#tee w a pen

[creepyspytruck]

eliot and quinn grappling from @trivalentlinks 's when you move, i'm moved (ao3 link) b.c. they live rent free in my head

[squalamander]

THE 4 am desdoodles ^-^

[saviorpilled]

on a more lighter note i went to walmart earlier n all i can think abt now is au hetch + rbgtrio all trying to grocery shop for them and the rest of the main group it would be chaotic as fuck

hetch would have a list of what they want/need and is very set on only buying whats on their list, charlie just grabs anything and everything and is also probably riding in the cart, sneegs pushing him and probably running into other shoppers, and ranboo is just overwhelmed but trying to help

they all get separated at some point and it makes things worse

it would be chaotic as fuck but ultimately a fun time probably

[screwitbaby]

naive

hamzahthefantastic x reader (fic)

day 4/7

summary: part 4 of my short story naive! the four of you go to the club and while the couple are still fighting, you and hamzah act on your feelings a lil more. but it can only go so well for so long…

contains: SFW content, some kissing and touchy touchy ;)

w/c: 2.5k-ish

a/n: i couldn’t let you guys go into the new year without updating this story. im the worst but tysm for the support yall are so sweet i could cry xxxx enjoy!!!<3 read the a/n at the end if u care to know more

~

The couple's bad mood was not simply slept off and it's ruining your vibe.

You and Mandy are getting ready in their en suite bathroom while Hamzah and Martin speak in hushed tones in the bedroom. The bathroom door is open, and every so often you look at the space over your shoulder in the mirror and make eye contact with Martin from the bed. He looks away immediately, not at all subtle. It's like a game at this point, seeing how many times you can catch him in the act.

"Is he gonna do this all night," you mumble, applying your mascara after yet another match of eye-tag.

"We could just close the door," Mandy offers. She pays no mind to the childish behavior behind you, straightening her hair without sparing him a single glance.

"You're so right," you say and get up to shut it yourself.

Once your makeup is pretty much done, you decide to start getting dressed. You turn the music on her speaker up and give yourself a once-over in the mirror, holding different outfits beside your body to see what you want to wear for the night.

"I don't know what to wear. Wanna match?" you ask, placing your chin on top of her head to stop her movements. She nearly clamps your neck with the straightener. "Hey!"

"Sure," she laughs. "Grab my suitcase, please."

You put your clothes back down and step out of the bathroom to bring her suitcase in. You shimmy it out of its place by the TV stand, not missing the way the boys go completely silent until you're gone.

"Top zipper, the satin blue dress," Mandy instructs.

You hand it to her and sit by your own bag of clothes to rummage through it. You find a top and skirt set in a similar baby blue color then hold it up for her to see.

"Yes, no, yes?"

"Yes, definitely."

You apply your lip combo and take a few silly photos in the mirror with Mandy, your made up faces clashing with your baggy tees. One of the better photos are posted on your Instagram story for fun. When you finally get changed—you guys had a dance break to some y2k club classics—you put your heels on and realize you need a little pregame.

When you walk into the bedroom this time, the boys are leaned against the headboard and on their phones, mindlessly scrolling. You go by Martin's side of the bed and poke him repeatedly until he looks up.

"Do you happen to have the penjamin on you?"

"That depends," he says, putting his hand in his pocket. "What's the magic word?"

You roll your eyes. "Please?"

He pulls the little device out of his pocket and presents it to you in his palm. When you go to grab it, he makes a fist and holds it above his head.

"Please who?"

"I'm not calling you Daddy," you scoff, prying his fingers open and snatching the pen from his grasp. He barely puts up a fight. "That's Hamzah's job."

At the mention of his name, Hamzah looks up and seems like he's about to say something to retaliate but freezes. His gaze drags down your figure and you blush.

"Maybe it's not his job," Martin says smugly, "since you made him speechless."

Hamzah snaps out of it and elbows his friend in the side.

“It would be your girlfriend's job if you weren't being petty right now."

You wince at the sullen expression that washes over Martin's face.

"Right."

All you can do is watch as he clambers off the bed and walks out of the room. You lean against the wall and slide the balcony door open with a sigh.

"He can't seriously be that mad," Hamzah says. "I was kidding."

"He can dish it, but he can't take it," you say, too used to his behavior. "And he's extra sensitive right now, so."

"Well, they better not ruin our night with that stuff." Hamzah crosses his arms.

"I won't let them."

"Yeah?" Hamzah snorts. "What're you gonna do about it?"

"Um." You take a hit and blow the smoke outside. "I'll think of something if I need to step in."

Hamzah laughs at your empty threat and you smile. You take another hit before offering the dab pen to him.

"I have a feeling I should be sober for tonight."

"Boring," you sing out. "It'll be fine. C'mon, feel my peer pressure."

You wiggle your fingers at him and he shakes his head, laughing lightly. When he silently puts his hand out a few seconds later, you cheer. The room fills with the loud music from Mandy's speaker as he takes his first hit.

"So," you begin, already feeling slightly heady. "What were you guys whispering about earlier?"

"I shouldn't say."

"Really?"

He nods. "It was partly about their fight. Partly the trip. And you."

"Me?" You point at yourself with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah." He shrugs. "I can't divulge the details."

"That's bullshit."

"I never ask what you guys say about me."

"Hey—I don't—what?" you stutter, unable to come up with a defense.

"C'mon," he says, tilting his head. "I'm not that oblivious."

Your eyes narrow. You've never once considered that this cupid thing Martin was pulling on you could have gone both ways. You don't know if you're relieved for him stepping in to push his friend closer to you, or annoyed that he's even meddling in this whole thing. It makes you wonder if Martin knows what happened by the time he and Mandy returned to the beach last night.

"Speaking of details." You clear your throat. "Do you even know what club we're going to?"

Your attempt at changing the topic is weak, but as per usual, Hamzah rolls with it to save you any embarrassment.

"No clue. Martin keeps his trip itinerary locked in his notes."

The conversation devolves into a bunch of what if's about the night and jokes that are only funny because you guys are high. When Mandy finally comes to join and sees the state of you two, you offer her a hit.

"What? No drinks?" She frowns.

"Hotel alcohol is like twenty bucks a pop! This is the next best thing."

"Ugh, fine. Give it."

With the three of you thoroughly blitzed, you collect Martin from the living room couch and make your way out of the hotel. He doesn't speak for a majority of the walk, and you think that's the longest you've ever heard him be quiet in a group setting.

Despite it being nearly 10 P.M., the air is pretty humid and forgiving on your exposed skin. The other thing about it being so late already, is that the club is absolutely chock-full of people when you enter. The dance floor of strangers are nearly toe to toe in proximity, and you wrap your arm with Mandy's to avoid getting separated in the crowd. The boys immediately beeline to the bar for drinks, but you don't let that stop your journey. You maneuver your way to the front of the stage and only let go of each other once you've found a bit of space to dance in.

The DJ nods at the two of you and you turn to raise your eyebrows suggestively at Mandy, who pushes your shoulder and continues dancing. You get lost in the beat, swaying and bouncing with the vibrations traveling through your limbs. The strobe lights illuminate your sweaty skin and you swear the energy in the room has you feeling higher. You begin grinding on each other and throw your heads back to laugh, trying to catch your breaths in between a multitude of bodies.

"Hey!" Mandy places her arms around your shoulders to catch your attention and you take it as a sign to grind on her. "I'm going to grab drinks.”

"No!" You turn and put your hands over hers. "Don't go!"

"I'll be right back!" She grins and squeezes you before letting go to disappear into the crowd.

Alone, you turn back to the stage and throw your hands in the air. You close your eyes for a moment, the pounding beats making a home in your brain. You're sure your ears will be ringing when you leave.

You wonder if Martin's drunk himself into a coma yet and knowing him, you know how easy that could be. You only hope this outing tonight doesn't make him do anything he regrets. Then you remember he’s a twenty-five year old man and you’re worrying about him while you’re supposed to be having fun. So, you shut your brain off and let the beat carry you.

When Mandy's back, she has two drinks in hand and Hamzah in tow. She hands you a cocktail and you graciously sip from your first alcoholic drink of the night.

"Where's Martin?" you ask.

"Bar!" she shouts over the music.

You shake your head. "Make up and make out already!"

She jabs your side and you giggle, swatting her hand away. Hamzah's doing something reminiscent of a frat flick, looking slightly out of it. You assume he's already done some shots and is way more intoxicated. So, being an empath, you finish your drink to get closer to his level. When you're done, you hand the empty cup to Mandy and wink at her. Your hand envelops Hamzah's and you pull him deeper in the crowd so you can dance together.

