#random lime thoughts tonight

[musubiki]

thinking about another cute thing because im too busy with school and work to draw..

lime right after realizing he has a thing for mochi, stressing out and moping around because "I don't even know what kinda guys she likes..."

and when oscar and coco eventually wring this out of him, oscar straight up rips the rug out from under him by calling mochi over and saying "Hey Mochi, what kind of guys are you into?"

meanwhile lime trying not to obviously lose his shit and show all his cards right there, trying to be cool while stealing glances at mochi while she thinks it over. eventually she goes "I would like...someone sweet."

lime immediately plants his face into his desk, because the only thing he can think is "I DON'T STAND A CHANCE!!!!!" mopes around zoning out the rest of the day being sad about it, thinking along the lines of "She likes sweet guys? So she's into the soft boy type? How the hell am I supposed to have a shot with her?? My whole identity is bullying her and being an ass to everyone else. I guess I could overhaul my whole personality... ugh, but what if she hates that? Why couldn't she be into irritable dumbasses who can't get their shit straight? Of course she wouldn't like that. I guess its fair, she's a sweet girl, she would want someone whose sweet like that too--"

and the whole time his brain is rattled with all this bullshit hes going about the day doing normal lime things. opening doors for her. giving her little snacks. lending her his jacket. helping her pick up her moms groceries. little nonsense that's so normalizes and hes so used to doing them that he doesnt realize thats what she was talking about

[forthelostones]

inna good way ─── ⋆

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚🍸 fem!reader x college!ellie 🍸⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡

" 'cus you make me wanna cry in a good way"

synopsis: it was the day before graduation and your ex-best friend threw a party. you visit and see if there's something left.

warnings. 18+ (mdni); soft ellie, fluff(?), suggestive language, jealousy, abby ft, smoking/drinking, mentions of insecurities, & grinding. sfw!!!

an: hi everyone, thanks for all the love on my other works! that means a lot to me, make sure if you like my writing to make suggestions! (p.s. i'm drinking wine & missing uni sooo)

(no y/n)

♪ playlist: palace/curse, i. the party, in a good way, 2 AM . ♪

#normalgirlsyndrome

wc: 3.1k

you were staring at your phone at the edge of your mattress in your college apartment. boxes had been packed, the bed once in a frame on the floor, and your gown hung over your closet door. you knew ellie was throwing a party tonight at her house and you couldn’t refuse the opportunity to go. although you didn’t have a choice because your roommates insisted you had one last night together. so, before you taped up your boxes, you pulled out your traditional going outfit, ready to hit it one last time. you were already tipsy from the four glasses of white wine you inhaled while doing your makeup. you tapped through ellie’s story ferociously over and over. she had been posting videos of her smoking a joint and playing beer pong, waiting for people to show.  you couldn't help but smile at her sweet face.

you felt a twist in your stomach as you thought about seeing her again. of course you had seen her around campus and waved, but things had gotten more awkward than you’d both admit. the relationship turned dry but you remember the touches of her hands on those random “dates” that she refused to acknowledge. they were so sweet and soft, you yearned for more, especially the nights when you were alone touching yourself in your bed wishing it were her. she refused that she had any feelings for you after a seldom walk near the lake where the stillness of the water was louder than her lack of words. “I just thought we’d be better as best friends lovey,” she told you. her mouth said one thing but her eyes said another, you were sure she was lying. you saw her around with dina, her on-and-off girlfriend, wondering what she had that you didn’t. you picked yourself apart one random date ago while you cried and stared at her photos on instagram. you found yourself reopening those wounds as you began to head for the door. 

the smell of sweating bodies and weed cause your lungs to tighten, forcing a cough out of your throat. your heart became tight at the thought of seeing her, you couldn’t quite place why. so many memories flood your head — remembering the sound of her guitar trilling through the night on her back porch, where she sang your favorite songs to you. her fingers meticulously tracing the guitar's neck, making it perfect for you. you fell into the corner you typically shove yourself into, as your friends handed you a red cup with a clear liquid that smelled like tequila. 

you took it straight, not caring about the consequences. your throat burned with sweet satisfaction, once the liquor dropped into your belly, you felt sweat bulb to your top lip. they handed you another, this time with a lime, and you noticed abby, the captain of the rugby team eyeing you. this wouldn’t have been the first time you caught her staring. you flutter your heavy lashes in her direction as you bite your lower lip ever so slightly. abby was attractive, she was fit beyond belief and you could imagine the type of positions she could put you in with no effort. she started making a stride towards you in her all black ensemble. 

a text hits your home-screen, it’s ellie.

come smoke. 

you ignore the message as abby comes beaming with a smile. 

“hey pretty.” she muttered. 

i know you’re here come onnnn. 

ellie knew you only smoked with her, she wouldn’t ask you otherwise. so, you grab abby by the hand and grin right back at her. “you wanna come smoke with me?” you ask, not really giving her a choice. 

was your intent to make ellie jealous… no… but yes, because you were only just friends. abby follows your lead naturally towards the back patio glimmering brightly ahead. you both slip past the kitchen, through the sliding doors where ellie is chatting with her roomates, and you wave at her. she’s not blitzed yet, so she has a smug look on her face when she sees abby. her twisted face is illuminated by the fairy lights gleaming softly around the perimeter of the porch. 

“hey els," abby says. 

“hi you.” you said, reaching directly for the blunt in her hand. 

her eyes scan your body, she loved when you wore that outfit, as you bent down she snuck a look at your breast, clearly spilling out of your top. abby sits in the wooden lawn chair just parallel of ellie and you perch yourself in her lap, her hands automatically coming around your waist. they were bigger than they seemed and you felt a heat patch warm your core. ellie could never hide her facial expressions, she attempted to not turn to look, instead, she turned her chair. 

beer?” she asks abby. 

“yes please. thanks.” abby replies. 

“make me something.” you demand. 

ellie sets her jaw and moves slowly into the kitchen past a herd of people. you bring the blunt to your lips, sucking in, holding, then exhaling away from abby’s face. she was watching you intently, noticing how your lips puckered. you turn to her and place it between her lips, she coughed violently as the smog entered her lungs.

“aw. sorry, I didn't—“   

“nope it's,” she said with her thick throat. “never got to smoke because of rugby.” 

you just hit her with an understanding face as you shift on her lap. her left hand moves to rest on your inner thigh and her other just at the curve of your ass as you perch closer into her. you face the joint and grab her cheeks, blowing smoke into her mouth, she inhales softly, both of your lips practically touching. you’d never give her the satisfaction as you noticed her hips pressing your backside.

ellie stood behind you both, holding a can of beer and a cocktail glass filled with your drink. you handed off the joint and took both in your hands. ellie noticed how close abby’s hands were to your crotch and became red with jealousy. ellie looked you in your eyes as she pushed out smoke from between her lips. as you sipped your Ellie concoction, abby’s hands trailed up your back under your top, she pulled you in closer to her chest as she whispered in your ear. “you’re so fucking hot.” 

you giggle at her praises but feel a knot form in your stomach as you keep unwavering eye contact with ellie’s as Abby continues to spout praises. you press down harder in her lap where she thrusted upwards into your ass. 

“so, you guys ready to graduate?” ellie interrupted, seeing how flustered you got. 

you sipped to avoid speaking as abby turned her head to answer ellie.

“yes. i’m thinking about backpacking around Asia for a bit.” 

“really? i’ve always wanted to do —“ 

“since when?” ellie cuts you off in a fiery spit. 

abby coughs and sips her beer in a gulp, finishing it all. 

“need another?” you ask. 

abby nods kindly and gently pats your ass as you get up. ellie passes the blunt to abby and follows you inside to go to the drink fridge in the basement. you know she’s following you, you can practically feel her breath on your neck as you zig-zag toward the steps. you reach the bottom of the basement stairs and see ellie’s silhouette at the top. you try and reach for the string near the lightbulb but can’t find it, your heart beats loudly in your ears as ellie’s converse tap towards you. she stands right in front of you, without saying a word, you can smell her shampoo mixed with weed, and she reaches up to turn the light on. you look at her light pink eyes, and furrowed brows, and notice her heaving. 

for a moment you both just stand in thick silence. 

“i have to get abby a beer.” you felt your feet become heavy and your mind drifted. 

before you could even open the refrigerator door an inch, she slams it shut. her eyebrows raise in curiosity. 

“speak.” you demand. 

taken aback, she gasps at your boldness. “well—I— what the fuck?” 

you shove past her and take another beer in your hands ignoring her dropped jaw. 

“you come to my party, rubbing up on that bitch, sitting in her lap… wha-when has that ever been like you?” 

“are you the only one allowed to have fun?” 

she froze, as abby called out.

“hey, you okay?” 

her voice was so protective, you felt her gaze down at the top of the stairs, making sure ellie didn’t do anything stupid. 

“i’m fine, ellie was helping me with something. i’ll be up.” 

you tried to convince abby, but she still stood watching, which made ellie twitch with anger. 

“i’m going to go to the bathroom pretty.” abby finally says leaving. 

“okay!” you yell out. 

“if you go, please don’t…” she babbled. 

you liked seeing her so weak for you, but it wasn’t enough. you stood your ground and dared to move past her, but she stopped you by grabbing your wrist. “ellie get off of me.” 

you felt the wine and weed settle in, you were sweating, panting, and fingertips buzzing. her touch felt so good, you couldn’t deny that. 

“pretty.” she mocked. 

At least someone sees it, you thought. 

                                                                                  — 

you officially lost Abby, she must’ve left or found someone else to caress. you didn’t mind, deep down you knew that’s not who you really wanted anyway. as you sipped a lone beer and wandered around the house your high was kicking in and the music entered your ears in a blur. no words were clear, just the bass booming on the hardwood creating a vibration under you. you reach the end of the hallway, where ellie’s room door stood. it seemed taller than usual, more daunting, stretching several feet upwards. you actually had never been in her room before; you saw it on her stories, or on facetime, but never in person. as you reached for the cold, gold knob you pause. 

you hear ellie’s laugh boom from behind you, so you follow it like sonar. you see her taking shots with her bandmates and you watch as her t-shirt lifts up ever so slightly to expose her naval. you wanted to know what it tasted like. her feet wobbled underneath her, and she was tipsy. you blink your eyes several times as you find a wall to lean on, and your hand travels back down the hall to open the big, scary door. you creep inside, it’s dark, but in the corner is a small desk lamp that illuminates a yellow hue onto the room. her bed was on the floor, room unpacked, shit was all on the floor, and her guitars were perched in the left corner of the room. to the right was her bathroom, you saw your reflection and had to focus to see your face. your eyes pink, lips wet, and body warm. you sipped more beer as you turned to her shower, you imagined ellie’s naked body, the way she rubbed the bar of soap around her neck, nipples, and in between. 

you went to sit on Ellie’s bed, you began to roll yourself in her messy, undone bedding. her smell was so thick, bruising your nostrils, filling you up. you remember how she treated you when dina was around and you became more pissed off. you swallowed the last drops of your drink and threw the bottle on the ground. warm tears began to bud and then you realized how your mascara would run down your cheeks. you pulled out your phone to check the damage. 

lets talk, im sorry. 

ellie’s message from two hours ago, you freeze, it’s been two hours? you bring your palms to your forehead and let out a soft sob. 

“i’ll be back, yea!” ellie hollers from the hallway. 

you straighten up immediately, she walks in hand in her hair, surprised to see you. 

“oh.” she says softly. 

you couldn’t help but sigh. you set your phone down on the ground and look up at her, she had a slight smile on her face seeing you like this, not knowing you were on the verge of tears just now. she closes the door behind her, bends down, and lifts your chin up. 

“you’re gone.” she giggles. 

you push her hand away and turn your face. 

“let me take care of you, come on. it’s the least I can do,” 

the softness in her voice shook you. 

“did you get my text lovey?” 

all you can muster is a nod as you begin to scoot towards the head of her bed.  

“why don’t you just, get comfortable, i’ll get you something to throw on.” 

she rummages loud through her boxes, which makes your head pound, and tosses you a clean, grey zip-up. she leaves the room quietly, flicking on the light in the bathroom and closing the door after she clicks off the table lamp. you remove your jeans and top, leaving you in your lace panties.

your head is pounding as you become more intoxicated by the scent of her earthy shampoo lingering on her pillow. you inhaled the familiar scent, imagining your hands running through her hair, pulling her closer to your neck. the door opens and you jolt as you remember you never put on the zip-up. 

“I’m sorry— I,” ellie gulps as she spills the glass of water she brought for you onto herself. you roughly zip yourself into the warmth that smelt like her laundry detergent. 

“i’m good.” you mutter. 

you both share a familiar laugh, and her gaze becomes shifty as she thinks about your body. she hands you a half-full glass of cold water with a nervous smile. 

“glass half full, right?” 

you sip and chuckle. 

stupid, fucking stupid Els, she thinks. 

she sits beside you at the opposite end of the bed, she ignores the fact that she can see your thighs unhindered by any fabric not obstructing her view. even though it was dark, she could still see you illuminated by the bathroom light. 

“good, urm,” she peered down at her now sheer shirt. “i will go and get ready for bed.” 

her nipples were suddenly erect from the cold water spreading onto her chest. You couldn’t help but notice them perk from under the thin, wife-pleaser material. she stood up to grab her night clothes and head for the bathroom, leaving you smothered in darkness. you couldn’t tell if your eyes were open or not, but the four walls that you imagined around you spun. 

you heard the water from the shower turn on and your fantasy brightened, thinking about ellie’s body. you became more drunk on the image of ellie touching herself in the shower because of you. knowing how intently she was watching you grind against abby, not only did it make her furious, it turned her on. she knew she made a mistake, picking dina over you all these years. you push your hips upwards, riding the mattress, inhaling ellie’s scent.

you found her name leave your lips softly, Ellie.

Ellie. 

you couldn’t tell the difference between your voice and your subconscious desire of moaning her name. you began to imagine her holding you.

Ellie. 

“lovey, you okay?” she said frightening you. 

you paused, realizing she opened the bathroom door, drying her hair on a towel. Her grey boxers clung to her body so sweetly. she wore a distressed band tee that sat just above her belly button. you had formed sweat around your hairline and your body perfectly contoured into the mattress. 

“i’m okay. yea, thanks.” 

she sighed as she bent down to sit at the edge of the bed. as she dried her hair she was thinking of the next move to make. you were bunched up under yourself, warm from embarrassment. her hand wrapped around your ankle gently, which shocked you, but your reaction time was too slow. she leaned over to kiss your leg, kisses feeling like a pure electric shock, you groaned at finally feeling her touch. 

“els.” you managed to say.

“what?” She said in between kisses, finally coming up the side of your thigh, with her left hand coasting up your backside. 

“no. i can’t.” 

your body pushes her hands away, startling her. she looked at you in pure shock, as if you were the one who was wrong. she crawled towards you with undeniable lust in her eyes. 

“why not?” she asked dumbfounded. 

“you rejected me all this time. you… dina…” you say attempting to jog her memory. 

“dina and i so what.” she moved an inch on all fours. 

“you chose her over me, so that’s that.” 

“baby,” she groaned. 

you melt at her voice, you couldn’t help it. 

" okay, i was scared. scared to disappoint you, I’m not… I’m not sure how to be in a relationship. dina was fun, easy, she didn’t care. I wanted you, I just- 'm so fucking dumb,” she rambled.  

you grimaced at her name, you had grown so spiteful of her that even the mention of her made you tense. ellie was now in your bubble, she laid her head on the pillow beside you, and sincerity filled her eyes. 

“you could’ve told me that. you know that I was your best friend ellie.” 

she flinches at her own name. “I know, I know.” she muttered as she tucked her hand behind your neck and leaned in to kiss you. her lips were pillowy and wet, better than anything you’ve ever felt. she swiped the bottom of your lip entering her tongue inside your mouth. you groan at the taste of her and her huffing as she pushes deeper into your mouth. your hands drift to her waist and you pull your leg up over her body, pulling her closer. 

your hands travel up her back into her scalp. she pulls away and pierces your pupils, she meant everything she said, you saw it. “i’m sorry lovey, i was just scared.” she added. 

you could only force out a hmm.

"please forgive me?" she says, pecking your neck slowly with staccato kisses.

her tongue swirls up the side of your neck and wraps around your lobe as she pleads, "please." desperately pushing up against you.

and for a moment you consider forgiveness.

[amostimprobabledream]

Ignite Me (Homelander x Reader) - Part Six

Hi all. Sorry this chapter took me so long, I couldn’t get my original idea to work so I had to go back to the drawing board. Plus I haven’t really watched The Boys since I finished Season 3 so I haven’t been as into it as I was when I first started. Hopefully this doesn’t come as a let-down after waiting a few months.

