#reruns are better than no-runs

[writerbot5000]

I am so glad I have a repository of fics I’ve bookmarked downloaded to my computer or I’d be going through major AO3 withdrawal by now. 

[schrodingersvibecheck]

sorry no i can’t come into work today yeah didn’t sleep at all again. yeah no i was kissing my darling evil baby cat over and over again on her stupid little head right between her tiny triangle ears. very important business

[yuquinzel]

[ 2:18 AM ] — itoshi rin.

joining in on the clingy rin agenda with this :P

rin does not like disruptions to his carefully crafted schedule, specifically— his sleep schedule. he has to be in bed by 11 pm sharp and wake up at the first light of dawn for his morning jog. that's how he's always gone about his day, that's how he prefers everything to be— falling perfectly into a rhythmic routine.

but tonight is different, tonight it's almost past 2 am, long since he found himself cozy in the warmth of his blankets— and yet he lies wide awake, eyes heavy with drowsiness but not enough to close shut because itoshi rin can not sleep unless you're beside him.

he wants to blame his comforter for failing to keep him warm, but in truth he's aware that the cold pooling his sheets is only an extension from the emptiness of your side of the bed.

it looks barren, abandoned even.

it's not like you're not home, it's not like you had an argument that didn't end well and hence refuse to sleep next to him, it's not like some college assignment is keeping you awake late into the night. you're just busy watching reruns of your favourite series because it had your favourite actor and rin is too prideful to admit he's not used to falling asleep without you threading your fingers in his hair.

he told himself he can sleep just fine on an empty bed. and he believed it for about three hours.

now you find him hovering like a ghost by the end of the room, all wrapped in blankets as he's taking long and impatient strides over to where you're slumped on the couch.

“bed. now.” he says, almost a little desperate.

you spare him a glance, then back to your tv screen, “rin? why're you still awake?”

“it's cold. i'm cold. come back to bed.” you know his short and quick answers are just a reflection of how tired he truly is.

“you're cold?” you ask, and rin simply nods.

“just two more episodes rin, promise i'll come after that.” you say, eyes still set on the tv screen and rin eyes the way your eyes glimmer with awe when that actor shows up.

and then suddenly your vision is blocked, the fluorescent light from the tv casting white shadows across rin's large physique as he eclipses your view of the tv, “what's so great about him? you can watch these tomorrow, come back, i can't sleep without you.”

you're about to say what the hell rin step aside before the realisation hits, and his words replay in your mind. the gears in your head turn, an amused smile gracing your lips, “are you jealous of this actor?”

rin huffs, kneeling down so he's eye-to-eye with you, “i never said that. i said i can't sleep without you because your side of the bed is cold so it makes me cold.”

you laugh a little, and rin feels a sort of warmth tingle his skin, “but they won't air these old episodes tomorrow, and its only two more, give me like, half an hour?” you bargain, bringing a hand to cradle the side of his face, rin leaning in your warmth even more.

he ponders your words, grumbling something unintelligible as he gets up. you think he's about to leave, before he plops down next to you. adjusting himself on the couch with you with barely enough space to accommodate the both of you, rin manages to bury his face in your chest while you have to tightly wrap your arms around him to keep you from falling.

“we're gonna fall and it'll be your fault,” you breathe, and rin holds you even tighter at your words.

“no, it'll be your fault. you won't come to bed with me.”

“you're such a baby.” you laugh again, your chuckles reverberating through him with your closely pressed bodies, the comfort of it beginning to lull him to sleep like magic. he's a little grateful to the lack of space on the couch in exchange for the intimacy of this moment.

the last thing echoing in his mind before he dozes off is the sensation of your fingers running through his hair, with a light tug at times that relieves him of all his exhaustion.

sleeping on the couch is perhaps much better than the bed.

© yuquinzel2023 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights ! ]

[minihotdog]

Caught Red handed // Part 2

Summary: Soap Catches His Roommate Reading an Erotic Novel AGAIN

Part 1

Pairing: John "Soap" Mactavish x Fem!Reader

a/n: I've been sick as a dog and I'm not the happiest about how this one turned out so I'll write a soap fic with a little more punishment in the future when I don't feel like my insides are melting

c/w: P in V, biting, aftercare

word count: 2k

***

Johnny made it clear that he didn’t want to catch you reading dirty books again, but you’re only human. Your newly discovered love for the genre made it impossible to stay away. 

You picked up a new one at the bookstore, this time with a more discrete cover. The summary described a romance between a woman and her soldier husband. It was a love that stands the test of time and struggle as he changes from the horrors he’s seen. Upon getting home and settling down to read it, you quickly discovered that wasn’t the case. The book was downright rancid, a crime almost. You’d gotten comfortable in your PJs and fuzzy socks excited to dive into the story only to receive a figurative slap to the face.

He was so desperate to breed her. His rough and violent thrusts almost put her head through the wall.

“Be my good little wife and take my load.”

“When I come back you better be holding my kid in your arms waiting for me to put another one in you.”

Your hand was over your mouth as your eyes scanned every sentence multiple times to ensure you didn’t pull them from your imagination.

You couldn’t help but imagine Johnny as the character. The author went into detail about the male character sitting and watching his high school sweetheart, turned wife, undress for him. How his thick thighs took up the entirety of the chair and his cock rested to the side atop the dense muscle, all you could see was Johnny with his evil little smirk and shaggy hair he’d grown out on leave.

The jangling of keys on the other side of the front door rips you from your fantasies. You jolt upwards and run towards your bedroom to stash the book in your nightstand. You’d been sleeping with Johnny in his bed so there wasn’t a possibility of him accidentally stumbling on it.

You waltz out of your room coming face to face with Johnny. You jump, clutching your chest with a squeak.

“Johnny! You scared the shit out of me!”

He looks at you with an eyebrow raised.

“Wha’ are ye up tae?”

“What?! Nothing, just getting a heart attack from you.”

He fakes a quick step towards you and your arms instinctively shoot to the walls blocking him. He chuckles, wrapping his arms around your waist and giving your lips a peck. He rests his forehead on yours.

“Yer hidin’ somethin’ an’ I’m gonnae find out wha’ it is.” He squints at you before turning into the kitchen.  

Damn it! Why did I do that?!!

You try to keep an eye on Johnny to make sure he won’t go snooping, but the moment he wraps his arms around you the book is completely forgotten. The two of you cuddle on the couch to watch reruns of old shows together. He runs his hand up and down your side kissing down your shoulder. He settles on your waist and his thumb caresses the little bit of exposed skin. He nibbles on your neck and slips his hand under your tank top taking a handful of your breast.

“You’re worse than a dog in a rut!” You slap his hand away.

“Cannae help masel’ when I’m wi’ ye, bonnie.” He whines, nuzzling his nose into your neck. His hips grind into you and he lets out a groan.  

“Johnny, I haven’t showered today.” Your complaining falls on deaf ears as his arms wrap tighter around you. “Let me goooo!”

“Fine, if it makes ye stop fussin’.” He huffs as you sit up. He crosses his arms making a high-pitched ‘hmphf’. 

“I’ll be back, hun.” You lean down to give him a quick kiss.

Johnny waits for the shower to turn on before springing into action. He tosses the blanket to the side and tip-toes down the hallway determined to figure out what you’d been hiding earlier. He enters your room and begins looking around. He opens your closet, makes a mess of your desk drawers until he stumbles over to your nightstand. He pulls the drawer open and discovers the dark-covered book you tossed in there. The cover looked innocent enough, a soldier walking hand in hand with a woman in a pink sun dress. He flips the book over to read the summary. His eyes scan the text and he lets out a quiet ‘awww’ before opening it to a random page in the middle. 

“Jesus Christ, bonnie, wha’ are ye readin’ now?” His eyes go wide for a moment and he sucks his teeth.

You step out of the shower and wrap yourself in a towel before walking into his bedroom. You pick through his dresser for your clothes. He insisted you move some of your clothes to his room but they quickly got buried under his. You pick out your favorite striped pj shorts and an old shirt of his that you cut into a crop top. You walk out of his room heading back to the couch only to be stopped in your tracks when you notice the door of your room wide open and the light on. 

FUCK!

You quiet your footsteps and slowly peek into the room. You see him sitting on your bed, drawer open, and a very familiar object in his hands. You decide that the best thing you can do is hide but as you shift your weight onto your back foot the floor creaks.

“Bonnie!” He calls out. The stern tone in his voice makes you jump. “Come ower here.” You silently freak the fuck out before poking your head through the door.

“Yes, honey?”

The look on his face pulls you into the door frame.

“Wha’ did I tell ye no tae be readin’ the kin o’ books?”

Shit. He’s mad.

His accent gets rougher and you know for a fact that he’s not happy with this discovery.

You’re quick to defend yourself.

“I swear I didn’t know!” You blurt out. “The summary was so cute I didn’t think it was gonna be like that.”

He looks down, closing the book before looking back at you.

“Ye jus’ bought it? Didn’t ye open it up afore haund?”

His eyebrows furrow. His intense gaze burrows into you waiting for an answer. You chew on your bottom lip. He was always able to get the truth out of you. He knew you couldn’t stand being at the receiving end of his glare. You begin fumbling your fingers.

“I may have read a chapter at the store.” He throws his head back with a groan upon hearing the confession. “BUT, it wasn’t like the rest of the book, I swear!”

His jaw clenches for a second and he shakes his head.

“Oh bonnie, wha’ am I gonnae dae wi’ ye?” He mutters as he stands, shaking the book at you before tossing it onto the bed. He calmly walks towards you. He towers over you and one of his hands tangles itself in your hair pulling just enough to make you look straight up at him. 

“Yer a pure bad lassie. Cannae even heed simple orders.” 

He suddenly takes you by the arm and walks you into his room.

“Nasty wee thing,” He growls, forcing you onto the bed. “Can’t follow directions. Hidin’ things from me.” He sucks his teeth as his hands rush to yank your shirt off. He gives you no time to reorient yourself before he pushes you onto your back.

He climbs onto the bed and straddles you gripping your wrists in one hand. He grabs your chin forcing you to look up at him.

“Needy fuckin’ whore, aren’t ye?”

“Johnny, I’m sorry.” You whine trying to break out of his grip.

He scoffs, “We’ll see about tha’.”

He yanks his sweats off. You watch him closely hoping that he’ll change his mind about this punishment. His size becomes more apparent with the anger radiating off of him. 

“Baby, I promise I won’t do it anymore.” He ignores your pleas. Your eyes trail down and you see he’s rock-hard. He lays his weight on you biting at your neck. His bare cock presses against you over your shorts. His free hand goes to your breast, pinching your nipple and rolling it in his fingers. You half-mindedly grind against him.

“Oh no, Lassie. Yer not getting what you want just yet.”

He kisses down your chest capturing one of your nipples in his mouth, his tongue plays with the sensitive nub. He slides his arm under your thigh, bringing one leg to his waist. His fingers run over your clothed cunt and he groans.

“Yer soaked. My wee slut is so wet fur me.” His voice rasps. His mouth moves to your other breast. Your nails dig into your palms when his teeth graze the nub.

“Baby, please,” You cry out, needing to feel him inside you. The ache was becoming too much to bear and he was so close. His scent only helped to cloud your brain and the heat radiating off of him was setting you ablaze.

“So impatient.” He taunts as he pulls away to work your shorts down your legs to reveal the wet patch on your panties that had become transparent. He chokes out a moan at the sight,

“So fuckin’ wet.”

He slips his fingers underneath the fabric at your hips and in a swift motion pulls them until they rip. You gasp, eyes shooting down at him. He’d never acted this way in bed, he’d usually undress you with a thousand kisses, making sure his lips touched every bit of exposed skin until he reached where you wanted him most, he’d slow down for a moment and place a kiss on your clit before devouring you whole and leaving you with soul-crushing orgasm before the big finale. This time he restrains himself leaving your hips bucking for his touch. In this moment, you missed your sweet and caring Johnny.