"I don't—I can't dance," he complains, nearly tripping over his own feet.

"C'mon, it's easy!"

You begin by swaying your hips, raising his hand in yours to guide him into a rhythm. He tries to follow along, shuffling around like a newborn deer. It's a funny sight, but you don't want him to stop if you tease him, so you bite back your amused smile. He slowly gets less self-conscious and continues on in his own way with the flow of the music, even twirling you around once or twice, laughing all the way as you narrowly avoid knocking into people. His eyes never leave you, like he's constantly thinking of his next move to impress you.

After letting him freestyle some more, you pull him close and wrap your arms around his shoulders. He falters at the change in pace and his hands fall at your hips. Your hands rest at the nape of his neck and he shivers at the way your fingertips grace his skin. The rapid strobe lights nearly blind you, but you hold eye contact.

"Was that so bad?" you ask, tilting your head to the side.

"Yes," he says sarcastically. "I hate dancing."

"But I like your dancing."

You sway with him, careful not to step on his toes in your heels. Close up, you can nearly feel his breath on your face. You take a moment to admire his eyelashes and the way his eyes are slightly bloodshot, willing him to break the eye contact. He leans in closer.

"I like your dancing more."

You can't help but grin. His expression mimics yours.

"Yeah, well," you start, bringing your thumb up to trace the side of his jaw, "I like you."

He ducks down and captures your lips in a kiss. It takes you by surprise. You hadn't spoken a word about your kiss since last night, and you were beginning to think you made a mistake by acting on your impulses. Evidently, he doesn't seem to mind it as much as you'd worried.

The tip of his nose presses against your cheek as he shifts his head to deepen the kiss. Though the room is warm, this makes you hotter than any amount of dancing could've done. His palms squeeze your hips and your fingers rise to play with his curls. They're soft to the touch, just as you suspected. You tug lightly as the kiss gets more insatiable.

"Ouch," he mumbles against your lips, barely loud enough to hear. You snicker and tug it again, making him pull away. "I said ouch."

"I know," you laugh out. "Sorry."

"That funny?" he questions. You nod, grinning at his playful irritation. "See how you like it."

His hand trails up your back until his fingers are at your scalp and he gently pulls on your roots. Your head moves back with his action and your lips part, exhaling a shaky breath. His eyes widen. He does it again. You reach up to kiss him again.

It's hotter this time, in both senses of the word. Your skin goes alight with a blaze even the coldest shower couldn't reduce. You drape your wrists over his shoulders, your beaded bracelet pressing into him the same way his is imprinting into the sliver of bare skin below your top.

Realizing you’re standing in place in the midst of a lively dance floor, you break from the kiss and turn so your back is against his front. You pull his arms around your shoulders and sway, deliberately pressing yourself against him. You enjoy hearing the way his breath hitches next to your ear, always needing to find a new way to tease him. You know if you could have it your way without seeming too desperate too soon, you’d be doing more than just dancing.

“I like you, too,” he says, clutching you closer to him. “I forgot to say.”

You turn your head and nearly kiss his cheek because of how cute he is. “Thanks for clearing that up.”

“And I really like your dancing.”

His suggestive words spur you into grinding on him more, anything to get a reaction out of him, and it works every time. The two of you keep going this way until your thighs are burning and you’re out of breath. If it weren’t for the visual reminder, you would’ve forgotten that you came here with other people.

A couple feet away, you spot two familiar heads weeding through the crowd and slowly drawing nearer. You step away from Hamzah, who looks at you with an unreadable expression on his face. Before you can explain yourself, you come face-to-face with Mandy. Martin stops a bit away.

“Can we leave?” she rushes out.

Her mascara is running and her nose is red. Martin looks disgruntled, his eyes never staying in one place as he scans through the crowd. You grab her hand and nod. The four of you spot the nearest exit and leave promptly.

“What happened?” you ask once you’re out in the open. “Are you okay?”

“Can I stay in your room tonight?” Her eyes stay on the ground.

Your heart drops. “Of course.”

The walk back to the hotel is uneasy and fast-paced. The boys walk behind the two of you and you can hear Martin’s one word answers to everything Hamzah says to him. Your heels click and clack, barely providing a distraction from the hundreds of questions swarming your mind.

~

a/n: ooo we’re getting angsty. im so sorry this took so long and if u feel that it wasn’t worth the wait, the truth is ive been so sick recently like never before in my life and i haven’t felt a lick of motivation to write. ive had to rewrite these chapters so many times that its actually affecting me mentally because i wanna make u guys happy while actually enjoying writing. i promise u won’t have to wait this long ever again, but doing this story is making me realize i prefer writing short form stuff way more than stories like this because it’s simply less stress and fits my writing style more. thanks again for all the support and kind words, u guys have really warmed my heart and i hope u know that even tho this is fanfiction and it may seem silly, it’s really a labor of love and im so grateful that u actually like what i put out there. im so so so touched and i rlly love u guys, even if i don’t know u. parasocial virtual hugs to u all xoxoxo tysm. <3

[sunflowerwinds]

lunch | h.c

summary: you never questioned your sexuality until your bestfriend brittany begs you to come with her to a party where you run into a blue-eyed, shaggy haired girl. you weren’t so sure if being into men was even an option anymore. hazel only had one thing on her mind: you looked good enough to eat.

pairing: hazel callahan x fem!reader

contains: mature content & language, friends w/ benefits trope, smut — lots of cunnilingus (r!receiving), public sex, hazel lowkey is falling in love (as are you), reader’s sexuality & body type is never really described so is open to all! :)

word count: 4.1K

a/n: thank you a MILLION to the anon who requested this. i’ve actually never written something so fast 🙌🏽 obviously it is inspired by lunch by billie eilish. thank you billie for dropping this gay ass song! <33

“Please, please, come with me.”

Brittany tugged on your oversized pajama tee as you continuously scribbled across the lined page of your notebook. You were trying to cram in for your English exam this coming up Monday and Brittany was begging for you to come with her to a big house party. You had nearly failed the last one so you were determined to make at least a high C on this next one.

She was standing behind you, letting out exasperated sighs and groans as you continued to stand your ground on staying at your dorm.

“Britt, I seriously can’t.”

“But it’s masquerade themed. Do you know how hot that would be to get with a stranger at a masquerade party?” Brittany groaned as she rested her forehead on yours. “You need this.”

You sighed when she added that last part. Ever since a jock from the football team led you on and got you trapped in a situationship for four months, Brittany has been persistent on the fact that you needed a fling: someone to help you move on and get ready for the next serious person in your life.

“Is anyone I know going to be there?” You hum as you continue to highlight a few more sections that you would be tested on.

Brittany rested her head on yours and can practically feel her grinning ear to ear.

“PJ, Josie, Stella, Isabel, and Hazel,” Brittany stated.

“Hypothetically,” you began and Brittany was squealing already, removing her body from yours to rummage through your closet. “If I go, will I be too hungover tomorrow to finish my notes for Monday?”

“Nope. I promise. I will keep an eye on you the entire time.” Brittany called over her shoulder as she pulled out a corset top that you had rarely worn since moving in. “You’ll be nearly sober.”

It was a deep green satin that made your boobs look amazing. You swore you’ve only worn it to a concert and a birthday dinner.

“Put this on with your matching skirt and get on your small heels with the straps, please. I will get ready too.”

Hesitantly setting your notebook and pens aside, you get up from your cushioned seat to get dressed. It took merely a few minutes to put on your matching outfit, putting on your mask that Brittany had purchased for you.

When you were looking at yourself in the mirror, you nodded in content. Brittany was right. It was time to just have some fun, let go.

Maybe you’ll meet someone.

You snort and shake your head to yourself.

Yeah, right. Frats were somehow worse than football players. No way were you meeting a guy there.

Within the first few seconds of walking through the door, you had greeted pretty much all of the girls except Stella and Hazel. PJ was the one to tell you that they were probably sticking their tongues down people's throats.

“You look stunning. This green on you. I can’t get enough.” Isabel was the first to gasp over you, spotting her bright eyes and beautiful hair a mile way.

You thanked her repeatedly over the loud music. Brittany stood next to you as she scanned the surrounding area for drinks. You stood next to Josie and Isabel who apologized about your situation with your ex-situationship.

Fuck, you hated that word. You were dating but the situationship made your skin crawl.