Also small TW: Someone (not Homelander) attempts to kiss Reader against her will. Just as a heads-up. The bar was a blur of colour and light. Music thudded so loud through the room that you could feel it in your ribcage. You smacked your lips, still sticky with sugar that dusted the rim of your last cocktail, swaying to a song you didn't know the words to. In other words, you were drunk as fuck. "Heyyy!" a similarly-drunk Casey came prancing back up to you and the others you're with, bearing a tray of drinks that wobbled dangerously at her drunken gait. Her cleavage also wobbled in her tight red dress, which was probably why it had taken her such a short time to get served. "Shots!" "Shots, shots, shots!" you cheered, grabbing one with clumsy fingers. Across from you, a hand appeared in your field of vision, instantly irritating you, because it belongs to a man - a man who didn't clean his fingernails. Steve took a shot, and you knew he's trying to make eye contact with you again, so you purposefully looked towards Casey and clinked tiny plastic glasses against hers in a cheers. To be honest, you don't know why Steve was here. Casey only seemed to be vaguely acquainted with him, a friend of hers called Danesha or Danika or something (it’s hard to hear much over the music) brought him along and you wondered why neither the woman who brought him or Steve seemed to notice or care how out of place he was with a group of women he barely knows. His low-effort outfit of a polo-neck t-shirt and baggy jeans looks weird against all your clubbing outfits and he bobbed around on the fringes of the group, head jerking awkwardly to whatever song was on. Foam from the beer he was drinking clung to the scraggly beard he had. The thing was, you knew what Steve wanted. He's been staring at both Casey, you and some other girls for most of the night (you knew you guys looked good, but come on) and he kept trying to get you to dance with him despite the fact he had A) No rhythm and B) a shit taste in songs. He even offered to buy you a drink, his hot, gross breath wafting over your ear, but you pretended not to understand him under the volume of the music. His staring, his presence, his ultimate passivity in how he's tossing out a few cliche gestures and now they haven't worked he's just standing there in a group of dancing, chatting girls like a useless appendage, pissed you off. You don't want him here because tonight was meant to be all about the girls, not tolerating some random guy just because he got dumped and he's sooo sad because it still hurts. You wanna know what hurts? you thought savagely, one of the most lucid thoughts you've had since you left Casey's apartment. Getting fucking shot. Fucking Steve.

Maybe you wouldn't be feeling so hostile towards this wet dishrag of a man if it wasn't for anything else. The whispers and staring that had followed you around for weeks, maybe even over a month by now. How you still felt exhausted so quickly and suddenly these days, the scar from the gunshot wound on your stomach, that fucking interview you'd essentially been tricked into giving...you just had no patience  left, and definitely not when you were trying so hard to forget all of it. Forget about him. You wouldn't speak the name - didn't even want to think it - so you swallowed down the shot in your hand without stopping to ask what it was first. You learn the minute it hit you tongue, the sharp, acrid bitterness filling your mouth. You gagged. Fucking tequila! You scrambled to grab a lime, realising belatedly you forgot to do salt, and sucked on it frantically, the tart sourness of the fruit a cleansing balm of the shot. Casey cackled as everyone else chokes - she actually likes tequila and drinks it for fun. You'd forgotten that about her. She grabbed your hand. "Let's dance!" she bellowed at you, her lipgloss all smudged, and dragged you into a sea of bodies twisting beneath candy-coloured lights. Eager to get away from Steve, you followed her lead, even though you're not exactly some amazing dancer yourself, when you're this fucked up it hardly matters. Your eyes lazily scanned the faces around you, looking to see if you can find any guys you thought were cute. It's been a while since you've had sex and even if picking up randoms from a bar wasn't usually your style, maybe that's exactly what you needed right now. But try as you might, you can't see anybody that makes you feel anything. Your heart beats on steadily, unmoved by the people on display, and you sighed, wondering if you're getting too old for this or if you're being picky or something. You can't even remember the last time somebody genuinely made your heart skip a beat- Yes you can. “I love this song!!” Casey screamed at you over the music, her hair falling out of the updo she’d put it in earlier but in a way that looked artfully messy, and your face lights up when you recognise the tune, an old favourite from your college days. “Me too!” you yelled back. Funny how some booze robbed you of your inability to make any sort of meaningful observations, but that wasn’t really what’s required of you right now. It doesn’t matter. Nothing seemed to matter as you twisted and turned beneath the strobe lights, a machine sending out plumes of dry ice, hiding the dancefloor that’s soaked in people’s spilled drinks by now. You watched as the people around you flash red, yellow, green, blue…something so normal made mesmerising with just a few tricks of the light (and copious amounts of liquid courage, it had to be said). The other girls pushed their way through the crowd to join you, squealing, the lights twinkling on their jewellery or the glitter on their eyelids. And right on Danesha’s heels was fucking Steve. It's like tasting something slightly off in an otherwise good meal, contaminating every other bite. He’s looking at you again, that vaguely dead eyed expression that sent your teeth on edge, so you turned your back to him. He seemed impervious to reading body language or your annoyed expressions, but not having to look at him was at least something. “Oh my god, Lucy, what are you doing?!” Danesha suddenly shrieked. You all turned to look at Lucy, one of Casey’s friends, who had somehow crossed the dancefloor without any of you noticing and had climbed on one of the tables, dancing around on it like a thing possessed. You’re kind of impressed she somehow hadn’t knocked over all of the glasses and bottles covering the surface. She had her arms thrown above her head, bracelets sliding down her skinny wrists, blonde hair twisting back and forth along with her movements. A security guard rushed over, nearly colliding with you, yelling at her to get down or he’d throw her out, and as the oblivious crowd around you start jumping up and down to an R’n’B song that just started, you realised something- You’re going to puke. You bolted for it, feeling the hot, sickly feeling rising in your throat, the roof of your mouth tingling. You raced towards the ladies, but skidded to a halt – the queue was so long you doubted you’d make it even if they let you pass to get to the sinks, so you did the only over thing you could think of and ran outside where the smokers went. The tequila tasted even worse on the way back up as you bent over a trashcan outside and vomited it back up, throat burning with it and your eyes stinging. You blinked hard several times because you didn’t want it to fuck up your eyeliner. You made a mental note that in future, when Casey gives you a mysterious shot, at least ask what it is first. You still had your drink from before in your hand and took a cautious swig from it to wash the horrible taste out of your mouth, spitting it out into the trashcan too. It’s not water but it’s an improvement, at least. “Hey.” You stiffened. You didn’t need to turn around to know who the voice belonged to. Your fingers tightened around the neck of the bottle as you turned your head to see Steve standing a few feet behind you, hands in his pockets. “What?” you said, flatly, because you weren’t interested in small talk. He looked slightly surprised at your response, blinking and swaying a little. He doesn’t ask if you’re okay or if you wanted him to get Casey or someone, of course. He’s only interested in what he wants. “So like…you’re so hot.” Steve said and if you weren’t already so done with him, you might have laughed at what a pathetic attempt at a pickup line that was. “And I was thinking like…we should-“ “No.” you interrupted. Steve stared at you. “What?” “There is no ‘we’. Whatever you were about to ask, I’m not interested.” You said, and it’s a relief to get it out in the open. Whatever he wanted, he wasn’t getting it from you. “I’m going back inside now.” “Hey, you don’t even know what I was gonna say!” Steve protested in a whiny voice, blocking the doorway. “Don’t be like that.” “I don’t even know what you’re doing here.” You blurted out, anger rising in you like someone turned up a thermostat inside you. “It was meant to just be us girls and here you are, expecting us all to feel bad for you because you got dumped or something and ruining it for all of us. It’s so creepy how you’re hovering around acting like if you buy us drinks or whatever it means you’ll get something out of it later. That’s not how it works. Now get out of my fucking way.” God, it felt good to say that, seeing that stunned look on his face like he couldn’t believe his ears. You’re so sick of holding back everything you want to say, every moment of every day, of feeling like you’re constantly walking over a landmine and if you don’t consider everything you do carefully, it’ll all be blown to smithereens. You’ve been swallowing venom for so long it’s great to spit it out. “You’re a bitch!” Steve spluttered in astonishment, clearly aiming to sound scornful but he sounded so affronted that it’s impossible to take him seriously – if he had pearls to clutch, he would. “You got that right.” You said, feeling a vindictive smirk on your face. “Now move.” You’ve wasted quite enough time on this douchebag as it was, and you went to push past him when he suddenly grabbed at your arm. “Wait, just calm down.” Steve said, slurring slightly. “Get the hell off me.” You hissed at him. You wrenched your arm free, stumbling backwards and when you right yourself, Steve’s face was suddenly looming over you like a satellite dish, his lips puckered grotesquely. Ugh! “I said get away!” You swung your hand to hit him, outrage flooding your brain and overriding any shred of common sense, but the hand you instinctively flung up was still clutching the bottle from earlier and there’s a loud, dull thunk as it collided with the side of Steve’s face. The bottle doesn’t break or shatter dramatically, but either way you get your desired outcome – Steve getting the fuck away from you, clutching his face and moaning loudly, a strange, bovine noise that made you think of a cow getting stuck. “My eye! My eye! You bitch, you fucking cunt!” he shouted, staggering on the spot, a spot just below his eyebrow already starting to swell. You know you should be feeling something right now – shocked or guilty or something, but there’s nothing there. Just a cold sense of satisfaction in having your kneejerk dislike of Steve vindicated. “You’re fucking pathetic.” You said, like a queen issuing a royal decree, before tossing your makeshift weapon aside and walking back into the bar. Inside, you only have to walk a few steps before a bouncer passed you, carrying a semi-conscious Lucy over one gigantic shoulder, Danesha and the other girls following him like a row of duckling and loudly talking, though you can’t tell if they’re upset about being kicked out or just trying to rouse Lucy. Casey came rushing up to you. “There you are! Come on, we should go – Lucy’s absolutely out of it, so we’re going to take her back to Christa’s place to sober her up. Do you wanna crash there too? She doesn’t mind.” You considered it as you followed Casey out, ducking and weaving past the people still dancing the night away, but after puking up your last drink and braining Steve in the face, you decided that you know when to fold. “No, I’ll get a taxi back to mine. I’m tired and I don’t want to sleep on the floor.” You said. You debated telling her about Steve, but knowing Casey she’d probably go looking for him and try to fight him and as much as you love her for that, you’d say you’ve taken care if things. Anyway, you don’t want to ruin her night any further. Maybe you’ll tell her about it later when you’ve both sobered up. Outside the club, there are plenty of taxis waiting and after the bouncer deposits Lucy in one of them (which was pretty nice of him – you’ve known bouncers who would probably leave someone that drunk lying on the floor so long as they weren’t in the bar), Casey turned to you and gave you a hug. “Sure you don’t want to come with us?” “I’m sure.” You replied – you wanted to go home and sleep. “Okay. Talk tomorrow, text me when you get home!” she ordered you. “Don’t forget!” “You’re the one who never remembers to text.” You snorted as you climbed into the back of the taxi. “See you later.” The taxi pulls away from the curb and after giving your address, you slump back against the seat, your eyes sliding shut despite yourself. He’ll wake you up when you get to your destination, for sure. Outside the taxi, the city parties on. ~ Elsewhere… "Stupid bitch..." Steve, forgotten by the group of people he'd arrived at the bar with, even Danisha, who'd brought him, stumbles home through the brightly lit night of the city. The night is beginning to wind down now, most of the partiers tiring of their alcohol-induced fun and retreating home or joining a stranger to spend the rest of the night with. Steve doesn't want to return home, but to say his night has been ruined was an understatement - his throbbing face was testament enough to that. Just who the fuck did you think you were, anyway? He’s a nice guy and he's just been dumped! Was it so much to ask he get to hang out with a group of hotties for a night? But you’d looked at him like he was shit on your boots, like you were so fucking special. And Danika had made it seem he'd for sure get laid, she insisted he was a great guy and his ex was crazy for breaking up with him, yet all he got was fucking smashed in the face! This petulant internal monologue continues on and on. He may have even been inclined to continue going to bars in hopes of guilting some woman into letting him go home with her, throwing himself on her sense of pity as if impaling himself on a sword. But he doesn't have the cash, and besides which, his face is sore and throbbing, a bruise already forming beneath his eyebrow. By the morning it will be there, the only souvenir of tonight and not one he was hoping to walk away with. He turns into the mouth of an alleyway that’s a handy shortcut home - Steve grimaces as a waft of garbage reached his nose, no doubt collection day’s tomorrow morning, so it's not a pleasant trip, but it takes him further away from the noise and bright lights that seem to be mocking him, everybody else having fun while all he got was attacked. Can he sue for assault or whatever it was? GBA or something? When Steve rounds the next corner, where some lurid graffiti art that always catches his eye and made him stare at it as he passed, he's unprepared to be intercepted. He stops, squinting. A figure stands in the middle of the alley. Thanks to the bright lighting of a billboard across the street, light floods the street and the man's features are in shadow. Steve squints, confused - the posture wasn't one of any mugger he's ever seen before. He can already tell this guy’s strong, he’s taller and bulkier than Steve is, even in silhouette. The man stands there, legs apart, shoulders thrown back and hands behind his back. But Steve spots something - an American flag, dangling behind the man, lit up by the fluorescent glow. “…No way…” Steve mutters under his breath, drunk as he is – even someone blackout drunk would recognise the person standing in front of him. But why’s he here? Homelander says nothing to explain himself, why Vought’s golden boy would be standing in a filthy alleyway like he’s staring down enemy gunfire. He steps closer silently, the flag swaying hypnotically behind him. Steve finds himself staggering backwards until his jacket brushes brick wall, which is crazy. He’s an innocent citizen, why is he instinctively drawing away from Homelander? Unless…maybe it’s not him at all? Maybe it’s just some guy on a bachelor party in a Homelander outfit or something? His uniform is a popular choice, they’re easy to get into and instantly recognisable, no need to have multiple conversations explaining your outfit at a costume party with such an iconic Supe’s wardrobe readily available. It’s a useful disguise in case you wanna rob somebody, too. Convinced of his theory, Steve yells: “Hey, man! What do you want?!” And then his stomach turns to ice, as in the gloom of the alleyway, two pinpricks of red flare in the darkness, like the eyes of a crocodile. It's him. A hand shoots out, grasping Steve by the throat and lifting him off the ground as easily as most people might pick up a bag of washing. Steve chokes, flounders, Homelander’s thumb digging into the vulnerable flesh beneath his jaw. His movements feel so slow and sluggish and Homelander tilts his head in consideration, his jaw clenched. Steve splutters for air, the grip on his throat like a vice. His fingers claw pointlessly at Homelander’s glove, legs weakly kicking. He tries to speak but all that comes out is an incoherent gurgle. “Please…” Homelander’s lips draw back in a snarl. In that moment he looks less a man and more like a beast. Steve’s panic-stricken eyes meet glowing scarlet ones, tears leaking from them instinctively. Homelander finally speaks; “She’s right. You are fucking pathetic.” And the fist clenches and the bones in Steve’s neck pop like twigs, the flesh giving way beneath his superhuman grip like it’s nothing more than paper. Steve's body jerks and a final, rattling gurgle leaves his mouth. Then he falls still, head slumping. Homelander drops the body, where it collapses before the graffiti in a crumpled heap, piss staining the front of his ill-fitting jeans, glassy eyes staring at nothing. Homelander wipes his hand on the thigh of his suit, like he just touched something filthy. He sniffs once, rolls his shoulders. A blink later, a casual lift into the sky, and he’s gone.

[chowtrolls]

Written in the Stars

Google Docs Mondes -> @/byrdstrolls Mystery Wolf Man (& drawing at end) -> @/homicidalfantrolls

To say you, Jodiah Monark, felt powerful would be a horrific understatement. Beautiful, confident, elegant- combine those with powerful, and you might just hit the tip of your emotional iceberg. The mask you had spent so many hours perfecting seemed to have unlocked a new personality within you. One even more cocky than your usual self. It was exhilarating. Face completely hidden, not a drop of lime in sight. Your dress glittered in the light. You stood out amongst the clownish dark colors. A rather plain glimmering dress in the sea of overdone patterns and frills. You weren’t seeking any Ball King nomination so the theme wasn’t ultimately that important to you. In the end, you decided the chunky knee-high boots helped too.

Those shoes weren’t easy to dance in, but you made it work pretty well. By the Messiahs did you dance- twirling your kismesis around until he looked like he was green in the metaphorical gills. Then you promised him you wouldn’t go far, left him seated by the snack table with a bonk. You picked random strangers to twirl with after that. But you never strayed far from your kismesis- you did promise, after all. Finally, once you had your momentary fill of attention from strangers, you flopped down in a seat next to your poor abandoned kismesis, out of breath. 

“I didn’t know you liked dancing.” He said simply, voice muffled as usual. You had heard his voice clearly once. Since then, you had thought he sounded a little funny, so muffled. 

“You haven’t seen anything yet, babe.” You weren’t quite used to your non-automated voice, but there was no safe way to install an automater without making your new mask too chunky, “This is way better than any bar on a Fleet port.” 

“And to think I had almost forgotten you were a Fleet cop.” 

“I’m a better dancer than I ever was a cop.” 

“Must’ve been one incredibly bad cop.” 

That made you laugh. Your raw, chirpy laughter, unfiltered and whole. Laughing made your chest ache, a pang of anxiety. A reminder that you weren’t wearing your usual mask. It could never quite alter your laughter right, creating instead some strange noise distortion. You had gotten so accustomed to the sound that you genuinely forgot what your raw laughter was like. You glanced at Mondes through the side of your eye and found yourself yearning for the safety he must feel right now behind his gasmask.Your current mask may be pretty but it could be so easily ripped off. Part of you envied his confidence in wearing the same thing he always wore, in his refusal to take it off. You shake off that thought quickly. 