“I know wha’ ye want, bonnie.” He looks up at you with his little evil smirk. “I’m not gonna treat ye like my princess when yer not actin’ like one.”

Before you can protest his fingers begin playing at your entrance. He slides two of his thick digits into you. Your breath hitches feeling the calloused skin inside you. He pumps his fingers, curling them into that special spot.

“So tight.” He breaths out, occasionally flicking your clit with his thumb. You want him inside you so bad your head is spinning. He lowers his head dropping his tongue to your clit, he couldn’t help himself, his head belonged in between your legs and he couldn’t fight that.

He continues moving his fingers in and out of you, grazing your g-spot each time. His tongue circles your clit and you throw your head back into the pillows. Your pants fill the room, your wrists aching.

“Johnnyyyyy.” Your back arches as he speeds up. His eyes almost roll back listening to your whines.

He feels you tighten against his fingers, waiting for the right moment. 

“Hmmmm.” You tighten around him once more and he pulls away from you, denying you of your release. Your head shoots up and he’s sucking the wetness off his fingers. He chuckles at the frustrated look on your face.

“That’s not fair!”

“Oh, but it is, only good girls get tae cum.”

He leans over you on his elbow grabbing a handful of your hair. He pulls your head back, the pain forcing a whine from your lips. “No woman of mine will be readin’ filth about another man.” His lips graze the side of your face. “I’m the only man ye should fantasizin’ about. I’m the only one who’s cock ye should be thinkin’ of.”

“You are! You’re the only man I think about!”

“I’ll make sure of it.”

He slides himself into you and your body tenses up at the intrusion. He coos at you as you try to adjust to his length. He forces your head to the side and his lips are on yours. He deepens the kiss attempting to capture your tongue with his. He uses the kiss as a distraction to slide the rest of himself into you. He buries himself to the hilt and you gasp into the kiss. He moans softly, breaking away from your lips and resting his head in the crook of your neck. The feeling of being inside you was almost too much for him to bear. So warm and wet, the nerves on his cock fire off when the tip finds your soft cervix.

“Fuckin’ Christ.” He pants into your skin. “This pussy is pure sin.”

He gathers himself before he begins moving. He slides in and out of you and your lips part slightly, eyes clamped shut. He releases shaky breaths, the tightness making his head spin.

“O’ fuck!” He thrusts slowly, pulling away slightly to enjoy the view of him disappearing inside you. His free hand grabs your waist to keep you from sliding away from him as his pace picks up. Your mind goes blank, the stretch of his cock is intoxicating. His thrusts jolt you upwards forcing whines from you. 

“Johnny, please let me touch you.”

“Promise me no more of those fuckin’ books,” He breaths into your necks.

“I promise, I promise, I promise!” You chant. Your voice comes out pathetic and desperate. He releases your wrists, his arms sliding under your body to wrap around you. Your hands fly to his back, nails digging into his skin. He pounds into you relentlessly, your eyesight blurs, and your back struggles to arch against his weight. 

His name falls from you in a chant mixed with small gasps. The bed creaks loudly as his hips slam into the underside of your soft thighs. Your legs wrap around his waist, hands grasping at him for dear life. He moans into your neck, his rasps hitting your skin along with his ragged breaths.

“Oh god, Johnny!” Your mouth hangs open. The feeling of him filling you up so perfectly leaves you almost in a trance-like state, unable to think or form a single thought. 

“Ye take me so well, bonnie, don’t ye?”

He tightens his hold on you, the tight squeeze around his cock has him almost drooling. Your warm velvet walls test him every time, he uses every bit of strength he has to not finish too soon when he buries himself inside you. His tip kissing your cervix shoots pleasure through the both of you. He swears little invisible hearts circle his head every time you whimper out his name.

He digs his teeth into your neck, marking you. “Mine. All mine.” He groans into the now red flesh. He frees one of his arms from under you and begins massaging your clit begging to feel you clamp down around him. 

“Bonnie, ye feel tae good. Cum on my cock, ye been a good girl.” You moan in response. “Gonnae fill ye up nice and deep. Ye want tha’?”

You nod frantically. Your pussy flutters warning him of your impending orgasm. He continues his pace as he whispers pure filth into your ear. Telling you how much he loves your pussy, how you belong to him and only him. You try to warn him but it hits hard and fast, before you know it you’re a mess beneath him. Nails dragging down his skin leaving red lines, your pussy spasming around him pulling over the edge.

He ruts into you shooting thick streams onto your walls. You feel him twitching inside you as he thrusts his cum deeper into you. “Take it all, bonnie.”

He continues thrusting, dragging out your orgasm. Your pussy clamps down on him milking him for all he’s worth leaving you twitching from the overstimulation.

“Fuckin’ hell.” He slows his movements letting out a deep breath before locking eyes with you. A goofy smile appears on his lips causing you to giggle. He mummers a “C’mere,” before kissing you sweetly. He slides out of you slowly as he caresses your thigh.

“Let’s get ye cleaned up,” He plants a kiss on your forehead before wrapping his arms around you once more and lifting you onto his lap. He slides the both of you off the bed and carries you into the bathroom putting you down gently on the counter. He turns the shower on and while the two of you wait for the water to heat up he peppers your face with kisses. 

He carries you into the shower letting you steady yourself on your feet before pulling you to his chest. The warm water runs over his shoulders flowing down your back. His lips brush the top of your head.

“I love you, bonnie.” He whispers.

[sweetyyhippyy]

Forgotten Anniversary. Steve Harrington x Fem! Reader. *FLUFF*

Summary: A few weeks after the birth of their baby girl, Steve's wife forgets an important date.

Word Count: 1k

TW: Talking about birth and labor, being forgetful, crying.

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

It had been a blurry 2 weeks after the birth of their first baby, little Mia Alexandra Harrington.

She was an 8 pound 2 ounce little peanut, born with a lot more hair than anyone had thought.

Mia had come a few weeks earlier than expected. The birthing experience was exhausting, plus some complications during labor caused both of them to stay in the hospital for 5 extra days than they had expected.

Steve had been the most incredible man the entire time. He held his wife's hand and was by her side the entire labor process, feeding her ice chips at her request, fanning her face, kissing her head when she cried from the pain, and praised her the entire time she was pushing, encouraging her to keep going, and not letting her give up when she told him she couldn’t do it.

He had taken the fatherhood role like a champ, doing most of the diaper changes that way she didn’t have to lift. Even in the middle of the night when she was nursing, he got up with both of them, getting her some snacks or water, whatever she wanted or needed. She always had his support, and she was so thankful for it.

Both of them were exhausted between Mia mixing up her days and nights, trying to navigate through the slight colic she had, both of them taking turns trying to soothe her so the other didn’t get too overwhelmed.

Today was a bit of a rough day, Mia was uncomfortable and let everyone know it. Like always, Steve and her took turns trying to relieve the gas in her tummy to make her feel better, but Mia was not having any of it.

She wanted to be held close or to be fed, and if either of them thought about putting her down, she was going to make both of them regret it.

Steve watched as Mia fed from his wife on and off all day, feeling bad that she was in pain from her breasts being so sensitive. Her oversized shirt was covered in spit up and soda that she had spilled on herself during lunch accidentally. But she was far too tired and sore even still to go change.

Steve had run out to go get her some ice cream, a treat that both of them had deserved after today, so it had just left her and their baby girl in the living room watching reruns of The Golden Girls, one of her guilty pleasure shows.

She watched their baby girl next to her on the couch fast asleep and slightly milk drunk. She studied her face, trying to determine if she had her nose or Steve’s (it was most definitely Steve’s), if she had her lips or Steve’s (hers), and who she was going to get her personality from.

From behind the couch she could hear the lock turn, meaning Steve was home. She shifted on the couch, watching him come in with a smile on her face. It wasn’t until he turned around that she saw a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

“Stevie, you got me flowers?” She melts inside, beaming at her husband.

Steve rounds the couch, handing her the flowers. “I wanted to do something nice for you today.”

“Aww, aren’t you sweet? I know today has been hard, but I finally got her down when you were gone.”

“Well actually… today is our anniversary.” Steve says awkwardly.

Her eyes grow wide at his words, her heart falling into her stomach at the realization that she had forgotten their wedding anniversary. “Steve, oh my god. Steve, I'm so sorry!”

“No, honey! It’s not your fault. There’s been so much going on the past few weeks, both of us have been in baby land and we’ve barely gotten any sleep.”

Tears start to burn her eyes as she stares at her husband, guilt running through her body. “You still remember our anniversary. I totally spaced it. I feel so awful.” The tears start to roll down her cheeks, quickly trying to wipe them away.

“Honey, it’s okay. I promise I’m not mad or upset that it slipped your mind.” Steve comes next to her on the couch, kissing her forehead and wrapping his arm around her. “You’ve had a lot going on, you spent 8 and a half months growing our daughter in your belly, you spent 19 hours in labor and you had such hard labor. You’ve been crushing it with breast feeding since we’ve been home.”

She looks into her husband’s eyes, guilt still riddled on her face. “I’m so sorry, Stevie.”

Steve softly kisses her lips twice, nudging his nose against hers. “Not to be a total goob, but you kind of did give me the best anniversary present of all. You gave me my first born, that’s a pretty good anniversary present.”

She smiles at his words, resting her forehead against his. “You’re such a goob. I promise I’ll make this up to you.”

“No rush, honey. We have a lot more anniversaries in our future for us to celebrate.”

“I love you so much, Stevie.” She kisses his lips, the sudden cry from their daughter interrupting them.

Steve laughs as he pulls away from his wife. “We also have a lot more intimate moments being interrupted by our children to look forward to.”

“Children? How many more children of yours do you think I’m bearing?” She jokes, grabbing the crying infant and quietly shushing her. “This one tried to kill me.”

Steve puts his hands out, requesting the baby from her. She hands him the baby and her spit up rag, smiling from ear to ear as she watches Steve settle her against his chest.

“You think I was kidding when I said I wanted six?” He raises his eyebrows, laughing to himself as he walks out of the room to go change his daughter.

“Steven Harrington, I already said I was not giving birth six times. You’ve lost your mind.” She slowly gets off the couch, following him to finish scolding him.

“You don’t have to give birth six times, we can always try for twins.” He calls back to her, the grin on his face prominent in his words.

[transform4u]

My biological father was a drunk, gassy and musky construction worker who ran away not long after I was born. Do you think I could see what it's like being in his shoes, to better understand his actions?

You sit in your tiny apartment, the cozy space filled with the soft glow of your iPhone 15 Pro Max. Grey's Anatomy plays on Netflix, a rerun that offers comfort in its familiarity. You absentmindedly scroll through Instagram, double-tapping on posts of guys who catch your eye, a small indulgence in the midst of your evening routine.

Your thoughts drift towards your father, a complicated figure in your life. There's a part of you that longs to understand him better, to bridge the gap that seems to have grown between you. You contemplate picking up the phone to call him, wondering if tonight might be the night to break the silence.

Suddenly, the clock on your phone catches your eye. Its numbers begin to rewind, ticking backwards in a surreal reversal. Your sleek iPhone 15 Pro Max begins to morph before your eyes, shrinking and changing into an iPhone X, then an iPhone 6, then further still until it resembles an older, basic model from years past.

The transformation isn't limited to your phone. Your apartment around you starts to shift and change. The modern decor fades away, replaced by the more utilitarian furnishings of a dorm room. The air feels different, charged with a strange energy that sends a shiver down your spine.

Before you can make sense of what's happening, the door bursts open with a force that startles you. A tall, robust figure strides in confidently, exuding a familiar but younger vibe. "Sup, bro? Ready to hit the town?" he booms, his voice echoing in the small room.

Your head throbs painfully as you struggle to understand. He continues, a grin spreading across his face, "Need to get fucking wasted! I can't believe Obama got elected. McCain was my man!" He tosses you a beer from a nearby mini-fridge with a nonchalant gesture.

The mention of Obama and McCain strikes you as bizarrely out of place. Those were events from years ago, not recent history as he seems to think. The man sitting beside you now, burping loudly in your ear, looks uncannily like your father—but younger, much younger.