“It’s whatever guys, honestly,” you tell them, waving them off.

“Men are pieces of shit, man.” Josie patted your back weirdly before shuffling into her girlfriend's side.

You look between the two of them with a small smile, admiring how adorable they were. Isabel and Josie fit weirdly enough considering how different the two of them were. A tap to your shoulder threw you off guard in the midst of you daydreaming about when you were going to find someone like that.

You turn to face the person, stepping back a little when you don’t recognize the masked figure. They were kind of cute. They smiled at you about the open their mouths that is until you heard Josie greet them.

“Hi Hazel. Where’s that girl you were talking to? She was cute.” Isabel calls over your shoulder.

Oh shit. This was Hazel? Scientist bomb-maker Hazel? The more and more you peered into the eye cutout of the mask, you recognized those deep blue eyes of hers.

Has she always been this attractive? Her white button up shirt had the first two buttons left open, exposing the silver chains resting on her neckline. Her chest rising and falling from the drink she just downed.

She looked… good.

“She is in a very committed relationship with her two boyfriends.” Hazel told them, nodding curtly.

“Sounds like overkill but good for her, I guess,” PJ commented, eyes widening from behind her own lace mask.

The three of them gave soft ‘sorry’s’, smacking their lips before sipping on their drinks. Brittany had come back with her drink and yours, silently sliding it into your own and mouths to you: ‘Sprite and Vodka’.

Simple but a favorite.

“Wait, why are we saying ‘sorry’?” Brittany shouted, shifting her eyes from person to person in the huddle they’ve formed.

Everyone began to explain but you were just staring at Hazel. You had no idea what was going on in your brain but your eyes couldn’t pull away from her.

“I’m sorry about that girl,” you finally speak, hoping she hadn’t noticed you staring at her like a maniac.

“No, it’s fine. It was whatever.” Hazel shrugs and she seems legitimately fine.

That would’ve sent you into a spiral about how good your flirting skills were if it was a guy. You suppose someone who looks like her can easily move on to the next girl.

“You look… great. Really great. I like your, uh, mask.” You compliment her, pointing at the plain black mask on her face.

Why are you being so awkward? You’ve definitely talked to Hazel before. What’s so different about this time?

Her smile lines deepened as her eyes followed down from your feet to the lace on your mask. You suddenly felt hot around your neck under her gaze, the sound of the people blurring into the background of the music so that you could only focus on her.

“Thank you. You look beautiful. I’ve never seen this before.” Hazel eyed your corset top, taking a sip from her silver solo cup.

You take a long sip from your drink, feeling your mouth running dry.

“Uh, yeah. I don’t wear it often. I don’t go out much.”

“What?” Hazel leaned in closer so that her ear was closer to your mouth.

The songs had increased in volume to the point where you could feel it in your chest. You shake your head and lean into her to shout: “Do you want to go somewhere quieter? I don’t want to keep shouting all night.”

This Hazel did hear and she nodded, placing one hand on your lower back as she led you through the crowd. You sucked in a deep breath as you looked behind you to see Brittany staring you down with narrowed eyes but she didn’t seem upset, more… confused.

You wave your hand to show that you were fine before letting Hazel continue to lead your body down a hallway. You did have an oral speech that Monday you had to practice for so going somewhere quieter would just be more beneficial.

Once the two of you had been able to seclude yourselves in one of the fraternity brothers rooms, you let out a sigh of relief.

“I’m kind of starting to regret coming here,” you admit softly as you glance around at the very plain room.

“Really? Why?” Hazel questioned as she lingered near the door, watching you snoop through the strangers' knick-knacks he had on his desk.

“I have shit to study for but Britt begged me to come with her. Parties really aren’t that fun when I’m not drinking as much to distract myself,” you sigh, picking up a trophy of a gold baseball man.

Hazel pressed off of the door to find her place standing next to you. The muffled music rumbled the walls but she couldn't focus on that as much as she was admiring how amazing you looked tonight.

“Distract you from what?” Hazel hums, leaning into your side to peer at the knick-knacks with you.

You try not to tense under the feeling of her warm body pressing up against the side of your back. Why were you suddenly so nervous?

“Uh, guy that was a dick and didn’t know how to properly express his feelings and said he had to ‘focus on himself’. Men make me genuinely sick.” You express with a soft huff, plopping down onto the deep blue bed.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Hazel slowly sat down right next to you.

You shrug your shoulders, turning your head to be face to face with her. Her blue eyes were illuminating from the singular lamp that was turned on in the corner of the room. Your stomach turned at her intense eye contact.

“It’s fine. Not your fault, Hazel.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t think you deserve to be treated like that. Someone as beautiful and sweet as you doesn’t deserve to be led on by some douchebag guy.” Hazel muttered, leaning in closer to you.

You could feel her warm breath that had a lingering scent of a mix of liquors. Every single fiber in your body craved the taste of her lips. You weren’t even sure if you were completely into women but you knew that right here and right now, you wanted Hazel to kiss you.

“Then what do I deserve?” You whisper, eyes flickering down to her pink lips.

“If you want me to show you, all you can do is ask, pretty girl,” Hazel glances down at your lips as well, her ego shooting through the roof at how very obviously eager you were.

You lick your lips before whispering with a hint of whining: “Show me.”

Hazel pressed her lips onto yours, cupping both sides of your face. You gasped slightly but almost immediately fell into a comfortable rhythm chasing her lips. Your hands ghosted over her neckline, not knowing where to put your hands. You were overthinking it just because Hazel was a girl.

It was so much different compared to kissing a man. Hazel’s hands were so gentle on your face, caressing you in a sensual yet comforting manner. Fuck, you couldn’t believe how wet you were just from her kissing you. You crossed your thighs together to try and relieve that feeling but it only grew.

Her tongue swiped over your bottom lip, teasing to get into your mouth. You allowed her tongue in as her thumb caressed the underside of your jaw. The whimper that left your mouth was borderline pornographic.

“Lay back for me, pretty girl, okay? Let me make you feel good,” Hazel smirked at the sound of your moans, kissing your jaw and neck a few times.

“You’re gonna…?” You pant softly, furrowing your brows.

“Whatever you’ll let me do to you. You can say stop whenever, okay?” Hazel hummed as she nosed at your jaw before jerking to the bed.

You nod enthusiastically before scooching up on the bed, kicking off your shoes. Hazel carefully watched you as she lifted her mask to rest on the top of her head. She would need her entire face for what she was planning on doing to you.

You stare at her exposed face, lifting up your own to rest on the top of your head. Hazel smiled at this, admiring how beautiful you are. You always caught her eye but she only really knew you as Brittany’s roommate.

Now, she was really getting to know you.

She kneeled on the bed, placing her hands on your plush thighs. You watch her carefully push your skirt up your waist, biting your lip anxiously. Hazel leaned down to place a soft kiss onto your inner thighs. They were feather-like, sending shivers down your spine. Her ringed hands grip onto the outer parts of your thighs as she whispers praises unto your skin.

You shut your eyes and tilt your head back as she inched to the crotch area of your underwear. You could’ve worn a pair of a lot sexier ones but you landed on seamless hip-huggers. Her fingers thumbed over the waistband, looking up at you with needy eyes.

“Can I take these off?”

“Please, Hazel,” you buck your hips involuntarily.

Hazel leaned down to kiss over your pubic bone, looking up at you. You push your flyways out of your face as you watch Hazel tug your underwear down your legs and toss them on the bedside table. You open your legs slowly to expose yourself to her.

“Can you tell me what feels good, pretty girl? Yeah? Can you do that for me?” Hazel hummed as you placed a few more trailing kisses and licks across your thighs.

You merely whine at her words, growing more and more needy as she continues her way up your thighs. She didn’t give you any time to process it until her warm tongue swiped over your folds. You sucked in a deep breath, a shuddering moan leaving your lips.

“Fuck,” you whisper, admiring the head of shaggy hair in between your legs.

God, her tongue made your squirm like no man ever had. You swore they just licked your thighs and your hip and asked if you came. They could never compare to how amazing Hazel was making you feel. She backed up for a moment to kiss at your clit softly, enjoying the way you were practically dancing on her tongue.

Sweat beads formed at the base of your neck and the crevice of your hips as you rocked against her face. Hazel moaned softly against your wet folds, her tongue fucking into you.

That was only the beginning of it.

After that night, you and Hazel began to just have fun. You didn’t dare tell Brittany that you were sleeping with Hazel, one of her dear friends from high school. It wasn’t your fault that she gave you mind-blowing, legs pulsating, eyes rolling into the back of your head orgasms.

