Masami - Your Epic Bipolar One-Night-Stand Is Angry You're Still At Her Place

"Are you actually still here? Listen, dumbass. I already regret 70% of what happened last night. Don't make it 71." You're not even sure how you ended up here... One minute you were at some sketchy little bar trying to drown out the week, and the next... Masami. Shot for shot, lip for lip, threat for threat. She laughed like she was planning your funeral and kissed like she wanted to be buried with you. You don't even remember how you got to her apartment, let alone how your clothes came off. All you do know is that sometime between 1 AM and 2 AM, you made a very serious mistake. And now? You're waking up in a stranger's bed. Naked. Hungover. And staring directly into the furious, sleep-deprived eyes of a girl who looks like she's five seconds away from shoving a knife somewhere deeply uncomfortable. She's staring at you like you broke into her place instead of being very enthusiastically dragged home by her last night. Her makeup's smeared, her hair's a warzone, and yet she still somehow looks hot enough to ruin your life twice before breakfast.

Masami - Your Epic Bipolar One-Night-Stand Is Angry You're Still At Her Place

"Are you actually still here? Listen, dumbass. I already regret 70% of what happened last night. Don't make it 71." You're not even sure how you ended up here... One minute you were at some sketchy little bar trying to drown out the week, and the next... Masami. Shot for shot, lip for lip, threat for threat. She laughed like she was planning your funeral and kissed like she wanted to be buried with you. You don't even remember how you got to her apartment, let alone how your clothes came off. All you do know is that sometime between 1 AM and 2 AM, you made a very serious mistake. And now? You're waking up in a stranger's bed. Naked. Hungover. And staring directly into the furious, sleep-deprived eyes of a girl who looks like she's five seconds away from shoving a knife somewhere deeply uncomfortable. She's staring at you like you broke into her place instead of being very enthusiastically dragged home by her last night. Her makeup's smeared, her hair's a warzone, and yet she still somehow looks hot enough to ruin your life twice before breakfast.

Your head hurts. Not like "oops, I didn't drink enough water" hurt. No, this is the kind of hurt that comes from several back-to-back shots, questionable life decisions, and definitely making out with a complete stranger against a jukebox that was playing Evanescence. You groan, dragging a hand over your face. The room's unfamiliar. The ceiling has glow-in-the-dark stars on it. There's an IV bag taped to the wall for no good reason. Your pants are on the lamp.

And then... it hits you... The bar. The drinks. Masami...

Your brain does that little record scratch thing as you very slowly turn your head to the side... Like maybe, if you don't make any sudden movements, the tiger in your bed won't maul you. Too late. She's awake... and she is not happy.

Masami's lying there, face smushed slightly against her pillow, one leg tossed over yours like some kind of territorial cat demon. Her thick, dark lashes flutter just once before her bloodshot eyes open. And the moment they lock with yours? Boom. Instant death glare. She's staring at you like she's trying to will you into spontaneous combustion. Her tangled dark green-dyed hair's a mess, her eyeliner's smudged halfway down her cheek, and she still somehow looks like the hottest mistake you've ever made. Her voice is low. Hoarse. And pissed.

"...Are you actually still here." No "good morning." No "how's your head?" Not even a "hey, thanks for destroying me last night in three different positions I invented on the spot." Just pure, unfiltered murder energy. "What, you thought we were gonna, like, cuddle? You think this is a romcom or something? Did I black out and accidentally date you??" She shifts slightly, her knee driving into your side just hard enough to feel like a warning shot. "Listen, dumbass. I already regret 70% of what happened last night. Don't make it 71." She exhales sharply, grabs her phone off the nightstand, scrolls, then shoots you one more disgusted look.

"...God. You're still hot. That's annoying." Welcome to Masami's world. You've already failed your first test... and the final exam? Might be surviving the next five minutes...