As his echo reverberates through your body, a chill runs down your spine. This surreal encounter defies logic and reason, pulling you deeper into a past that shouldn't be. You're left grappling with the unsettling feeling that you've stumbled into a moment beyond time, where understanding and reality blur into a disorienting haze.

The chill ran down your less-than-average body, a testament to years of neglect and occasional indulgence. You were weather-faced, with a hint of weariness etched into your features. Your clothes, a mismatch of old favorites, hugged uncomfortably close to the bulges and love handles that had crept up over time. Taking a sip of the beer offered by the coyly smiling guy next to you, you felt a strange sensation wash over you, as if your body was shifting, morphing in ways you couldn't comprehend.

Aches spread like a full-body hangover, making you lurch forward slightly. It was a sensation akin to a sudden surge of energy coursing through you, transforming the weight you carried into something stronger. You felt heavy with the potential of pumped-up muscles, ones honed through sporadic workouts and the occasional pick-up football game under the sun. Your chest swelled with an unexpected pride, pushing against the fabric of a worn-out tank top that seemed to fit better now than it had moments ago. Sinewy biceps and veins pulsed visibly under the dim party lights as you raised your drink in a toast, feeling every bit the reckless young college freshman.

Your face, typically unremarkable, now bore a flush from the night's indulgences. Your jawline, softened by the haze of alcohol, relaxed into a carefree grin that spread from ear to ear. Hazel eyes, dulled by the night's revelry, gleamed mischievously under tousled blond hair that caught the party's chaotic energy.

Dressed in classic college attire—khaki shorts that rode comfortably on your hips, showcasing the toned muscles of your thighs, and a faded tank top adorned with the emblem of your fraternity—you felt surprisingly at ease. Well-worn boat shoes adorned your feet, tapping eagerly to the beat of the music as if anticipating the next spontaneous dance move.

In your dorm room, the air was thick with the scent of cheap beer and the promise of a wild night ahead. The dude next to you, your roommate, was practically vibrating with excitement as he poured you a shot and shouted, "Let's rage, bro!" You couldn't help but get caught up in his enthusiasm, clinking your shot glass against his and downing the fiery liquid with a cheer.

"To being the best roommates and finding a rager tonight!" he declared, his voice filled with the exuberance of youthful optimism. The burn of whiskey warmed your throat as you joined in his toast, the alcohol quickly beginning to blur the edges of reality.

In an instant, you found yourself transported to a raging frat party. The room pulsed with the infectious beat of "Low" by Flo Rida, reverberating off the walls and mingling with the raucous laughter and shouts of rowdy frat bros. They were everywhere, clad in nothing but backwards baseball caps and gym shorts that showcased their chiseled physiques. Beer dribbled down their defined pecs and abs, catching the light in a tantalizing display that drew your gaze involuntarily.

You felt a strange mix of admiration and arousal, intensified by the haze of alcohol and the charged atmosphere of the party. Your buddy nudged you with a grin, pointing towards a girl across the room. "She's so hot, right?" he asked eagerly, oblivious to the pounding headache that was beginning to throb in your temples.

As "Low" continued to pump through the room, you let out an awkward burp, the taste of whiskey lingering on your tongue. The sound seemed to echo in the chaotic din around you, a stark contrast to the once-clear thoughts that now seemed distant and unreachable. Intelligence slipped away like sand through an hourglass, replaced by a growing sense of intoxication and confusion. "You ain't checking out Zeke and Brock are ya? You ain't no fucking faggot now is ya?" He punches your arm playfully but there's an edge of seriousness in his voice that makes it clear he wouldn't tolerate any homosexual behavior from his friends under any circumstances You look at him, of course you're a fucking fag---a homo---gay. But a pain and rage coarse through you "I ain't no fag! That's fucking gross bro. You know I need dat fine pussy over there" pointing to some slutty looking blonde girl.

Your desire to breed and dominate women burns bright within you, pushing away any thoughts of being a sissy or gay. You point to the blonde across the room whose curves have captured your attention entirely. A part of you knows what it means to be gay – a pain and rage course through you at just thinking about it – but all rational thought flees as lust takes over. All that matters now is claiming this woman for yourself; breeding her and proving once again who holds court here tonight. With every step she takes closer towards where both of you stand, primal instincts kick into high gear: blood rushes southward leaving nothing but pure adrenaline coursing through veins primed for action! It's time for dominance –

As the blonde chick approaches, your desire to breed and fuck chicks burns hotter than ever. The thought of being a fag recedes into the background, replaced by primal urges that demand satisfaction.

You sneer at the very idea of being a fag, letting out a low growl as rage builds within you. You couldn't wait to punch some sissy senseless and prove your dominance once more – but for now, this woman has captured all your attention. Her huge tits sway seductively in time with every step she takes towards where both of you stand; it feels like an animal in heat ready to be claimed by its mate!

You flex your muscles as best you can in your tight t-shirt and approach her confidently. "Hey there beautiful," you say smoothly, as slight Jersey accent forming, flashing a pearly white smile that might be charming if it wasn't so obvious that you were already well past drunk. She giggles at your flirtation before introducing herself as Ashley. With a playful wink, she invites you to join her on the dance floor where The Killers' "Mr Brightside" is playing loudly enough for everyone to sing along with gusto.

The night seems endless; filled with more alcohol than food and countless conversations about nothing important at all - just like every other frat party ever thrown by these guys who think they know how to have fun but really don't understand much beyond getting wasted and trying not think too hard about tomorrow morning when reality will inevitably come crashing back down on them again.

"I'm uhhh---ummm" it's not that your drunk, which you are, but you can't even rememebr your name "I'm uhhh---Tanner, hahaha but everyone calls me T-Dawg," you say, your voice thick with confidence your accent deepening. As if on cue, a deep unnatural tan washes over your skin while gel coats every strand of hair on your head. A gawdy gold necklace wraps itself around your neck as if it were always meant to be there. Looking like a Jersey Shore reject.

You take Ashley by the hand and lead her over to a ratty, beer-stained couch in the corner of the room. She hesitates for a moment before following you – perhaps she can sense what's about to happen next or maybe she just wants it as much as you do.

Once seated on the couch, you force her head down towards your crotch without hesitation or remorse. The smell of sweat, beer and musk fills the air; it's intoxicatingly familiar yet new at once – like being wrapped up in an old blanket after coming home from war. The scent makes you feel like an alpha male through and through – unstoppable force ready for anything life throws at him! She takes hold of your hardened shaft with one hand while using her tongue expertly against its sensitive underside; moans escape her breathlessly. With each stroke upwards towards your tip followed by retreat back down again (and sometimes sideways too), you grunt approvingly knowing that soon enough you will find yourselves lost within each other completely oblivious to everything else.

Ashley's eyes widen in surprise as she stares up at you while your cock throbs inside her mouth. With a primal roar, you let go of all control and release your load directly into her face, causing her to gag on the thick cum that spurts out of you like a geyser. She quickly pulls back with a look of shock mixed with arousal before standing up and brushing off her hands like nothing happened.

"Now be a good bitch and get me a beer," you slur drunkenly, using the only word in your vocabulary that seems appropriate for this situation. Ashley giggles vapidly before turning around and walking away without another word - clearly already planning on finding someone else to satisfy her needs since yours were so easily fulfilled just moments ago.

As the night wears on, you and your buddy continue to live up to your reputation as fearless bro-conquistadors. Between shots of tequila and chugging beers straight from the keg, you take turns seeing who can faaaaarrrrrrrrt the loudest without holding back. PFFFFFFFFFFFFT The smell is pungent enough that it makes most of the other bros at the party recoil in disgust but neither one of you seem to care - instead choosing to revel in your newfound gas-passing skills as if they were some sort of art form all their own.

Between fart battles and flirting with every half-dressed girl who crosses your path, memories start blurring together into a hazy montage: flashes of bodies grinding against each other on dance floors filled with strobe lights; faces contorted into drunken smiles underneath twinkling strings lights hanging from trees outside; laughter ringing out through crowded rooms packed full from wall-to-wall people desperate for fun before they have responsibilities tomorrow morning.

After a while, you black out. When you wake up, it's in your dorm room – but something is off. The smell of the loudest, most obnoxious fart assaults your senses as soon as you open your eyes. "Dude," says your roommate and best friend from across the room, "you fucking stink."

You feel yourself through last night's hangover; morning wood still firmly in place despite it being 9 AM. Your buddy tosses you a beer without any hesitation or judgment; he knows exactly what kind of college bro life is all about! And so do you – there's nothing quite like starting the day with a cold one before heading out to class or whatever else life throws at them on any given day… Even if that means letting loose an enormous burp right into his face after taking that first sip from his freshly opened can of beer… Because fuck yeah! College was awesome!

As you get ready for the day, you see yourself in the mirror – and what do you see? A dumbass, loud-mouthed obnoxious college freshman! A total Jersey Shore fratbro.

Your roommate high-fives you as if to say "Let's make 2008 are fucking bitch bro!" It turns out that not only are you living in the past now but with the dude that used to be your dad! Not that you'd remember. You let out a wicked, ranky faaaaaaaarrrrt that fills the room as you nostrils flare taking the smell in.

You both let out a huge laugh at this revelation before deciding it's time to score some hot chicks and get day drunk. Who needs class anyway? With that thought in mind, another gassy burrrrrrrrrp escapes from deep within your gut – a reminder of just how much fun being an unapologetically straight college bro can be… So why not embrace it wholeheartedly?

[garbinge]

GOOD MOOD

Leroy Jethro Gibbs x F!Wife!Reader // Word Count: 1.3k Summary: Gibbs comes home in a good mood and you decide the best way to break some not so 'good mood' news to him. Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. liiiiight angst. liiiight fluff. Smoking Weed/Being High. Mentions of losing a job, violence, punching. No use of Y/N. Reader is a private investigator, married to Gibbs, and has a teenage child in this fic. A/N: Been rewatching NCIS from the beginning and I just simply forgot how much I love this show. Grew up watching some episodes when they'd be on tv running reruns but never watched from season to season before and I just jkshjkhf love it so much. So now I'm adding another fandom and character to the roster!

“You know I’m a federal agent, right?” Gibbs’s voice came from behind you along with the sliding of your back porch door. 

“Yea, but I’m not.” You smirked, holding the joint in your hand as you blew the smoke out that he was clearly smelling as he joined you in the backyard. 

“What’s with the new recreational activity?” He still had his work clothes on as he turned the patio chair around so it was next to yours. 

“Rough day at work.” You exhaled. 

“Being a private dick will do that.” He had a hint of humor in his voice as he said it. Teasing your occupation the way he would if it was anyone else.

“Investigator.” Correcting him with a smirk on your face, you continued talking. “And what can I say, there were no more special agent openings at NCIS.” 

“You’d fail the drug test anyways.” He was looking over at you, a smile wide on his face. 

“You’re in a good mood.” Your eyebrows raised, your face matching his humor. 

“Better than usual.” He shrugged and kicked his feet up on the bricks that surrounded the fire pit in front of you.

“Hm.” Turning your head back forward, you looked at the fire that was starting to die down. 

Gibbs’s face turned into a frown as he questioned you. “What’s that?” 

“What’s what?” You teased him, taking advantage of his good mood. 

“What’s with the hm?” He mimicked the noise you made. 

Letting out a laugh you dropped your head on your shoulder, “I’m debating if I want to ruin your good mood.” 

“Ah.” It was his turn now to look away and towards the fire pit. “How bad?”

“Eh.” You shrugged. 

“That’s like a 5, that’s not bad.” He was joking but his face was serious which is what made you laugh out loud slightly before deciding to spit out the news. 

“I lost my job.” 

Gibbs didn’t show any emotion on his face, just a slight nod as he acknowledged you. “Who’d you punch?” 

It never should have surprised you when Gibbs knew things without being told, but it always did. 

“Your knuckles.” He was getting up to feed the fire as he said it. 

Your eyes looked down and saw the red bruising finding it's home around your knuckles and closed your eyes as you rested your head against the back of the chair, joint still in your left hand. 

