We’re extremely different people.”

“Yeah, but differences are good. At least she keeps things interesting.”

Lexa barely manages not to choke on her beer, swallowing inelegantly. “That is one way to put it.”

“So, Costia is gone until Monday?”

Lexa tries not to let the abrupt change in conversation jar her. “Yeah.”

“Where’s the conference again?”

“D.C.” Lexa clears her throat, tracing a ring of condensation with her index finger against the bar. “Johns Hopkins.”

“How have things been? Any better?”

“Define better.”

Lincoln grimaces sympathetically at Lexa’s unmasked cynicism, and she exhales a cleansing breath. She’s determined not to make this yet another installment of airing her grievances of a stalled relationship, like so many times before. Lincoln is too kind and too selfless—she doesn’t want to take advantage of his friendship by making everything about herself all the time.

“Sorry,” she says softly. “I guess I don’t know how to determine if things are improving or not. But, we’re trying to be more realistic about our relationship at the very least. Talking a bit more. She’s been pursuing this research grant, which would mean almost a full year apart as she works abroad.”

“Damn.”

“I know. I took the news spectacularly well, as you might imagine.”

“Lost your shit a little bit?”

Lexa huffs a laugh and pulls on the sleeve of her sweater. “I think you accused me of being particularly homicidal that morning?”

Lincoln tips back in his stool with a laugh. “Ah, yes—I knew it.”

“Thank you for gloating at my expense,” Lexa responds drolly.

“Sorry.” Lincoln clears the laughter from his voice and attempts composure. “So, what’s the plan? Wait and see if her proposal is accepted?”

Lexa swallows down a mouthful of beer and runs a hand through her hair. “I think we have plenty to talk about even if she doesn’t get the grant, but yeah. We’re supposed to talk when she gets back.”

“That’s really good, Lex.” Lincoln’s gentle timbre is warm and reassuring, all prodding humor gone from his tone. “I mean, it’s tough, but avoidance is also generally unhelpful.”

“Yes, I’ve realized.” Lexa smiles over at him, feeling better already.

Lincoln then asks, “What about Clarke?” and her momentary sense of relief vanishes.  

She’s either gone extremely pale or is blushing fiercely because she feels both an icy chill and too hot all at once. She barely manages to respond without her voice shaking awkwardly. “What about Clarke?”

Lincoln is unfazed, lightly flicking his finger against her forehead as if they’re still thirteen and riding a noisy subway car. “She’s supposed to be your best friend, dummy. You should talk to her about this stuff.”

She’s never considered mentioning anything of significance about Costia to Clarke. It’s always seemed to Lexa, unsurprisingly, like a conflict of interest. Clarke will often inquire about Costia’s schooling, graciously concerned for her well-being within a demanding graduate program. In turn, Lexa offers her standard replies, never wanting to delve too far into their dynamic for fear it would reveal too much and ruin everything. Her life for the past several months has relied entirely on a delicate balance. Saying too much too soon could be perilous.    

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Hey guys, are we ready for another round?”

The unexpected sound of the bartender’s voice startles Lexa out of her thoughts, and she looks up to see that her beer is, in fact, empty.

“I’d like to try what he was drinking, actually,” Lexa tells her.

“You know what? I’m going to do the farmhouse,” Lincoln announces and slides their glasses closer to the woman standing in front of them.

She laughs easily while reaching for their empty glassware. It’s a nice laugh, ringing pleasantly in the quiet taproom. Even still, Lexa can’t help but register how much it pales in comparison to the addicting notes of Clarke’s distinctive laughter.

“Okay so two more of the same but in reverse,” the woman confirms. “Got it.”

As she leaves them, Lexa spins in her stool, determined to shift gears away from her indecisiveness. “Things with you and Octavia are going well?”

“Yeah,” Lincoln smiles. “Really great. She’s probably way too good for me, but I’m going to keep my mouth shut and hope she never figures it out.”

Lexa arches an eyebrow. “Do we need to sort through your abandonment trauma now? Because I thought we promised each other years ago that we would stop belittling our own self-worth.”

“No, no,” Lincoln laughs. “I’m good, I swear.” He shrugs a moment later and scratches his head. “Old habits.”

“There is no one too good for you, but if there were ever a perfect match out there, it’s Octavia.”  

The bartender returns with their drinks before Lincoln can respond, but he looks at her as if Lexa has just gifted him the cosmos and reaches out to squeeze her shoulder. Their next beer turns to idle chatter, old memories, sports, and shop talk. Lexa checks her messages while Lincoln is in the bathroom and finds that Clarke has not conceded any of her poorly formed arguments by even a fraction. The fiery retorts on her screen breed a smile so wide that she doesn’t manage to temper it by the time Lincoln returns.

If she were at liberty to be more honest, she would tell Clarke that it doesn’t matter what movies they watch. She’s just happy to be spending more time together. Instead, she slides her phone back into her pocket and stands beside her stool, stretching the stiff muscles of her back.

“You ready to go?”

Lexa smiles in response and nods.

They thank their bartender and exit the taproom into a setting sun. The foot traffic down Brookline Avenue is busier at the 5:00 hour as city workers rush towards their staggering commutes home. Lexa is lost in thought, still pondering her evening with Clarke the following day, when Lincoln abruptly pulls her down a side street with his hand wrapped around her elbow.

“Oh wait—this way.”

“Um, where the hell are we going?” Lexa asks when their course has been rerouted away from Lincoln’s car.

“I just decided I’m gonna take you for the best burger of your life. Storrow Drive is a parking lot right now anyway—it could take us hours to get home if we leave now. Let’s eat first and then drive back.”

In no rush to return to her empty apartment, Lexa shrugs easily. “Yeah, sure.” Being in Lincoln’s company is almost always preferable to anything else anyway.

After a moment’s pause, he nudges her with his elbow as they walk and is grinning stupidly when Lexa looks up at him. “If you really want to make Clarke mad, tell her we’re about to walk into Tasty Burger.”

Lexa has spent the better part of the year feeling unmoored by a lack of purpose. She has been draped in uncertainty and self-doubt after abandoning her life in New York. And while she still feels plagued by indecision, she’s also grateful for the choices she’s made that have brought her here, walking in stride with an old friend.  

She returns Lincoln’s smile and reaches for her phone.  

:::

[writingsorrantings]

Friends Don’t Look at Friends That Way Pt2 (jj x reader)

Word Count: Around 1,300 (sorry!lol)

Warnings: Alcohol mentions, angst

Music Rec: One Way St. - Jhene Aiko (just a good song and is mentioned in the chapter :)

Part One

 Recap: “And with that JJ laid back again and you found yourself in his arms. It wasn’t right, but you could get used to the way it felt even though you wanted more.”

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

It had been about a week since that night, but your head was still as clouded. JJ hadn’t called you once which was definitely not your style and it was beginning to worry you. Is he ok? Or maybe I was too forward?

Maybe he just doesn’t want to be around you anymore.

 You shook your head as a half-assed attempt to put a stop to the self-deprecating thoughts and instead focused on the music playing through your headphones as you came home from work, but that proved to be less than helpful. “Going the wrong way down a one way street.” Jhene couldn’t have said it better and frankly you felt like a semi carrying a shit ton of rejection and hurt was barreling towards you, no evidence of it slowing down and ready for a head on collision. Bracing before a crash, emotional or otherwise, had never been your specialty. You already felt like shit and you couldn’t imagine what would happen if he actually talked to you about it. You had never been one for confrontation, but he had left you on read for a week now and you were going nuts trying to figure out what you did. 