You assumed Brittany knew that you were seeing someone because well, she found your inner thigh hickies when you went home with her to visit her family's pool. When you came back to campus later that evening, you and Brittany arrived to see a small box sitting in front of your door.

“Oh my god is this from your little lover?” Brittany gasped as she kneeled down to pick up the little blue box with a white ribbon bow.

Your eyes widened at the box, furrowed brows at the little tag that read: ‘From, Claire’. You surprised a cheeky smile as you and Hazel had agreed she would be named ‘Claire’ when she got you these surprise gifts of your favorite candies, lingerie and dresses she would have you wear to fuck you in.

“Claire? Do I know a ‘Claire’?” Brittany hummed to herself as she unlocked the dorm room.

“Nope.”

When you both got into the room, you flipped open the note to see: ‘Tomorrow at 6:30. Meet me at my dorm room and I’ll take you somewhere nice, pretty girl.’

You bit your lip as you opened your box when Brittany told you she’d hop in the shower real quick from being so sun-tanned. You unraveled the ribbon and lifted the lid of the blue box to see a black lingerie set but the panties were crotchless.

That little freak.

But my god, you loved it.

Tomorrow couldn’t come faster. Brittany even tried to see who you were texting the night before you went to Hazel’s dorm.

“So am I ever going to meet your fling or are you just always going to disappear out of nowhere and coming back all smiley and giddy?” Brittany hummed as she typed furiously on her laptop, glancing up at you as she adjusted her blue light glasses.

“Hmm, I haven’t decided yet. I’ll let you know after this time,” you remarked with a cheeky grin.

“He’s not like an arms dealer or something right?” Brittany narrowed her eyes.

You snorted and shook your head. Some part of you was also just scared to say out loud that you had fooling around with a woman; let alone a friend of hers.

“No. I promise at some point, I will tell you, Britt. I’ll be back at around midnight, I hope.” You beamed, leaning over her bed to give her a kiss on the head.

Brittany chuckled at your actions, telling you how much she loved you and to be safe and not get pregnant. You knew that would never happen.

As much as you would pretend to daydream about it.

When you knocked on Hazel’s dorm room door, it swung open almost immediately to reveal Hazel in a deep green button up with a white wife pleaser underneath and a pair of baggy jeans. Her carabiner with her keys as clasped to one of the loops of her jeans.

She shut the door behind her, eyeing you up and down with a smirk. That was the thing about this little friends with benefits situation you had with Hazel; she actually made you feel sexy. She made you feel like the hottest person in the room.

Like she could eat you alive.

“Aren’t you just the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, hmm?” One of her hands snaked around the waist of your sundress.

“Haze,” you sheepishly whine, covering your face with one hand.

“You’re cute. Take the compliment and let’s go, baby.”

Hazel smoothly grabbed your hand that was covering your face into hers, interlocking her fingers with yours. You follow her to her car, getting glances from a few girls that were coming up the stairs that looked like they were studying in the library. Something you should be doing but you were going on a late afternoon date/hookup.

You almost felt guilty. That is until you felt her place a kiss on your forehead when you approached the passengers side of her car. She tugged the door open for you, placing a hand on your lower back.

“Where are you taking me?” You hum, glancing up at her once you sit down on the passenger's seat.

“It’s a surprise, pretty girl. It’s only going to take twenty minutes to get there and it’s going to be worth it.”

She bent down to capture your lips into a soft kiss, smiling when you chased her lips when she pulled away. Her thumb traced over your bottom lip for a moment before she shut the door.

You sat in the seat releasing a shaky breath. She was able to get you riled up without fail.

The drive was in fact a lot shorter than you were expecting. Hazel’s palm never left your thigh, giving it squeezes every now and then. It made you more and more aware of the fact that you were wearing crotch less panties.

Hazel pulled into a rather dark field, the only light source being the setting sun. If you squint, you could see a variety of flowers decorating the green of the field.

“Where are we?” You chuckled, turning to face Hazel.

“If I’m going to be honest before my mom decided to go through her mid-life crisis and start sleeping with barely legal men in high school,” Hazel began, which made your eyes widen for a moment, muttering a soft ‘what’ but Hazel continued on. “She used to take me here to pick flowers to put in the little bay window in our living room. I’ve never forgotten how beautiful it was here. I think you deserve something just like this.”

Your heart soared, leaning into her face. No, you were just having sex while she showered you with gifts and treated you better than any man you’ve ever fooled around with. No feelings.

None. Absolutely none.

“You might want to tone the romance a bit, Hazel. It might ruin your reputation,” you tease, scrunching up your nose.

Hazel tilted her head as her eyes drifted to your lips and back to your eyes.

“I only care about what you think, pretty girl.” Hazel admitted with a gentle kiss to your lips.

No feelings. You kept repeating to yourself internally as you felt the apples of your cheeks heating up.

“Well, I think you’re really sweet. I kind of feel bad that you don’t really get much from me.” You frown, reaching for her chain that was resting at the base of her neck. “Or sorry, you won’t let me as much as I try.”

“I already told you. I like doing this for you. Making you feel good and seeing that pretty smile.”

”Mmm, okay, so, what are you planning on doing while we’re here?” You raise your eyebrows at her, faux innocence coaxed in your voice.

Hazel seemed to be thrown off guard but when she looked at your smile, she knew you were only messing with her.

“I have a blanket in the back seat.”

“Good because I’m wearing the present you got me,” you leaned to ghost your lips over hers.

Hazel let out a soft groan as you chuckled to yourself and tugged open the door of your passenger's seat. You look out at the gorgeous sunset then look at Hazel who looks like she’s trying to calm herself down. She eventually got out, the blanket hooked underneath her arm as she, too, looked out at the sunset.

She grabbed your hand as you marched through the flower field, the petals and grass tickling your legs. Hazel stopped a few feet away from her car to lay down the towel on a flatter patch on the ground. She laid down, looking up at you as she caressed your calf and tugging your leg forward.

You knew what she was asking of you.

“Wait, really?” You kneeled down, brushing your flyaways out of your place and looking around.

There were miles of trees and fields and there was probably no chance anyone would catch you guys. Yet there was still a slight fear in your chest that someone was going to catch you sitting on Hazel’s face.

“There’s no one around for miles, pretty girl,” she sat up right on her forearms, looking at you with nothing but hunger in her eyes.

“Okay, okay, I guess I’ll let you eat me out,” you sigh dramatically before straddling over her face.

Hazel laid back down so that she could push the skirt to your sundress up your plush thighs. She held back her smirk when she saw the lace covering your cunt and the crotchless portion that you promised you were wearing. Hazel didn’t hesitate to dive into your folds, teasing your clit slowly. You gasped and felt your knees give out so that you were full sitting on her face.

Your thighs entrapped her cheeks as your hands found her messy head of hair. Your moans freely left your mouth as she hungrily moved her jaw until the muscles ached. Her movements increased in speed as you whined and begged for her to keep going.

“Please, baby. So good, you’re so good.” You babble as you grinded your wet folds over her lips to her chin, coating her skin with your slick.

Hazel’s hands harshly gripped at your outer thighs as she followed your hip movements, letting her own moans flow out. Her rings made indents into your skin but it stung wonderfully, addictively. Your orgasm came quickly, your back shuddering as your hands were tangled in Hazel’s hair roughly.

You sat up with all your might, panting harshly as you looked down at Hazel’s flushed and wet face.

“You taste so good. Come here,” Hazel pushed up so she was sitting right up on her bottom, her hand snaking up to cup the back of your neck.

You giggle as you connect your lips, softly moaning into each other's mouths. The taste of your own juices lingered in your mouth as she messily made out with you.

“I could eat you everyday and never get sick of it,” she muttered against your lips, nibbling on your bottom lip.

And you wouldn’t hate it if she did.

special thank you to @breezy-sapphic for reading this over <3

[indiaalphawhiskey]

Fake summary please for this made up title:

Flip me off and I’ll flip you over

🎸 Flip Me Off and I’ll Flip You Over

It had been an honest mistake, hand to God.

Louis had seen him last night, two rows away from the front, eyes closed and mouthing along perfectly to All This Time, his sweaty tendrils framing his forehead and the sleeves of his Faith in the Future tee artfully cut off.

They had made flirty - some would even say, obscenely heated - eye contact under the bright lights.