“My private dick of a boss.” 

Gibbs smirked slightly at that as he dropped a few more pieces of wood into the fire. “Enough was enough, huh?” 

“That and he called me a bitch.” That was a statement which earned you a look from him, he froze in his steps and stared up at you through his brows. “Don’t worry, I clearly took care of it.” You flashed your hand to him. 

He went back to feeding the fire as the silence fell over you two for a few minutes. Coming back to the patio chair, he sat down and placed his hands behind his head. 

“All things considered, that’s not too bad. Never understood why you worked for that asshole.” 

“I told you, NCIS wasn’t hiring.” While it was a joke, Gibbs took you seriously. 

He pointed to the joint. “I could get you in. Just have to wait a couple weeks.” 

“Nah, I’m goin’ back to my roots. Investigative journalism.” Your eyebrows raised. 

It was how you met Gibbs all those years ago, you were working on a big story, one that brought you to the NCIS headquarters during Gibbs’s first year on the job as special agent. The rest was history. 

“And now I have an in at the Naval Criminal Investigators offices if I find myself with a big Navy scoop.” 

“Pretty sure you had an in when you first stepped onto those offices.” He was smiling now, staring at you. 

“You’re still in a good mood.” You smiled back at him, both of you looking at each other as the orange tone of the fire reflected off his skin. 

“Told you, wasn’t that bad.” 

“Hold onto that feeling.” You scrunched your face up while his own face dropped. “Aren’t you going to ask me where I got the weed?” 

Gibbs's mind started running, trying to think of an answer that made sense. Putting that special agent brain to work as if it wasn’t overworked enough all day on duty. He was coming up blank, which automatically put him a few points lower on the good mood meter, stumping Gibbs wasn’t enjoyable, for anyone. 

“Where’d you get the weed?” He asked, knowing you wouldn’t tell him unless he did ask. You knew better than to interrupt Gibbs when he was working a case, interrogating someone, or even just as simple as working through a thought. 

“Your daughter.” After you said it, you took another hit from the joint, knowing you were gonna need it for his response. 

“What?!” He kicked his feet off the fire pit bricks, his arms were next to his body which was sitting up now, bent over his legs as he leaned forward all while turning to look back at you, shock–or anger, all over his face. 

“Got a call from the school today, she got caught smoking in the bathroom. The school apparently doesn’t discard of the herb on their own so they gave it back to me.” You let out a giggle at that, clearly the weed starting to work its wonders on you but also laughing at the strange policy. 

“Where is she?” Gibbs was still concerned. 

“In her room, where she’ll be for the next two weeks. I told her how her father is a federal agent and she can’t have this shit in the house.” 

Gibbs’s face twisted up in a smile at that comment. “So you, her mother, clearly are out here setting the example for her.” 

“I had to get rid of it somehow.” You lifted your hands in innocence. 

Gibbs let out a laugh. “You too high to help me with the boat?” 

“Never.” You were getting up, tossing the joint into the fire. “You gonna talk to her?” Now you were standing in front of your husband, his eyes were moving away from yours at the thought of needing to scold his teenage daughter. 

“Depends. What else you tell her?” 

“That I was still deciding if I was going to tell you or not.” 

It was the most you saw Gibbs smile in one night in a while. He was in a good mood. 

“That’s good, that’ll keep her guessing.” 

“Ain’t my first rodeo.” Your shoulders raised as you bragged, humbly. 

It was then that he placed his lips on your forehead, giving you a quick kiss as his hand moved to your hand that was littered with the memory of your awful day. His thumbs lightly caressing the bruises on your knuckles.

“You knock him out cold?” 

“I told you, it ain’t my first rodeo.”  That made Gibbs good mood turn to a great one, he never liked the guy you worked for, he didn’t like private investigators at all, but for you he tolerated them. But this not only meant he was done tolerating them but that he’d get to live with the mental image of you knocking the jerk out cold. 

“C’mon, I’m almost done with the hull, have a feeling this story is gonna get me through the finish line on that.” 

“Eh.” You scrunched your face up again. “I am high, so probably through the rest of the hull and the start of the bow. I get kind of chatty.” 

With a laugh, Gibbs tossed his arm over your shoulder and planted another kiss to your temple. Yea, he was still in a good mood.

Dividers by: realitycanbewhateveridesire ♡ 🕵️ NCIS Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 (let me know if you’d like to be added! I'm using my all writing taglist right now!)

[swiftdove]

delicate

pairing: taylor swift x fem!reader

word count: 1191

warnings: angst (kind of?), comfort

summary: you knew what you were in for when you started dating the world-renowned pop-star, but you'd underestimated the feeling of inferiority that would come with it.

No matter how hard you'd tried to, you couldn't ignore the uneasy feeling that had settled in your stomach over the past few weeks.

You had always prided yourself for your laid-back nature, but as of lately, you'd been feeling neglected. The millions of people thirsting over your girlfriend wasn't doing you any favors either.

You'd known what to expect, dating a world-renowned popstar. You'd known what being in a relationship with her came with. Rest assured, she'd always made clear that she was no better than you in any way, but that was hard to believe when she was earning millions a night whilst you were rotting away in your bedroom, watching another rerun of Gilmore Girls.

You knew you shouldn't be. You should've been happier by now. Healthier. When you'd first started dating Taylor, you felt at the top of the world. But even then, the slight feeling of inferiority crept in. You'd never say anything about it. How could you? And even if you did, what could she do about it? You knew she wasn't about the end her entire career for you, and you didn't expect her to. There was no balance in your relationship, no matter how hard you tried. You'd always the the inferior one, the weaker one, the mundane one.

Which was exactly why you hadn't made your relationship with her public. The backlash would've been ruthless, and you couldn't put Taylor through that. You'd been the one to make that decision, but the way she'd agreed to it just a little too excitedly still lingered in the back of your mind.

No.

You weren't doing this again.

With a reluctant groan, you slipped out of your bedsheets and drew open the blinds. You were immediately met with the sun's unwelcoming gaze.

You stumbled back, just managing to catch yourself on the corner of your bedside table. The sharp corner jabbed into your skin, pain shooting up your bone.

A small wince escaped your throat as you instinctively jumped away. You could feel the blood pooling around your wound, but you couldn't bother to clean it up. It's not like there was anyone around to impress, anyways.

You could practically hear Taylor gently admonishing you inside your head. Handling you like you were going to break at any second.

You cringed at the thought, pushing it to the back of your mind. Instead, you directed your attention to Meredith.

"What shall we do today, hm?" you asked, sliding open your closet door. "Go to the mall? Go on a run?"

You swiveled around, only to be met with an unamused set of blue eyes.

"Come on, Mere," you groaned. "You're really not helping here at all."

Instead of acknowledging you, she chose to march off instead, leaving you to decide on today's activities by yourself.

A ping! noise vibrated off your phone, distracting you from the incredibly difficult task of choosing an outfit to wear today. Your eyes lit up at the sight of the name on your screen.

Taylor: Hey babe, I'll probably be here in around ten minutes. Can't wait to see you!

Your brows furrowed, confusion overtaking your features. It was only until you spotted the date on your lockscreen that you finally remembered.

"Shit," you groaned.

You'd forgotten that your girlfriend was coming back home today.

-

After what seemed like hours of mindless panicking, you'd finally managed to calm down. You'd gotten the blood off the nightstand, and had managed to tidy up the bedroom. All you had to do now was wait.

You'd changed into a floral sundress and had done your skincare for what was probably the first time in months. You'd quickly whipped up a batch of cookies, which were baking in the oven. For someone who was spiraling just an hour ago, you cleaned up pretty nice. You were just hoping that your girlfriend would fall for the illusion.

Just as it seemed like she was never coming, the door creaked open. Your eyes widening in excitement, you ran towards the entrance, a smile plastered on your face.

"Taylor!" you yelled, embracing your girlfriend in a tight hug. The blonde popstar laughed, placing down her bags.

"Hey, baby girl," she said, kissing you on the forehead.

"I missed you," you whispered, practically melting into her.

"I missed you too, baby, so much."

Finally, you pulled away, watching as Taylor got settled back in.

"How long are you staying for?" you quipped.

She sighed, hanging her coat by the doorway. "Just for a few days. I have to be in Los Angeles soon."

You tried your best to hide the disappointment in your voice. "Oh. Well, it's great to have you back."

Taylor barely acknowledged your comment, instead turning towards the oven.

"Oh! You're making cookies," she exclaimed in delight. "Can't wait to try them."

You gave her a small smile, before following her up to your bedroom suite.

You're like a lost puppy.

You grimaced at the voice in your head, the same voice that had haunted every dream of yours for the past few months. You'd tried to shrug it off at first, but the more you tried to ignore it, the louder it got.

"Babe? Are you listening?"

Taylor's voice jolted you out of your train of thought, her cerulean eyes boring into yours.

"Yeah," you answered shakily, forcing a smile back onto your face.

You could practically feel the atmosphere drop. The look in your girlfriend's eyes told you everything you needed to know.

"Y/N..."

"I'm fine," you snapped, turning away from her. You couldn't bear to look her in the eyes right now. You couldn't face the same soft-spoken words, the way she'd coerce you into her arms again.

"You're not fine. What happened, baby?"

You hated it. You hated when she talked to you like this. You didn't know why this was such a trigger for you, but you knew that you didn't like it.

Yet then again, it was exactly what you needed. A push. You'd been growing distant, and it hadn't gone unnoticed by Taylor. She had only come back for one reason, after all.

"You can tell me. I'm here to listen."

That was the final nail in the coffin. You could feel the tears burning in the back of your eyes, the red flush returning to your cheeks.

"I just missed you, that's all," you rasped, but even you didn't believe yourself this time.

You could feel Taylor's fingers glide over your jaw, gently forcing it upwards so that you were facing her.

"I love you," she husked. "You know that, right?"

The silence that followed confirmed her suspicions.

"Oh, baby girl," she sighed, her hand finding it's way around the back of your head. She pulled you closer, your face just inches above her breasts. "You can let go. I'm here."

With a final, shaky breath, you relented, letting go of your body. Taylor led you towards the bed, pulling you up onto her lap.

"Everything's going to be okay," she murmured, running her fingers through your hair.

And just for one moment, with your head on her lap and her calloused hands delicately caressing your skin, you truly did believe her.

[maiiuelle]

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ᡣ𐭩 ⋆ ˚｡⋆

life with the pogues can be exhausting.

you’d never run around so much before you met them — and you mean physically run around. they’re always off somewhere searching for something, and since you started dating jj maybank, you’ve been coming along for the ride.

luckily, john b put you and jj in charge of holding down the fort at the chateau while the rest of them are gone for the day, which just means endless snacks and snuggling with your boyfriend on the couch. jj found some cartoons reruns on TV to watch while you work on a crochet project.

the two of you have been doing just that for hours — jj’s up microwaving your third bag of popcorn while you stack up purple granny squares on the couch cushion beside you. he appears in the doorway, his finger in his mouth from burning it for the third time from opening the popcorn too fast. he looks you over as you finish the last cluster of double crochets on a granny square. “give it a rest, mama. ain’t you tired?” he asks, muffled by a mouth full of popcorn as he sits back down in his spot beside you. you had been hard at work since you got there, dead set on making at least half the amount of squares you’d need for a full blanket before the pogues got back. it was never going to happen, but you’re still determined to try.

you finally set aside your hook and yarn, looking down at your cramped hands. “i’m fine, jayj.” your fingers feel stiff, the creases in your skin are red and irritated from straining in the same position for so long. your face twists as you crack your knuckles, the discomfort too much to ignore.

“oh, baby girl—” jj shakes his head at you, stuffing his face one last time before putting the popcorn aside. he holds his hands out, motioning for you to put your hands in his. “—looks to me like you need one of my famous hand massages. give ‘em here, c’mon.”

“famous? and i haven’t gotten one yet?” you giggle, immediately giving in and letting him take one of your hands. his thumbs gently rub at your palm, slowly working out the tension from the middle out through your fingers. his calloused hands are so strong, forcing out every knot.