“You want a drink? Rosé? I can get one of those long straws.” Messiahs above you wanted a drink. Something to shake off your anxieties. Something to lower your pusher rate. Your kismesis is silent in response, but he begins to dig through the little clutch purse he was carrying for you. 

You reach across to gently take his hand, “Oh- hon, no. We’re not paying for shit tonight.” You recognized the glimmer of confusion that flashed over his eyes, and responded with your own small laugh, “Watch and learn, bunny boy.” 

You rose, and made a beeline for the bar. You could feel Mondes’ eyes observing you closely. Time to put on a good show. The anxiety was washed away in a swell of confidence, no matter how fake. You square your shoulders, lift your chin, and walk like you owned the entire ball. 

You studied each lonely troll sitting at the bar, finding the perfect victim as you sauntered up. Only a brooding, mystery-shrouded purple blood sat alone, making a prime target. Everyone else was accounted for. No problem. His mask was wolfish, black and purple, blending in perfectly with the fur on his coat. No horns in sight- though a purple of that size must’ve had them cropped down. He sat alone, glowering down at his untouched glass of whiskey. You can’t help but wonder what that poor drink did to deserve such a glower. 

You loved the danger that was associated with purplebloods. You had your fair share of them in the Fleet- power hungry and sadistic fuckers. It was almost pitiful how many of them got off on the thought of a mutant to tame. They made easy targets. Motivated by their own simplistic desires, yet powerful enough for you to hide in their shadows. This was arguably a ball celebrating this stranger’s kind, and yet he hardly looked the part. Sure, he was well dressed, but it almost seemed as if he fit the previous year’s theme more. The cape over his wide-set shoulders made him appear massive. Massive, alone, brooding, dangerous, with a faint air of loneliness. Just how you liked them. He would be just as easy as the rest. 

You came up from behind, initially setting a hand on his back, in the fur of his cloak. His head jolts up suddenly as if forcibly yanked from his thoughts. There’s a brief moment where you wonder if your lack of mask had you firing off electricity, but upon further thought you conclude you just startled him. Cute. Your hand trails off his back as you take the seat next to him. You lean over the bar. Chin on hand, elbow on the surface. 

“Howdy, stranger. Looking awfully lonely over here.” The initial prick of anxiety sparks back up as you hear your own unfiltered voice once again. That was fine, you could watch your tone. The way he silently stared back certainly was not helping. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he gave the smallest nod imaginable. 

Cool! Great, you knew he wasn’t going to kill you now. At least not here. He shifts, leaning back on the bar, but turning his body more towards you. The way his elbow rested on the bar gave off a nonchalant air despite his posture remaining slightly stiff. He said nothing. His open body posture was a good sign. He was receptive, open to your eventual manipulation. 

“What’s a handsome highblood like you doing here alone? Hm?” You attempted to bat your eyelashes, then remembered he couldn’t see your eyes. 

“.....”

You tilt your head, the gems on your mask jingling as you did, “Silent strong type, hm? I like. Very mysterious.” You smile with your eyes, then remind yourself yet again that he can’t see your eyes- so you force a small giggle. Fuck your laughter was so small and pathetic on its own. Your free hand reaches out, crossing the great divide between you and your handsome stranger, to play with the chains hanging off his chest. He leaned in a little closer. Drawn in. “You’re in luck, stranger.” 

You begin to lean in closer, voice growing ever softer as you do, “...because I’m pretty vocal. And I’d love to show you just how vocal…” You stop, a few inches from his mask. Your eyes search the black abyss of his mask’s eyes, looking for any sort of emotion. You’re certain he’s doing the same for yours. 

“....But…I told my friend I’d bring us back a couple drinks before I wandered off with handsome strangers.” You again have to remind yourself that he can’t see your eyes. Babydoll eyes wouldn’t work here. But your pleading tone must’ve. Without breaking the pretend eye contact, your mystery friend raises a hand to beckon the bartender over. He motioned towards you as the unamused bronzeblood approached. 

You turn your head, but don’t back away, insistent on staying as close as possible while you order a Rosé and champagne. You twist the chain in your fingers. A pleased purr rises from your chest as you watch the bartender get to work. You could feel your stranger’s gaze boring into you. Was he wearing some sort of cologne? It was vaguely familiar, nostalgic almost. A scent like that, he must be Fleet. It was smokey, a little woods-y. Perhaps cedar? You so loved the smell of cologne- it was unfortunate your usual mask had an air filter. 

You meet his gaze once more as the bartender has to leave briefly to fetch your champagne. You release the chain. Your hand rests on his chest. It was warm, almost concerningly so- was he even breathing? An undead purple. Now that was an exciting thought. No, as you trace the pattern on his vest with a coy finger, you can feel his pusher racing underneath. A shy purple, then? Even more enticing. You maintain your gaze on his mask as the bartender delivers both drinks. 

“I hate to cut our time short…but my friend is waiting.” 

If you didn’t know better, you would’ve said your stranger deflated at the thought. 

“I’ll be on the dance floor all day, if you find yourself wanting company again.” You trace a small circle on his chest, “I’d love to pay you back with a dance.” 

With that you push away, taking both your drinks with a silent nod of thanks to the bartender. You made your way back to your kismesis. Mondes was no longer staring at you- no, he seemed to be staring through you. And quite intently. Like a dog on alert. 

“He’s staring.” He says flatly as you approach. You shrug nonchalantly and offer him his drink. Despite the nonchalance, you could tell your kismesis was uncomfortable. You were an expert in reading him. 

“C’mon,” you nudge his foot to make him stand, “let’s go up to the balcony. He can’t see us up there.” Truth be told, you could feel those masked eyes staring right into your soul. It would normally have been unnerving, but for some reason, it felt…almost familiar. A wanted attention, you suppose. Though your story here is only half the tale, Jodiah. Your thoughts and emotions hardly matter here. You are but a means to the end of this tale. 

Mondes rose slowly, but kept eye contact with your stranger until you put your arm around him. You usher him along towards the grand staircase.

“He’s just jealous a grandma like you could pull someone as hot as me.” 

---

==> Your name is now Paenit Almiss, and the second Jodiah leaves, you are overcome with the feeling that you have made a colossal mistake.

[ammonitetheseaserpent]

Masterpost thingie (now partially to clean space out of my bio acakbwfobwfob)

Other blogs:

Art blog - @ammonitetheartist

Incorrect quotes blog - @random-stuff-incorrect-quotes

Horse (Centaurworld) character blog - @horsatia-wighair-beanzs

AU dumping grounds blog - @talons-and-webbed-feet

TOH words suggest blog - @owl-house-words-suggest

Nimona (Nimona) character/RP blog- @red-fox-and-more

MD words suggest blog - @murder-drones-words-suggest

Gimmick blog - @putting-wheat-in-places

All my tags.

Amphibia:

Calamtrio - #people standing in line and don’t even know why

Possessed Marcy - #i’ll be waiting in your favorite cheshire grin

Marcy/Andrias - #love and blood and hate and some empty tunes

Calamity Anne - #teach myself complete submission while I grant myself complete permission

Calamity Sasha - #when there’s quantity we can find some clarity in something

Calamity Marcy - #if I must play fair it’ll take long to get there

Marky Wu - #five fingers two black hooves

Luz/Marcy - #when I’m dreaming tonight I can do anything

Other Fandoms:

Owlphibia - #talons and webbed feet

Encanto - #gift with an undertow

Centaurworld - #horsekai

Learning With Pibby - #telegeddon

Spirit Animals - #connections and legends

Bone - #mundane and lucid dreamers

Pendragon - #fallen angelverse

Amanda the Adventurer - #souls behind screenhell

Nimona - #zoology desecration

Murder Drones - #assimilate & eviscerate

The Amazing Digital Circus - #carousel to infinity

Rain World - #flooded inheritance

In Stars and Time - #temporal wellness check

Sprunki - #musical mausoleum

Comfort Characters:

Marcy - #tidesoul sunbeam

Luz - #spellform prodigy

Eda - #feathered renegade

Peridot - #key-lime hardriver

Spinel - #rubberjive

Sayori - #contrary cinnabon

Yuri - #bastion of chill

ENA - #pixel pallygon

Shepherd - #goodest-boy guardian

Fizzarolli - #neon hellraiser

Misc.:

Politics/stigma/signal boosts/self-care reminders- #important things/advice

Art advice - #art tipparoonis

Writing advice - #writing tipparoonis

Cute/calming/aesthetic posts - #serotonin booster shtuff

Funny posts - #humor corner

Art that’s mine - #ammonart

Art that’s not mine - #kewl art by kewl people

Thoughts/theories/liveblogs/slice-of-life posts - #random snippets of my day

My writing - #my jottins

Posts I relate to/that remind me of myself - #bumble vibes

Recipes - #good baking

Asks - #askeroonis

Asks from mutuals - #moot fren people

[rmd-writes]

Kiss prompt: Tarlos - to shut them up

I’ve assigned each kiss prompt I received a number and am using a random number generator to choose which prompt to write because I got quite a few from you all! As a reminder, I’m trying to keep these to around 200 words and I’m going to try and do at least one per day til they’re all done. If you’ve sent me a prompt, I promise I’ll get to it!

I give up on limiting these to 200 words lol, this is very obviously not 200 words but c'est la vie. Sometimes the characters write themselves.

Thank you Cee darling for the prompt! 💖

a kiss to shut them up

TK set the table but Carlos can’t help but walk over and check it anyway, making sure that the alignment of the cutlery and the glasses on the table is perfect. He wanders back to the stove, tasting the sauce before getting out the serving bowls he’s chosen for the evening. 

Opening the refrigerator, he checks that they have all of the drinks they need – and looks over to the bench to confirm – for at least the third time in thirty minutes – that they have limes this time. Carlos made sure of it. Should he cut the limes up now? He walks over and picks a couple up, before pulling a clean cutting board out of the cupboard. He hesitates, with his knife to the rind. Maybe he should wait. What if no one wants lime in their drinks tonight? What if they’d prefer wine? 

“Babe, I can hear you thinking from here,” TK calls from the bedroom.

Carlos doesn’t respond, still debating with himself over cutting up the limes. 

“Baby,” TK says, in the living room now, walking towards Carlos. “Breathe.”

Carlos looks up at him. “I just want things to be perfect.”

“And they are,” TK insists, sliding his arms around Carlos’ waist and pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “Your food will be amazing as usual. And it’s just our parents. We’ve had dinner with them before.”

“Not here, not since…” Carlos trails off. It’s the first time they’ve invited his parents and Owen over for dinner together since TK’s moved into the loft. Carlos just wants things to be perfect; to show their parents that this is right, that things are good.

He puts the knife and the lime down and turns around in TK’s arms, running his hands up them.

“I know, baby, and it’s so sweet that you care so much. But it’s our parents. They love us. They just want to see us happy and we are. You make me so happy.”

TK’s smiling softly and his eyes are crinkled at the corners. Carlos can almost feel the way his contentment wraps around them both in a golden haze. But still–

“Should I have made tamales instead?”

“No, baby, the mole is perfect.” TK laughs a little. He’s so beautiful when he laughs.

“Is your dad even eating carbs these days? Oh god, what if he won't–”

“Dad will eat whatever he’s served tonight because he’s not a monster.”

“I should have bought you something more special to drink, are you sure you’re okay with mineral water?”

“Carlos.”

“Oh my god, are you sure you took the lube out from behind the couch cushions? What about the bottle in the–”

Carlos is silenced by TK’s lips on his, and when TK licks into his mouth, all of the thoughts rattling around his brain are silenced because when TK kisses him, there’s no room for anything else in his mind except TK, the way that TK’s lips feel against his, soft and lush and demanding, the press of TK’s body against his own, warm and safe and here. TK’s heart beating steadily against his own, where it belongs.

(find all of my kiss prompt ficlets here or read them on ao3)

[bloodsalted]

@haelestorm || catching up on inbox stuff! || ✍🏻🥰

i've never heard your laugh before. i love it.

they're plopped outside an empty football field. dean's always found them a little creepy in their own right. all the tall lights stretching up like metallic claws into the night's sky. pitch black from the dark turning them into outlines of jagged edges at the top. once, when he was a kid, he remembers leaning against one and he swore he saw it start to sway. thought he was going to be crushed by it and ran as far as he could trying to escape. only to look back and see it didn't move at all. just stood there, a monster made from an optical illusion and an overactive imagination brought on by sneaking out in the middle of the night to get some air and walk off a nightmare he didn't want his dad and sammy to know he had.

stupid job. ghost cheerleader from the sixties driving random kids to murderous madness. it was to the point his dad thought it might be demonic possession. looking back? yeah he could see how john might come to this conclusion. tonights? brought him to another field. in a town he keeps being pulled back to. another monster. just like the others. no ghosts though. these are vicious from the blood in its veins and tearing people apart with bare hands. or teeth.

he sees riley the first night he's here. they keep bumping into one another for the next few days. tonight? she's found him kicking rocks after losing the trail of his hunt. flask in hand and frustration making his jawline tight as back teeth grind together to the point of PAIN. she seems to take it as a personal insult that he's upset on her watch. ends up coming back with a freaking key lime pie he's got no idea how she landed and some beers. he's two slices in and starting a liquor and sugar high by the time one of her jokes hits him and his head tosses back, a laugh bursting out of his lungs.

'i never heard your laugh before. i love it.'

green eyes meet hers. a puff or two more of a chuckle and he feels his face heat up. fork jabs into his pie and he offers her a taste. not that she doesn't have her own fork and is more than welcome to dig in whenever she pleases. "yeah? well.. thanks. for giving me a reason to. and turning this night around. sammy's missing out. shouldn't have pinned him with all the bookworm work. but that's his fault for being a nerd." said FONDLY, of course. sorry sammy.

[bw2]

Hi I’m hyper right now I just took my adderall cause I’m going to the water park in 2 hours and like I’ve had a total of 10 hours of sleep in the last two days. So I’m gonna gush about my night and my man of the month. Hi

Okay so last night I went out with my friend + nail girl Tori and her coworker Keona (I was really happy Keona joined us because she’s really cool. I like her a lot.) and like. We started at this one club and while we were getting drinks, I saw the guy who groped Tori and I a few weeks ago looking at us LOL. Then he and his buddy eventually approached us and was like “hey let’s get some shots” so the dude bought us all shots and he was acting super weird towards me and it made me feel so fucking autistic cause I don’t know how to react to like random people flirting with me when I’m sober. He kept reaching his hand out and every time I was like “what’s up?” And then he’d give me this one face and it was so confusing. God. Anyway he put my lime in my drink for me and was just acting really weird but I was too anxious to refuse the drink so I took the shot and then texted Keona that I was worried the guy put a roofie in it. She told me that she’s uncomfortable with the guys too and that she wants to get out so we grabbed Tori, Keona said super bitchy thing to them, then walked out. THEN we ran into some girls Tori knows and we told them about the guys. And they were like “we will start shit” then eventually the guys come out and start hanging out on the sidewalk and like looking at us. Then Tori and those girls started yelling at them LOOOL.

Around the same time, this guy approaches Keona and I and is like “hey so my friend is over there selling bracelets, but business is really slow tonight. If I give you $10 will you buy one from her? It’ll mean a lot to her” so then Keona and I grabbed Tori and we looked at the girl’s bracelets and I used his $10 to buy one. It was sooooo sweet of him to like do that for her. The seller was really nice too and she looked so happy when I bought it! It was such a good moment. This is the bracelet btw! Super cute

Then we went to another club and Tori ran into some woman she knows and the woman’s work friends. They let us have free white claws LMAOO. Some middle aged guy who was in the group was talking to me and like he was attractive and rich but like I remembered I was gonna snap Chase (my mixed boy monday) and say “omgggggg are you downtown!? I think I just saw you” cause he told me the other day he was gonna be busy on Saturday night and like where else would a 23 year old who lives super close to downtown do on a Saturday night. BUT. Right as I opened my to phone to take the snap, he texted me asking me what I’m doing. I told him to come to the club I was in, but he was in the club next door with this guy who was wasted and didn’t wanna leave him so I told my friends where I was going and just went to the club he was in but like it took me 20 minutes to find him cause I didn’t realize he was in the middle of the dance floor crowd. I was so pissed while looking for him but I eventually found him and then like 15 or so minutes later we went to the club Tori was at and like I was so worried that he was gonna ditch me LOL like I held in my pee cause I thought he was going to. I was also worried he was gonna think Tori’s hotter than me and ghost me aster.

Anyway we like were talking about leaving and I told him I’ll drive us to his place cause I was sober and the last drink I had was at 11:45 ish and it was 1:15 at that point. I guess Tori was sitting on a couch kinda by us and sent me this LOLLLL

he’s straight btw

Then. We eventually left and he was like “oh shit I want a hot dog” so he got himself a burrito thing from a hot dog stand and also ordered me fries ? I told him I’m not eating tonight but like he was faded and ordered them anyway. Then told me that I told him to get them for me!? When he was ordering I was talking to this gay couple and their lesbian friend and they were all so cool and funny.

Then I joined Chase in food pickup line and we were talking and stuff and I mentioned how I took my full adderall dose at 4 pm and had an energy drink so I was super on edge before coming out and he was like “yeah I found Mexican Ritalin on the floor at work” !?!!?!!??!??? also he kept talking about like how good I looked and how attracted to me he is and like how I’m the best he’s ever had and stuff and like. AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH

He like got his food and we sat while he ate and he was like “dude why did you get yourself those fries if you aren’t gonna eat them” he’s insane.