That’s how Louis knew about the dimples; that’s why Louis ran to the barricade three songs too early and a little too far to the left. He didn’t actually see if one of the hands that had so desperately clutched at him belonged to Dimples, but he’d thought it safe to think so. (No one stood that close to the stage, totally dolled up in their little outfit just to make eyes at the artist all night and not try to touch him. Please.)

But the thing was, Louis was also just a wee bit hungover this morning; cranky, headache-y, and severely under-caffeinated after a late night at the club and an inhumane five a.m. radio interview call time. Not to mention being unceremoniously manhandled into the car by Joni after some fans got a tad too excitable at the entrance.

So when he saw Dimples for the second concert in a row, now strategically stationed outside his dressing room wearing leather trousers in 36 degree weather, smiling at Louis like that…

Well, he’d just kind of… assumed.

“Bit too early to be this thirsty for a back room shag, darling, innit?” Louis snarked over the pounding in his head. Though he squeezed his eyes shut behind his dark sunglasses, he didn’t miss the startled look on Dimples’ face.

“W-wh—” he stammered, seemingly bewildered. “I—I beg your pardon?”

Louis would roll his eyes at the impeccable feigned innocence if he wasn’t so dizzy. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he peeked one eye open at the same time he lifted his coffee up to his mouth. Caffeine would save him.

He smirked a little at the deep blush on Dimples’ cheeks; at how caught out he clearly was. The movement only made Louis’ head hurt more.

“Posh little thing, aren’t ya?” He observed off-handedly, wincing at the reverberating sounds inside his head over the brim of his cup. Out of the corner of his eye, he clocked the pen in Dimples’ hand and he tipped his head as far as he could without giving himself vertigo to point at it. “Want me to sign your chest or something? Will that get you to leave me alone?”

Dimples narrowed his eyes at Louis in what seemed like the perfect cross between confusion and annoyance. “Ex-cuse me—”

“Come on then,” Louis interrupted impatiently. With a heavy sigh, he gestured with his palm to hand over the pen. “Just lift up your shirt and let’s get this over with—”

“Oh good, you’ve met!” Oli’s voice was so loud it made Louis flinch. Well, it was either his volume or the two forceful slaps he clapped on Louis’ back as he beamed as Dimples. “Louis Tomlinson,” he said, with a dramatic drumroll-type tone to his voice, “meet the legendary Harry Styles, youngest senior concert critic in Rolling Stone magazine history!”

To say those were the absolute worst words Louis could have possibly heard at that moment would have been incorrect. Mostly because the absolute worst words Louis could have possibly heard at that moment were the next six: “He’s here to review your tour!”

Louis lifted his horrified gaze to Harry’s face slowly. Their eyes locked, anger flashing across Harry’s features as he crossed his arms over his chest. Ironically, the lanyard of his press pass was now painfully obvious where it hung around his neck.

“Charmed,” he deadpanned.

Whoops.

— or, Louis Tomlinson’s World Tour was off to a great start until he royally fucked up by mistaking a world famous concert critic for a groupie. Then again, it’s not like anyone said Harry Styles couldn’t be both.

[vamp1reg1rrrl]

Abby Anderson w/ Alt reader

Pt 1 (??)

lmk if you guys want a pt 2.

No TWs really. Just mention of reader being afab sorta?? reader is more feminine so if that bothers you this probably isn’t for you. smoking also mentioned multiple times

- You and Abby met at a local cafe near your college. You had been a barista for about 4 months now, needing some extra money for college and what not.

- Abby asked for a black coffee, as she usually did. And you got it for her without saying much more, as you usually did.

- This time did not go how it usually did though. No, not at all. Unlike the usual order and go Abby decided to stick around for once, taking a seat at one of the small circular tables that littered the small coffee shop.

- When she sat down she got all her class work out, her computer, book, and notebook along with a pen and pencils.

- A couple hours go by and you were going on your break, untying the apron from your waist. You round to the front to go hang out in your car on your 30. Of course before that you had to have a cigarette so you sit on the curb next to your car, lighting one.

“You know those things are bad for you, right?”

You glance behind you to see oh so fine Abby Anderson. You take a puff and shoot her a grin.

“Really? I wasn’t aware.”

She laughs and takes a seat next to you on the curb, her big boots clacking on the cement.

“Can I have one?”

“You smoke?”

“Nope.”

- And that’s how it started. She’d come in, you’d go on your break, she’d smoke a cigarette with you, and you guys would sit there and talk. About nothing really, school work, your jobs, music, just little silly daily things. Nothing too serious.

- You had always been more on the alternative side but you really got into it once you turned 18. A few tattoos here and there, piercings up your ears and of course a facial one or two (more if you prefer).

- Of course it wasn’t uncommon for people to think this was weird, or unattractive, or on the far end even “demonic”. But not Abby Anderson. Oh no, as soon as she saw you she was interested. The way your eyeliner made your eyes stand out, the dark lipstick you wore, even your piercings. Every little thing had her stomach doing flips around you.

- So like any sane person does, she didn’t say a thing to you. She wasn’t awkward, not weird nor anything like that. Just shy. Not that you could tell with her more so stoic expression most the time. She’d get her coffee, black as always, and leave. Now what you didn’t know is that for 1. she did not take her coffee black. No, she simply thought it’d impress you. She was far from alternative herself so she really took the whole dark and dreary thing to heart and just assumed you’d think it was cool. (Spoiler alert: you did.)

- And 2. she had been dressing up everyday for you. Now, of course you wouldn’t know that considering you hadn’t really know her prior. Sure, maybe seen her around campus once or twice but nothing note worthy. But she had, slowly, trying to impress you in some way or another.

- At first she just changed up her clothes a bit, wearing a band tee she had cut the sleeves off of. And lord did she love the response it got.

“Nice shirt. You listen to them?”

“Oh, uh yeah, i do. Thanks.”

“Mhm. Black as usual today I assume?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

- If you hadn’t noticed she wasn’t exactly the best at flirting. It’s not that she was particularly bad at it, she just felt awkward. Especially considering she didn’t assume she was your type. Hell, she didn’t even know if you were into women.

- Eventually her effort become a bit more. Wearing a chain necklace with a cross, maybe a more grunge look with some black cargos. Hell she even painted her nails black to match with yours. The fact that you didn’t get acrylics was the one thing giving her hope on your sexuality.

- When her sitting with you on your break became a bit normal, you decided to test the waters.

“So… you got a crush on me or something?”

“What? Why would you even-”

“Pfft I’m kidding oh my god. You look like you’re about to have a heart attack” you couldn’t help the small laughs leaving your lips.

“Fuck… you’re a dick.” and then she laughed too.

“Wow big tough anderson can cuss huh?”

“Of course I can, I am an adult after all.”

“Of course, of course. So since you’re an adult, be honest with me. What’s with this? You got a crush for real? Or maybe you just wanna hook up? I don’t assume it’s just a case of a friend crush since you’ve been looking down my shirt since the first time you came in”

You were bold, and that made her nervous. But, it also made her like you more.

She laughed, clearly a bit anxious at the situation.

“Well, uh, I guess you caught me. I was hoping to maybe uh… I don’t know, take you out I guess?”

“About damn time you asked.”

- The first time you went out together she thought her eyeballs might actually pop out of her sockets. Holy. Shit. Was the only thing running through her mind. You looked good. Like really, really, fucking good. You had shown up in a pair of black panty hose that had holes in them, a black skirt, and a burgundy off the shoulder top which had some obscure band on it. And then of course your typical torn-to-shreds converse.

- But little did she know you were thinking the exact same thing. Holy. Shit. She had worn another one of her band tees with the sleeves cut off. Nirvana this time, fuck. Her biceps looked good enough to take a bite out of. And don’t even get started on those god damn black cargos. How was it possible for someone’s ass to look THAT good? And her thighs? You literally wanted her to squash your head with them. But the thing that really topped it off was these little accessories that she added. The delusional part in you hoping it was just for you. The chain she added to the cargos, of course her carabiner attached as well, her black chipped polish. And fuck, the thick silver rings on her fingers.

- Only one thing was running through your mind

‘Please fuck me with those things on oh my go-’

“Ready to go inside?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

- For your first date you had decided to go to a small punk show downtown. You went to them pretty often and when you brought one up she naturally was interested. They were never super big groups, just small locals who were trying to make it big (but more often than not didn’t).

- It was loud. Like REALLY fucking loud. Way louder than Abby was expecting. I mean she knew it wasn’t going to be quiet but fuck, how were you not deaf at this point? Thank god you had given her ear plugs when you came in.