Your feet hit the pavement in a slow rhythm, but as you began to think about what he was doing (or not doing) your pace began to pick up. At this point you were angry, how could he be so childish?! You were just trying to talk to him and he didn’t even bother looking at the last message! That really hurt your feelings and you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes. Fuck him then. Your shoes hit your colorful doormat as you entered your house prepared to look the hottest you had ever looked for the kegger tonight. Walking into the kitchen you quickly grabbed the bottle of vodka from your parents cabinet knowing that they wouldn’t miss it and marched up your stairs. One thing was for sure, you didn’t need JJ to have fun. Or at least that’s what you told yourself. 

Unfortunately JJ’s thoughts were just as scattered. It was only 2 in the afternoon and he had already begun pregaming for the celebration tonight, but then again it might have just been a happy coincidence. He stared at the texts you had sent him and all he could do is run a hand over his face only pausing to take a gulp of the beer in his hand. 

“wanna surf tom?” --read 8:02am

“????” --read 8:23pm

“you good?” --read 7:48am 

“just talk to me” --read 10:47am

“what did i do” -- delivered fri 4:30 

        read sun 10:23

Fuck. He didn’t want to hurt her so he kept his distance, yet he still managed to make her feel bad. Once again this proved to himself that he was just a walking disaster. He knew by Saturday night that if he didn’t back away now it would just get so much worse. John B. came home the morning after to JJ huddled in the blue sheets of his spare room, eyes rimmed with red and for once it wasn’t from smoking. After hauling him out of bed and forcing him to take a shower, John B. questioned him over breakfast that JJ had tried to refuse multiple times. A text from you lit up his screen, and his face immediately dropped. He was a fucking wreck and anyone who saw him could figure it out. He loved you.  There was no point in denying it now, especially to John B. A boy who spent years trying to convince his best friend that he was a good person who deserved a healthy, happy love. Needless to say, he still wasn’t successful despite his efforts.

“She makes you so happy dude, I mean we can all see it. You are so damn happy. She makes you do things that you would never think of doing and you love it….She...She makes you think before you act because you know that it would destroy her if anything happened to you. For once you actually give a shit about your future and that’s because of her!”

By this point John B. was almost yelling as he had no clue how else to get it through his head that you loved each other. 

Calming down he said, “ I mean really...is this what you want? Because you deserve better than this….She deserves better than this.”

Not a single muscle in his face moved when he stood up from the chair, the screech from the legs rubbing on the ground echoing as the sentence hung in the air. A part of JJ knew John B. was right, but ultimately he would never risk your happiness to make room for his own. 

“Thanks for the breakfast.”

Feet padding against the wooden floor, JJ made his exit right into the room he came from, no regard for what his best friend had said. With a huff John B. decided that this was a battle he’d fight another day and left to go see Sarah. When the door slammed shut, tears fell from JJ’s eyes. It’s ok if he thought he was stupid, at the end of the day JJ was doing what he thought would help you.

Night was approaching and you were ready as ever for tonight’s festivities to begin. Kie had come over and you were screaming the words to various songs as you guys got ready for the night. It didn’t take you long as you both were never huge fans of full glam looks, but could appreciate it on other people. As you checked yourself out in the mirror you couldn’t help but smile. You were all for body positivity, but you were never a super skinny girl and sometimes that made you insecure. But today. Today you loved the way your curves filled out your too short cut offs. Between that, Kie’s halter top, and the layered necklace that fell perfectly in the middle of the deep v neckline, you were irresistible. Kie grabbed your hand and pulled you downstairs as you headed out for the party.

The dull thumps from the speakers began to get louder as you guys approached in the car and before you knew it you were parked and ready to get out, fingers wrapped around the silver handle. This was a mistake. Although it was just a flash of trepidation, Kiara had seen it and asked, “(y/n), you ok?” and frankly you had no clue. Were you ok? I mean no you weren’t and you definitely wouldn’t be tonight, but did you need to worry her. The silence was answer enough for her and she studied your face. 

“We don’t have to go y’know. I’m ok with not going and I can just tell the guys we hungout all night?” 

“No, no it’s ok. It’s just...JJ hasn’t been talking to me lately and I don’t know why, but to be honest I think I do, but I don’t want to think that way.”

Kie stared at you waiting for you to continue with a slight nod to show she was listening. After a moment of hesitation, you turned your body so that your open back was no longer against the leather seat and your knees were pointed at her despite how small the car was. Even though you were facing her, your eyes refused to meet hers as you focused on chipping away at your nail polish while you spoke.

“I..I just...we had a moment last saturday. I mean I thought we did and I think I like him and...and I think he knows and is just avoiding me until he finds the right way to reject me. He just kept leaving me on read and I figured the best revenge was to look great tonight. But honestly, I guess I just wanted to make him realize that I can be more than a friend.”

Kie had had enough. JJ was acting like a dumbass and she wasn’t going to let him hurt her friend. You are the sweetest person that she knows and you deserved a guy who would give you the same effort that you always gave others. She began to smile as she started planning the rest of your night in her head and she was going to make sure you had the time of your life. She reached into the backseat and handed you the bottle you had snagged earlier and after spinning the top off you took your first of many shots that night. 

“You deserve to have a good night. Without JJ. Let’s fucking do this.”

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

Part 3

Sorry to leave you guys on another cliffhanger I hate it when writers do it lol! But honestly thank you guys so much for all of the messages that you have sent me and all of the likes that you have left on part one. It was my first ever fanfic so it felt super good to see that you guys enjoyed it. I am going to start working on part 3 right after I post this, but idk if I will stop the story with that part. I’m new to this so let me know if you want to be on a taglist of if you have any requests for any character from any show. I’m not picky! Anyways love you all and I hope you’re staying safe. 

[chubsonthemoon]

tagged by @storybookprincess!! (thank you!!) here are some of my fave fics I’ve written! tbh this was kinda difficult; I am very aware that nothing I write is neither perfect nor very polished (it wouldn’t be even remotely fun for me if I tried to do that), but mostly everything I’ve written I’ve written for the sole audience members of me myself and I (and also sometimes a friend :3), so these are some of my more recent faves. under a cut because this got kinda long, whoopsie!

tagging! @superish, @dodici12, and @owletstarlet! <3

Letters from Heaven: haikyuu!!, kagehina, 60k

this fic was written for last year’s kghn big bang and it was so fun! It’s the longest thing I’ve written yet, and boy oh boy it was such a challenge to juggle a bunch of different things that I hadn’t done on this kind of scale before, like longer character arcs and, especially given that this is a violet evergarden AU, describing things in a way that fits with kyoani’s style and VibeTM. My last longer fic, thy kingdom come, was about half this length and almost made the list simply because of how bonkers it was (like I hadn’t written at all that year and suddenly signed up for a big bang and then had to take a month long break in the middle because of school stuff, and then boom I ended up writing the latter half of it a few days before the deadline LOL), but anyway. It’s not perfect (nothing is!) but it’s chock full of recurring metaphors and long-winded descriptions about the sky and pining out the wazoo (basically: all wildly self-indulgent things catered to me and me alone) and I love it all the same. (also bajillion thanks to janine for this one heh she is to blame for most of my kghn madness)

over the edge (of all our knowings): hunter x hunter, killugon, 13k

okay this one almost went to my other killugon fic again bc everything I write is so self-indulgent but!! this fic is probably one of the few fics that I set out to write very intentionally? that sounds weird, hmm how to explain. I tend to write fic mostly to let out Emotions but tbh it’s so much easier and way more fun for me to do that through reading other people’s works--less work for me to read abt my faves than to write them, after all! so most of what’s on my profile before this fic is exactly that: I sat down at like one in the morning with my notebook and fever-dream scribbled out a oneshot that I spent maybe the next two or three days typing up, reading over once, and then yeeting it up onto the archive. but not with this fic! I had already written my Vent fic for the boys in question, but my goals with this fic were more deliberately geared towards examining and changing up my approach to writing: 1) I really wanted to explore gon after the world tree and what his healing might look like, but gon is Really Hard for me to write (the boy is so!! ARGHSLKDFJ). So: deeply inhabiting unfamiliar character pov practice. Asking myself, after every single line of dialogue and event and inner monologue, how this character would react and why. How will this impact their next action? How will it impact their relationship with this other character? How about this? and this? and so on and so forth 2) I wanted to find a balance with my metaphors on both a sentence by sentence and an overarching basis (I tend to just go for the first--I can’t help it I love purple-y prose jslkdfj). 3) Time!! I also went a lot slower with this one. Every night for over a month, writing a little bit at a time in my notebook. And I found that going slower...is actually really nice? Takes a lot of the stress away. tldr; this fic was basically one long exercise in me examining my writing (also ngl my creative writing professor’s feedback on my work for class really kickstarted this LOL) and boy oh boy was it satisfying to see it posted when I finished. I learned a lot! Also I got some of the kindest comments that made me tear up, which was so wonderful. god this got long okay moving on.