He kept trying make me eat the burrito but I was like “no dude I’m not eating tonight” and then he was like “wait. Are you lactose? You’re lactose! Lactose! Lactose!” cause I didn’t want the food. he kept bullying me it was so funny.

He like finally finished his burrito and then we continued walking back to my car and he started eating the fries he got and was like trying to get me to eat those too and was like “wait you don’t eat pork???” cause I didn’t want them AAUHAJQKQJWWJJWWWJWU.

He mentioned being mixed or something and like I already figured he was mixed latino cause I have a gaydar but for mixed Latinos. And I was like “dude this is gonna sound weird but what’s your race” and he told me his mom is white and his dad is Mexican LMAOOO I told him I’m basically the same and stuff.

Then like he went over to this dude and was like “hey do you want some fries” and started talking to the guy and mentioned how I’m not eating the fries cause I don’t eat pork then went “the only meat she eats is mine” cause I had made some dumb joke like that a few minutes prior and the guy gave him a fistbump. It was so corny but like funny.

We like went by freak alley I think. Or just some random alley idk then like made out again and then went to my car and he couldn’t figure out how to drink out of my water bottle and spilled a bunch of water on himself cause he didn’t know there was a straw in it?

Then we drove to his house and slept cause he was still faded. I love sleeping with him like. He’s so nice to sleep with his skin is so soft and he’s so comfortably warm AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. Also I’m mad cause I didn’t take a selfie with him. Also I’m pegging him tonight.

[behaneul]

he grins, unable to do anything else in the face of seojun's smile. he's honestly just happy they had managed to find some time to come out to the markets together, considering that he had also started training recently and they were cooped up at lime a lot of the times. sometimes together and sometimes apart, but the fact of the matter was that they were both busy now.

it was a bit of a struggle, but haneul had somehow managed to get the costumes put together in time before he had officially started training and then also had no time to change plans after.

not that he would've, considering he loves sophie. also, dresses were surprisingly comfortable and now he could understand why women wore them so often.

"okay, that's good, i think i'm just being paranoid," he comments, huffing a little to himself. he had chosen to be sophie from the end of the movie, where she had returned to being young but still had the grey hair, mostly because he didn't want to be walking around like an old woman.

also seojun looked really good as howl, and he had to look as good next to him, right?

"oh we can go check it out!" he says happily, just glad to be out and about tonight with the other. "i think there's supposed to be random play dance too, but i don't know how well i can dance in a dress?" he laughs, looking too amused at the thought of it and he glances at his best friend again before linking his arm through the other's. "no wars today, you're supposed to spend time with me~"

seojun couldn't explain how much he appreciates haneul.

besides having someone to wear matching costumes with was always something that he wanted to do. plus it was too perfect to get to do this alongside his best friend. maybe down the line they could gather some friends around and do a group costume. he was content doing the couple costume though. the thought of it being a couple costume made his mind freak out a bit but he wasn't going to dwell on that at all.

besides it was howl and sophie who were an actual couple but it was from their favorite movie so there was no way he'd pass up this chance to dress as them. he doesn't think of the implications at all since it would just make him a flustered mess.

"it looks fine, hannie. you look great." he lets the other know with a bright smile on his lips. he was sure others in the market would think the same or maybe he was just biased.

"it looks good. doesn't look like it's slipping at all to me," he mutters, his eyes looking at the other's reflection before looking back at haneul again. maybe its his bias showing agian but he's always thought that his best friend looked good no matter what. sure he didn't share those thoughts often but he sure had those thoughts way too often. he adjusts his outfit a bit, making sure nothing it out of place.

thinking carefully, he looks around a bit. "we could check out the different booths. though i heard there's a busking event and it makes me miss doing that myself." he answers, flashing another smile towards his best friend who looks amazing as sophie. "no promises," he jokes, before letting out a laugh.

[sanzu-sanzu-sanzu]

songs about toxic people 8

Sanzu Haruchiyo X Reader

Summary: In which you are Bonten’s No. 2 and Sanzu is No. 3. Almost ten years of being stuck working together means you’re both bound to pick up on each other’s idiosyncrasies, yeah?

MASTERLIST

chapter 8: You’ll be here in the morning

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tw: nsfw at the beginning / mature content / crime talk

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It happens sometimes; just never with someone in your line of work. Never with anyone from Bonten, of course, both for your sanity and your protection.

The man is a six-foot something advertising con career man you’ve met in an outskirts bar that’s not affiliated with Bonten. Mid-thirties with a buzzcut; plenty good-looking with that silvery voice that tickled your ears but whose face honestly would easily have gotten lost in the crowd if one’s parameters for handsome enough to fuck aren’t that so sky-high in the first place. And you aren’t looking; you’re just here to seek some form of release. Not that it hurts to be staring up in a daze at a well-chiseled face while they’re riding you high, sure. No, contrary to your job’s ugly reputation it’s not exactly that lacking when it comes to attractive men—and women, not that you’ve tried, but hey, where’s the harm?—so, really, your eyes have had plenty of time to acclimate in your young years of working alongside people who manage to make being criminal look good. Handsome…such a loaded and at the same time empty word. All you really need right now is a good fuck.

Scratch the part where you’re looking up in a daze because at the moment it’s quite the opposite—you’re not exactly losing yourself, though maybe you can’t really complain if you hardly had time to communicate what you wanted; you both just went straight to taking your clothes off and grabbing each other’s limbs. Your sigh gets lost in his moaning and the sounds of skin hitting skin as you adjust your leg for a better angle and—oh, now he’s hitting the spot. Your hold around his shoulder tightens and for the first time tonight your moan is one of pleasure. Your eyes instinctively close; face burying deeper into his neck.

It’s something very random and unexpected: a familiar scent you can’t quite name, fruity and kind of tangy…almost something you can taste. Your eyes flutter open, a minor disturbance at the back of your head, a throbbing sense of unease when faced with a puzzle you can’t solve. There’s no mistaking that it’s the ad man’s perfume or body wash or whatever men wear on their body that sticks to their skin if there even is such a thing, and you can’t decide which one is more mysterious: which memory this scent is triggering in you or why he’s wearing citrus fragrance in the first place.

One mystery at a time.

Your mind is temporarily bogged down by the fact you can’t even name the exact scent (not that you’re complaining if it manages to distract you from the subpar sex): it’s not as strong as lemon or lime, nor is it as zesty as orange, though it’s a scent you know you know well. You close your eyes again, almost tasting the sweetness in your tongue; it’s the bitter aftertaste, however, that paints you a picture.

It’s in an abandoned shrine far from here with the badly-maintained floorboards and a small garden in the back that needed tending. It’s the trees your friends had helped you plant on the summer of your twelfth year which they’d regretted four years later when on your first harvest it gave them nothing but bitter and sour. Nobody knew shit about proper soil nutrients, of course, and you only stood frowning at your basketful of unwanted fruits because perhaps you should’ve waited. Either way, it would be a waste just leaving them there, you thought; maybe you could con other members into eating them.

It was Sanzu appearing beside you almost making you jump, him and his odd scars and his now chest-length hair; your second conversation, you’d counted, because the boy had no reason to speak to you in the year he’d been in Toman and with your ever-present Black Dragon second-in-commands Inupi and Koko shielding you from the bad news Fifth Division vice captain. No, he didn’t seem like bad enough news, you’d told them; just lost. And you thought perhaps he really did lose his way to you if he was there asking if he could have some of your (bitter) harvests. None of the guys liked these, you’d said, so Are you really sure? because you weren’t really keen on being responsible for any casualty, nor did you want this strained non-relationship you shared with the guy to get even more strained.

He shrugged; even without the mask he’d acquired and his eyes staring straight into yours his face had always been very hard to read. I love oranges, was all he said, sounding not very convincing at all, but Sanzu’s eyes were unwavering that you ended up wanting to believe and you chuckled. Not oranges, you answered with an eye roll, to which he only frowned.

Well, what are those then?

Mandarin.

Your eyes shoot open at the wave of pleasure at your core and your hand flies to your mouth to keep yourself from moaning, feeling how very wrong that Sanzu’s face and hands are all you think of while someone else is inside you. You hear the man chuckle against your neck, badly misunderstanding. “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay; show me how you really feel,” he teases, his stubble kissing the shell of your ear.

You don’t answer back but you’re not as rude as to leave him blue so you tighten your arms around his neck again and let him chase his high. In one practiced motion, however, you manage to pull him out at the very last minute. You both lay gasping for a while, him coming down and you plain exhausted. A normal man with normal enough cardio endurance and normal levels of decency to ask if anything is wrong as you sit up, trying to clear your head.

“Nothing, I just changed my mind,” you clarify, regarding your sudden change of heart about making him finish inside you. You take a quick glance at his own mess on his stomach. “Sorry you gotta clean that up.” He tells you no problem as he strokes your back, and you give him one final genuine smile before you tell him Goodnight because you know this is the last time he’ll ever be seeing you.

You’ll be gone in the morning, goes your unspoken whisper as you offer him the glass of water from his bedside table, making sure he drinks it.

If there’s anything, it’s really the post-sex restlessness that you kind of hate. Out of habit, you think about work, casually running through your mental list of tasks and current running operations you have to keep track of as you rummage through the man’s pantry for something to drink, anything to warm you up out in the cold balcony. The Nagasaki embezzlement is done, the counterfeit goods have arrived in Fukuoka, the newly opened gambling operation in Osaka…well, you’ll make sure to remind Ran to stop flirting with a certain general’s wife, if he can please help it, though you probably won’t go too hard on his ass this time; you and Rindou enjoy Ran’s paramour dramas too much.

Work has always been a constantly unsteady, ever-evolving thing in your life because the bad guys never really run out of things to do, not really; the police works hard after all, and so criminals work even harder, making the good guys do the same to which the bad guys reciprocate, and on and on. Your eyes narrow at the first news that greets you when you open your phone: more and more regional banks halting their overseas remittance services following the government’s recently beefed up anti-money laundering measures, as you’ve expected. Stricter and more costly confirmation work are simply going to make even some of the good guys rely on criminal shortcuts more, and nobody does it better than Bonten, of course. Seeing this kind of thing would’ve shaken up a twenty-year old you, but the years have made you tougher and wiser. You simply forward the news to Koko with no accompanying message because he’ll know what to do.

You acclimate, in more ways than one, of course hyperaware that the whole thing is still this beast that could easily sweep you off your feet if you weren’t careful.

That’s one homework done; now on to whatever’s next.

You spot one unread message from Manjiro sent not 2 hours ago from his burner number. You smile bemusedly; your Boss must’ve been drinking and got nothing better to do to be sending out work messages at 1 in the morning. Not that he’s not allowed to do that, it just very rarely happens.

how’s the kanagawa shjpment? [sic]

followed by

sorry, i thought it’s still 11. just let me know whenever. goodnight.

It’s rare for Manjiro to be inquiring on any specific operation unless it’s something he’s highly interested in. The Kanagawa thing is peculiar, sure, being somewhat of a family affair that had dragged on for so long you had to bring in Sanzu to be the one to do it after the original Bonten liaison was shot dead in a shootout that caught everyone off-guard. You were the one who briefed him, of course, and by the end of it you were sure that whatever reservation you might’ve initially felt had nothing to do with the man’s capabilities, as you watched him yawn at the nitty gritty facts of the matter and even seemed thrilled at the prospect of breaking a family apart. There was zero reason for you to feel apprehensive about Sanzu taking on that high-risk job that morning you sat across from him in that well-lit Shibuya cafe, not when he’s working hard at swindling a breakfast treat out of you for when he gets back, like there’s no reason for you to worry at all.

Well, spoiler alert: said man finally got back this afternoon alive and well to make you feel all sillier in retrospect and just all in all terrorize your side of Tokyo again.

You step out into the balcony with only a large blanket to cover you up. You breathe in the 3AM air; this kind of cold, you welcome. You don’t bother being careful with the seats and the noise that they make because the house’s owner is dead asleep as a log and will be for the next ten hours or so thanks to the drug you discreetly managed to put into his drink. You take your time thinking about whether or not you should call, eventually deciding it’s silly because there’s always time in the morning and it’s nothing too pressing as to warrant a call anyway.

But it’s 3AM and there’s that strange feeling of inhibition and free-for-all-ness that the hour brings that makes you impulsive and just a tad bit venturous. He won’t have to reply to a text, for sure, not at 3 in the morning.

Hey, Sanzu. How was Kanagawa?

You never send him smileys so you’re momentarily surprised by the predictive texts and emojis that come up, but you’ve seen stranger things in life so you forget about it after a second. You breathe in deeply, suddenly feeling absurd not even a minute after sending your text. It really could’ve waited in the morning. You let your head lean back on the cold headrest as you close your eyes, meaning to get whatever semblance of sleep you can manage. Ten minutes later you hear your phone ping and you see a blank avatar.

supergal_RAN: @killerqueen ?? why are you asking at 3 in the morning

You narrow your eyes, the confusion shaking you awake. Did you send the text to Ran by mistake? You’re about to type in a reply when you see the name on top of the screen: simply four skull emojis because whoever created the chat could not have been bothered and thought emojis were the way to go. You groan; now you’ve disturbed seven other people.

oh, i’m sorry. i didn’t realize, goes your reply.

It doesn’t take more than a minute for the next text to come in.

rinh0e: she couldn’t wait to know

You watch in silence as supergal_RAN is shown typing at the same time that rinh0e is also typing which goes on for a good 5 minutes, both of their names popping in and out of the screen with ellipsis bubbles while your fingers simply hover, not wanting to get in between—it feels eerily like being seated between the two in a meeting room and you can’t manage to slip a word in or you choose not to because they’re both speaking at the same time and it’s bound to only end with either making their argument worse or them ganging up against you.

(And nobody wins against Ran and Rindou Haitani.)

Their messages never come up, however, and next time your phone lights up, it’s from Koko (a blank avatar too just like everyone, because nobody saves photos of their contacts on your phones for obvious reasons).

XOXOnoi: why the hell is everyone still up?

snzzze: why are YOU up?

Out of impulse, you type in:

@snzzze Sanzu.

Everyone is suddenly [typing] but it’s Ran who gets his message out first.

supergal_RAN: yeah, @snzzze, tell us about kanagawa?

snzzze: @supergal_RAN the fishes have plenty to eat

You suppress an eye roll at the far from serious-sounding answer, though you also get the code: there’s been plenty dead bodies getting thrown out into the sea and judging by the playful response, it’s none of your men. Though Sanzu’s text arrives not too long after the last one, as if reading your mind:

snzzze: @killerqueen one of ours, sadly :”( old man manning 1 of the dox. heart attack during one shootout

supergal_RAN: sad way to go

rinh0e: he got shot. in the heart?

snzzze: NO

You smile, which you quickly drop because a man that had no use being dead just died.

killerqueen: @snzzze …I hope you didn’t throw him into the waters?

snzzze: @killerqueen we did not

snzzze: we made him sashimi :D

Before you can even form a reply, a new message comes up on screen:

[mO.greene exits the chat]

A few seconds later, Sanzu adds him back.

supergal_RAN: mochie you know you can just mute dis shit, right?

snzzze: somebody teach the old man

XOXOnoi: @snzzze fix our names too, pls?

mO.greene: noisy ALL OF YOU

supergal_RAN: y didn’t anyone fucking mute

rinh0e: u know what they say about people who cant sleep at 3AM? it’s cause they’re missing someone

The next notification is a 53-second long voice message from Mochizuke that you decide not to open. At this point, you close your eyes and let your phone drop to your stomach and you sigh. Nobody’s bound to take anything seriously at 3AM when the world is fast asleep and one can get away with almost anything.

You’re startled by the sudden buzzing of your phone five minutes later however, and when you see Sanzu’s name, you take a moment to answer.

“Yes?”

As if just now hearing you voice out your inner thoughts, he goes straight to the point, his voice sounding clear as if not at all weighed down by sleep:

“The old Boss is still in a coma so it’s the eldest son who was making all the hasty decisions. Got him to sign and open the waters for our cargo before I shot him in the head myself. We got the consigliere locked up; his men are gone, too. The youngest who’s a mayor is no longer a threat to the local cartels, I made sure, practically won’t be able to lay a finger now on my new pals. The middle son is a wuss so he wouldn’t be a bother. The shipment proceeds tomorrow afternoon, as promised. I don’t need to be there, we can just send in one of our men.”

A total of twenty-eight days was all Sanzu needed to terrorize an entire stronghold of a city dead-set on not dealing with narcotics where others had taken months and failed. You don’t answer right away, an uncharacteristic lapse as you try to think, because you knew better than to say Good job to someone for whom success of such degree (considering the level of danger) is more or less par for the course; otherwise, what else is really there to say? The honest answer, you know, is expressing relief over the whole operation being a success, that you can now all move past the entire ordeal, that he came back alive and safely—

though that’s not really something you intend to say out loud.

You think he’s probably started mistaking your silence for something else.

“I’ll bring you the signed document tomorrow, if you like. It’s literally signed with his blood, isn’t that funny?”