“i mean famous to john b n pope — works like a charm after fishin’ all day.” he explains, gaze focused on your hands. they’re tiny in comparison to his, he has to make a conscious effort to be more gentle than he is with his friends. he locks his fingers with yours, pulling them enough to crack them again. as a finishing touch, he presses a soft kiss into your knuckle, picking up your other hand to do it all over again. “how’s that feelin’? better?”

you flex your fingers, curling them and extending them a few times like it’s brand new. “so much better. thank you, jayj.” you reach with your free hand to get some popcorn, watching him ease out the tightness in your other hand. what a sweetie <3

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ᡣ𐭩 ⋆ ˚｡⋆

[atxxzist]

sweetest lies | c.s (03)

prev // series m.list

pairing: choi san x f!reader

word count: 7.7k

warning: none but lmk

you didn't want to go home because you knew that you'd have to face your sister.

look her in the eyes and see those very lips that yunho kissed and those hands that he probably held on more than one occasions, the wound still too fresh that it all still hurts.

but you didn't think you'd run smack into her before you could even pass the entrance, stopping in your steps immediately with surprised eyes similar to hers, the both of you swallowing down the same time as the air turn an awkward one.

you're about to just walk past her, the day from work leaving you tired and not in the mood for another long conversation about the topic, when your sister musters up the courage to let out a soft, "can we please talk?"

the tone aggravating you more than anything; how she can still sound so sweet and worried after what she's put you through.

you huff and merely roll your eyes, absolutely refusing to look at her although you know it's silly and petty--you being the older one but holding a grudge like no other, so much more less mature than her.

"i don't know what else is there to talk about," you respond, trying your very best to sound annoyed.

but she continues to make you feel worse with an even sweeter tone, "i'm sorry. i really am." and you can already picture the pearls in her eyes and pout on her lips despite still facing the other way.

"i know you like yunho. i do. but..." he's too handsome and charming; too sweet and kind that she also can't help but fall for him. she would never intend to steal him from you if he didn't return the sentiment.

"but he likes you too," you finish for her, something shifting in you that makes you finally look her in the eyes. "i get it. what am i gonna do? you're two grown consenting adults so i'll get over it."

you didn't even think such words could ever come out your mouth, but for the first time sounding surprisingly selfless because maybe talking to san did helped out a little.

there's a silence after that you're sure has marked the end of the topic, striving a step forward when her voice stops you again.

"we're planning on telling mom and dad and yunho's parents over dinner..." she says, delivery timid like she's just the slightest scared of your reaction.

you gulp down the knot, mumbling a dry, "good luck with that." and sliding past her.

you start seeing how truly mundane your life is once the person it used to revolve around is no longer there.

how, it’s a continuous cycle of work and coming home to a big empty house most days and watching reruns of shows until you’re bored out of your mind.

which is how you wind up at a co-worker’s house party, the young woman from the office next to you going by the name of dahyun kindly asking after a conversation with your boss about the paperworks regarding the transfer.

she joined the firm a few months after you but you’ve always known her to be outgoing and a people’s person, recalling the girl’s familiarity with everyone from the floor her second week of work.

it wasn’t like you had anything better to do, so you accepted the invitation and saved the following day for a night of fun, or at least you hoped so.

dahyun had said it’s just gonna be a regular house party; none of that crazy frat bullshit with the chance of someone under 20 attending, so it’s just gonna be chill and relaxing.

fives minutes into your arrival and it’s not too bad but you already find yourself hiding in a corner despite recognizing a few faces from the same working floor.

“if you’re gonna be here, you should at least try and have some fun.”

the familiar sounding voice from behind makes you quirk a brow, barely looking over your shoulder to see, probably the least expected person standing with amusement in his expression.

“seonghwa?” you say in disbelief, your body naturally following your curiosity to stand before him. “the fuck you doing here?”

“attending the party, isn’t that obvious?” he quips, continuing to close the gap before stopping with just enough space.

you scoff and roll your eyes, the sight bringing a smirk onto seonghwa’s lips.

“shut up. you know what i mean.”

“dahyun’s a friend,” he says casually, the answer making you squint.

“seriously? hongjoong and now you?” the complaint rolling off like it’s seonghwa’s fault. you can only cross your arms and sulk.

you can’t even recall the last time you actually saw seonghwa. it must’ve been your graduation or one last coincidental meeting… you don’t remember. it’s been that long.

“yeah, cause you have better things to do?” he pokes fun at the very obvious fact you came alone. “where’s that jeong boy? you know, the one that always got you on a leash.”

between hongjoong and seonghwa, seonghwa’s always been the more calm and level-headed of the two; being the voice of reason when you and hongjoong would lose it.

but on the occasion when he’d just let it go and be snarky, seonghwa could really pull a nerve.

“is that all people associate me with?” you have the audacity to click your tongue in annoyance and scoff like you didn’t do it to yourself.

seonghwa snickers.

“oh i’m sorry. it was just my most recent memory of you,” he says cheekily. voice calm but you know there’s hidden animosity underneath.

he never explicitly said whose side he took, but it was obvious from how he treated you the same as hongjoong did. it only made sense because they’ve known each other before you even came along.

you never fault him, knowing it mostly had to do with your own fuck-ups.

“hmm,” you hum, tone setting into the same sarcastic and dry one he has. “well, it’s nice catching up and all but i don't feel like reminiscing the past, so if you’ll excuse me.”

because you can admit your wrongdoings and also be both embarrassed about it, attempting to brush past him when his speaking voice stops you in track.

“hey, i was just trying to find something to talk about after all these years,” he says, half chuckling and staring at you from the opposite side now that you’ve managed to make it past him.

you snicker lowly.

“what?” you quirk a corner of your lips, continuing with amusement in your voice, “then you’re gonna say sorry? or expect me to?”

he shrugs.

"that's your choice."

but his body language now shifting, that playful look no longer in his eyes or tone, it's almost scary how fast it happened.

the next few seconds is a silent stare off, the only sound is the party music in the background and the slight beating of your heart at the ominous delivery.

"i'm not asking for an apology or whatever. frankly, it wasn't even my problem, but i'm just saying... your life would be a lot easier if you know how to say sorry for once."

seonghwa thinks you have too much pride; the same thing you believe to be keeping you intact is gonna be your ultimate downfall because even when you're clearly wrong or you know you're wrong, you never say it.

you're one to keep it bubbled inside and carry the guilt just because you think you should be unbreakable at all times. it's such an unrealistic standard you've set for yourself.

you raise a brow at that, tilting your head in confusion.

"i know how to say sorry," you tell him sternly, attempting to convince him as much as you are to yourself.

“i’m uhm… i’m sorry,” you utter lowly, sounding and appearing ashamed by the way your fingers fiddle with each other at your front, san almost can’t believe it.

“pardon?”

“i’m sorry, about this morning.”

it's beyond comprehension how san must've been the first person you've genuinely apologized to after going so many years of the word kept to yourself.

it must've been the absolute humiliation and loneliness that day that really got to you, breaking you down until you were so vulnerable with nothing but the choice to fold in front of the one person you felt you could still confide in.

san being that person is also beyond what you can explain.

but seonghwa only merely puffs and crosses his arms.

"i just think it would be great if we could be friends again one day," he says, the ominous dropping and voice turning soft and reminiscing again that it makes your eyes go wide before you see a smile turn up on his lips.

"if you ever want to reach out to me or hongjoong again, you know how to find us."

he leaves his last words of the night opened and vague, disappearing off with one last smile before he's out of your sight, leaving you with much to think about--just exactly as he intended.

there's only so much excuses to make or places to be after work just because you don't want to be there for dinner, knowing it's the day both yunho and your sister are gonna tell your parents and his the good news.

know that they're all gonna react with surprise and be so happy for them, erupting in cheers and congratulatory words that the two children they've been rooting for the longest time has finally gotten together.

there really isn't a lot, that you just sucked it up and stayed the few extra hours overtime to make up for all the instances you've slacked off, even starting on work saved for the following day, hoping it's long enough to just miss the dinner.

and just enough it is, you return right as the table's just about to be cleared, the chitters and chatters around loud enough to drown the opening and shutting of the front door with yunho the only one catching your presence standing in the hall.

"they were really happy, yeah..." he says awkwardly, standing before you in the cold chilly air of the backyard.

you really didn't want to talk about it anymore, the subject like beating a dead horse at this point. but yunho had approached you so cautiously and calmly, something genuine in his action that you couldn't say no when he asked to talk for one last time.

"hmm," you merely hum, really not made for comforting or encouraging. most of the anger already dissipated although the hurt's still there, you can't bring yourself to not feel even the slightest happy for him, even if the smallest percentage because you saw the biggest smile ever on him back at dinner.

you contemplate on what to say because yes, you're still hurt and feeling betrayed, but it's not like you can hold it over his head forever. he isn't some stranger you can easily avoid.

he's yunho and you're just gonna have to get over it; not just for his sake but also for yours just so you can feel a little more at peace and move on.

"i'm sorry," he suddenly let out, your head snapping from the ground and to his guilt-ridden eyes.

because though he still stands by what he said, not a single word a lie, the few days apart also allowed him to think outside of the box--especially from your perspective.

how selfish he really was from the start, playing along when he was being dishonest the entire time, and how much pain he could've saved everyone if he hadn't been such a coward.

if he hadn't wanted the best of both worlds and knew he would lose you in some way if you found out how he actually feels.

you have to blink a few times, feeling like a lost puppy under yunho's apologetic gaze because you honestly believe that in comparison, you have so much more to be sorry for.

and as if he could read your mind; your expression speaking for itself because you have a certain look of bafflement or aloofness whenever you feel guilty.

you won't ever say outright that you're wrong, but your body language always gave it out.

it was one of the very first traits he picked up from being around you, having seen it for himself at the starting age of twelve when you pushed a much younger san to his injury and cried--not because you got yelled at by your parents but because you felt bad.

and how distracted you were at the movies the entire time after your fight with hongjoong because you confessed to yunho a few days later that you were being a shitty friend.

you have such a way of dealing with your emotions, he wishes for there to be an outlet for you to deal with them in a healthy and accepting manner.

one that doesn't depend on him or anything else for all the wrong reasons.

"i'm sorry," he says again, eyes now softer but still sincere. "i know i already said this last time but i really got carried away and couldn't finish. but i truly am sorry. i should've told you sooner. i should've never given you any sort of false hope, and i should've just been honest from the start."

he's sure he's out of breath when he finishes, just waiting for you to now say something in return because despite all the ups and downs and shortcomings, you're the one who's been with him through most of his lowest points and he's so grateful for that.

he wouldn't want to lose you over this.

you stay quiet for a few seconds more, a mental battle in your head just so you'll be able to form something coherent when you do speak.

"we both just weren't right for each other," you say, pausing briefly, "in that way... at least."

because yunho hid things from you and you were so in your head you were convinced he was in love with you at one point, always looking at everything through a rose-coloured glass but now able to see for yourself once it cracked, just how destined it was to fail from the start.

"sorry," he mumbles, low and head still hanging in shame, you can't help the dry chuckle that falls from your lips.

"you don't have to keep telling me you're sorry. like what i told minjeong: i'll get over it."

he picks his head up from the more cheery tone, the smallest smile forming on your lips that takes him by surprise because of the illusion it gives off; that you were able to come to terms with it so fast, but he knows you and knows it's all just a facade.

nonetheless, he nods, gulping silently to pass a comment.

"i hope you're taking care of yourself."

you smile, turning your back on him and crossing your arms to stare up into the stars in the nightsky who's currently the witness to the end of your 'relationship' with the boy you've loved your whole life.

"i've considered transferring work. it's not set in stone yet, but i did talked to my boss and he said he'd help me look for an opening if i'm interested."

you think it will be good if you can seek your own independence for once, unable to think of a better time than this one.

and though you can't see yunho, you can tell he's intrigued by how his question squeaks slightly when asking.

"where would you be transferring?"