your heart, bright heart: natsume yuujinchou, tanunatsu & gen, 7k

after over a year of quarantine I’ve read more fic than I ever have in my LIFE and I have figured some stuff out about what makes me go absolutely bonkers, writing-wise. this fic was an attempt, after several months of reading literally hundreds of fics across dozens of fandoms and relationships and pairings (like geeze! hxh, run with the wind, hq, yuri on ice, the great pretender, ouran highschool host club, snk, mdzs, final fantasy xv, and yes natsuyuu too LOL), an attempt at making myself go bonkers, if you will. and I still can’t quite put my finger on what it IS but I know it has something to do with the naming of things. like an author will Name a Thing, very specifically, whether it is an action or a character thought or something very simple about the environment--and that something speaks volumes about the character and their relationships and the core themes of the series and it’s like. it’s like there’s a moment of understanding between that character and the reader, an oh! I know what that means. it’s wonderful and I’m butchering the explanation here but anyway. I still have no idea how to do this myself yet but goddammit I’m gonna get there one day. This fic was my first attempt in the Naming of Things. idk if there are any oh! moments in it myself, but natsuyuu is the perfect series for the kind of quiet that I think you need for those small moments. 

holy SHIT this got long uh. if you’ve made it this far--thank you?? this was also useful for me to articulate what the hell I’m doing in hamsterland. Recently a visiting poet came to one of my classes at university and talked about language-making as a physical art. Language has a physical existence, she said; it leaves the body and enters another and causes a physical reaction in both speaker and listener. She talked about how writers are creators of physical things, and how writing is mostly thinking before the creating. The physicality of language. To say it made me lose my marbles is an understatement!! tldr; there’s so much inspiration everywhere, and I wanna write more!!! So I’m gonna!!

[dontasktheradiodemon]

Private - Nov 18

Question: why the heck are Sir Pentious and Alastor posting a weird drawing of a pink cube?

Short answer: two dorky old men griping about Kids These Days resulting in an experimental attempt to replicate modern shitposting habits.

Long answer:

11/15/2020

hiss-and-vinegar

🐍 GOOD NIGHT, ALASTOR.

11/18/2020

hiss-and-vinegar

🐍 I TOLD YOU GOOD NIGHT AND YOU NEVER ANSWERED ME!

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 My deepest apologies, my friend, I didn't see it! Let me make up for it, let's see... good night, good morning, good night, good morning, good night, and another good morning! I think we're caught up now.

hiss-and-vinegar

🐍 HA! GOOD MORNING

dontasktheradiodemon

OwwO

hiss-and-vinegar

🐍 WHY ARE YOU OWWO-ING ME

🐍 ㅁ]:3~

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 I'd already said good morning, I couldn't say it a second time!

hiss-and-vinegar

🐍 I RETURNED THE GREETING, AS I AM A HELLISH GENTLEMAN! WHY WOULD YOU NEED TO SAY IT AGAIN

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 I wouldn't! Which is why I OwwO-ed instead.

hiss-and-vinegar

🐍 PERHAPS YOU SHOULD TRY TO CREATE AN EMOTICON OF YOUR OWN FACE. ALTHOUGH, PERHAPS IF IT LOOKS TOO ACCURATE, IT WILL DESTROY THE EQUIPMENT!!!

hiss-and-vinegar

🐍 ㅋ    ㅋ

🐍 ㅇl w l

🐍 THERE

🐍 YOUR ANTLERS, YOUR MONOCLE, YOUR EYES AND YOUR MOUTH

🐍 ㅋ    ㅋ

🐍 ㅇl w l 🍖

🐍 NOW YOU ARE EATING

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 Ha! Wouldn't that be something, a few characters that break machines. But I'm just fine with the one I made—it has my smile with a surplus of teeth, that's the most important part!

hiss-and-vinegar

🐍 MINE HAS A MONOCLE, SO IT IS MORE ACCURATE

🐍 ㅋ                  ㅋ

🐍 ㅇl wwwwww l

🐍 THERE

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 Ha!

dontasktheradiodemon

ψ          ψ o̗̟̘̝̯̝OwwwO

hiss-and-vinegar

🐍 NYA HA HA!

🐍 THERE, YOUR TUNING FORKS

🐍 NOT ENOUGH TEETH THOUGH

🐍 ㅁ]:3=~

dontasktheradiodemon

ψ                ψ o̗̟̘̝̯̝OwwwwwwwO

🎶 How's that? Just about enough this time?

🎶 My antlers don't seem to want to line up properly when I send them!

hiss-and-vinegar

🐍 THEY LOOK FINE TO ME?

🐍 MAYBE YOU SHOULD GET A BETTER EMOJI

🐍 📻

🐍 🦌

🐍 🍖

🐍 👄???

hiss-and-vinegar

🐍 OH IT IS A MOBILE THING

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶📻🦌🍖👄 Arrange all five in a pentagram to summon the Radio Demon! How's That for modernizing?

hiss-and-vinegar

🐍 THEY ARE FINE ON MOBILE ONLY! ON THE SMART PHONES

🐍 CAN YOU BE SUMMONED VIA EMOJI? HMMM

🐍 LET'S TEST IT NOW!!!

dontasktheradiodemon

((There is now a Radio Demon in Sir Pentious's room. Poof.))

hiss-and-vinegar

(( HE CACKLES

(( and sends a text anyway,

🐍 DIGITAL MEAT WORKSS JUST AS WELL!

dontasktheradiodemon

((He just sorta reads it over Sir Pentious's shoulder.))

🎶 Doesn't taste half as good, though!

((And Sir Pentious gets to witness in person that Alastor just, talks out loud, no evidence of a phone, and a moment later a message with the same text in it arrives.))

hiss-and-vinegar

(( O     O..............

(( Pentious LOOKS at him like. What the Fuck! I wanna do that!!!

(( "ARE YOU A SPEECH TO TEXT MACHINE"

dontasktheradiodemon

(("Only a speech machine!" He Grins. Look at him, so mysterious. He's got a secret and he's smug about it.))

hiss-and-vinegar

(( "YOU MUST HAVE A RECEIVER HIDDEN IN YOUR HAIR! OR IS IT JUST YOUR ANTLERS..."

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 You mean my antennae?

((He says and sends it at the same time. And he's grinning Even Wider, he's obviously still hiding something.))

hiss-and-vinegar

(( HE HUFFS

🐍 DON'T YOU W MOUTH AT ME IN REAL TIME

(( Pentious also texts out loud sometimes, but this time, he is just doing that Cobra Breathing Thing as he looks more like an accordion than a Snake

🐍 YOUR TUNING FORKS

dontasktheradiodemon

((He is OwwOing))

hiss-and-vinegar

🐍 STOP IT

dontasktheradiodemon

((He goes OwwwwO. And then he takes mercy, holds a finger over his mouth and winks—shh, we're being secretive—and pulls a phone out of his pocket. It's already on and set to microphone, so it's just. Already listening.))