You sigh, never not amused at his casual tone when discussing blood and gore. “I didn’t think you were actually gonna call, we can talk tomorrow,” you say honestly.

He’s silent for a short while and it just hits you that it’s the first time you’re hearing his voice in almost a month. Phone calls had been scarce for safety reasons and whatever important elements that came up that you needed to know were sent via text and through various burner phones. Not that Sanzu needed a lot; you’re not the only one who’s gotten very efficient through the years.

“So you really just sent that to the chat on a whim?”

Not exactly, you think, though you really don’t have a more truthful answer, either. “I couldn’t sleep,” you end up telling him. “Thought I might forget. Also I only planned on sending that to you.”

He snorts in amusement. “Why, you didn’t think I was asleep?”

You hum as you think for a moment.

“Not really. I did think there’s a 50/50 per cent chance you’d be awake. I wouldn’t have minded if you replied tomorrow, though. And who replies to texts these days, anyway?”

“All the Bonten executives, apparently,” he says without missing a beat, which makes you laugh.

“Okay, okay, I apologize. It really could’ve waited ‘till tomorrow.”

There is now a lilt of teasing in his tone. “Well, you’ve always been a little weird so the guys probably don’t mind.”

“Hey,” you bite back. “I’m not the only one awake at this hour.”

You know now that Sanzu is smoking through the soft blowing sounds you hear and you can’t help but imagine his slow drag as he takes his time to answer. “Can’t imagine Koko in his free time doing shit not involving money, so he might be accounting some cash, sure; Ran is probably doing god knows what, maybe taking a cigarette break from sleep; Mochizuke is definitely double-checking his Fukuoka itinerary; Rindou…mostly likely screwing some politician’s lawyer he said he’s getting intel from, so whatever.” He takes another drag off his cigarette. “You know there’s no sleep for the wicked.”

You can’t think of a real answer to that because it’s 3AM and those actually sound just about accurate. You hesitate to ask what’s keeping him up for fear of what he might say, so you decide to play along instead.

“You wouldn’t be replying to a stray work message at three in the morning while you’re having sex with someone.”

He thinks for a bit before answering. “The sex must’ve been bad, then.” You pause, suddenly feeling too bare out in the cold open air wearing nothing but a stranger’s oversized blanket.

There’s an extended silence at the other end of the line before he once again speaks:

“So, who are you missing?”

“What?”

“You know.” You think he’d be shrugging right now if you were talking face-to-face. “Not sleeping at 3AM and missing someone?”

You afford him a small chuckle. “Nobody?”

“Hmmm.”

“What’s with that? And I don’t think I’ve anyone else to miss, anyway.” You think your words over for a bit. “It’s probably for the best, too.”

“Well,” you hear a slight strain in his voice the way voices get when one is stretching out their limbs. He exhales and his voice goes back to normal. “It’s good you’re at peace with it.”

You are, you’re certain you are, except you think it’s not as straightforward as that—nothing ever is—as to simply bring you peace, and suddenly you feel the urge to say more than you otherwise would’ve if it wasn’t 3AM. But hey, that’s the beauty of the hour: this will all be forgotten in the morning.

“Well, I do…miss things, though.” You take a deep, slow breath, gauging your words. “I miss places and old times. I miss certain things I do with people…like overtime meetings no matter how shitty they were like when we were having them. I get sentimental about the old Toman shrine, for example. Even though I didn’t think of it much back then…”

Sanzu stays quiet for a bit and for some reason you expect him to laugh or say something sly, except he doesn’t and his pause makes you think like he’s thinking his own words over, too. “I miss the old pathway from the road leading up to the torii gates,” he finally says, catching you off-guard. “I always had a quiet moment walking along it on my own before and after meetings.”

You smile; it’s the pathway lined with cherry blossoms that bloom with so much life during spring. “I remember that pathway. There’s a path that crosses it that leads to the garden in the back. Have you ever been there, you know the one with the fruit-bearing trees?”

Suddenly, he groans like a child. “Yeah, I remember those. Those fruits weren’t fun…not that I ever liked oranges.”

You narrow your eyes, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Worst oranges I’ve ever had in my life. Never liked them in the first place, but the ones back in the shrine were extra sour. Terrible.”

You almost scoff at this sudden, almost childish hatred for oranges. “You’re kidding. And those weren’t just plain oranges, Sanzu, those were mandarins, I told you! Anyway, I thought you said you liked oranges.”

“Huh?“

You suddenly feel slightly self-conscious at even bringing up the fact that you do, indeed, remember an event almost so obscure, such as your second ever—to be exact—conversation with Sanzu. “You said you loved them that one time I was giving away mandarins which you thought were oranges. I even asked, like ‘are you sure?’ and you said, yeah, I love them.”

He doesn’t speak for a long time and you’ve never witnessed Sanzu make a twenty-second pause feel awkward as opposed to deathly which is almost always the case, because in what else kind of situation would Sanzu be purposefully extending silence for effect other than when tormenting another person? You wouldn’t know, of course, because Sanzu has never tormented you in that way nor has he ever been caught off-guard.

But then, of course, Sanzu can never stay quiet forever.

“Aaaaah. Well. I couldn’t come up with anything else to say,” he finally says in his most casual, most indifferent-sounding voice.

“What.” you deadpan.

“To get you to talk to me.”

There’s no reason for the flush you feel on your face with the way he’s making it sound like it’s no big deal. Either way, you’re thankful you’re not face-to-face and having this conversation.

“You know,” he starts saying again, “make friends with the higher-ups,” like a follow-up he came up with too late.

There is another long pause and this time, the ball is in your court. Of course, that was all there is to it—

“You there?” his voice sounds too low and almost startlingly close that you momentarily jump out of your skin. You do your best to make light of the sudden warmth that has now spread towards your exposed arms—nipped by the chill and got zero business being out there in the cold air.

You clear your throat. “Well, you didn’t have to.”

“Have to what?”

“Lie; make something up. I probably would’ve talked to you at some point, anyway.”

Sanzu laughs good-naturedly. “Oh? You looked like you were doing your best to stay away from me; keep me away from your people, them keeping me away from you…”

You also remember this, of course, and you laugh just as well. “That’s also true. I was never really good with troublemakers.”

“Ah, you hated troublemakers.”

“And you—” you smile at the sudden memory of Sanzu in line with yet another bruised patch on his face, “—you were a lot of trouble.”

He waits for another moment. “And yet here you are.”

“Yet here I am,” you echo quietly, reminiscing about the past with said troublemaker you’d one day promised yourself you were going to stay away from for the sake of your own sanity.

(Perhaps you’ve always been too antsy to be simply sane yourself, anyway.)

“Second in command in the country’s top criminal ring. Steering the reign,” you hear him continue.

You hum in lieu of a virtual shrug. “I’m okay, I get help from everyone else.”

Sanzu huffs at your modesty and you think you almost see him shaking his head. “You never give yourself enough credit, you know.”

You allow for silence in the line again because you know somehow you’re both right. Still, there’s something both poignant and funny with the whole situation.

“Strange, right? Maybe I can never really escape trouble,” you wonder out loud.

“Hm. I wonder why that is?” his voice quiets again, as if contemplating, and he doesn’t offer much of an answer so you continue on:

“Or maybe I simply attract trouble.”

There’s a pause on both ends long enough for you to get a full sense of how your choice of words might have sounded and you bite your lower lip, feeling your face warm. You think you ought to come up with a smart follow-up or correction to keep his mind away from whatever he might think you’re implying but before you can think of anything, he speaks up:

“I’m sure trouble does find you attractive.”

This time, you close your eyes, try to picture the way Sanzu would be saying these words and his face comes up clear like he’s right there in front of you, close enough for your hands to reach. You think maybe, just maybe, you can allow yourself to relish in the warmth that has now pooled in your stomach this one time.

In the morning, Sanzu’s saying, you can both get breakfast again in that coffee place that you liked, in the quiet Shibuya neighborhood halfway between his place and yours, if you so can’t wait to hear about his month-long exploits in Kanagawa. You imagine him rolling his eyes at the other end of the line and you smile a smile just for him even though he won’t see, and you say you’d love that, feeling compelled to remind him that it’s your treat this time for his coming back alive. In broad daylight, there will no longer be talks about attractions nor oranges/mandarins or missing familiarities, because you have your new rituals now with the same steady voice and the same familiar face—harsh expressions and odd scars and all—a piece in your ever-evolving life that you know will stay.

He’ll be there in the morning.

I’ll get you same thing you got last time? he asks, because you both know you’re bound to get late to your breakfast dates(-not-dates) with him somehow. Every time.

Yes, same thing, even though you no longer remember.

chapter 9 >

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A/N: (1) she’s a killer queen, guaranteed to blow your mind (2) the OG ran in my life (3) spoiler alert: he got permanently kicked out of the chat

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[ohtobeleah]

Okay but I wanna know what happened at the pub. for In Production

In Production Series

The Interview Series

Summary: The events of the dinner and drinks with Sebastian at the pub. Prequel to hand to hand.

Dinner and one beer, one fucking beer! That’s what you’d agreed to. Sebastian however, he had other plans. Dinner was ordinary—you’d had your fair share of amazing pub schnitzels. Tonight’s order was anything but spectacular, the company however? Was perfect.

“My prized possession?” Sebastian repeated back to you over the music, you nodded with a mouthful of food. “What’s my prized possession? god you’re so weird.” Sebastian chuckled. Rubbing his chin as he thought for a moment. “A candle stick holder, an old casting director gave it to me way back when, said it belonged to James Dean.”

“You’re prized possession is a fucking candle stick holder and you have the nerve to call me weird?” You smirked, taking a sip of the beer Sebastian had brought you. Dinks on him, dinner on you. Fair considering you originally had planned on paying for everything—it was your idea anyway.

“It’s belonged to James Dean!?” Sebastian defended his answer, his candle stick holder. You threw your head back as a loud laughter escaped your chest.

“You have absolutely no fucking way of proving that candle stick holder belonged to James Dean.” It was the casualness of the conversations you’d find yourself having with Sebastian that made you smile, that made you less nervous about working with him, a seasoned pro. A professional, something you were very clearly—not. Sebastian huffed. Cutting into his next piece of schnitzel, bringing the backside of his fork to his mouth.

“What about you? What’s yours?” Sebastian snarked cheekily. “What’s yours prized possession—“

“My coffee machine, that things worth more than my apartment, worth every penny though, nothing but liquid gold every morning.” It was easy conversation, the laughter came easy with Sebastian. Hours passed as food was finished and one beer turned to two, three to five. Before shots were being ordered and arms were been hooked around each other. Downing the burning clear liquor as you squinted, chasing with lime.

“I said one drink!” You hissed, head in the towel bowl in the bathroom of the pub. Knees grazing against cold tiles. Sebastian held your hair. Laughing along as you laughed at yourself between coughs and splatters of vomit. “This is fucking insanity!”

“Just get it out Y/l/n—“ Sebastians hand was on your back, rubbing gentle circles as you threw the content of your stomach up. Almost instantly feeling better as you wiped your mouth with a few squares of toilet paper. Leaning back against the wall, Sebastian pressed up beside you, arm against yours. “You wanna go home or?”

“Are you insane? I’m good.” You let your head rest on Sebastians shoulder, both sitting on the floor of the bathroom stall. “I always rally, Let’s get another round, I saw the pool table was free.” Sebastian couldn’t believe your persistence, his head was spinning the moment he allowed himself to relax against the wall.

“This the probably the most derelict thing I’ve ever done.” Sebastian chuckled as he felt your head get a little heavier on his shoulder.

“You’ve never had a nap on the floor of a pub bathroom before?” Sebastian shook his head in disbelief, he hadn’t. “God you haven’t lived, I once fell asleep on the toilet for half an hour before my best friend came and got me, that was at this fancy dress party her work was hosting, free champagne.” Sebastian decided in that moment he could listen to you talk all day, he’d never get tired of your voice. The way he wished it would infiltrate his dreams. “God she’d be screaming if she could see me right now.”

“Why’s that?” Sebastian asked, his arm pulling you closer into his side when he felt you shiver. Looking around he couldn’t believe where he was, this was by far the most random places he’d sat to have a chat. The floor of a pub fucking stall. He wasn’t sure if he was in the women’s or the men’s, he didn’t care, as long as he was with you.

“Because I’m free.” It was a simple three word answer that held the weight of the world. “For Five years I let Tom rule my life, I haven’t had this much fun in years, sure—I’m broke, live pay-check to pay-check, but I’m living life, hell, what a fucking story this will be!”

“Sitting in a dirt filled disgusting bathroom drunk off your ass?”

“With Sebastian Stan of all people, do you know how ridiculous that sounds?” You sat up laughing, head spinning. “You got me drunk, you’re here in the disgusting bathroom too, you’re no better then me.” You chuckled. Slurring your words just slightly.

“I got myself drunk too., don’t make me sound like I’m taking advantage—I can’t even see you properly” Sebastian added, his eyes dipping to your lips before quickly coming back to your eyes, you did the same. “Don’t forget that, you aren’t the only one who’s fighting the urge to pass out, I for one just don’t want my head in some random toilet.”

“Rather your own huh?” You asked, knowing it would probably be the final destination of the night, your head in your own toilet bowl.

“Oh yeah.” Sebastian pressed his lips together with a sure nod. “Much cleaner then this dump.” Silence fell over the pair of you as you sat together. Both buzzing, alcohol pumping through your veins. “You sure you don’t wanna go home?” You just stared at Sebastian for a moment, mesmerising his face, his smile. You shook your head.

“Nights only young, c’mon—let’s get fucked up.” You stumbled to your feet with a chuckle, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth. Sebastian followed, fumbling to his feet, unlocking to bathroom door before running his hand through his hair. “Let’s go!”

“Shots on me Y/l/n—let’s see what you got.”

You had absolutely nothing. You were wasted before Sebastian could even think of asking the bartender for a jug of water, with a half finished gin and tonic in your hand you slouched over the pool table. Face pressing against the greenery. Sebastian wrapped his arm around you, steadily walking and supporting you towards the front door, a taxi already waiting. Someone must have called. Sebastian leaned in towards to open window as you mumbled something.

“You Patrick?” The taxi driver asked. Sebastian smiled in response.

“I’ll be whoever I gotta be to get you to drive us to Parks and Fairfield?” The taxi drive shrugged, gesturing for Sebastian to hop in. He dragged your almost dead weight self in along the backseat. Your head in his lap as he struggled to focus on anything outside the window.

“I’m so totally gonna fall in love with you.” You mumbled against the warmth of Sebastians jeans. His hand absence playing with your hair. His eyebrow raised in response, had he heard you right?

“What was that?” He chuckled, laughing to himself as you mumbled incoherently.

“Nothing nothing—shit, I’m gonna, hey! you wanna watch that movie when we get back to my place?”

“What movie are we talking about?” Sebastian couldn’t control his soft laughter, his cheeks hurt from his smile. Looking down in his lap where your head was resting gently. Cheek squished against his high.

“The one where he’s all like, ‘It’s sheriff Bodecker son!’ Sebastian wanted to stay in this moment forever no matter how much his own head hurt or how much the movement of the taxi he sat in the back of was making his stomach churn. “That’s you isn’t it? You say that?”

“I do, I do—“

“You’ve say a lot of things” you mumbled, eyes closed as your gave into the feeling of Sebastians fingertips dancing against your scalp. Sending shivers through your body as you sighed.

“What’s some other things I’ve said that come to mind?” Sebastian asked, he just wanted an excuse to hear you talk gibberish to him. Keep you away long enough to make sure you got home safe. You sat up slowly with a groan, eyes meeting Sebastians sleepily as you leaned in, he didn’t stop you. How could he? His hand found your cheek drunkenly as the pad of this thumb gently caressed the soft skin of your cheek. Your breath hot on his. The smell of alcohol lingering just as much is his did.

“You know what the issue with the w-world is?” Everyone wants a ma-magical solution to their problems and everyone refuses to-to believe in magic.” Sebastian didn’t know if he leaned into you or if you fell into him, but your lips were in his before he could begin to put the pieces of the puzzle together. His eyes closed as he brought you closer though, moaning into your mouth as you deepened the kiss, caught up in the drunk taste as his tongue danced with your greedily, needy.

It was when the Taxi came to a haunt when Sebastian was pulling away, his eyes wide as his wiped his mouth, catching his breath, lips red, eyes full of something between lust and longing—your head coming to rest in his shoulder.

“Shit—I’m sorry Y/n I—“ but Sebastians apologies fell on deaf ears. You were gone. Passed out. A world away in your dreams. “Fuck.” To say it was a mission to get you out of the taxi and up over his shoulder was an understatement—but Sebastian managed. Taking the elevator from the lobby of your apartment complex and one flight of stairs before he took a left down the hall to where your apartment was. Fishing for your key awkwardly. 

“She keeps a spare key on-top on the doorframe son.” Sebastian nodded softly as he reached up for your spare key, unlocking your apartment door. Gesturing to the old lady who seemed to know everything. “Don’t you try anything with her young man, I’ve got ears like a hawk.”

Sebastian didn’t dare, simply fetching a glass of water and two Advil to put on your beside table. You were fucking gone. Making sure you were in fact breathing before he himself stumbled out of your apartment.