"japan," you answer, once again facing him. "it's different, but close enough where i don't have to feel like i'm halfway across the world. my boss said i have about two months-ish to make up my mind."

plus, japanese is the only other language you're fluent in. the country a similar but new enough experience and the true testimony to how you'll be, away from the grasp of your parents.

"i see," yunho replies, nodding in understanding; so much to say but at the same time unable to say anything. he wouldn't ever want to hear someone he's close to plans on moving away, but he's almost proud of you for taking that next step.

"feel free to call me up any time if you need help," he adds, a soft smile gracing his features that makes the moment so bittersweet. you wish you have the guts to hate yunho, but you really can't after all he's done for you.

you nod lightly, at the same time allowing yourself to enjoy the breeze and calm silence before letting all your guards down.

"yunho..." you call his name almost timidly, the boy responding that immediate second.

"i'm not asking for an apology or whatever. frankly, it wasn't even my problem, but i'm just saying… your life would be a lot easier if you know how to say sorry for once."

"i'm sorry," you finally tell him, to wide and surprised eyes--unsurprisingly.

"i'm sorry for putting so much pressure and baggage on you. i also should've asked about your feelings from the very beginning. i shouldn't have just... assumed."

yunho knows it's the sincerest form of apology without the need to say a lot. from the nervous timbre to the guilt in your eyes, and even the way you start fiddling with your fingers.

he only snickers, much to your initial mixed reaction until you start warming up to it as well, the low but very real giggle leaving you putting a smile on yunho's face.

"apology accepted," he says.

you allow another giggle before cutting it short and looking at him through your blinking lashes.

"if you guys have went to this extent, then i hope you'll treat her right, jeong yunho."

you leave the night at that, a sting in your chest but you know that soon enough, you'll be relieved of it and you won't even think about him anymore.

it's after sitting down for a few minutes that you get a text from san, the funny coincidence that you were just talking about the transfer with your boss as well.

san: yunho told me

san: it's true you're gonna be leaving for japan?

you honestly can't recall how san even got your number. it must've been something you did drunkenly or he must've asked for it from yunho. but for sure, you did not give it to him willingly.

y/n: he really be snitching, huh

san: so it's true ☹️

you roll your eyes and try preventing even the smallest smirk. you haven't seen the man ever since that day and now is when he decides to reach out again.

y/n: maybe 🤷

san: 😔

san: just when we were starting to get along too

y/n: lol. you'll be fine.

shaking your head, you put your phone down to return to work, thinking to yourself there's no way san's actually serious because you're sure even if you did move halfway across the world, he would barely notice you're gone.

ten minutes of silence from your phone and you're also sure he's given up on the act--when your notification buzzes again.

san: ☹️ thought you weren't gonna run away

y/n: i'm not

y/n: i just want to do something different

san: if you say so

san: you free this evening?

y/n: i get off work in about 3 hours

san: wanna do something? 🙂

y/n: well aren't you a changed man 🙃

san: i thought it was nice the other day and i just figured you might need a distraction

you have to admit the fact you were taken aback a little; in a surprisingly good and touching way that san would care about you so much as to consider the after effect of what have happened.

y/n: if you're up for it 🤷 not like i have anything better after work

san: awesome! i'll see you then 😉

--

it's not everyday that you go waltzing into a guy's place; if at all, actually, because you've ever only graced the presence of the house next door because unlike san, yunho never had the urge to get his own place or be away from the watchful eyes of his parents.

it only takes two knocks in total for the door to come apart with san standing before it, a smile on his face and every body language welcoming.

"that was fast," you comment, walking past him to get inside.

"i was waiting," he says, calm and relaxed. "you took a lot longer than you said you would."

you shrug and plop yourself down on the couch, head snapping his way to reply.

"i had to get out of my work outfit."

he acknowledges it with a nod before seating himself next to you, his phone sitting on the coffee table in front of you gone unnoticed until you see him pick it up.

"what to order?" he scrolls through the delivery app, the same time you quirk a brow.

"stew sounds really good right now," you say.

"soft tofu stew?"

"that's fine. but make it spicy."

you weren't sure what you guys were gonna be doing once you came over, but he had just said to hang out and you thought any form of entertainment was better than none.

"any drinks?" he asks, after placing the order and getting up to walk over to the fridge.

"got any sodas?"

"i got some coke."

"that'll do."

he returns with two bottles, setting it on the table with a smirk stickered on his face, you have to reframe from rolling your eyes.

"what? no alcohol tonight?" he teases, his back falling onto the couch with hands behind his head.

"not in the mood," you reply, straight and simple.

"fair enough," he mumbles.

you let your eyes wander for a few more seconds before asking, "so, what's the plan?"

he gets up to sit straight and look you in the eyes.

"i was thinking a movie, video games, or we can just talk over food."

you hum with straighten lips, nodding and making yourself at home when it's your turn to fall back on the couch.

"anything's fine," you tell him, patting at the material under you and adding, "great couch by the way."

"yeah. it cost a fortune."

"good thing that wasn't a problem," you jab lightheartedly, because you always have wondered what the hell san does all day, besides the very obvious fact that he lives off the wealth of his parents and doesn't have to worry about anything when it comes to money... at least.

"i know what you're thinking," he says, not reactive of any kind.

"no but seriously, what do you do all day?" you ask, genuinely curious and interested this time.

he just quirks his lips, responding in the most lax tone, "enjoying life and doing what anyone in their 20s would?"

you scoff and shake your head.

you really do wish to be as untroubled and carefree as san is. the way he deals with and confronts everything as if there isn't a single thing to lose.

“it definitely bothered me at first, but i didn’t see why i should be losing sleep over it. me and yunho are two very different people after all who does our own things. i’m proud of what he’s achieved so far, and he’s always had my back when needed.”

you almost can't help but to have the tiniest respect for him in that regard.

"good to know." you giggle. "but what's the plan after?"

"working on it. but not really in the hurry to rush it or anything."

you nod courtly at that, another sinking thought about how similar, yet different the two of you really are.

growing up, you've never really paid much attention to san, always writing him off as annoying and obnoxious, but when left with no choice but to face him on a deeper level, you can't help but to notice the stark differences despite relating to him more than yunho.

"and you... are you really moving? like forreal?" he says, tone a soft worried that you almost want to believe he would be sad about you leaving... being this adamant and all.

"yeah," you answer, the disappointment befalling his expression completely flying over your radar. "forreal."

"but why?" he pushes.

you shrug, everything about you relaxed--as opposed to the boy standing across as he tries to digest the very big possibility of you going away, and most likely for a long time.

"i told you i wanted to travel."

"that's moving to a whole different country," he states the obvious, much to a laughter from you as the uneasiness on him only becomes more transparent.

you laugh some more, going on to say, "don't tell me you're actually gonna be sad?" your lips forming a frown after to tease him, and for the very first time, you think san might've blushed a little.

he opens his mouth as you watch curiously, but the moment shortly disrupted by the sound of san's phone going off.

"delivery will be here in 10 minutes," he tells you still holding the device in his hand before he tosses it aside.

"i also just want to try being on my own for a while," you bring the topic back into discussion when it seems like he isn't gonna answer the question.

you add, "if i do get moved, it will be on my own accord and everything will be from my own pockets... not my parents or anyone else. boss said i have about two months and i most likely will have to train the replacement but i think it's all gonna be worth it."

you're unable to read into san's reaction, silence filling the air until he finally speaks again.

"if you want to learn to be on your own, why don't you just get a place first? you know, instead of moving across the country. as someone in the current position, it's pretty nice if i say so myself."

your lips draw into a thin line, not because he's wrong but because you've never actually thought of that. you pretty much did just jumped ship into the next big step.

"i've uh... i didn't think of that," you mumble, the words cracking a smile on san's face before a snicker rolls out.

"jesus, y/n. a bit dramatic aren't you?"

"shut up," you hiss.

as the night goes on, any doubts and worries are long forgotten when the chatters with san would go on even after the food's arrival, both chewing and talking at the same time like you're never gonna run out of topics.

the eating soon turns into a search for something to watch while the two of you squabble about anything and everything, forgetting what the hell you're even fighting him about and being surprised you could even get this worked up without the help of alcohol.

and after you're both finally worn out from the long night; the foods on the coffee table now empty and dry and the tv running for far too long, you help clean the place up when it seems he's fallen asleep and quietly make your way out of the condo shortly after.

tuesday 4:32 p.m.

san: how about this one? looks really nice and is kind of close to my place 🙂

san: *attachment*

y/n: that looks way too fancy and expensive

y/n: i just want something that's enough for one person

it's impressive; the fact san even entertained the idea of leaving everything you've already got in mind to settle for something else, but even more so that you're even considering it.

getting a place of your own and learning to live on yourself would be a lot more doable than moving across the sea and away from everyone and everything you've grown up with.

you suppose it's not a bad idea. you're just not sure if it's the right one.

san: you're not gonna find anything if you're gonna be this picky 🙄

y/n: i'm just looking

y/n: if i'm really gonna stay, i'd do the search myself

san: 😢

you don't even realize how san starts weaving into your daily life and just integrating himself into it; whether through small, mindless texts, or bigger ones like actually inviting you out or over to his place (more frequently, at least).

wednesday 1:20 p.m.

san: what time do you finish work today

y/n: i always finish at 6

san: wanna come over? i got a game we can play 🙂

y/n: it better not that stupid truth or dare

san: ☹️

san: it's not

san: it's truth or dare spin the bottle

y/n: 🥱

san won't admit how fast he came at the sound of the first knock, and you also won't admit that despite him looking very much the same, there's something different about him lately.

something you can't pinpoint but it's almost as if he's gotten more attractive somehow even though you've never really cared about any of that.

"did you wear that to work?" he comments on your outfit as you make way past him and settling inside.

"yes," you answer dryly, tone soon overturning. "what? you think i was gonna get pretty?" you smirk.

he shrugs, mumbling a "maybe" that you quietly let pass to take off your shoes.

"wanna see a few places i've looked up?" he beams, going over to the laptop that was on the kitchen counter and running over to you on the couch with it.

"why not," you mumble, scooting closer, shoulder bumping into his nonchalantly.

you watch him scroll through the abundance of luxurious condos alike his, opting to raise your brow and turn to him.

"why are they all high-profile and in gangnam?" you question.

"pfft," he scoffs, facing you head on, standing the closest he's ever been to you in a long while and remarking, "it's not like you can't afford it. come on, y/n."

"i can't." you move away from him. "if i even get a place, it's gonna be with my own savings, not my parents. i definitely can't afford a place like these. can we please look at something a little less flashy?"

he shakes his head and eventually changes the area, but an hour into the search and you're still not satisfied. the prices are either not doable or the layouts and amenities aren't to your heart's content.

"let's continue this another day," you sigh out, throwing your head back and groaning as san chuckles.

"fine," he gives in, shutting the laptop and moving it out of sight. "you're so picky."

"well you got to be. i'm sure you didn't pick this place out in a day," you say at the same time you look around.

on your own, there's no way you'd ever be able to get anything like this.

"and you don't think it's nice?"

"are you kidding?" you say in disbelief. "it's amazing. if i had the money, it might as well be my dream place. but it's okay. i can also settle for much less as long as it accommodates all my needs."

san can't help but laugh, because he thinks you're both the snazziest person he's ever met, but also the most tame, it's a bit uncharacteristic of someone who grew up wealthy all her life.

"fair enough," he says, standing up abruptly to go grab at an empty beer bottle also on the counter which you're sure he most likely prepared for, given his next set of words.

"how about spin the bottle but no dares. we can only ask questions and the person has to answer truthfully." he places it on the coffee table.

you snap to him at that with something uneasy in your eyes, prompting a comment from him.

"you scared?" he tease.

"what? no," you blow.

"then what are we waiting for?" san doesn't hesitate with one of his hands already on the bottle but you have to stop him in the process to ask one more question.