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 But pay no mind to the man behind the curtain!

((And the text appears as he speaks. It somehow apparently presses "send" itself a moment later.))

hiss-and-vinegar

🐍

(( Sir Pentious whips an eggboi at Alastor

dontasktheradiodemon

((Well now there's a mess on him! òwó))

dontasktheradiodemon

((With GREAT dignity he magically peels the mess off his clothes.))

🎶 I'm going to make an omelet and I'm not going to share.

hiss-and-vinegar

(( HE'S LAUGHING, can't type, laughing too hard.... Doubled over..... Goodbye

dontasktheradiodemon

((He patiently endures it. And tries to pretend the laughter doesn't wipe out his irritation.))

hiss-and-vinegar

(( weakly typing,

🐍 YOU DIDN'T DODGE IT LIKE I THOUGHT YOU WOULD

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 Most people who lob projectiles at me are a lot farther away and like me a lot less! I had my guard down.

hiss-and-vinegar

🐍 APOLOGIESDEERCHUM

(( oh god everything hurts from laughing so hard, he's wheezing

dontasktheradiodemon

((He pats Sir Pentious's back. There there.))

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 Keep this between us, would you? I've got an image to keep up, and it doesn't involve cellular phones! That, and I don't want to attract telemarketers.

hiss-and-vinegar

(( "WHICH PART................" he is hastily deleting a post from his blog

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 The part where I have a phone.

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 There's a good portion of Hell that thinks I'm completely incapable of handling new technology! Me, a man who was on the radio before most people had radios. Insulting, but sooner or later I think it'll be useful to me for the general public to think I'm far more bumbling about all this than I really am.

hiss-and-vinegar

🐍 OH I KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN

🐍 APPARENTLY IT WAS NEWS TO MOST PEOPLE THAT I, GENIUS INVENTOR SIR PENTIOUS, YEARS BEYOND MY PEERS WHEN IT CAME TO TECHNOLOGICAL KNOW-HOW, KNEW HOW TO USE CURRENT TECHNOLOGY!!!

🐍 WHAT, LIKE IT IS HARD????

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 Really? You, of all people? Ha!

hiss-and-vinegar

🐍 I WAS MASTERING TECHNOLOGY BEFORE THESE CRETINS WERE EVEN AN IDEA

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 Why is it that people assume that the kind of person who was on the cutting edge in his own time is somehow the kind of person least likely to keep up with later cutting edges? As if a man who spent the 1880s farming instead of building airships is somehow going to be better at using a computer just because the public doesn't automatically associate him with "airships"!

hiss-and-vinegar

🐍 LIKELY BECAUSE, MY DEER CHUM, WE ARE OLD.

hiss-and-vinegar

🐍 THESE CHILDREN ARE NOT DIFFICULT TO UNDERSTAND, THEIR SENSE OF HUMOR SEEMS TO BE COMPLETELY UNHINGED! I COULD POST A PICTURE OF A CUBE, AND WRITE IN BEAUTIFUL HANDWRITING "CUBE", ONLY FOR IT TO EITHER BE A SMASH HIT, OR NOT AT ALL.

🐍 TRYING TO STAY AFLOAT OF THESE "TRENDS" IS EXHAUSTING, BUT, IT ISN'T AS THOUGH I HAVE NO FREE TIME

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 I believe it's not just that we're old, Sir Pent, it's that we're associated with old innovations! Most people, I've noticed, can't advance onward to technology that post dates what they grew up with. But they make the mistake of thinking that the innovators are the most calcified instead of the least!

🎶 And a cube-labeled cube is hilarious. It should be a smash hit.

hiss-and-vinegar

🐍 HA! YOU THIN K SO? THEN I'LL CREATE IT. WE WILL SEE WHAT IT LANDS!

(( he is pulling out his laptop and sitting on himself so that he can use it. It's like a jet taking off when it starts up

dontasktheradiodemon

((He's been sorta leaning around Sir Pentious to try to read as he types so he doesn't have to pull out his Secret Phone, so it's nice to be able to just bend over to look at the laptop screen over Sir Pentious's shoulder.))

hiss-and-vinegar

(( it turns on with the turn of a key, and he's holding a pen in his mouth--it's not REALLY pen, just looks like one. There's a cobra head at the end of it with sharp teeth bared--looks like they fit in two holes at the corner of the keyboard itself. There's a holder for the pen, but Pentious appears to like having it in his mouth instead. Enrichment. He's grinning as he starts making something incredibly dumb

dontasktheradiodemon

((Just two old dorks grinning together while they make a shitpost))

hiss-and-vinegar

(( It's done. "EUREKA!" he shouts,

dontasktheradiodemon

((What the fuck does that say. What the FUCK does that say. He's genuinely shaking from trying not to laugh as he processes Le Kjub))

hiss-and-vinegar

(( Sir Pentious looks SO excited, raising a declamatory finger to explain it. "LE, AS IN THE FRENCH MASCULINE FORM OF 'THE', CUBE. THAT IS THE PHONETIC ALPHABETICAL SPELLING OF CUBE! PRONUNCIATION AND ALL OF THAT. AND!!!" He gestures to the screen, "IF YOU WILL LOOK HERE, DEER CHAP, THAT-- YOU SEE IT? THAT FAINT WORD? IT READS... CUBE!"

dontasktheradiodemon

((He SQUINTS. "... So it does!" This is KILLING HIM it's so deliberately terrible.))

hiss-and-vinegar

(( Just idly polishing his talons on his suit coat, "AND NOW TO POST IT!"

hiss-and-vinegar

(( He STOPS, "OH, WAIT, ONE MORE BIT..."

dontasktheradiodemon

((Alastor braces himself.))

hiss-and-vinegar

(( "THEY SEEM TO LOVE THIS KIND OF EFFECT."

dontasktheradiodemon

(("... You made it blurrier? Are you trying to protect its identity??"))

hiss-and-vinegar

(( "APPARENTLY, THIS IS TO MAKE IT HAVE A CERTAIN IT.... 'CRYPTID' LIKE QUALITY. ALL THE RAGE WITH THE LATEST GENERATION, ALASTOR."

dontasktheradiodemon

((He vaguely knows what a cryptid is by virtue of having been called one. "... Pfff—!" This is it, this is what kills him. He can't handle the thought of a hot pink cube being a cryptid. He's gotta sit on the floor and laugh.))

hiss-and-vinegar

(( His head swivels around to watch Alastor laugh on the floor. His hood floops up, but he's grinning so wide!!!! He made the Radio Demon laugh!!!! But it was on his terms, and he's happy about that. Cobra Prrrrrr.

(( "WELL! SHALL I POST IT??? WHO KNOWSSSS WHAT WILL COME OF IT!!!"

dontasktheradiodemon

(("Yes! Put it up! René Magritte couldn't do better."

hiss-and-vinegar

(( Click click, type type. No caption, no anything just. Cube.