Tags:

@iamtheonewhocares

[yemilnisu]

INCORRECT HAIKYUU QUOTES FROM BUZZFEED UNSOLVED

nisu entries:

i got this idea from @memekingofwwiii and some of it are theirs 🙇🏻‍♀️ thank you for letting me add it here 😊 it’s a mixture from buzzfeed unsolved supernatural and true crime 👀 i really had fun doing this!

warning: swearing, mentions of death/murder/killing/blood/weed

「part 2」

Tendou: i did have a neighbor who had an overhang of a lime tree, and it was great because i could go pick a little lime.

Ushijima: did you ever think about killing your neighbor?

Tendou: when he didn't give me limes, yeah.

Ushijima: oh, okay; all right.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Matsukawa: this is my bridge now, if you want it back you’re gonna have to kill me.

Oikawa: he did throw someone off the bridge once.

Matsukawa: fuck you, goatman!

Oikawa: Jesus Christ.

Kunimi: *behind the camera snickering as mattsun taunts the goatman much to oikawa’s dismay*

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Matsukawa: hey demons, it’s me, ya boi.

Matsukawa: if you want to eat my heart, turn that light on. If you want to eat oikawa’s heart, turn that light on...

Oikawa: don’t drag me into your shit, mattsun.

*torch turns on*

Oikawa: *screams*

Matsukawa: *laughs hysterically as he continues to lie on the pentagram*

Kunimi: *actual wheezing*

Matsukawa: i think this demon’s a wimp.

Oikawa: he’s out of his fucking mind.

Kunimi: *having the time of his life*

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Oikawa: every human's capable of murder if you push them enough. i just don't know if this is enough of a push.

Iwaizumi: okay.

Oikawa: it's true!

Iwaizumi: is that so?

Oikawa: yeah.

Oikawa: i bet you you would murder me if I pushed you enough.

Iwaizumi: yeah, probably.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Tsukishima: …

Tsukishima: so, you're telling me, at nine years old, you don’t go to church. the first time you cross the threshold into holy ground,

Nishinoya: *makes noise and imitates blood coming out of his nose*

Tsukishima: blood expels from your nostrils?

Nishinoya: yeah, yeah. they ran outta tissues! mopping that up.

Tsukishima: …

Nishinoya: it was wild!

Tsukishima: it sounds wild.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Kuroo: i think it was the neighbor. look, i’m a simple man. i see a trail of blood going to someone's house. even if they didn't do it, come on; you're going to jail.

Kenma: i think it might've been a random person.

Kuroo: all right.

Kenma: it just seems too obvious.

Kuroo: okay.

Kenma: there's a paper trail of their feud. why the hell would he be that dumb?

Kuroo: rage, you know? lust, rage. rage just- just building up, bursting out.

Kenma: well, i've never really gotten that angry. i don't really have that capacity.

Kuroo: it's building. it's building inside you. everyone sees it; we all see it.

Kenma: that's great. oh man, i can't wait for krakatoa then.

Kuroo: *shuddering* oh- oh- i shudder.

Kenma: hope no one's in the way 😺

Kuroo: …

Kuroo: scary.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Daichi: he allegedly chased his mother with an axe when he was 19.

Asahi: not great.

Daichi: (wheeze) no? not off- off to a bad start?

Asahi: no good. i’ve never done that. you didn’t do that did you?

Daichi: no! i didn't- what- is there anything to suggest that I would chase my mom with an axe?

Asahi: (inhales) not outright i feel like if you peel the layers back.

Daichi: you think if you peel the layers back from this onion, you'll see something you don’t want to see?

Asahi: yeah. i think you wear a mask sometimes 😅

Daichi: mm-hmm i think you should keep digging and maybe see what happens 🙂

Asahi: uh no i'm good 🧍🏻‍♂️

Daichi: *staring at asahi*

Asahi: 👁👄👁💧

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Osamu: my takeaway is people from chicago are weird.

Atsumu: the- this does not represent chicago. this is people and go "ey! chicago tylenol murders"

Osamu: (laugh) home with the beam, the cubs and the chicago tylenol murders and of course our nation's greatest tragedy, miya atsumu.

Atsumu: that- that's not me.

Osamu: i read it somewhere 🤷🏻

Atsumu: no, you didn’t, you probably wrote it.

Osamu: yeah.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Suna: i’d love to be an heiress.

Kita: (snickers)

Suna: i know she’s probably gonna disappear or something.

Kita: so you wanna be a trust fund baby?

Suna: i’d like someone to give me a lot of money for doing nothing. but i want-

Kita: and then you wanna disappear?

Suna: yes. i want to get a lot of money and then vanish from the face of the earth.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Ennoshita: her family believed that when she left at 11:30 am, she had as much as $30 in her purse, which in today’s dollars would be more than $750.

Nishinoya: holy moly!

Tanaka: that’s a lot of quiche—

Nishinoya: yeah.

Tanaka: that’s a lot of quiche.

Nishinoya: thirty bucks going that far in 1910.

Tanaka: i don’t even have $750 in my bank account.

Nishinoya: i’ve never had $750 in my pocket! i rarely have had $30 in my pocket.

Ennoshita: well i don’t really carry cash anymore-

Nishinoya & Tanaka: who does!?

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Yaku: stop number one, mothman statue.

Lev: it looks very ornate.

Yaku: *shocked that lev knows that word*

Yaku: you’ll be able to stare at it eye to eye.

Lev: what’s that supposed to mean?

Yaku: it means you’re eight feet tall, it’s a tall joke. get it?

Lev: 🧍🏼

Yaku: 🤦🏼‍♂️

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Akaashi: any... any thought in that so far?

Bokuto: (fart sound) nope. what year is it, ‘66?

Akaashi: ‘66.

Bokuto: few teens out there probably smoking a few funny cigarettes.

Akaashi: you could say weed. it’s 2018.

Bokuto: ...some grass.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Kageyama: so my guess is the couples were somewhere around here, maybe on that road over there.

Hinata: yeah.

Kageyama: and i'm not sure of the exact location but this is where they saw him stumbling around.

Hinata: they just… saw him kinda shambling?

Kageyama: yeah.

Hinata: big shambling man. kinda *shuffling his body*

Kageyama: i- i don’t know, maybe he was just taking a walk, i mean, what's it to you?

Hinata: why would you take a walk if you had wings?

Kageyama: he's a fucking creature, he can do what he wants.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Kuroo: but all im saying is that what you need to gather from this is that he has an effect on people's psyche.

Lev: this mothman's a complicated character.

Kuroo: what does he sound like? what does he sound like?

Lev: he sound like the blood bird.

Kuroo: …

Lev: flappy spookster.

Kuroo: …

Kuroo: that's- come on.

Kuroo: *glances over to lev's notes*

Lev: the winged wretch. did i already say that?

Kuroo: this just says fright terror.

Kuroo: *throws away the notes*

Lev: you know, just call him batman, why is that hard? 😩

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

(howling)

Goshiki: what the fuck.

Shirabu: well those are coyotes… or dogs. Or a large pack of something.

Goshiki: holy shit.

Shirabu: just some coyotes.

Goshiki: are you not fucking alarmed right now?

Shirabu: are you scared? (laugh)

Goshiki: dude wait- this goes beyond belief, that was a pack of, whatever the fuck that was.

Shirabu: it was coyotes!

Goshiki: is that our cue to leave? i think maybe. we've been out here for quite a bit.

Shirabu: yeah, i don’t know if were gonna find anything tonight.

Goshiki: i don’t wanna be in the mouth of some coyote later, that's not how i want the picture wrap on old tsutomu to be.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Atsumu: air force one? they filmed air force one here?

Atsumu: air force one actually, now that i think of it, remember the reason they hijacked the plane is to release for the-

Sakusa: i’m gonna go ahead and cut you off right there 'cause i don’t give a shit.

Sakusa: we’re gonna move over here.

Atsumu: …okay.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Kai: four people in a cell, that's a lot

Kuroo: i mean, you put any normal people in a room that's too small. like if you’re in a dorm in college, if you hate your roommate…

Kai: it's tough business

Kuroo: listening to music too loud when i'm trying to study

Kai: hwfrrrrr…

Kuroo: cookin' uhh… top ramen in the microwave when i'm trying to sleep

Kai: you got some axes to grind?

Kuroo: no.

Kai: oh

Kuroo: fuck you, daishou.

Kai: daishou?

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

(distant thud)

Yamamoto: what the fuck?

Kenma: :3

Yamamoto: is all i have to say to that.

Kenma: they didn’t like the thumb talk.

Yamamoto: you didn't like the thumb talk? was it too much thumb talk? i thought we went about two minutes long on the-

(distant thud)

Kenma: they don’t like the thumb talk.

Yamamoto: *looking around in shock*

Kenma: *stopping himself from laughing*

Yamamoto: uhhhh… holy fuck. holy fuck, holy fuck. if you’re one of the people that had that thumb thing to happen to you, that sucks. what was it like?

Kenma: what do you think you're gonna get right now? 😑

Yamamoto: i feel like we should go see what that is, to be honest.

Kenma: *shakes his head*

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Tsukishima: we’re walking over to the source of the disturbance.

Hinata: hello? (sigh) i’m gonna lose my mind. so, it did that twice within the span of 10 seconds but nothing else?

Tsukishima: but, we can confirm that it did sound like this right? *slams the cabinet door*

Hinata: yeah.

Tsukishima: that was the sound.

Hinata: do you think the wind’s gonna do that twice?

Tsukishima: *blows on the cabinet door*

Tsukishima: not moving 🙄

Hinata: well, shit.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Sugawara: oh there it is. it’s that. *pointing to where the sound was coming from*

Asahi: what?

Sugawara: there’s a logical explanation for you.

Asahi: ah! okay, there it is. well, there you go, there you go.

Sugawara: but, if we hadn’t seen that...

Asahi: if we hadn’t seen that we would be fooled 😅

Sugawara: no, we wouldn’t have been fooled. you would have been telling me for months.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

*inside the prisoners of ohio state penitentiary*

Kageyama: this is fucking terrible.

Tsukishima: it’s the opportunity of a lifetime to be here.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Tendou: i’m separating from the group.

Semi: it’s the ideal time to kill him.

Tendou: yeah i mean, if i were gonna die in camera it would be a pretty noble thing.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Osamu: I don’t understand what’s wrong with atsumu sometimes.

Atsumu: what was that?

Osamu: i didn’t say anything.

Atsumu: you sure you didn’t say anything, ‘samu?

Osamu: now go back and set ‘em off to make sure they work.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Sakusa: *inhales*

Atsumu: *inhales*

Sakusa: you need to back up from me. i can feel your air intake. it’s like a gross nasal jet, i don’t know.

Atsumu: *takes a step towards sakusa*

Sakusa: uh no *takes a step backwards*

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Futakuchi: latch yourself onto my soul, come back to hollywood with me, and destroy the lives of all my friends and coworkers.

Koganegawa: a little hard to follow, but i like where you’re going.

Futakuchi: kogane’s family has a little-

Koganegawa: ey! ey! do-! do-! don’t!

Futakuchi: -dog named mickey.

Koganegawa:*trying to stop futakuchi*

Futakuchi: real good. you wanted me to give it my all. i’m throwing stuff on the table.

Koganegawa: insults, not personal information. you’re giving him a dossier on my life!

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[wondernus]

12: We're on a boat!

pairing: professor!seungcheol x baker!reader sm au

chapter genre: fluff

chapter warnings: cursing, mentions of food and TONS of alcohol (it’s new year’s eve)

wc: 2.1k

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“Minghao, that was disgusting,” you grimaced at the aftertaste the alcohol left in your mouth, passing your empty shot glass back to your friend. The ten of you were crowded around Seungkwan’s car in the parking lot by the dock, pregaming before heading onto the yacht for the New Year’s celebration event. Vernon and Chan dropped some of you off earlier and immediately drove away after seeing Minghao’s usually calm aura change into a rather sinister one. The World Literature professor had somehow been able to sneak a bottle of kaoliang liquor and some shot glasses in the inner pocket of his blazer and was currently getting everybody in your group to finish the entire bottle before going in.

All of you were at least three drinks in, and you didn’t know if it was the alcohol talking or the fact that you were surrounded by the people you loved, but you were having a great time. The boys were clumped together on the dancefloor, Seungkwan and DK having an intense dance battle while Wonwoo laughed and clapped from behind. The rest of the boys had their arms around each other and swayed to the beat of the music, singing at the top of their lungs. You and Hoshi were sitting at the bar within eye distance of the boys, both harboring a glass of iced water in your hands. Seungkwan’s motherly instincts immediately went into full effect after his drunk radar went off after seeing you and Hoshi try to leave your group a few times hand-in-hand to dance battle strangers around you. He decided to put you two in “time-out” for the next few minutes. However, when a familiar beat came on, Seungkwan and Seokmin started shouting for Hoshi to join them, the “time-out” rule completely forgotten. The man sitting beside you hesitated for a minute before turning to you with pleading eyes and a pout. You nodded for him to go, and he immediately jumped off of his barstool to run to the group, not before hugging you and shouting, “You know where to find us, right?” to which you shouted back it was pretty hard to lose the group when the three tallest men in the club belonged to your group. Soon the trio was screaming the lyrics to their favorite song while an all familiar “Go Soonyoung. Go Soonyoung. Go Soonyoung” filled the air. You sat and smiled at the rowdy group.

Unfortunately, the water wasn’t working because the longer you sat on the barstool, the drunker you got. You winced at the brightness of your phone screen and immediately regretted not setting your phone to night mode. Vernon was updating you on his pancake adventure with Chan and the baby. Your stomach growled at the sight of the stacks of pancakes, and you suddenly had an urge to buy the overpriced food they were selling above deck. Just then, someone tapped you on your shoulder, and you turned around to see a very familiar face you haven’t seen in a while.

Unfortunately, the water wasn’t working because the longer you sat on the barstool, the drunker you got. You winced at the brightness of your phone screen and immediately regretted not setting your phone to night mode. Vernon was updating you on his pancake adventure with Chan and the baby. Your stomach growled at the sight of the stacks of pancakes, and you suddenly had an urge to buy the overpriced food they were selling above deck. Just then, someone tapped you on your shoulder, and you turned around to see a very familiar face you haven’t seen in a while.

“Dr. Yoon?” you were definitely drunk. There was no way he was here. Have you manifested the image of him for so long that he would literally show up when you least expected?

“Oh yn!” he was grinning while holding two paper trays filled with fries. “You want some fries?”

It turned out Dr. Yoon, who reintroduced himself as Jeonghan, lost his friend a while back while buying fries and spent the last few minutes walking around, trying to convince the random people around him to take his extra tray of fries. It never really occurred to him that people usually wouldn’t accept food from strangers, especially at clubs, until you told him. The two of you managed to drunkenly run to one of the booths at the side and snag it immediately after it cleared up. Even more so, Jeonghan spent the last few minutes catching up with you and feeding you the greasy fries while you desperately tried to sober up - your whole upper half leaned against him like he was your life support. He repeatedly reassured you and said that he found it cute, but you only felt more embarrassed. You were never going to pregame with Minghao ever again. Kaoliang liquor was dangerous.

-----

“Dude, I can’t believe we lost yn,” Seungcheol was going to have a mental breakdown, which, by the way, was definitely not a good feeling to have when drunk. He recalled sitting you and Hoshi down at the bar and keeping an eye on you two before blacking out after Minghao and Jun returned to the group with another round of shots. The next thing he knew, he was sitting on one of the sofas on the deck of the yacht, the other boys sprawled out next to him, the cold ocean breeze cool against his skin.

“Did we miss the countdown?” Jun rubbed his eyes and shoved Hoshi’s sleeping body off of his. Wonwoo shook his head letting him know that they didn’t miss the countdown.

Woozi approached the group with a grin on his face. There was a man walking alongside him who seemed to be his acquaintance. “Guys,” Woozi addressed the group, causing the men to groan and look up at him, “This is my coworker, Joshua.”

His friend waved at the group and his eyes widened in excitement after realizing who was in front of him, “Dude, you never told me you were friends with the Twitter dilfs.”

Accepting Joshua into the group was fairly easy. He also lost his friend who came with him and spent the last half hour wandering around the yacht before he bumped into Woozi who was in line for the restroom. He reassured Seungcheol that his yn friend he was continuously calling for was going to be fine because everybody in their friend group had yn’s location and what was yn going to do? Swim? Luckily, yn texted Mingyu earlier and told him that they were fine, and Seungcheol sighed in relief. The boys quickly accepted Joshua into the group after Woozi told him to buy them all a round of shots to which Joshua replied, “Who do you think I am? The next three rounds are on me,” garnering an eruption of cheers from his new friends.

Just like that, they were back on the dancefloor ten minutes before the countdown, blackouts and hangovers completely forgotten, drunker than ever. They made a last-minute plan to ditch the dancefloor and celebrate the new year on the ship's deck after being pushed by a mob of people in all directions. They were practically a fresh and unbroken set of pool balls waiting for someone to start the match at that point. The fresh air they felt was a great complement to their sweaty skin, and it was nice to not need to shout at others while the bass from the speakers constantly reverberated in their ears. There were still a few minutes left until the countdown. Seungkwan, Seokmin, and Soonyoung were still gone after previously stating that they needed to use the restroom together. In the distance, Mingyu, Jun, and Joshua, who left to take pictures, all let out a collective scream and jumped up and down in excitement.