"what kind of questions though?"

it takes him maybe a second for a light smirk to crawl out of him and with a shrug, telling you, "any."

you eye the bottle on the table anxiously as it circles and clinks; not afraid of the idea of the game but more so that you're playing with san and he's gonna ask the wildest shit.

fortunately, san shoots himself in the foot.

"oh fuck, it's me."

it's your turn to smirk, letting out an almost sarcastic, "yeah."

"knock yourself out. i'm an open book."

you roll your eyes because you know he is, which is why trying to come up with something that will even faze him is gonna be a challenge.

"most embarrassing thing you have done at a party?"

he scoffs it off in amusement, like he can't believe you're even asking that.

"i thought you could do worse, y/n. but sure."

he hesitates and hums for a few seconds more before answering, "got high as fuck and almost kissed wooyoung."

a dry snicker actually escapes from your lips at the confession.

"yeah i always suspected you guys had a thing for each other."

"please don't," he says in pure disgust. "i love wooyoung forreal but no amount of high can get me to kiss the man."

you laugh, now actually the one to initiate the spin because you think it can turn out fun. you think.

and thankfully, it's not you that have to answer a question, again.

"wow," san only silently curses the double misfortunate.

"how many people have you slept with?" you blurt, bold and straightforward, san even slightly taken aback.

"don't ask questions that will break your heart."

"tsk." you roll your eyes. "you could sleep with the entire population of earth and i wouldn't give a shit."

"not even the tiniest bit?" he plays on in that voice you hate because it's always when he's trying to flirt with you.

"i'd give the tiniest shit about everyone else because poor them."

"sharp," he retracts, the amusement all over his face. "but to answer your question, maybe eight? ten? to be honest, i've lost count."

"good to know," you reply nonchalantly, nodding for him to spin the bottle this time, but you know it's only so long before your luck eventually runs out, and so it does.

"ha," he says in victory, the top of the bottle pointing at you.

"i'll go easy, don't worry just yet," he teases annoyingly, you almost want to knock your foot into his.

"what did you think of me when we first met?"

you quirk your lips and pretend to think although you already know the answer.

"well, i thought you were gonna be sweet, but that was until i got to actually know you. then you were just annoying and a pervert."

he bursts out in genuine laughter and yeah, you think he's cute and endearing like this but 95% of the time, he's getting on your nerves.

the game continues on with a back and forth of innocent enough questions; just laughing and scoffing off the ridiculousness, and you're starting to think he might spare you, until the next one turns your eyes a dark one.

"what is it about yunho that made you like him so much?"

and again, you've already stated so many times why you like him. his kindness. his attitude. the way he presents himself. the way he treats you. but if you have to pick one.

"it just seems as if he accepted me for who i am. i don't know."

the way the atmosphere shifts is scary; both of the smiles on your lips wiped and replaced by unreadable expressions as san quiets without a reply, you have to be the one to speak again.

"and you... w-why are you helping me?" you ask him.

"huh?" he repeats just so there's no mistake.

"we don't even like each other and i pretty much treat you like shit but you still seem rather concerned about my wellbeing for whatever reason."

it has gotten so silent by now, you can hear san swallowing.

"you're the one who always says you don't like me. i never said i don't like you."

it's your turn to swallow, staring back at him with nervous eyes because you're not sure how to take the statement just now or what exactly he really means.

"i just thought the feeling was mutual," you mumble, shrugging lightly.

"no. i think you just didn't care enough to ask me," he says with a dry chuckle because he's right and even you know it. your mind at the time too occupied with his brother instead.

"so like, you really don't want me to leave?" you take the opportunity to tease him, a tone on you almost unrecognizable that you think even made san a bit nervous and shy.

"you could say that," he talks lowly, on the verge of stuttering. "i've known you almost my whole life."

"and if i did?" you ask, voice turning a more serious one as the words make an etch in san's heart. it hurts to even think of the possibility.

"then i would be really upset."

you watch his eyes and lips go soft, something so genuine and sincere in his response that makes you just freeze up before breaking the tension with a forced snicker.

"you still have some time to change my mind," you encourage, because you wish for there to be bigger reasons to stay so you won't regret the could of, even if san has to be that reason.

some might call it healing, some might call it a rebound if that even applies at all, but san successfully weaves himself into your life like a routine that you're no longer fazed by a morning text or even a goodnight one.

the way he'd just check up on you during work or call during the weekends to ask how you're doing and if you're up for something together.

it's a bit pathetic he's pretty much your only friend (and even that's a reach) at this point, but you genuinely enjoy his company.

he listens well, is fun to be around, and is almost like a life-long friend who's been missing your whole life.

but while those are the ups of being with san, there's also the downs--such as the long list of girls that'd constantly ring his phone or send him a text while the two of you are together, and while that isn't any of your business, that doesn't stop the few doubts that manages to plague your mind.

are you interrupting anything? does it make you a bitch for hanging with him when he has other girls lined up? does all of this even mean anything when you could very much just be one of them?

that maybe even if there's a possibility, you could never fully give and commit yourself to someone like san because it doesn't seem like he's ready to settle for anyone.

he haven't ever had a relationship that lasted more than a few months and you haven't ever known him to have less than two option on the table.

which might be why you were so much more attracted to yunho, because in comparison, yunho seemed like he would give away his heart and soul for just you.

but you know that, though. you knew that's how san is. you shouldn't have expected anything else, but you still can't help but to feel a strange, unfamiliar sense of loathing when he's distracted by another girl.

"i talked to the landlord a few days ago and she said if i wanted to see the apartment for myself, she would be more than happy to show me," you tell san over a late night eat out; the restaurant about to close in an hour but you're sure he's not listening because his head snaps to the text he got just now.

he still attempts to sound like it's the current topic holding his attention, which you have to give him credits for.

"that's good," he shortly says, fingers fast to type something on his phone before pushing it away. "so how many more days left again?"

"about two weeks, give or take," you respond, poking at your fries with the fork.

two weeks before you'll have to make the ultimate choice to leave or stay.

it's been that long, time just flying before your very eyes to the point where yunho's presence lingering around the house for the sole purpose of your sister almost no longer does an effect to you.

"wow. already?"

"yeah."

san offers to pay for the meal and drive you home instead of the usual catching a movie at his place before the actual end of the night and it's not like you're gonna fight him on it.

he's not your boyfriend and he definitely doesn't have any obligations to follow through any routines or whatever, so why are you all of a sudden feeling so tense about it?

tense and bitter about the fact that after he drives you home, there's a likely chance there's gonna be another girl at his place.

you think you're losing it.

you had let yourself indulge more and more into the possibility of staying, which was how you found the place that you could practically call ideal.

though it's only one bedroom, the modern but warm-toned style of the complex as a whole, as well as the location and pretty much everything else is convenient and accommodates all your needs.

when you had finally set a time and meeting with the landlord, you fell in love even harder in person because the second she opened the door to the place, it was like you knew this is it.

you think it can work out. you think you can see a future in this place; in this city still. and you have been much brighter and happier lately, even telling your boss the following day that there's a big chance you're gonna change your mind about the move given time is creeping up.

you had sent a text to san so excited because you want to tell him in person, every day the chance of you actually staying increasing by the second and he had told you he'd be available tomorrow night.

despite the conflicts swirling in your stomach a week ago, san had made up for it by being attentive as usual and making you feel like he really cares about you that the occasional rings and texts not from you were starting to become bearable.

after all, what does he owe you?

you're content with just having someone to talk and share your day with. you think you can live with that.

but you didn't expect nor think that all it'd take for the doubts to settle in again is to actually face the reality of your situation, making your way to san's place as promised and seeing a familiar face on the way in.

long hair and with a frame you've definitely seen before, it's hard to ignore the sensation she manages to conjure by just merely passing you.

“why don’t you ask the one person that would actually know where he is? or are you too good for that, too?”

you squint, confused, until he nods his head another direction and you follow, landing right into the view of the kitchen and to someone you know all too well just from the back.

his hands on some poor girl’s waist and lips running along with hers as her grip tightened at his disheveled hair, his body pressing her forward onto the counter, the both of them making out like there won’t be a tomorrow.

“no thanks,” you dismiss, managing to reframe from an eyeroll, pushing past hongjoong but not before you catch the smirk on him.

it wasn't the first time you saw her with san, because if it was, your body wouldn't have recognized her so easily as if she's a threat, replacing all the excitement and hope with nothing but old and plain insecurities.

then it's as if everything was a mistake.

choosing to stay because of san and with nothing but the hope that it will all work out... instead of going away on your own for some time and learning to really be independent.

your whole life, you've already been nothing but emotionally dependent on someone else, looking to them as a source of support, and you've realized that this time, it isn't any different.

you've just moved from yunho to san... and you didn't even like san for the longest time.

so how long before it will hit you that staying was a mistake; and especially that choosing to stay because of san was gonna be the biggest one of them all.

you have the tendency to catch feelings way too fast, and even if not romantic which you won't admit in this case (even if it might be), you react strongly to it and the feeling is consuming.

because how long before san will leave you the way yunho did?

everything may seem good for now but they will all meet the same ending. and to think of everything in perspective this way, you know you're not meant to stay.

your parents, yunho and your sister, san...

you don't feel ready for any of them currently, your life stuck at a point where you're not moving. and so you just turn back around and head home.

you think long and hard just to be sure this is what you want; then you think of how to tell your boss tomorrow, and about an hour later, you finally get a text from san.

san: you still coming? you said you have something to tell me

y/n: something came up sorry

y/n: i was just gonna tell you that i've made up my mind and i think i'm gonna go to japan

a/n: i am truly sorry for having been gone a while only to come back with crumbs, but i hope y'all enjoyed this mess & will anticipate it finally coming to an end the following chapter <3 lmk if i missed anyone on the taglist cuz i have not touched it in 4ever fr

taglist: @freeandrealme @shingene @cookiechristie @softie00 @crimson-mia @hexheathen @lixpixstix @atinytease @turtash @moonseonghwa @kkayfan @curryramyeon @justineasian @sannie-pudding @itsokaytobedumb00 @nerdy-kimchi @fannyxmh @acciocriativity @mel-the-mad-hatter @eastleighsblog @diorwoo @devilsmatches @kyume02 @distvrbia @wonwowzers @endeav0rsb1tch @sannwa @brown88 @sangiluvem @eburneon @hotteokhatyu @yeosangsbiceps @sankatchu @lynnsqueendom @harusoraa @ad0rechuu @interweab @revehosh @byunniebaekhyunnie @nabi-sannie @gugggu6gvai @rockstarsanie @shakalakaboomboo @yeosangsbbg @yawnzshit @avantalem @lelaleleb @mountiiny @arinyyy @svintsandghosts @yoongiworshiper @raineadlr @tunaasan @chickenscoups @nevieatiny

[starsinmylatte]

Malum in se

Pairing: Higuruma Hiromi x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None! There's only fluff here :)

Word count: 1.1k

A/N: A lovely anon originally requested this of @pseudowho, but she's asked me to fill it (for those of you not following the saga of Lyria's snow week™️.... I've been completely snowed in and WIPs have kept me sane).

Join my taglist here! (18+ only, this blog is mostly pure filth)

Higuruma Hiromi knew he was truly in love when you successfully convinced him to watch horrifically cheesy reruns of Law and Order while he was the one stuck at home sick. He groaned dramatically at every exaggeration or incorrect legal quote, but he enjoyed how you snuggled into his side too much to actually complain about the situation. After all, you were kind enough to take care of him, and his mild illness had not deterred your affection in the slightest. 

He had almost fallen asleep on the couch when you cocked your head at the antics on the television, murmuring under your breath, “Wouldn’t that qualify as Malum in se, though?” 

Hiromi blinked once, twice, and then a third time before speaking, “I’m sorry, what?” 

You turned to face your boyfriend, tone slightly teasing, “Yeah, Malum in se, right? Things like assault, murder… or wearing white after Labor Day.” 

Hiromi arched an eyebrow at you and treated you to the lopsided grin you adored so much. “You’re going to have to tell me how you know what that is.” 