(( And POST!

dontasktheradiodemon

((PULLS OUT HIS PHONE to reblog it.))

dontasktheradiodemon

((He taps the screen with his pinky claw tip. Sophisticated.))

hiss-and-vinegar

(( GASP. Support. He's beaming so much his entire head is smiling.

dontasktheradiodemon

((BEAMS BACK. Chums support chums' shitpost art.))

hiss-and-vinegar

(( It's literally the worst shitpost, too much work went into this.... but they are happy. And he takes the pen from his mouth in order to sink the pen's fangs into those previously mentioned holes... and with that, the laptop shuts down.

dontasktheradiodemon

((Oh now that's a neat trick! "What did those fangs do, did you poison that poor machine?" He's Delighted.))

hiss-and-vinegar

(( "I DID! IT ISS DEAD NOW." Prr prr prr, "BUT ACTUALLY, THERE ARE SSWITCHESS LOCATED WITHIN THE MACHINE ITSELF THAT MUSST BE PRESSED BY THE FANGS, THEY ARE FITTED."

dontasktheradiodemon

(("How clever!" Admires it. "And far better looking than the trash currently on the market. Most modern machines look like they've been carved out of panels of public restroom stalls."

hiss-and-vinegar

(( Sir Pentious begins to laugh again, and he places the laptop onto the nearby vanity, "RIGHT! THESE 'SLEEK" DESIGNSS HAVE NO STYLE AT ALL! I WANT IT TO BE SOMETHING SOMEONE WOULD WANT FOR THEMSELVESS, NOT DISGUISED TO BE PART OF A BOOK SHELF."

dontasktheradiodemon

(("Well, stylish it certainly is!" He gets up! He's probably messed around enough in here for the time being, hasn't he?

hiss-and-vinegar

(( Sir Pentious is turns to fully face Alastor now, "WELL, IT IS ABOUT THAT TIME ISN'T IT. YOU ARE WELCOME FOR THE SSSSUMMONSSS, ALASSSSTOR."

dontasktheradiodemon

(("Thank you for the brief entertainment!" A bow. "And to you, Sir... Good morning!" Grin grin.))

hiss-and-vinegar

(( "GOOD MORNING, YOU DOUBLE-YEW FACED DEERMAN." He tips his hat, "NOW GET!"

[ateezlust]

Still got on that Train

Pairing: Yeosang/San

Warnings: smut, they be grinding it out on a train, they don’t get caught tho which isn’t realistic but I’m not here to write realistic shit

A/N: it’s back bitch!

————————————•———————————

Somehow the sound of Yeosang’s alarm going off had merged itself with his dream, only waking him up when the sound of the front door shutting alarmed him, signalling his roommate had left for the morning.

Yeosang sat straight up in bed, looking down and groaning at the tent in the fabric of his pyjama pants. He leaned back and sighed as he palmed himself over the fabric, only coming to an abrupt stop upon checking the time and seeing he was late for a class. As a normal person, Yeosang would usually say ‘fuck it’ and skip class to jerk off, however as a college student, he had a test with 10% of his grade and he really really didn’t feel like getting a 0 because he wanted to rub one out.

“For fucks sake,” he said, getting out of bed and throwing on some sweatpants and a shirt. He looked fucked, the pants weren’t hiding anything but it was not a day to wear skinny jeans, the only saving grace being the large shirt on him, which still wasn’t covering much.

He situated himself as best he could, fixing his hair and throwing his books in his backpack; he knew he’d have to catch the late train, as his normal route was already long gone, but that was more or less the last thing on his mind as he ran out the door.

As he arrived at the train station, he looked at the time again; his train was just pulling in and he still had 35 minutes, and momentarily he wondered why he’d never just taken this train before, it was only a 20 minute ride.

But as the train doors open and he entered to a flood of people around him, that’s when he realized why. There was nowhere to sit, nowhere that was comfortable enough that you didn’t feel like you were invading somebody’s personal space. It was his own living hell.

So he shoved his way through scowling people to the back, as far away from them as he could, until he was met with a friend from college. Choi San.

He was red faced, hair a mess and clothing wrinkled as he stopped and stood in front of San, deciding it was about as good a place as any to stand, especially on a moving train.

“Hey slick, you’re looking awful polished today,” San snorted, being met only with heavy panting and a glare from the other.

“Fuck off. I woke up late,” Yeosang replied, trying to catch his breath.

San snorted once again in response, leaving the two in a comfortable silence afterward. Well as comfortable as it could be until the next stop in the city where everybody and their dog got onto the train.

He cursed internally as he was shoved closer and closer to San, alerting him once again to the problem in his pants that would not go away.

His mind began reeling of what he should do, should he try and angle himself away as best he could? Should he hold onto the handle bars near him for dear life and hope for the best? Should he hop off at the next stop and just walk the rest of the way in shame? Should he jump off of the moving train?

He didn’t have much time to think as the train jerked into action again, shoving his entire body against San’s. He swallowed down the moan in his throat as his cock brushed San’s thigh and opted instead to look anywhere except San for the next 10 minutes.

But that’s not how life works, of course, as San smirked down at him, hands sneaking around Yeosang’s waist and pulling closer, his voice was teasing in Yeosang’s ear as he whispered, “seems like someone’s got a problem hm?”

Yeosang shivered, body becoming putty in San’s hands as San moved their hips together, “I, I woke up w-with it a-“

He was cut off by a whimper attempting to escape his throat as San’s hand snuck down in front of them and stroked Yeosang through his sweatpants.

“Shh, no talking, let me help you yeah?” San whispered, hand moving quicker over Yeosang’s cock, watching the older boy squirm, precum leaking through his sweats and onto San’s hand.

After a long time of having his eyes squeezed shut in concentration, Yeosang opened them to find San not quite as unaffected as he’d assumed. San was red in the face, his own cock beginning to tent his jeans and beg for attention. And Yeosang was always taught to give what you get, so he reached a shaking hand down and palmed San over the front of his jeans.

“Fuck,” San whimpered into his ear, letting go of his hold on Yeosang’s length and opting to grind on each other instead. It felt better, so much better to Yeosang, feeling San throbbing just as much as he was.

Just as Yeosang was opening his mouth to tell San that he was gonna cum, he was cut off by the sound of the train announcing their stop.

“For fucks sake,” Yeosang cursed, allowing himself to nuzzle into San’s chest in pure sexual frustration and anger.

“Look we’re both already late for class, we’ll get a make up date for it okay?” San asked, not giving Yeosang a chance to question before the train came to a stop and he was yanked off of it and into the nearest bathroom.

Before he could say anything, the door was locked and he was shoved against a wall, San against his lips and moaning into his mouth while he ground his hips.

“Fuck,” Yeosang cursed, kissing him back just as hard and messy, using each other like they didn’t have to go back into the public eye again as San tugged Yeosang’s hair and Yeosang sucked hickies into San’s neck.

“This is the hottest thing I’ve ever done, you’re so hot holy shit,” San whined out, feeling the heat build in his stomach and a sheen of sweat cover him as he moved faster, “gonna cum.”

Yeosang nodded vigorously, unable to respond verbally as his stomach tightened for the third time that morning.

“Fuck, Yeosang,” San’s entire body tensed, releasing hot cum into his jeans, which is all it took for Yeosang to reach his own high, leaning in and biting down on San’s shoulder to keep from screaming out at how good it felt.

Before long they both began to come down from their highs, kissing each other softly as the post-orgasm calmness kicked in.

“We totally missed that test,” San said, pulling away, causing Yeosang to giggle.

“And to think I could’ve stayed in bed this morning after all,” Yeosang rolled his eyes, pulling back from San and looking down at the wet patches on both of their pants.

San snorted, “well, this was fun but now it feels really gross, I’ve got a few extra pairs of gym shorts if you wanna borrow one of them?”

Yeosang nodded, stripping out of his old sweats and almost gagging, deciding to just throw them out rather than carry them around the whole day, and slipping on the shorts San lent him.

San looked over at Yeosang fiddling with the strings of the shorts, almost cooing at how big they were on the boy. He reached forward and grabbed the strings out of Yeosang’s hands, using them to pull him closer.

“I’m gonna need these back eventually, they’re one of my favourite pairs,” San said, watching Yeosang’s face flush red as he tied the string of the shorts.

“Ah, yeah, I’ll get them back to you soon,”

“How about tomorrow night at 7?” San smirked, though a hint of worry shot through his eyes as Yeosang caught onto him and looked up at him.