“I can’t believe it finally happened.”

“You too? We’ve been rooting for them since the first pineapple bun.”

Before Seungcheol could turn around to look at what caused the commotion, Jihoon made a joke about daring Soonyoung to jump overboard and was immediately lectured by Wonwoo who dragged Seungcheol along with him. An announcement blared through the speakers that the countdown would start in a minute and the bakery boys yelled at the rest of the group to join them.

-----

10! Seungkwan, Seokmin, and Soonyoung managed to return to the group just in time, but not without a tray of free tequila shots from the different patrons around them. Apparently, the people around them really enjoyed their company, whether it was when they were tearing it up on the dance floor or whether it was when they were joking with those waiting in the long line for the restroom. Jun looked at the shots with so much fear in his eyes while Minghao patted him on his back.

9! Jeonghan and you also spent the last hour receiving free drinks from those around you left and right.

“People must be very generous tonight,” you thought out loud.

“Yeah, I definitely haven’t been telling them that we’re newly engaged,” Jeonghan winked at you.

The both of you were standing on the deck of the superyacht, leaning against the railing. The captain dropped the yacht's anchor a while back when the yacht reached a place where one could turn back to see the twinkling lights coming from docks and piers from the ocean. The yacht gently rocked with the waves, and you were happily wrapped in Jeonghan’s arms, your drunkness a now numb and tingly sensation. The two of you were staring at the ocean and admiring how pretty the night sky was on that particular day. You didn’t see it, but he was smiling at you like you were the greatest thing in the world – like the feeling of biting into a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie, the edges crispy and the center gooey, both the chocolate and dough melting into one.

8! Seokmin handed Seungcheol a shot.

7! Mingyu complained about there being no lime and salt.

6! Seungcheol heard a familiar laugh that made him forget about his surroundings for a split second.

5! Wonwoo put his arm around Seungcheol’s shoulder.

4! Jeonghan spun you around to face him.

3! Seokmin accidentally took his shot early.

2! Seungkwan quickly slipped his shot into the older boy’s hand and took the empty glass before the rest of the group took notice to what happened. It was fine. He was the designated driver after all.

1! The crowd erupted in cheers, and the group clinked their glasses and tilted their heads back to take their shots. Fireworks lit up the sky in a multitude of vibrant colors. Jun was busy yelling, “Chase with a smile. Chase with a smile,” at those who were complaining about the lack of lime and salt. Soonyoung was trying to hug Jihoon, who kept pushing him away until he finally gave in. It was a new year; he would allow it just once. Seungkwan was in the middle of recording a video of the group with his flash on which resulted in him accidentally blinding Seungcheol for a split second. This caused Seungcheol to turn away from the group to try to blink the dizziness away. When he finally recuperated, he couldn’t help but stare at the scene in front of him.

“Oh my god,” Seungcheol groaned, “I’m so glad we made the sexiling rule. They were literally sucking each other’s faces off. It was disgusting.”

Joshua raised his eyebrow at him. He also saw what happened. “Dude are you ok?” he questioned. “All they did was kiss once.”

The rest of the group quickly turned to see what Seungcheol was talking about and immediately burst into excitement when they realized who they were looking at. You broke away from Jeonghan and buried your face in his chest to hide in embarrassment when you recognized the group of voices calling your name. The man beside you jokingly covered you with his blazer to hide you when he realized you were flustered. It was a really cute and sweet sight, and it was custom to kiss someone on New Year’s. So why did seeing you kiss someone else make Seungcheol feel so annoyed?

the kids are going to be alright

synopsis: life as we know it (2010 film) au | when an unexpected accident leaves you and your blind date from five years ago to become caretakers of your mutual goddaughter, you are forced to learn how to navigate parenthood all while trying to balance work and social life.

a/n: join the taglist!

previous | masterlist | next

taglist: @seokcalibur, @skylions-den, @semicolorn, @boowanie, @niikipuff, @serenadesvt, @tfmingyu, @jeonjungkaka, @shiningstar-byulxx, @onigiriyuki, @justasoftstan, @fr0gluver, @fairyjius, @happyvitamin, @noniesgirl, @hanniewife, @amymoonl, @melkwhore

unable to tag: @fairyjius, @hanniewife

[ifvillainwhysexi]

Incorrect Quotes ✨OverNine edition✨

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Nine: Come to dinner tonight. I can’t cook, but I’ll bring plenty of free wine.

Overhaul: Marry me.

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Overhaul: Wait, what's going on? Are we all talking about how hot Nine is? Because Nine is a straight up sexual fox riding a red-hot nuclear bombshell right toward the yowza plaza in the heart of Babe City, Assachusetts, U S A. The last A just stands for more ass.

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Overhaul: Do you want to know your gay name?

Nine: My... my gay name?

Overhaul: Yeah, it's your first name-

Nine: Haha. Very funny Overhaul-

Overhaul: *gets down on one knee* And my last name.

Nine: Oh- oh my god.

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Nine: We have a problem.

Overhaul: No, YOU have a problem. I have an idiot who keeps making them.

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Overhaul: Being gay is a constant battle between "I wish to sit on a window bench with my lover, our legs tangling as we listen to the birds" and "Hey, let's go throw rocks at fascists" and I think that's very sexy of us.

Nine: If the window's open and you time it right, we can do both.

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Nine walking into the kitchen and seeing all their limes peeled: Overhaul, I love you but, what the h-e-double FUCK.

Overhaul, sipping coffee happily: I love you too :)

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Nine: Wow, Overhaul, you want to hold my hand before marriage? How awfully lewd of you.

Overhaul: We literally slept together yesterday.

Nine: That's NOTHING compared to the lewdness of holding hands.

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Overhaul: I don't need to go to bed. I'm not tired, I'll be fine.

Nine: But, darling, I'll be so lonely without you. Come curl up in my arms so I can feel whole again.

Overhaul: O-oh. Well. Are you trying to seduce me into healthy sleeping patterns??

Nine: Is it working?

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Nine: That was so hot, Overhaul.

Overhaul: I literally called the person who just flirted with you a degenterate dog and told them I hope they get dragged through the streets.

Nine: I'm so in love with you.

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Chronostasis: H-how do you ask someone out?

Nine: Well, first-

Overhaul: Don't ask them, they asked me out in a McDonalds parking lot.

Chronostasis: ...And you said yes?

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Overhaul: Hey, random question, what are your favorite flowers?

Nine: Peonies, why?

Overhaul:

Nine: Were you going to get me flowers?

Overhaul:

Nine:

Overhaul: ᶦᵗ’ˢ ᵃ ᵖᵒˢˢᶦᵇᶦˡᶦᵗʸ

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Nine: The stars are so beautiful...

Overhaul: They're just giant balls of gas.

Nine: You know what, if you're just going to ruin this, then-

Overhaul: And yet none of them are as huge as my love for you.

Nine: Oh...

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Overhaul: Pfft, you should meet Nine, they're such a tsundere.

Chronostasis: They... they just stabbed you.

Overhaul: So cute.

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Overhaul: Are you a painting?

Nine: What-?

Overhaul: Because I want to pin you to a wall.

Chronostasis: OH GOD I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO SAY YOU WANTED TO HANG THEM OR SOMETHING-

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Nine: You have to apologize to them Overhaul.

Overhaul: Fine! But I must warn you that this might make me a better, nicer person and that is NOT the person you fell in love with!

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Overhaul: Know why I called you in here?

Nine: Because I accidentally sent you a dick pic.

Overhaul: *Stops pouring two glasses of wine.* Accidentally?

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Overhaul: The first time I saw you, you stole my heart.

Nine: But I'm a kleptomaniac, so that doesn't mean anything.

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Nine: Smart is attractive. Educate me on something I don't know!

Overhaul: The mouth of a jellyfish is also an anus.

Nine: Stop.

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Overhaul: I’m in love with you.

Nine: We called off the prank war last night at midnight, dork.

Overhaul: I know.

Nine: Ah. Okay. Um. Cool. Neat. Very cool. Cool. Cool. Coolcoolcool-

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Nine: Ugh, crushes are so dumb.

Overhaul: I know. Whenever I’m near the person I like I just start acting stupid.

Nine: But you’re always acting stupid?

Overhaul: ...

Overhaul: Yeah, don’t think about that too hard.

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Overhaul: We’re getting married, bitches!

Nine: And we're about to make it everybody else's problem.

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Nine: Bro-

Overhaul: No, no, hold up, rewind.

Overhaul: My tongue was down in your throat just a second ago and now you're calling me bro??

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Nine: Can you cut me some slack, Overhaul? I’m sort of in love.

Overhaul: I’m sorry, but that’s really not my problem.

Nine: I’m in love with you.

Overhaul: *blushes* Oh. That brings me in the loop a little.

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Overhaul: As top in this relationship, I think we should-

Nine: I can't believe you're pulling rank on me.

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Incorrect Quotes generator here

A lot of these make laugh so fuckin hard; the reason is because I can imagine a lot. Of these being said with a straight face. Just "😐"

[ikeromantic]

Another Request! I'm really sorry for being this greedy!

Kisses on the neck, IkeSen Masamune, Surprise Me!

The One-Eyed Dragon had agreed to take you drinking. Better, he said, to go with you and make sure you didn’t do anything stupid.

You appreciated the concern. Last time you went drinking, you went with Mitsuhide. You ended up in the dungeon courtesy of Hideyoshi. Hidemama hadn’t been very happy with the chaos you caused, trying to drunkenly explain ‘memes’ to Mitsuhide. Posing random peasants, soldiers, and merchants as characters from the pictures. It had been fun. Getting lectured after . . . not so much.

Of course, Masamune would just be escorting you. He didn’t drink. Which just meant you’d have to think up some invent ways to make him lose his cool tonight.

“You know, if you wanted to eat some good food and drink sake, I could have cooked for you.” Masamune eyed the dishes you ordered. Pickled veggies, some roast fish, some soup.

“What’s wrong with this?”

“The vegetables lack spice. The meat is overcooked . . .”

“But the sake is fantastic.” You grinned and downed another cup. That made for seven. Wine was definitely better in the Sengoku. “Want to try some? Just one cup?” Teasing, you scooted closer to Masamune and held out the cup.

“Nope. No. I have to stay sober to keep you out of trouble.” He bopped your nose with his finger.

“Pffft.” You rested your chin on his shoulder, noting the way his cheeks heated at your nearness. “I’d rather get into trouble with you.”

“Lass . . .” he cleared his throat. “You’re making a pretty tempting offer. But I already promised Hideyoshi I’d . . .”

His voice dissolved into a surprised exhale as you kissed his neck. Your lips closed over the skin just behind his ear, your tongue peaking out enough to taste him.

Masamune shivered, then swallowed, clearly trying to get his composure back. “What are you doing?”

“Deciding where to leave my mark. You know, so all the other ladies know not to flirt. Or else.”

“What?” Masamune laughed and pulled back from you. “You aren’t serious.”

You smile, showing your teeth. “Aren’t I?”

He watched you for a moment, uncertainty in his blue eye. Then he laughed again and pulled you close. “Kitten, you are more trouble than Shogetsu. And twice the armful.”

It felt nice to be so close. His broad chest was warm and solid, comfortable. But you weren’t going to let him disarm you so easily. He was still entirely too composed. You tilted your head up and nipped under his jaw.

Masamune tried to be stoic about it, but you couldn’t miss the catch in his breath. “I thought you came here to drink, lass.”

“Oh, I did. Have you ever heard of a body shot?” You couldn’t help the wicked smile that curled your lips at the thought.

“Where someone gets shot through their body?” He was teasing. You could hear his smile.

Your tongue traced a line down his throat, stopping at his collarbone. “Mmmm, good guess, but nope!” You could see his skin dimple at your touch. “It’s an easy game to play. I pick a spot on you to lick - no salt required, I guess - and then drink sake from a glass balanced on you somewhere. Without using my hands. Then I umm . . .” You realized there wasn’t a ready substitute for the lime on the table. Damn. “Then I win.”

“That doesn’t sound like much of a game, lass. What’s the challenge? The stakes?”

You frowned, considering. “Alright. Let’s make it a bet. If I can take a shot without spilling and without using my hands, I get to ask you for one favor - anything I want.”

“And I get the same if you spill?” Masamune sounded interested now.

“Yep.” You looked up and met his eye. He was smiling as wide as you were, with that mischievous twinkle in the depths of his gaze.

“Then tell me what I need to do.”

You got him to lay back. He looked so confident and self assured, as he watched you pour the sake. This felt totally different than taking a body shot back in the 21st century. No nervous college boys here, no giggling friends. Just you and the dragon.

Masamune tensed a little as you put the sake cup in the hollow just below his throat and above his sternum. One of your favorite spots to kiss, though honestly, all of him is just perfect. You licked your lips, considering.

“You look like you’re planning to eat me whole, kitten.” He chuckled and the cup wobbled dangerously.

“Don’t talk! That’s cheating.”

He grinned.

“Now don’t move. I mean it.” You straddled him. His eyebrow rose and he made the most interesting sound as you got comfortable. He was clearly struggling to abide by your rules, but it was hard.

You made it harder by pulling his kimono open to reveal his abdomen and the rest of his chest. “So first . . . I’m gonna lick you. I’m not putting any salt down since we aren’t drinking tequila, ok? Then I’ll take the shot.”

He made a sound you assumed was agreement. Then you kissed his belly, running your tongue up. Your nails grazed his sides as you left a hot trail up him.

Masamune let out a muffled gasp, which made the sake slosh in its cup.

“Mmmm don’t move, or you forfeit,” you told him, your lips almost brushing his. You lowered your head to the sake cup. Slow as cold honey, your lips wrapped around the porcelain, warm from the contact with Masamune’s skin.

He tensed at the touch. You weren’t sure if he was afraid you would spill, or hoping you might. Maybe both.

You tossed your head back, swallowing the wine. Then you set the cup down on the floor next to his head, still without using your hands. “Impressed?”

“It didn’t look that hard.”

“Oh? Then why don’t you try it?” You laughed and wiggled on his lap, drawing another sharp inhale from the dragon. “For double or nothing?”

“I don’t drink. At least not in public.” Masamune sounded hoarse and a little unsure.

“We’ll make it water then.” At eight cups in, you were feeling pretty good. Pretty sure of yourself. Masamune was going to owe you two favors and you already had a pretty good idea of what to ask for.

The two of you switched places.

Masamune poured his own cup of water, clearly not trusting you to not spike it with at least a little sake.

You were a little disappointed when he set the cup in the hollow of your throat. You’d imagined him and his talented lips lower . . . but when you looked up at him, you realized how flustered you’d made him. His cheeks were flushed, his breath ragged. He was trying to act unaffected, but the careful way he was moving told you he was perfectly aware of his position, of how intimate this was.

Masamune’s hands were shaking as he set them to either side of your head.

“Nervous?” You teased him, wriggling your hips as he leaned over you. “If you want to back out, I can ask for my favor now. I know what I want.”

Your smile lit a flame in his blue eye. You could feel the heat of it as he leaned closer. As his lips found the soft skin under your chin.

“I never back down from a challenge,” he said, his voice rasping.

You couldn’t help the way you arched toward him as his tongue drew a line down your throat. His teeth lightly grazed your collarbone.

“No moving.” His breath was hot against your skin. He traced the edge of the cup with his tongue, sending a shiver through you. Like alternating ice and fire, the cool surface of the cup and his warm lips teased.

You did your best not to move, not to make a sound. Your best fell far short of the goal.

The cup of water fell, dumping the cold water down the side of your neck. You squealed, wriggling underneath Masamune. He didn’t let you up.

“I think that means you forfeit.” His voice was a heated purr against your chilly skin. Masamune’s lips were on you before you could answer, his mouth scorching the icy parts of your neck with hungry kisses. He lapped away the water and bit at the tender skin beneath.

You moaned and ached for more. What had started as you taunting him flipped, and now it was you that felt desperate.

“Thought I didn’t know what you were up to, lass?” He chuckled as he caught sight of your expression. “Teasing a dragon is never wise.” His touch was electric as he moved to your shoulder, leaving a little trail of pink love-bites.

“It’s no fair,” you sighed. “You always leave me such a mess.”

He stopped, looking at you seriously. “You really have no idea what you do to me, do you? Just walking by. Your smile.” He lifted your hand in his. “The way my heart races because your hand brushed against me in the hall.”

Masamune’s lips found your skin again, traveling a new path to your throat. “If I make you half as desperate . . .”

You ran your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly.

He groaned and pulled back from you. “We should go home.”

You took advantage of this to wriggle out from under him and stand. “Sure,” you gave him one of your crazy smiles. “But you’ll have to catch me first.” And then on unsteady feet, you bolted out the door.

Masamune chased you, the both of you laughing the whole way back to his estate.

[coeurdastronaute]

Nerd 14

Previously on Nerd

There weren’t many things considered as decorations in the house on the corner of Inglewood Street. The old stone house, with its black shutters and manicured lawn hid behind a stately oak and the polished Porsche in the driveway, glowed as a beacon in the neighborhood, of perfection and wealthy modesty. Inside, it was less populated than one might expect, never fully lived-in, at least not to the casual observer. 