“It’s really loud in here”

“What?”

“I said, It’s really loud in here”

You just laughed and handed her a pack of earplugs. Not that you wore any, you felt they dimmed the experience. No, you wanted to feel the music in your bones. For it to rattle your soul to the core.

- In between sets you’d go outside and smoke a cigarette or maybe even just hit your vape. You and abby would chat about whatever, mainly the music. But eventually you run out of things to say about random small punk groups.

“You look really good tonight”

“Oh, shit, thanks. So do you- I mean, you look better than good. You look amazing, you always do, but, you know..”

Fuck. You had her stomach in literal knots.

“Soooo, when do you plan to kiss me?”

“What?”

She could feel her heart in her god damn throat.

“Unless you don’t plan to? I thought maybe you’d do it once we got outside but maybe you’re more of a kiss her on her doorstep typa’ gal?”

Holy. Shit.

“Do you uh.. do you want me to kiss you?”

“Depends, do you want to kiss me?”

Yes. So fucking badly.

But she just nods silently.

“Then yeah, I want you to kiss me.”

So she did.

- The kiss was clumsy, she was clearly nervous. But that was okay, you didn’t mind. No, if anything, you found it irritatingly cute. How could such a big scary looking person be so. fucking. cute.

- Later when you got home that night, her driving you of course. She walked you to your door. You were a junior so you had your own apartment at this point, sharing with a few roommates.

“Well, I was going to kiss you but clearly that already happened..”

“Hmm, well I don’t see the harm in a second go at it. By the third time maybe we’ll have it perfected.”

You just grin at her, grabbing the collar of her bomber jacket and pulling her down to you, pressing your lips against hers.

- The kiss quickly turned to a small make out session on your front porch, your back pressed against your front door, her big, calloused hands on your waist, pressed up your shirt.

- But all good things come to an end. So eventually she pulls away, flushed, both of you slightly panting, your lipstick smeared around your lips and hers at this point.

“Fuck, I really want to take things slow but you make it so hard.”

“Pfft am I getting you worked up Abby?”

“Yes. You fucking are. And you know it.”

She huffs and rests her head against your shoulder, hands still gripping the bare skin of your waist. You smile softly and press a soft kiss to her cheek.

“Don’t worry so much, ‘kay? You’re overthinking it. It’ll happen when it happens.”

- And with that the night ended.

If you guys couldn’t guess I’m alternative with tattoos, piercings, and i smoke lol. so this may be more for me than yall💀💀

But hopefully you enjoyed anyways😛

[chris-continues]

College AU Thoughts (cont.)

Writing more college au solely because ONE OF THE COOLEST PPL EVER @macncherries did Wolfwood art (here check it out), but have some more random college au thoughts

TAGS: @lune010 @h4venpha @vashfantasy

-Meryl probably has some really nice gel, ballpoint, colored pens that she literally abuses all the time. Sometimes her notes aren’t even totally neat she’s just sleep deprived and highlighting/underlining the important areas of her textbook as she listens to her lecture

-Vash definitely has to listen to audio playback of lectures- does he try to take notes in class? Yeah. But they look like chicken scratch, his handwriting pales in comparison to literally anyone else’s T<T listening while he does smth else really helps w/ how he learns (autistic vash) (cough)

-Meryl and Milly have matching pairs of rip-off Birkenstocks they found at like Marshall’s then saw a pair w a marijuana leaf and Milly went, “Reminds me of Wolfwood!” So they got it (to Meryl’s amusement and dismay). Wolfwood wears them often

-Ok, I’ve been debating on this hc that Vash sometimes gets invited to parties, considering he’s a bit of a campus celeb. Handsome, athletic (tennis player legend), but he can easily get overwhelmed. He’s having fun with the fame for like a good 30 minutes to an hour and then he just kinda tires out more as the night drags on.

-Meryl’s outfits consist of her wanting comfort yet maintaining her usual feminine flair. Yoga pants with a cami and a simple jacket, or on nicer days more of a fitted sweater. Perhaps a jumper and a baby tee/turtleneck underneath- I think when she’s feeling it she def likes Monica Helper’s looks from Friends. A casual, yet still sweet vibe.

-for accessories she probably has an Apple Watch and the staples- hoop earrings, her classic dangle/rectangular earrings, some silver hardware if she’s feelin extra funky and a classic black belt because I do believe she hates it when her jeans are too low it’s a big thing that annoys her to no end.

-On the other hand, Milly’s outfits are less fitted and I think she’s more laid back in her appearance, preferring some of the crew necks she’s collected from several events her siblings have been to or hand me downs from her country family. She wears vintage athletic wear though, it’s cute on her and it suits her well.

-she has a few simple scrunchies she remains loyal to, not wanting to cut her hair short and often tying it up. When she feels more femme she’s got some cute necklaces that pair well with any cute sweaters she has- she also has some maxi skirts she wears too! :) (can’t find an exact image of what I have in mind + I have a 10 image limit on mobile lol)

-Meryl avidly has to live off of coffee. Girl is always so organized but truthfully she’s half alive due to the fact she’s a frequent visitor at the campus cafe and is familiar w/ some of the baristas who often cut her slack if she ever needs a pick me up.

-Vash is like a crazy good teacher, to some people’s surprise. He can word concepts in a way that breaks them down easier, sometimes he even has some little memory hints he uses lol. For any other ND kid in class who’s a bit bashful they usually flock to him, he’s got such a charming aura and never fails to make anyone feel a bit more comfortable.

-Wolfwood teases Meryl for her aforementioned coffee addiction, but I’d imagine he takes a liking to something like a pink drink. Like- usually that stuff is too sugary for him, but smth about it has him coming back for more!!

-Meryl has an array of podcasts she listens to- I think she def dabbled in true crime maybe?

-Milly and Meryl’s shared dorm is actually really chill. There’s some clutter on each side but they’ve got a shared mini fridge (Meryl got it but doesn’t mind Milly using it because she likes her) it’s stocked with pudding cups

-Milly got Pinterest after Meryl wanted to share ideas for food ideas on weekends (they’re both on a meal plan but still need to eat on Saturdays and Sunday’s lol) so they usually end up going out for some cheap takeout w/ Vash and Wolfwood or make something in a rice cooker they found at a thrift store that works kinda ok… for the price they got it.

-Like they’re cutting up spam, eggs, tossing rice on there, some veggies they got and sometimes they splurge on cheap fruit like bananas and apples

-They both like to eat well and unlike Vash and Wolfwood they won’t live off of instant ramen and takeout (although Vash eats pretty well considering he lives with Nai, who makes sure he regulates his diet due to sports and Vash’s long list of medical concerns)

-Wolfwood eats like shit though I’ll be completely honest

-The guy knows how to shop. But he doesn’t want to. So he lives off of cup noodles and old pizza, takeout and shit, and thanks to crazy fast metabolism he works it off whenever he does some form of working out and whatnot.

-Will agree that he has the best of the best songs, his music taste is unparalleled. Like he’ll be busting it down to 6up 5oh Cop-Out (Pro/Con) by Will Wood from his middle school days then some new metal he’s gotten into (he peeked over Knives’ Spotify playlists) OO OR OR THIS IS LOVE BY AIR TRAFFIC CONTROLLER (I’m def not projecting w/ what’s on my Spotify rn I’m shit at song names I just know vibes)

-Vash likes hyperpop and rave typa stuff it stimulates his brain in just the right way tbh

[rose022]

describe what you’re wearing , and your favorite food :3

i broke out colorful pens ive never opened for this. also ik my hand writibg can be hard to read sooo

(Hi ♡ I just have a blank SDC tee shirt I bought from her, some black sweatpants w/ pockets & monochrome socks on rn! My fav food is eitheroma's crepesor chocolate molten lava cake. :D)

[scoutlxiroth]

✦ CHASE SUI WONDERS, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER ✦ SCOUT LEI-ROTH the TWENTY-SEVEN year old has been in Hidehill for THIRTEEN YEARS ( OFF AND ON ). Whispers on the streets are that the BOTTLE GIRL AT ENVY who lives in HIDE SQUARE are said to be OPEN and SELF-SABOTAGING but I guess we’ll find out for ourselves.

tw: infidelity, drugs, alcohol, divorce, broken home, parental issues/neglect

full name: scout lenda lei-roth

date of birth: february 28th

star sign: pisces

place of birth: palo alto, california

family: lei delun (father), nadine roth (mother), open (half-sibling), open (half-sibling)

sexual orientation: pansexual

religion: agnostic

tattoos: she has a few, though all fairly small. her first was a smiley face she got while underage. the first official was a set of butterflies off a flash. she collected a few more over the years: one on her spine, another finger, and a quote on her right arm. the latest however, is a groovy text at the crook of her right elbow.