“Choi San are you asking me on a date after we already came all over each other?” Yeosang snorted, not giving San a chance to respond, “in that case, I would love nothing more.”

San smiled down at Yeosang lovingly, a hand coming up to his cheek, brushing it softly before leaning in to give him a long, gentle kiss, before they gathered their belongings, and departed for their next classes together holding hands.

[monsterlovinghours]

More Than I Deserve

So here is the long coming second chapter of my self insert fic. @beetlejuicebeadoll this is for you, sorry about the number of times I said I'd post and didn't.

Tw: mentions of death, suicide attempt, depression. Chapter 1 is here.

The first few weeks in his new digs had been...frustrating. She just didn't seem scared of anything. Bugs crawling on her? She laughed and swatted them off, replying that she had lived in roach infested apartments and this was nothing new. Severed head in the cupboard? Nothing more than a gasp, a press of her hand to her chest, and a "very funny!" Shadowy figure standing in her closet, doors opening and closing on their own, disembodied voices and reaching hands clawing out from the walls? Acknowledged and dismissed, as if she were observing the weather. Not a single scream. Beetlejuice tugged at his hair, growling to himself. What the fuck was this weirdo afraid of?

Finally, when she had had the audacity to laugh at a dark figure skittering across her ceiling, he appeared in her room, hands thrown above his head and scowling. "Alright, I give up. What the fuck makes you tick? What are you afraid of?"

Molly had stared at him for a moment, then shrugged, lips pressed together as if to suppress a smile. "When you know the house is haunted, it isn't scary anymore."

He opened his mouth to argue, then sighed, dropping his head in defeat. "You make a good point."

"In any case, why do you have to try and scare me? Do you want me to leave?" Her voice held notes of earnestness, genuine curiosity. "Is it the house you want?"

"No! No, I don't want your house, goddammit." He folded his arms grumpily across his chest; this wasn't how a haunting worked. "This is just how these things go. This is what I'm supposed to do."

"Why?"

Beetlejuice paused, absently tugging some loose threads from the sleeve of his blazer. It was a while before he answered, his voice still carrying that signature rasp, and yet softer somehow. Pensive. "Y'know...I don't really know anymore."

Molly stood from the chair she had been reclining on, and reached for him. Out of instinct, he drew back, looking untrustingly down at her hand, and her heart gave an odd lurch in her chest. Still, she let her fingertips graze over the back of his hand, his skin as cold and smooth as marble. "Maybe you can just, you know, live here. Well, not live." To her relief, a hint of a smile tugged at his lips. "Its okay for you to just be here. Honestly, I kind of like having you around."

He snickered. "Babes, you're so full of shit, your eyes are turning brown." His posture relaxed a bit as she laughed, and she took his hand between hers, warm palms pressing around his fingers. God, that felt nice. 

"No, really. The house doesn't feel so empty now. It's a welcome change."

Once again, he chuckled, grasping her wrist and tugging her against his side, slinging his arm over her shoulder. "You're fucking weird, kid."

It did take some adjusting; after all, there was a bit of a learning curve when it came to dead/living cohabitation. But once he stopped pushing her out of bed because he was bored and she got used to the smell of damp earth on everything, it was remarkably pleasant. He was an oddly good conversationalist, having been around for longer than she could really comprehend, and would sit cross legged in midair, gesticulating wildly, his expression animated as he told her story after story. She didn't shy away from the fact that he had killed people; but then, by now, he didn't expect her to. "You're not trying to kill me," she explained, "so what does it matter? You're a demon, I expect human lives aren't as sacred to you."

"You know, you probably shouldn't be as chill with this as you are," he joked.

"Mm. Maybe. Death doesn't really faze me anymore."

The smile on his face faded slightly. "Lose someone?"

A pause. "Everyone." She looked up at him, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. "Why do you think no one ever comes by?"

All was quiet for a long, long moment. “Look, babes, I’m not that great with...y’know, human shit. Emotions.” With a sigh, he settled down beside her, legs kicked up on her coffee table. “But if you wanna talk about it, I’m listening.”

She lifted her head, a soft smile on her face that didn’t touch her eyes. “Careful, or I might think you have a heart in there somewhere.” Her gaze faraway, she spoke, her tone carefully measured and emotionless. “Where I grew up wasn’t exactly a great place. It was a small town, most people were dirt poor. We weren’t well-off, but we were comfortable enough. Grew up just fine. The neighbor kids weren’t as lucky. Their parents made meth and child abuse into an art form.” Absently, she picked at the chipping dark green nail polish on her right thumb, still gazing into the far distance. “When I was fifteen, my older sister had her high school graduation party at the house, and my whole family came. Like, the whole family. Aunts, uncles, cousins, second cousins. The whole gang. I was a little shit and didn’t want to socialize, so I snuck out and went for a walk. Didn’t feel like they’d miss me anyway. Turns out the neighbors were cooking up a big batch of fresh methamphetamine that day, and something went wrong. The explosion was so big it took out half the block. My house and everyone inside included.” She snapped her fingers. “Just like that. My whole family, vaporized.”

“Jesus, kid,” he said softly. 

“It took me five years to really process everything, you know? At first it was pandemonium. The state got involved, since I was a minor, and no one could figure out what to do with me. Too old for foster care, not old enough to live on my own. I was checked out, barely spoke to anyone, and frankly didn’t care if I lived or died, so I literally didn’t give a shit where I ended up. I floated around for a while, until I was sixteen and could legally live on my own. Turns out Mom, Dad, and both sets of grandparents named me in their wills, so I ended up inheriting quite a bit of money. I bought a shitty apartment in a shitty little town and did nothing but marinate in a delicious stew of survivor’s guilt and PTSD for four more years.” There was bitterness in her tone; he could almost taste it in his mouth. She returned to picking at her nail polish, not even attempting to look up at him. “Then I started getting my shit together. Got my GED, took online university courses and got a bachelor’s in library science. Started going to therapy, started talking to people. Got a job. I relearned how to be a person all over again. I even got a girlfriend.” At last, she looked up at him, as if challenging him to say something, or perhaps gauging his reaction to her sexuality. When his expression didn’t change, Molly lowered her head and continued.

“She lived upstate, about a two hour drive away. We met online through a literature forum.”

“Pff. Nerd.”

Molly gave a soft huff of something close to laughter. “We hit it off, I took a leap and asked her out, and we dated long distance for two years. She was the first person I was ever in love with, the only person I’d gotten close to since my family died. Then around Christmas on the third year of our relationship, she was driving down to see me...and she hit black ice and went off the road. Killed instantly. I found out about it two days later because her brother found me on Facebook. Her parents...they didn’t know she was a lesbian. They would have made her life hell if they knew. I couldn’t even attend her funeral.” Once she stopped talking, the house seemed unnaturally silent, as if even small sounds were muffled under the weight of her suffering. “After that, I just kind of...shut off again. I figured I was cursed or something, that I wasn’t meant to be around people. I bought this house, found a job editing online articles, and that is the story of how I ended up being the town recluse at the ripe old age of twenty-eight.”

He was quiet; what could he possibly say? Throughout his long, long existence, he had seen worse things than the life she had described to him...but not many, and not by much. There hadn’t been a single human interaction in the time he’d been here, he hadn’t seen her leave the house except to take the trash to the curb once a week. Yet, she seemed...stable. At peace with it all somehow. There was a current of strength running through her, of fire-tested resilience that he begrudgingly admired. Beetlejuice glanced down at her and saw that she was staring expectantly up at him, as if waiting to see what he was going to say. With an easy smirk, he knocked her shoulder with his. “So...you’re into the ladies, huh?”