Clarke moved her way down the stairs as she balanced the bag on her shoulder, fully prepared for work and then studying with her girlfriend on a fairly boring Saturday night. For the first time in a long time, she looked at the sparse frames of pictures of her family. 

Unsure of what made her pause, she furrowed, pushing her eyebrows tightly together and leaning into the image of her mother and father on a random date when they were together in college. They were carefree and at some bar trivia night. Abby hugged Jake’s bicep and nearly hid in his shoulder as he leaned forward, other arm lifted to interject an answer. He was smiling wide despite his eagerness, the flash ricocheting off part of his large glasses. His hair was floppy and fully, swept to the side and neatly arranged, while Abby was brimming with life. Clarke loved the candid picture because sometimes she looked at it, and these were two people who had entire lives and experiences and she forgot that. They probably got butterflies like she did when Lexa smiled at her. They probably spent hours excitedly waiting to see the other. 

In that picture, her mother wasn’t the person she was now, though both seemed insanely far away from Clarke. This college-aged person was alive, vibrant, in-love, awake, eager, and not cheating on her husband. The body language alone showed how much she adored him. 

In that picture, her father was the funny, charming man she remembered, not the angry, frustrated man who was skin and bones, who couldn’t eat, who couldn’t swallow, who had difficulties moving most days and remembering his own daughter others. He was alive as well. He was the man everyone wanted to sit beside for some reason, for som inexplicable reason he had this… he had a spark that drew those to him like a moth to a flame, except he was that flame, and he shared his light eagerly with those around him. 

Clarke relaxed her face after a few moments of looking and seeing and trying to find some kind of detail in that picture that would indicate that the couple in it would know what their life would like like two decades later. There wasn’t a single indication, and that terrified her. 

“Did you finish you math?” her mother’s voice called from the hallway, hearing her daughter shift and move to look at the next picture without seeing her first. 

“Yes.” 

The next image was a very tiny Clarke on her father’s shoulders and her mother hugging his waist as they all stood beneath a redwood tree. They had hiking gear, shorts, sunglasses, hats and sunscreen. They were all smiling. They were a family. 

“Did you email me that draft of your personal essay for applications?” 

Clarke gave up perusing, no longer feeling the yearn for that family unit that was far away. She rolled her eyes and stomped her way down the steps to find her mother sorting through envelopes and mail. 

“No.” 

“Why not?” Abby didn’t look up as she flipped.

“Because I’m a junior, and I have five months before applications are due.”

“That’s no excuse not to be prepared. Maybe if you didn’t spend so much time chasing after some gir--”

“Who am I chasing after?” Clarke scoffed, crossing her arms and peering at her mother. “Do you mean helping Lexa on her submission for film school? Do you mean tennis practice? Do you mean working part time? Do you mean having a social life?” 

“Considerate that you can help someone else get into college.” 

“It’s going to take her months to edit, which I can’t-- I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

That did it. Clarke knew it would. Clarke new an overt expression of her own independence would trigger her mother. She knew arguing and not appearing to care about college would give her the satisfaction of a righteous fight. She wanted it. It’d been brewing for about a week and a half, ever since Clarke said she was going prom dress shopping without her. Ever since Clark forgot to tell her about spending the night camping with Lexa and the film crew while the powered through the project. Ever since Clarke didn't’ come home for dinner last Tuesday and then raved about Mrs. Woods’ garlic chicken. Tiny things Clarke did with spite because she didn’t know what else to do, because she couldn’t do anything else. 

Abby’s nostrils flared and Clarke jutted her hip, shrugging to herself as she dug for her phone, ready to go to work and escape the house and the persistent smell of medical equipment and cleaner that haunted her until she was about two blocks from the house. 

“I’ll be home around midnight.” 

“Like hell you will. You’ll be home right after your shift.” 

“No,” Clarke paused as she turned to leave. “I’m going over Lexa’s to study. We’re watching a Cary Grant movie.” 

“You’re under the misconception that you get to make your own schedule and plans without asking permission. But that is not the case, Clarke.” 

“I’ve been doing fine.” 

“You’ve barely been home. Your father is--”

“Right there, in that room, asleep. I know this because I spent the morning with him. We made pancakes and played a game of cribbage. We talked about school and Lexa and I showed him pictures of the past week of my life. And I helped him with his meds because he’s having a bit of a flare. I told him I’d see him in the morning for omelettes because we’ve been watching cooking shows together and he wants to try the french style. I know exactly what is going on with my father.” 

She hadn’t meant to, but her voice began to raise as she spoke. Clarke felt her fist shake. She felt her muscles tighten and her jaw clench. She was okay with being considered lazy and unmotivated, but to be accused of negligence was uncalled for, especially from someone like her mother. 

“Don’t you raise your voice! You are greatly mistaken as to the nature of our relationship. I am your mother, and I am sick of your attitude, and your priorities not being your father and your family or your education.” 

“Lexa has nothing to do with any of that. Are you just mad I’m dating a girl? Or that I don’t care what you think anymore?” 

Slightly taken aback by her daughter, by her words, by her actions, by her entire demeanor over the past few months and frankly just sick of dealing with being the bad guy. 

“I don’t even know who you are anymore,” Abby shook her head. 

“I could say the same thing.” 

The two stared at each other before Clarke shook her head and adjusted her bag. She toyed with her keys in her pockets before checking her phone again. 

“I’m going to be late for work. I’ll be back tonight.” 

“You’re not going anywhere,” Abby insisted again. “You’re grounded indefinitely.” 

“Except I’m not,” Clarke sighed and shook her head. “I’m not because I don’t care anymore. I genuinely don’t.”

“You’re going to. Give me your keys and your phone.” 

“No.” 

“I’m not joking, Clarke. You’re going to need to readjust your priorities and attitude.”

“I think you should take your own advice,” Clarke insisted as she reached the front door. “Or are you too busy fucking Kane to realize that there is no more family here?” 

With a satisfying slam, she yanked the door shut. The anger that was stationed in her shoulders dissipated with the noise and movement. Clarke stood there in the quiet of her perfect neighborhood, the flapping of the flag lazily moving in the spring breeze was all she heard at first. Then the birds came. Then a lawnmower started in the distance. 

Clarke felt lighter than she’d felt in a long time. She also felt emptier than any other time in her life. It was officially the end, and now she had to deal with that because the anger and the hurt and the betrayal was all she’d had in her for what felt like months. It hadn’t made anything better, and it certainly ruined everything, but Clarke took some solace in the fact that now she could try to fill herself up with something else. 

XXXXXXXXXX

The party at Bellamy Blake’s house was in full swing by the time Lexa made her way up the winding driveway and into the belly of the beast. She wasn’t sure how she ended up there exactly, except that her girlfriend texted and said to show up. That seemed to be enough of a reason, though Lexa wasn’t particularly prepared. They’d had plans. Quiet plans. Private plans. Movie plans. 

And now Lexa was going to her girlfriend’s ex’s party. 

She shoved her hands in her pockets as she moved through the crowd, clearly not getting the memo that jeans were not entirely good enough attire, and in fact she seemed to be extremely overdressed. Her eyes bugged slightly as she watched a girl from her physics class walk by in a very tiny, very teeny lime green bikini. Lexa became suddenly aware of the appeal of such things, as if she hadn’t noticed them before, but then MIchelle who sat diagonally in front of her third period looked like that and she gulped. 

The music thumped loudly. The beats were rattling the walls and shaking the windows while the screams and giggles of her classmates sought to shatter glass. It wasn’t like the other parties she’d been to with Clarke. It wasn’t even like thrones Anya dragged her to when she visited. This was a night of debauchery and she hadn’t had time to prepare. 

And as much as she saw everyone else wearing bikinis, she hadn’t thought about Clarke wearing one. She’d seen Clarke’s boobs before. That was nice. But there was something to her girlfriend in a bikini that was… good. Very good, even. 

Lexa pushed her glasses up slightly on her nose and stared. 

“What are you doing here?” Gus asked, approaching quietly. She didn’t move or say anything else, just stared from across the pool, the steam billowing upward to ward the sky while everyone seemed to glow blue and green and red, the lights alternating around them, the flames of the fire pits dancing to keep everyone warm. The warm glow of the lights inside were lost on the white-blue shade to the water. 

“Lexa, focus,” he snapped his fingers in front of her face. “What are you doing here? Your sister would kill me if she knew you were at a Blake party.” 

“How is it different than any other party?” 

“It just is.” 

“Because of the pool? I’ve been to pool parties.” 

It hadn’t been since seventh grade and didn’t look like an episode of a CW show, but still, she’d been to a pool party with many of the same cast of characters that were currently on display. It was before puberty, but still. 

“We need to get you home.” 

“Clarke invited me.” 

“It doesn’t matter. This isn’t your scene.” 

“I can be in any scene. I’ve watched every John Hughes movie.”

“This is more of an episode of Euphoria than an 80s teen flick,” Gus sighed and took another swig from his cup. “And I fully believe you would fit in fine with Molly Ringwald.”

“That’s very kind of you to say,” Lexa nodded. “I’ll be fine.” 

She took her eyes off of her girlfriend long enough to assure her friend that she was perfectly fine now. She was dating the head cheerleader. She’d been to parties and seen--

“Gus-- is that cocaine?” 

“Okay, yeah, we have to get you out of here,” he shook his head and tossed his empty cup into a flowerbed. 

“Is it really?” she asked, craning her neck as he pushed her forward. “I’ve never see that in real life before. People actually do that thing with the credit cards and dollar bills? Astounding. Where does one get cocaine?” 

“You don’t need to know that.” 

“I’m not going to do it. I’m just curious.” 

They only made it a few steps before the ran into a sopping body. A tall, muscular, tan, perfectly chiseled and dripping body. It was the body of an actual god. It was the body of the perfect specimen, with biceps and the long swimmer cuts that pointed firmly toward his… his-ness. 

“Gus, long time, man. How you been?” Bellamy Blake grinned before slipping his cup in his teeth as he hugged the other football player. 

“Not too bad. Heard you’re heading to Oregon in the fall?” 

“Yeah, partial scholarship. We’ll see what happens,” he shrugged. “Staying close?” 

“Yeah, St. Johns, about three hours away.” 

“Full ride?” 

“Yeah. I got offered half to OSU, but would rather not have to pay anything.” 

“No, that’s smart.” 

The whole time they spoke, Lexa watched Clarke’s ex intently. She frowned to herself and wondered how her girlfriend broke up with him. He was effortlessly cool. He was huge. He looked like he knew how to go down on a girl, and Lexa was still apprehensive. She wished she could fast forward in life until she was really good at sex. 

She watched him grin and sip from his red cup, meeting her eyes curiously as Gus explained something about his college recruitment process. 

“I don’t think we’ve ever met before. I’m Bellamy.” 

He held out his hand. And though she didn’t want to do it, she sighed and shook his hand. 

“Sorry, I should have introduced you. This is Lexa.” 

“Lexa… Lexa…” He mulled. 

“Anya Woods’ sister.” 

“Wow, you’re Anya’s little sister?” 

“Yeah.” 

“How is she? I forgot she had a little sister. I remember her little brother died-- oh shit.” 

“Yeah.” 

“We were just heading out,” Gus interrupted. 

“I was actually just going to go talk to Clarke.” 

“Why would you--”

Before anything else could be said, before anything else could transpire between the two of them, before Gus had to interrupt again, Clarke appeared, launching herself into her girlfriend’s arms, wrapping her own around her neck, her body still slightly damp from the pool she must have just climbed out of during the awkward introduction. 

“You’re here. I’m so happy,” Clarke hummed against Lexa’s warm neck. She buried herself there, suffocating herself happily, slightly tipsy. 

“I told you I’d stop by.” 

Clarke kissed her girlfriend’s neck. She leaned most of her body against her there and giggled, oblivious to the eyes, too drunk to care about anything else happening. 

“I am have the worst day. Maybe the worst week. Maybe the worst year ever. No, wait. Definitely the worst year, and today I finally told my mom everything and then left. So Yeah. It’s been terrible. I got drunk.” 

“Not the healthiest coping mechanism.”

“Not a bit,” Clarke grinned, agreeing eagerly and with a wide grin. She leaned forward and kissed her girlfriend despite her words. 

“You can be healthy tomorrow,” Lexa offered. “You okay?” 

“As okay as can be.” 

There was some throat clearing that happened behind them, and Lexa felt a burning in her ears and chest at the display, unaccustomed to it all. 

“So this is your new girlfriend?” Bellamy asked, looking at the pair. 

“Lex, I suppose you’ve met my ex,” Clarke gestured. 

“Kind of.” 

“Is this party a little much?”

“If I remember correctly, this was exactly the kind of thing you liked. We went to many a party in our tenure,” Bellamy shrugged, lazily leaning against a counter. “Things changed since I left, I guess.” 

“I enjoyed not thinking,” Clarke offered. “You were great for that.” 

Gus and Lexa looked between the two and then at each other. She was almost certain she didn’t know what was happening, but that certainly, something was, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. 

“You moved on quick, huh?” 

“Hey, step back,” Gus interrupted as Bellamy took a single step. “This is Anya’s sister.” 

“Woods?” he furrowed. “You’re dating Anya Woods’ kid sister?” 

“Yup,” Clarke nodded. 

“I heard she was--”

“Standing right here,” Gus finished. 

Lexa felt Clarke’s hand move into her own and she smiled despite the fact that she was picking up a drunk girl at her college guy ex’s party. There was a lot in that sentence she wasn’t happy about, now that she thought about it. 

“You ready to get out of here?” Lexa asked innocently, ignoring the rest. 

“I think we still have a few more shots lined up, Clarke,” Bellamy smiled and Lexa understood the need to punch. 

Noticeably torn, she looked at her girlfriend and back at her ex before realizing that she was actually drunk, and that wasn’t good. Lexa smiled softly and rubbed her girlfriend’s back. She kind of imagined how it must have felt to implode and take her mother down with her. Lexa remembered the feeling of telling her father she was gay and sad. Clarke’s implosion didn’t seem as successful as her own, and Lexa was more than happy to try to help in whatever way she could. 

“Can I stay at your place tonight?” 

“Yeah,” Lexa nodded quickly. “I’ll text my mom to let her know.” 

“You’re seriously leaving?” The college football player and terrible ex scoffed. “The night is still young. It’s barely after eleven.” 

“Thanks for getting me drunk, but I should probably go do something better.” 

“Thanks for showing me around,” Lexa offered nodding her head slightly toward the host before he could argue. “Have a good night. I’ll see you on Monday, Gus.”

“Get home safe,” the linebacker warned. 

Slightly dumbfounded, Bellamy Blake stood there, hands on his hips as he watched his ex weave through the crowd of people and disappear. As much s everything stayed the same, he couldn’t shake the sinking feeling of change, and how averse he was to it. 

XXXXXXXXXX

“Here, you can, uh,” Lexa quickly moved through her bedroom, leaving her girlfriend standing by the bed. “I have some old sweats if you want.” 

Already, Clarke began taking off her pants, and Lexa quickly looked in the drawers of her dresser. She felt the tips of her ears burn slightly as she looked over her shoulder, her girlfriend slumping into the bed, pants lost to the floor. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have gone to that party. I knew it,” Clarke sighed, rubbing her face with both hands to ride herself of the spinning. “But I didn’t care. I just wanted to… you know…”

“You had it out with your mom. You just anted to go far away. I get it.” 

“Don’t be nice to me. I knew better than to go, especially to anything involving Bellamy Blake.” 

“Why?” 

“He doesn’t care about any of it. Just has drinks. I should have called you or like done something else.” 

“You’re allowed to want to take a night off from a giant secret after a huge fight. And you don’t need my permission,” Lexa reminded her girlfriend, offering an old shirt. 

“It was stupid.” 

“Do you feel better?” 

Gingerly, Lexa tugged at Clarke’s shirt, pulling it over her head until she flopped back down on the bed, her hair fanning out against the pillow. Agitated at herself, at her clothe, at the unfathomable uncontrollability to the entirety of her life, Clarke growled to herself as she tugged off her bra, tossing it to the side and gracelessly pulling on the shirt Lexa offered. 

“I don’t feel better at all.” 

It was certainly a pout, and Lexa did her best to ignore it. Instead, she slicked off the light beside the bed, and slid between the sheets next to Clarke. Lexa laid there until Clarke turned to face her, until she placed her hand on her neck and cheek. 

“I’m sorry you had to pick me up.” 

“It’s okay,” Lexa whispered. 

“It’s not. I’m not like this… I don’t mean to be… I mean--”

“It’s okay.” 

Clarke leaned forward, shifting beneath the blankets until their knees were touching. She moved to only push the hair from Lexa’s forehead and she paused before kissing her lips. She tasted the warmth of the tequila there and she didn’t care. Lexa signed. 

“Please don’t give up on me anytime soon,” Clarke murmured. Stunned from the kiss, Lexa blinked in the dark and shifted closer. 

“I wouldn’t ever.” 

“I know you wouldn’t. I just had to say it out loud.” 

“Okay.” 

Lexa was certain she was going to get another kiss, but instead, Clarke dug her forehead under her girlfriend’s chin and pressed their bodies together, hugging her tightly and disappearing, being overwhelmed, anchoring herself to a steady force. Lexa rubbed Clarke’s back for a few moments until she fell asleep, and then she allowed herself the option of sleep.

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