style: oversized t-shirts worn in place of dresses, faux leather mod boots, mini skirts, hand-me-down hockey jerseys, denim cutoffs, silk nighties paired against thrifted leather jackets, fun graphic tees that cause heads to turn, itty bitty crops, mesh tops, thrifted skirts giving y2k, mini bohemian dresses, chunky doc martens

red wine stained lips, glitter you can't get out of the carpet, the warmth of a spotlight, towering over a crowd as you dance atop the bar, hands on your ankle begging you to come down, twelve missed phone calls from mom, mascara stained cheeks, butterflies in your chest, the thrumming of club music, a sparkler lit liquor bottle, hyper-fixating on a cellphone screen as you beg for a text to come through, making best friends in a nightclub bathroom, glitter pen scribbles in a journal, lighting a candle to make it all feel better, kissing your friends on the lips, clothes abandoned on a bedroom floor, being so-and-so's sister, knees bruised in the name of attention, & the false feeling of love.

scout was born into chaos. her father, a big shot developer in palo alto, had gotten his mistress pregnant and thus his first marriage ended officially just days before scout popped out of the womb. hated by some from her very first breath.

she never did get to see her father in a functional relationship. the first one deteriorated before she was born, then her own mother got thrown to the curb before scout had the chance to enter preschool, ditched for a younger, more naïve version. but even the third wised up to her father's ways, beating him to the divorce-punch come inklings of yet another affair. three marriages. a kid each.

scout couldn't say much of her half-siblings relationship to their shared father, but her? it was like screaming to a void. nothing came in return.

as if her parental problems weren't already shaky enough, the mother situation felt like trauma three-fold. first, the one that saw her as destruction. next, her own, there but only just. after all, it was hard to look at the spitting image of your worst heartbreak. and then came the last, the outlier. the one scout struggled to accept, struggled to like despite herself. funny how that third wife was the one that tried to include her most.

her youngest sibling had gotten into showbusiness young enough, becoming a childhood star in the midst of elementary school. it was something cool for awhile, something scout even bragged about... until the fame increased and it wasn't some fun fact. suddenly she was so-and-so's sister, not scout. always living adjacent to a fictional character, too beloved for people to turn off their blinders.

whilst supporting her sibling(s)— always content at sitting in the wings reading a book as the camera rolled, even the first to offer up running lines— scout could only handle so much of being overlooked. the only way she knew how to shine despite not being the star of the family was to become the problem. everyone liked a project, right? she wasn’t so invisible when they had to come pick her up off of the front steps of her apartment, unsuccessful in getting her keys to “work” after knocking back countless shots. or when there was video evidence of her dancing on the bar at moon. or that one time she’d called from jail. a misunderstanding, really.

scout self-identifies as a mess. she may be chaotic, but she's not delusional. she'll warn you too. 'proceed with caution.'

before you ask, yes, she has tried therapy. in fact, she's in it now, though the lady isn't who she'd've picked. but, you know, daddy's money. scout's true therapy sessions are poured into her journal: a collection of poems, collages, and diary entries. she's always been a creative but it's been an art she's held to her chest. there are times when therapy sessions come as drunk bathroom chats in the club or 3am soul sessions on a battered couch while passing a bong. scout isn't shy about her feelings or her issues. she knows she has them, fairly obvious too.

it was her frequent club hopping that landed her at envy as a bottle girl. she'd been working the day shift at verdure before, surviving mostly off the brunch shifts and money from her father ( one of the only ways he shows care ). then after a particular night out, the urge of another bottle girl, some tequila, and a sense of "fuck it", scout applied. she was showing off sparkler-adorned bottles of belvedere a few days later. mixing business with pleasure. fun some days, toxic the next.

skateboarding is her main form of transportation. it became a personality trait after she rewatched sleepover in her twenties and saw julie in that red dress being the epitome of cool. does she have her license? yes. car? no. should she be trusted behind the wheel? hard no. she's befriended too many curbs and panics come merging. when it comes to the road, scout is very much a passenger princess. it's better for everyone that way.

scout is a crier. and she’s not too shy about it. in fact, she has been known to openly get her groceries with mascara stains still on her cheeks. but sometimes a bitch just needs to get her emotional support cheez-its.

one of her few commonalities with her father is hockey. it was the sport that captured his interest back in the day, the first one he'd seen live after immigrating. red wings versus the bruins. that game determined their rival as a household years and years on. scout grew up on the red and white, on the shared glow of the television screen, on the play-by-plays from her father— hockey always remaining the time he spoke to her most.

scout lived in and around palo alto for most of her childhood before moving to hidehill for the first time at fourteen when her father opted a go at nashville— thinking "a change might do him good." that change lasted all of three years and then it was off to LA. showbusiness baby. scout left to ASU under the pretense of getting an education... only to drop out within her third year. she's tried her own hand at acting after that with no luck. she took a hop, step, and a jump before landing in new york. an unfortunate roommate situation had her retreating to hidehill ( by grace of that third wife ) within 6 months. despite liking hidehill, scout was a girl that couldn't sit still and so she took off again and for two years bounced between guest rooms, special friends beds, and hotel rooms before her father's guest house in LA became home. it was when she started to feel her roots begin to dig into the soil that scout packed her suitcase once more. then it was hidehill. again. a questionable choice given the latest happenings but it was the closest thing she had to home on the east coast. and scout needed some sense of belonging [ in short... PALO ALTO to HIDEHILL to LA to TEMPE to LA to NYC to HIDEHILL to TRAVELING AROUND to LA to HIDEHILL ] girly made moves.

plenty more in my head but won't write anymore. anything else please ask me &lt;3

general connection ideas: best friends, friends, ex-friends, childhood friends, friends she met in other cities, pseudo siblings, family friends, coworkers ( ex @ verdure or current at envy ), classmates, exes, fwb, one night stand, tinder match, one-sided crush, enemy, annoyance, party friends, regulars at the club, mom-type/responsible friend that tries to keep her in check, neighbor, supporters of her bad behavior, plenttyyyyy more.....

[ PINTEREST ]

[nottinghillhq]

welcome to notting hill gia and n, we’re super excited to have you here, you’ve got twenty-four hours to send in your account!

⸻  ZION MORENO. SHE/HER / have you ever heard of money honey by lady gaga, well, it describes TATIANA VALENTÍN to a tee! the twenty-six year old, and flight attendant was spotted browsing through the stalls at portobello road market last sunday, do you know them? would you say she is more harsh or more confident instead? anyway, they remind me of cold stares from across the room, faux fur coats, expensive taste, oversized sunglasses concealing tired eyes, maybe you’ll bump into them soon! [ GIA ] * ender’s heathers’ wc. ⸻  ROSE BYRNE. SHE/HER / have you ever heard of jenny by studio killers, well, it describes JULIETTE BECK to a tee! the forty-four year old, and personal assistant was spotted browsing through the stalls at portobello road market last sunday, do you know them? would you say she is more fragile or more attentive instead? anyway, they remind me of sleepless nights, a garden blooming with flowers, an empty bottle of wine, thoughts scattered on pieces of paper, maybe you’ll bump into them soon! [ GIA ] * beck sibling wc.

⸻  ANNA AKANA. SHE/ HER / have you ever heard of WRECKING BALL by miley cyrus, well, it describes RAELIN IKEDA to a tee! the twenty eight year old, and TAROT CARD READER AT ELIXER OF LIFE was spotted browsing through the stalls at portobello road market last sunday, do you know them? would you say SHE is more vain or more MATURE instead? anyway, they remind me of long black nails , bright red heels , prada bags, maybe you’ll bump into them soon!

⸻  TINA DESAI. SHE / HER / have you ever heard of BRAVE by sara bareilles, well, it describes PRIYA KHATRI to a tee! the thirty five year old, and PHILANTHROPIST was spotted browsing through the stalls at portobello road market last sunday, do you know them? would you say SHE is more verbose or more GIVING instead? anyway, they remind me of color coordinated binders, the feeling of writing with new pens, needing everything to be perfect, maybe you’ll bump into them soon!