Molly was silent for a moment, then burst out laughing, awkwardly swinging her fist to land a glancing blow on his chest. “Really, you dick? I bare my soul, my whole tragic life story, and the only thing you take away is that I’m into girls?!”

Chortling, he dodged her second swing easily, darting forward to perch on the edge of the coffee table. “Can’t help having a one-track mind, babes. That explains why you haven’t fallen for my roguish charms yet.”

Scoffing good-naturedly, she relaxed back into the couch; he was relieved to see her posture ease, her body more relaxed after a break in the tension. “Oh, is that what you call it? Besides, what makes you think I’m only into girls, slick?”

He raised an eyebrow, all but leering at her. “Swinging for both teams, doll? I won’t lie...that’s pretty fucking hot.” He could practically hear her eyes rolling, but she laughed softly. It was quiet for a moment, then he reached for her hand. Ever since she had taken his in her own, he had slowly been testing the boundaries of how much touch she allowed. Hand-holding was fine, a casual arm slung over her shoulder was tolerated, but anything beyond that and she would flinch and ease away. Though, knowing what he knew now of her past, touch must be something she was unused to. Now, as easy as anything, his fingers meshed between hers, squeezing softly and holding back a sigh at the hot press of her living skin against his. “Hey, uh...thanks for telling me. Family shit isn’t easy to deal with.”

A beat, and then she squeezed back. "Thanks for listening." She smiled. "You know, for being a demon...you're pretty nice to me."

"Yeah? Well, don't read into it, babes, I'm just trying to get in your pants."

His eyes followed her as she laughed and stood, lingering with her hand in his for a moment before letting go and padding barefoot into the kitchen, a strange expression creasing his brow when her back was turned. Slowly, at the very roots, the tiniest flush of pink tinged his hair. This wasn't how hauntings were supposed to go. The dead were not supposed to feel, especially for the living. This was unnatural, topsy-turvy, wrong in every way, but even so, he was grateful that she had decided to try that summoning spell; after observing her in his time here and learning about her usual practice (what she called "green magic"), he knew now how outside the norm such a dark spell was. Yet she had called him, said his name with no hesitation. Hell, she had all but put out a welcome mat. For him. The pink in his hair slowly began to spread upwards as the barest hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth; not a smirk, a grin, or a disingenuous lopsided curl of the lip, but a genuine smile. Perhaps just being here wouldn’t be so bad after all.

[therainroguefanfiction]

⁂ Push Your Limit (Initial D) Act 1

📑 Table of Contents

Genre: Comedy, Friendship, Slice of Life

Word Count: 2,559

Pairing: Reader x ??

World: Initial D

Author’s Note: This is the author’s note I posted once upon a time when I posted this on Quizilla lol

“Alrighty, what did you guys think of ACT 1? Did it catch your interest and make you want to check out the anime, if you haven’t already? Did it re-ignite the flames of Initial D fans that had forgotten or not seen the anime in so long? If you haven’t watched it already, I highly recommend you do so. It’s much better than my boring, un-actiony version. Let’s hope it did atleast a little something to you people who read it. I appreciate the support from you all, even if I don’t know who you are (minus a select few, of course). With that said, I bid you adu, Quizilla.”

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

Mt. Akina

The roads coil around the hills like a snake poised to strike. A deadly mountain where one wrong move could send you flying towards certain death. Treacherous and challenging roads, where you prove whether or not you have what it takes to tackle the mountain and not find yourself upside down in a ditch wondering what went wrong – if you’re lucky. To act cocky or overconfident is a fool’s bet.

You knew these facts well, having run the mountain with your best friend on his tofu deliveries for the past 5 years.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

Knock, Knock.

“Y/N?” the brown-haired teen stood in the doorway of your bedroom, hand still on the doorknob.

“Tak?” you raised an eyebrow in question, turning your attention away from the empty desk to the teenager standing at your bedroom door.

“Iggy roped me into going to Mt. Akina tonight to hang with Cole. Wanna come?”

You shrugged, leaning back in your chair and pulling out a cigarette from the pack, “Sure. Got nothin’ better to do.”

“Cole’s picking us up at the bus station at eight,” he announced before turning around and leaving the room.

“Hmmm. This may just turn out to be an interesting night.” You mused, taking a puff of the cigarette.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

“You goin’ out this late, Tak? Y/N?” Tak’s father asked, not looking up from the newspaper he was reading. He was leaning against the window outside, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips.

“Yeah. Iggy and I made plans to hang out for a while. Y/N is coming with us.” Tak answered, turning around to face his dad.

“You two going out at night doesn’t concern me. You getting up in the morning does.” Bunta responded.

You chuckled, a grin on your lips as you looked away from the two. Bunta had a very good point. Neither of you were really morning people, you less of one than Tak. It was tiresome and troublesome for the pair to wake up so early, but it was something that you had been doing for a while, something you didn’t have much choice in. You’d think the two of you would have gotten used to it by now.

“Don’t freak out about it, dad. You know we’ll get up.” Tak turned back around. “So, I guess we’ll see you later.” he started to walk off and you followed close behind.

“See ya, Bunta~” you grinned, folding your hands behind your head.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

“AHHHHHH! AH-AAHHHHHH!!”

“Will you please shut up for five seconds!? He’s trying to concentrate on driving!”

Tak was screaming like a little girl, clutching tightly onto you as if his life depended on it. Cole was driving with a smirk on his face. Iggy was sitting in the passenger seat, both hands clutching the handgrip above the passenger side door. He was busy yelling at Tak, thoughts of him being uncool clear through the expression on his face and the tone of his voice. You and Tak were sat in the back seat, Tak freaking out and you getting a headache because he was screaming into your ear.

Your eye twitched as said male clung to you, arms wrapped tightly around your neck. “How the hell did I get stuck with this moron?” you muttered under your breath, eyes cast towards the window. You loved the blur of the browns, the silvers, and the greens as they passed at a speed far above normal. It was one of the things in life that you adored, held close to your heart. Though, you’d never admit that to anyone else.

“Yeah, whatever! I’m trying to concentrate on staying alive!” Tak retorted, voice filled with panic.

“Chill out. Everyone feels like they’re going to toss their cookies the first time they ride with a street racer.” Cole grinned, clearly enjoying the scene in the backseat, “Hang on. We’ll take the hairpin in second.” He shifted gears and floored the gas pedal.

“AHHHHH!”

“Can’t you scream a little quieter?!”

You sighed before grinning at the two best friends. They were a trip when they were together, but you couldn’t help but notice how Iggy’s eyes were snapped shut, beads of sweat on his face. He was just as worried, he was just being quieter than Tak was.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

Tak was sitting on the ground, back leaning against the railing, slouched over and breathing heavily. The SpeedStars, Iggy, and you were standing around him, worried looks on all of your faces.

“You okay? Man, Tak, I had no idea you were gonna freak like that. I know I was pushing the car a little hard tonight but, come on!” Cole stood in front of Tak’s hunched form, hands on his sides as he leaned over the heavily breathing teen.

Iggy huffed, kneeling down to get next to Tak. “You’re a wimp! Even worse, you’re a girl!”

You growled at that statement, eyes narrowed at the moronic teenager who either didn’t notice your glare or didn’t care. You made a mental note to kick his ass about that one later.

“Don’t tell me you’re the type that spazzes out on a roller coaster!”

“I don’t think roller coasters are scary at all, okay? That has nothing to do with it. Why don’t you mind your own business?” Tak responded, having calmed down. “I don’t know, Iggy. Even if I were to try and explain it to you, I don’t think you’d get it. I have this fear.” his voice lowered, almost to a whisper.

“Huh?” Iggy cocked his head to the side confused. You listened in, leaning against a nearby street light and lighting the cigarette that hung between your lips.

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“Looks like we got a few visitors,” Cole announced, hands in his pockets as he looked over at the arriving cars.

Tak was back on his feet, acting completely normal with Iggy at his side. You stood in the back, hat pulled down over your eyes. You could smell the trouble beginning to brew and it was a fine smell indeed.

The group of cars stopped in front of the group, the doors opening to reveal their drivers. Cole stared at the team name written in red on the side of the yellow FD. The RedSuns? Those guys are the fastest team in Akagi! The door to the yellow FD opened and out stepped a blonde-haired male.

You pushed your hat up slightly with your index finger, eyes narrowed at the blonde. You knew full well who he was. Most people did if they knew anything about street racing.

The door to the white FC opened and out stepped a blue-haired male, older than the first. He nodded to the younger male who seemed to take the lead. Though, you knew he wasn’t the leader, even if he acted like he was.

“All right, listen up! We’re members of the team known as the Akagi RedSuns. Now don’t get your panties in a bunch, but we’re here to find out who’s the fastest team, or who’s the fastest driver on this mountain. We want the top dog.”

You scoffed, pulling your hat back down. ‘Cocky rich bitch.’

Cole, who stood tall and proud, spoke up, catching the attention of the RedSuns drivers. “We’re the Akina SpeedStars. You want the fastest on the mountain, you’ve found ’em. So what do you want to do about it?”

You attempted not to laugh. Cole was acting so tough, but he didn’t know who he was dealing with.

The two brothers looked at each other, smirking before turning their attention back to the group. Clearly, they were just as amused. “Chill out there, ace, no biggie. We’re just looking for a little friendly competition. To be fair, we’ll even set the meet on your course.”

The SpeedStars were shocked, confused as to why the RedSuns would agree to race on their turf when they’ve never even driven Mt. Akina before. It gave them confidence, made them feel like they stood more of a chance to win but you knew that would be their downfall. No matter what the condition, overconfidence will get them in the end. Just like karma, it’s a real bitch.

“Wow. This is going to be unbelievable.” Iggy grinned, eyes sparkling and hands clutched in front of him. Tak was looking on with a bored expression, having no real interest in what was happening around him.

“Here’s the deal,” one of the other drivers stepped forward. He looked like an advisor for the team, “We usually run only with dudes we know, but it’s gettin’ kinda stale, ya know? We thought that running against other teams would give us a new challenge. We can hang with some new drivers, maybe pick up a few tips, who knows! It might help us all polish our skills. Starting out, we’ll all run together. Then each team will pick one driver to represent. They’ll compete in both the uphill and downhill. Whoever wins, wins. What’s important is developing a bond between the two teams. So, what do you think? You boys up for it?”

“Che. Bond, my ass.” You scoffed, looking away from the group. You didn’t notice the blue-haired male staring over at you with curious eyes.

The SpeedStars were looking cautious. The deal sounded too good, after all. “I guess when he puts it that way, it makes it sorta hard to say no.”

“Yeah.” Kenji nodded in agreement.

“Cool. Then what’d you say we meet back here next Saturday at… ten o’clock?” the advisor spoke up.

“All right, we’ll be here.”

“What do you say tonight we take it easy on each other and take a few practice runs?” The blonde suggested, an air of arrogance surrounding him.

“Did ya hear that, Tak?” Iggy flipped out, holding tightly onto Tak’s plain white t-shirt. “How cool is this?!”

The RedSuns took off first.

“They’re just trying to intimidate us!” Kenji said, fist held out in front of him. “Let’s show ’em what we got.”

“Yeah!” the rest of the team agreed. Everyone got into their respective vehicles and took off, determined to show up the so-called fastest team in Akagi.

“So, now what, Cole?” Iggy asked after everyone else had taken off.

“Now I use a microscope on the dudes known as the fastest in Akagi; the Takahashi brothers.”

“The Takahashi Brothers? You mean the famous street racers who were written about in all the magazines?!” Iggy asked, shocked.

You stood at Tak’s side, listening in on their conversation. Of course, you kept your smart ass comments to yourself, even though you had a few colorful words to utter about the famous Takahashi brothers.

“That’s right. They’re also known as the Rotary brothers.” Cole hopped into his car, feeling pumped and ready to show them up.

“Hang on a sec, Cole, we’ll jump in.” Iggy reached out for the door handle but stopped when Cole spoke.

“Sorry boys, when I make a serious run I have one rule: no passengers. Wait here, I’ll come back and pick you up later.” With that said, he took off, leaving the three of you alone in the dark.

“Awww!” Iggy groaned, kneeling down and clutching his head, “Oh man! This seriously blows. We’re the only losers in the world without a rig.”

“Yeah. Hey, Iggy? What’s the big deal about street racing, anyway?”

“Huh?” he looked up at him.

“I just don’t get it. Everyone gets all flipped out about it.”

Iggy stood up, hands balled into a fist as he stared at the clueless Tak. “You hear that sound, right? Tires screeching, engines blaring, the cars so close to each other the drivers can smell each others’ armpits! Are you having a brainfart, what’s not to get amped about?”

You facepalmed, muttering under your breath about how much of an idiot he is.

Tak blinked, still confused about what his best friend was saying. “Yeah… I guess…”

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The SpeedStars had returned from their run, currently grouped together where they had previously met, earlier that night. They had been smoked by the RedSuns. Even their second-stringers were too good for the SpeedStars.

“They’re amazing. They’re just so much faster than we are.”

“I can’t believe we got schooled as bad as we did, especially on our own turf.”

“They put serious jack in their suspensions and they got power. Face it, there’s no way we can compete with the RedSuns.”

“But we can’t turn down a challenge on our own turf!”

“He’s right! We can’t back out now! We’ll be the laughing stock of the whole region!”

“Yeah, well, unless you have a better suggestion, we’re gonna get our butts kicked.”

After listening to the team’s comments, Cole finally stepped in, gaining the undivided attention of the group. “Look, it’s getting late, guys. Why don’t we all hook up tomorrow and talk about our options?”

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Cole was taking the trio home. Iggy in front, with you and Tak in the back. He was driving normally, clearly bummed out about not standing a chance against the RedSuns. It didn’t come as much of a surprise to you. You knew all about the Takahashi brothers. They wouldn’t be on a team that was easily beat, if at all.

“Street racers don’t take to losing too well. It’s a feeling that never goes away. There’s nothing worse than losing to an outsider on your own home ground. There’s an unwritten law for street racers: protect your turf.”

Iggy was really bummed, as well, unhappy about how his dream team was going to lose in such a horrid manner. You and Tak were listening closely, absorbing every word, but not really thinking about the letters that he uttered.

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The roar of the engine… the smell of the exhaust… the burning of the tires… the cheer of the crowd…

These are the sights and sounds of street racing, modern-day steel chariot gladiators who test their own limits while rocketing towards the finish line and road glory. But of all the roads in the world, none are as treacherous and challenging as the mountains of Japan, where the roads coil around the hills like a snake poised to strike. On these treacherous roads, there are only two outcomes – you either got game, or you find yourself upside down in a ditch wondering where it went wrong.

Enter Takumi Fujiwara, mild-mannered tofu delivery boy… and undisputed king of the Akina roads.

For Takumi, drifting around a 90-degree bend or slipping by an opponent with mere inches between him and a thousand-foot drop is as effortless a feat as crossing the street. Takumi and his infamous finely tuned AE eight-six not only rule the highways of Akina but other provinces, as well.

But it isn’t all wine and roses, even for a racing god, because off the road, Takumi is just a shy teenager still uncertain about his future. He has girl trouble, problematic friends, and most of all, challengers coming after his throne. Being number one only means there’s a number two with aspirations of becoming the next drift king. So for Takumi, defending his crown is a full-time job. Now if only he can find time to deliver tofu as well…

This is Initial D.

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