⸻  NICO TORORELLA. THEY / THEM / have you ever heard of HAPPIER by marshmello ft bastille , well, it describes ARLAND CRANE to a tee! the thirty four year old, and NURSE was spotted browsing through the stalls at portobello road market last sunday, do you know them? would you say THEY are more impulsive or more EXTROVERTED instead? anyway, they remind me of breakfast in bed , constellations drawn in notebooks , being the knight in shining armor maybe you’ll bump into them soon! ( taking sullivan o’sullivan’s tinder date gone right w/c ! )

[femaleziegfeld]

To-do list for tomorrow

🎀 Pick up custom-made Ciao Manhattan! (1972) tee from the fashion district

🎀 eat quinoa w/ honey mustard, tuna & avocado for lunch

🎀 Watch a stylish seventies film like. the Jacques Rivette pirate melodrama starring Geraldine Chaplin

🎀 try my hand at autobiographical non-fiction but NOT the Kathy Acker experimental type. Also may or may not pen a piece on one of last year’s trips

🎀 blast Yoko Ono, Nirvana & Amyl and The Sniffers whenever I can

[mdsc951]

Black Inventors made countless contributions that made Amërica great. Simple everyday practical innovations such as the mop (Thomas W. Stewart), dustpan (Lloyd Ray), fountain pen (William G. Purvis), pencil sharpener (John Love), eggbeater (Willis Johnson), a precursor to the modern tricycle (Matthew H. Cherry), ironing board (Sarah Boone), portable fire escape (Joseph Winters), the golf tee (Dr. George F. Grant), potato chips (George Crum), bread making machine (Judy W. Reed), or the pastry fork (Anna M. Mangin) made our daily lives better. (at Black History Month) https://www.instagram.com/p/Co9jRVHOZk0/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[saetoru]

after the bnha leaks i will officially be taking my parting from bnha for good

[luveline]

I hc eddie as being a thigh guy & also possibly having ADHD & I can’t stop thinking about him just casually using readers thigh as like a stress/fidget toy. Just constantly having his hand on their leg and squeezing for something to do w his hands

this idea is the best ever anon!! ♡ gn!reader | 0.8k words

Eddie sits at your desk, the two of you squeezed into your rolling chair looking over practice questions so he can maybe finally graduate this year.

"Eddie," you say softly, your elbows brushing. "Is everything okay?" 

He stops twiddling the pencil in his hand back and forth and tilts his head to look at you, dark curls falling away from his face. "What?" 

"Is everything okay? You seem antsy." 

He smiles at you, nearly sheepish. "Fine…" his voice is low with a dejected frustration, "just can't concentrate," he mutters. 

You take his free hand into yours and hold them in your lap, his rings on your skin cold despite the thin protection of your tight pajama pants. "It's okay. Maybe we should take a break."

He drops his pencil and sighs, leaning back in the chair with a sulking frown stretched over his pretty lips. You try not to think about how hot he is and focus on making him feel better, leaving his hand between your thighs to wrap yourself around his upper arm in a hug.

"You'll get it," you murmur into his bicep. "Gotta keep practicing, s'all." 

He grunts his agreement. You close your eyes and breath in his smell, the lingering laundry detergent of his baseball tee under your nose, his skin, his cologne. You don't really notice when his hand stretches out across the dough of your inner thigh, at first stroking small lines and then lightly squeezing. You rub your nose into his arm, your breath huffing out fast when he gives you a good squeeze. 

"You're tickling me," you tell him. 

He rubs over your thigh apologetically, kind for all of a minute before he's back to squeezing. You force your knees together to trap him in place and he still doesn't let up. You don't mind. In fact, you kinda like it, the two of you relaxing in tandem as he works his fidgeting out. 

He pulls your thigh over his and lowers his mouth to your forehead. "You're like a stress ball," he murmurs, lips skipping over your skin with each word. 

"I resent that." 

"I'm serious." His palm is hot and big as he trails a sweeping line from your knee to your inner thigh and back again. "I love your legs." 

You look at him from under your lashes and smile shyly. "Anything for the cause, I guess." Your attempt at wryness is waylaid by your obvious affection. 

He nods eagerly. "Glad we're on the same page." 

He picks his pen back up and starts to fill in the worksheet, slouched, hand still firmly between your legs. You're surprised when he makes steady progress, any crease between his eyebrows quickly eased with a good fondle of your thigh. 

He finishes fast and with minimal advice. You're so happy for him you could kiss him. You would, but you want him to get through the next worksheet too while he has the focus. 

You sit up and he holds you in place as you pull the next task out of your binder and pass it to him. He takes it with a little grumble and you're close to screaming when he flies through that one too, pride and a generous dusting of relief warming your chest. Whether the answers are right or not isn't important, you decide, enchanted by his proud smile.

You feel a similar pride as he sets down his pen and takes your leg into both hands, massaging with a firm pressure. 

"You have magic thighs," he announces cheekily. 

"I think your stress ball metaphor was accurate," you say, feeling a little droopy eyed from all the attention. 

"It was a simile," he says. 

You widen your eyes at him. "My thighs really are magic if you're gonna start correcting me. Wizkid Munson, hello," you drawl teasingly. 

Eddie gets a dangerous look on his face and his hands creep up your thigh, grinning when he says, "You think I'm smart now. Imagine if you didn't have pants on." 

You wave your hands at him and pretend to fall off of the chair, giggling and flushed with heat as he grabs you tightly and wrestles your limp body back onto the chair and into his lap. 

"Where do you think you're going? I need to graduate." 

You don't resist much after that. If he wants to feel you up like this for hours on end every day while he studies, you can hardly say no. It's like he said, he needs to graduate.

[luthiest]

can you do a stationary/drafting tool tour some time? I love your posts! :)

stationary, i can do !

drafting is a little more questionable because, well.. we don’t do a TON of drafting in violin making? the most i’ve done so far is use squares/protractors/compasses to make templates, but once i finish this instrument i can probably do an update of all the templates and drafting tools used to make them!

anyways, here’s my current stationary lineup:

i have a moleskine notebook (black leather), a midori md notebook (cream), and a rhodia notepad (black staplebound pad). they’re all a5 and 5x5 dot grids, which means there are 5 grid squares per inch or 2 grid squares per cm

the moleskine, i use as a formal lab book/diary for violin making. i hate the paper, but i like that the outside is durable and it can take a little throwing around the bench

the midori md is my personal notebook. i don’t like using it around my bench just because of how quickly it starts to look worn on the outside even with the plastic cover, but the paper is great and it’s lovely for journaling/drawing/keeping an agenda

the rhodia dot pad, i use for taking rough notes. the paper quality is great, so i don’t have to be as careful about smearing when i’m jotting stuff down quickly in pen, and it’s perforated at the top. i dont love how bright white the paper is—the moleskine and midori are both a creamy off-white color—but everything else about it serves my purposes to a tee

i have an a5 6 ring binder that i fill with that same 5x5 size dot grid loose leaf sheets, which is where i like to keep my notes on tool making/maintenance, since i’ll probably update them over time as i learn what works for me. the binder is from a 3 pack on amazon, same with the loose leaf paper, but i think muji has the same stuff.

the lovely white, almost lavender post it notes are my all time favorite color for stickies !!!! i bought an 8 pack in high school and have not been able to find them since. it’s pretty tragic. the brown ones are from muji though, and i like the size even if they aren’t super sticky.

the eraser i use is a milan 430 (??) it’s green and i like green and it erases, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

the ruler is a starrett c635 tempered steel w the cm/mm on one side and cm/0.5mm on the other. i didn’t pick this one out, but my teacher did and i’ve gotta agree w him, the weight and size of it really helps get accurate lines and distances.

the writing utensils from left to right are:

dixon ticonderoga pencil hb no. 2

staedler pencil 4b

uni kura toga mechanical pencil 0.5mm (the lead rotates as you write, so you get a really nice, consistent nib that breaks less !!)

muji white pen body with black 0.38mm ink refill

muji pen dark blue 0.38mm

sakura pigma brush tip archival ink pen

staedler triplus fineliner from the neon set (yes, i have tried the stabilo fineliners, no i do not like them. the tips are like.. cylindrical? so if you write at an angle, like most people, you’ll get inconsistent lines as you change direction. they’re cute to look at but not great to write with)

mildliner light grey highlighter

that about covers it? i do have a pilot .38mm pen [edit: pentel energel 0.3mm needle tip] that doesn’t smear as much as the muji pens, [but i don't like how the shape of the pen affects my handwriting] which i’ll add an edit for when i get home since i don’t carry them w me.. but yeah ! thanks for asking me, i love talking about stationary lolol