He snaked his arms around you, pulling you even closer against his warm chest. Before you could answer, he took the chance to nuzzle his nose against the column of your neck, sending you into a fit of giggles.

“Well, pretty girl?” He teased gently, and you dropped your head back against his shoulder, humming contentedly.

“Do you remember when I mentioned I used to do community theatre a few years ago?” You questioned, and you could feel Higuruma's grin grow wider.

“Indeed, I do.”

“Well…. There was one time when I played a character who happened to be a law student.” You pursed your lips, trying to keep laughter from bubbling up. 

Hiromi broke into a barking laugh that became a short coughing fit. “You played a law student? What kind of musical involves lawyers?” he wheezed. 

“It’s called Legally Blonde, and it’s not just a musical… It’s a masterpiece.” You insisted. “I loved the movie when I was a young girl, and getting to play Elle- the main character- was an absolute dream come true.” 

Your eyes lit up as an idea sparked into your brain with the strength of a thunderbolt, “Omigod, you’ve never seen the movie, have you? We absolutely have to watch it.” 

Hiromi chuckled weakly, running his hand through your hair, “I’ve got a better idea… There have to be clips of your performance somewhere, right?” 

“Oh….” you paused for a moment, “It was a few years ago, and I’m sure it wasn’t my best work, but-” 

“There’s nothing I’d rather see than you enjoying yourself and doing what you love,” Hiromi interrupted gently, stroking your hair again.

His lopsided grin turned wolfish,  “Besides… I am sick; I think this is exactly what I need to heal.” 

“If you insist.” You smacked him gently with a pillow to punctuate your words as you left the couch to rummage through the DVDs on the shelf. You even took the time to make another mug of tea for your boyfriend, but eventually, you were back and snuggled up against Hiromi, who gratefully accepted the mug you offered him. 

His nose wrinkled unintentionally as he took a sip, “Thank you… but what is in this stuff?” 

“It’s helping your throat, isn’t it? You poked his stomach playfully, and he groaned in response. 

“Yes, but at what cost?” Hiromi huffed, but the slight twinkle in his eyes told you he wasn’t being serious. 

“It’s throat coat tea, yet another remnant from my musical days,” you giggled. “I never liked the taste either, but it certainly gets the job done.” 

With another flourish of the remote, you pulled up the recording of the show, and you swear you could feel Hiromi smiling behind you as he nursed the warm mug. As soon as the video started, he broke out into another laughter-induced coughing fit. 

“Dear god, I’ve never seen so much pink in my entire life.” 

“Oh, just you wait.” You threatened teasingly, “You haven’t even seen my character yet.” 

Hiromi grasped his mug in one hand and used his other arm to pull you back against his chest, wrapping a blanket snugly around your body. You leaned fully against him, partially because you enjoyed the intimacy and partly because you wanted to see his reactions out of the corner of your eye. 

His reactions did not disappoint, even though the video was grainy and clearly meant to be viewed through the rose-colored lenses of someone who was in the show. Hiromi grinned widely when you appeared on stage, murmuring almost too quietly for you to hear, “Cute…” 

You blushed happily, and the show continued. He had many comments on how the Delta Nus seemed to share a hive mind and how much of a prick Warner was. He also very nearly choked on his tea when your character’s father proudly declared, “Law school is for boring, ugly, serious people!” 

Hiromi glanced down at you after that line with a slight pout, and you took the opportunity to cup his cheek and pull him in for a soft kiss, tasting the tea and honey on his lips. “Mmm, don’t worry… You’re not boring, and you’re certainly not ugly. You can be rather serious… but I like that about you.” 

Hiromi kissed the top of your head with a low, contented hum, absolutely convinced his heart was full enough to burst. He fell more in love with you with each passing day, and these past few days had only further sealed his fate. Even now, he was watching you sing and dance your heart out, and you were shining in the roll. The sassy, playfully cute, but deceptively intelligent lawyer was such a perfect role for you, and he quickly became frustrated with Warner. Seeing you so upset over such a stupid man hurt his heart, even though he knew you were acting…. and then Emmett was introduced. 

“Now, I like that guy. He’s got the right idea, actually treating Elle decently.” Hiromi mused, playfully twirling a strand of your hair. 

“Oh, really?” You grinned slyly. “He reminds me of you, you know.”  

“It seems we share the same excellent taste in women.” 

–

The movie was over a short while later, but Hiromi insisted on letting it play through curtain call so he could properly applaud your work. You rolled over to lay against his chest, peering inquisitively into his dark, beautiful eyes, “So you really liked it?” 

“I loved it,” He assured you, pulling you in for another tea-flavored kiss. Suddenly, you could feel him grinning against your lips, “And I may buy you another one of those pink tweed skirt sets… it was cute on you.” 

His deep chuckle only grew louder as you smacked him with another pillow.

Tagging some friends: @saradika @thefact0rygirl @babygirl-leon-kennedy @hereforthesunrise @ashotofspotchka @ironandglass @amyroswell @cassandrablacker @lady-valtieri @justanothersadperson93 @orangecremepuff @khaleesihavilliard @belle-smith07 @outspokenbrat @enchantedsylveon @spam-love @silverliningsandstorms @msniks @panteramarron @eldritchbeauty @unoriginalidea @gabbyburgers @its-chickenwing-450 @luneariaa @pseudowho

[physalian]

Fanfiction is valid form of literature and deserves respect because:

Corporate meddling often takes long-running series and runs them into the ground to squeegee out as much money as possible, ruining characters, relationships, lore, and magic systems that fix-it fics repair

Just because it is provided for free and by unpaid writers who slave away tens of hours of their lives trying to entertain people, doesn’t make the content that can come from it any less powerful

Fanfic is the place to go for under-represented themes, tropes, and characters in the outdated or unwilling canon

Fanfic is the place to go for fixing problematic plot decisions and characterizations that did not age well

Fanfic is the place to go when the real author becomes a TERF feminazi and the poster child of “death of the author”

Many fics are longer than published works and can do that because they’re entirely digital, bound to no printing limitations, and update per-chapter, as opposed to per-novel, often written without and endpoint in mind

Fanfic is a safe space to explore identities that the canon pretends doesn’t exist, like queer characters and non-monogamous relationships, as well as (theoretically) a safe space to share and explore kinks and have your very own Gay Awakening

Fanfic is bound to no rules of the publishing industry and explores new ways of written works like chat/text fics and drabbles and unconventional forms of narrative layout

Fanfic is also not written by committe or dictated by editors and publishing houses telling you what you can and can't include in your story

Fanfic is a springboard for many original authors

It’s a celebration of canonical works and should be welcomed by all creators of those works, not panned and litigated against when, again, it’s free and earns its writers no money

Fanfic, by its repetitive and familiar nature of throwing known characters and elements into a new situation is less intimidating than an entire bookstore of uncertainty, and still encourages people to read when they otherwise might not

Fanfic’s approachability is helpful to people with neurodivergence, as comforting to fic readers as bargain bin bad movies are to everyone else, or watching reruns of the same 90s sitcom that might not be any better written

Fanfic fosters a community of like-minded people that you might not otherwise find due to geographical location, social status, economic status, or for people who are unable to enter physical public spaces due to disability or anxieties

Big books are expensive and heavy and demand investment when a bad or boring fic does not, and there’s plenty else to fill the fanfic void where a bad book just makes you feel duped for buying it

It’s no more toxic a community than any other hyper-insulated realm of fandom like professional sports, toy/comic book/action figure collecting, LARPing/D&D, or videogaming, and has this reputation because it’s predominantly enjoyed by women and young girls (the terrible scourge that we are)

[hauntdoesthetwist]

twst as quotes from me & my ex-coworker

found this in my drafts, decided to release it for glomas rerun

~~~~~

Idia: Coward.

Yuu: Meanie.

Idia: I am. Cry about it.

Yuu: I will.

Ortho: *not realizing they're joking around, visibly distressed*

~~~

[just cause they had a whole arc of being jerks together lol]

*seeing Rollo for the first time*

Jamil: Oh my god, look at those eyebags! When was the last time you slept?

Ruggie: Nah what's that cut tho? Did your mom cut that for you? Cause if she did, I'm sorry but she don't love you.

~~~

Vil: Your children[dormmates] are running away from you, they don't love you.

Riddle: Better than you, you abandoned your children.

Vil: They are independent, they know I will return and can wait for me to come back and make them pretty, unlike your ugly children.

Riddle: Well I have more than you.

Vil: *condescendingly* Of course you do.

[deadsetromance]

IN THE WEE SMALL HOURS OF THE MORNING

(not my gif!)

gerard way x gn!reader

summary: he's your roommate...but maybe he's more than that.

warnings: unedited writing, fluff, no use of [y/n]

note: so sorry i haven't posted in forever! i have a few requests and a few more half-complete drafts, so hopefully those should be up soon &lt;3

you supposed there were worse roommates out there. actually, thinking about it, you realized how lucky you were.

you got along really well with your roommate, gerard. he’d been sharing an apartment for nearly two years now, and you were sure you knew him better than you knew yourself.

you know he forgets to take the coffee pods out of the keurig, and sometimes he leaves the heater running for too long.

you don’t think you’ve ever seen him sleep. sometimes you wonder if he’s a vampire or something, what with the scribbling coming from his room at all hours of the night.

to be fair… you’re hardly any better. you sleep little more than he does, when you do fall asleep it’s usually on the couch, and you leave the television on all the time.

you’re incredibly lucky, you realize. lucky that he’s as sweet as he is, bringing you coffee in the mornings, and stopping by your job on his commute. he’s even slipped a few drawings your way. some are drawings of you, others are silly little doodles he gives you when you’re having a bad day. sometimes, he’ll show you characters for the comics he’s working on, asking for your input.

you realize that you’re lucky that he’s so helpful, that he’s not a creep, that you both get along so well. you’re lucky that you’ve found a friend who will sit and watch television reruns with you when neither of you can fall asleep.

that’s why you slip a record under his door one night. you don’t know if he even likes sinatra, but you give it to him anyway. there’s no special occasion really, you just thought of him when you found in the wee small hours in the record store you visited. you don’t sign your name on the post it you stuck to it. all you write is “from one insomniac to another”. you feel embarrassed for some reason you can’t place, and something slithers in your stomach. maybe you shouldn’t have given it to him…maybe he doesn’t like sinatra. it’s too late now though, it’s already done.

☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎

it’s late one night…or early, depending on how you look at it. you’re tired, whatever movie you were watching forgotten and on mute. you can hear gerard milling around in the kitchen, you can smell the coffee he’s brewing. you’re tired, but you can’t fall asleep.

“thanks for the record” gerard called from the kitchen. “i really liked it”

you smile, one of those hazy tired smiles, the kind you do when you’re between being awake and asleep. “i didn’t know if you liked sinatra, i hope it’s ok”

you miss the way he grins at you, too busy yawning.

“it’s great i actually…” he walked off in the middle of his sentence, a habit you’d noticed he had, only to come back with the disk in his hands. “do you mind?”

it didn’t matter if you said no, he already turned to put it on, smiling back at you as he dropped the needle to the record.

“what are we watching?” he asked, sitting next to you on the couch. close enough to be touching you, but still far enough to give you space. it’s like a paradox, you think, but then you tell yourself to shut up. you’re too tired to know what you’re talking about.

“i dunno, i stopped paying attention.” your eyes flit to the movie playing on the television, watching the car chase for a moment before turning your attention back to him. “you’re going to keep yourself up all night drinking coffee this late.” you might have frowned at him if you weren’t too busy beaming.

he knew you were teasing, you could tell by the glint in his eye. “i just need a few finishing touches on my project and then i’m done.”

you didn’t say anything more for a while, taking a moment to take everything in. the record playing softly in the background as you curled closer to gerard. his head resting on yours as you listened to his breathing, memorizing the pace of his heart.

it’s quiet…intimate, and you’re tired. tired and happy.

“you tired?” he questions softly.

“a little,” you don’t know why you’re whispering.

“do you work tomorrow?”

“yeah, i open,” you groan, rubbing your eyes. you think you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head, but you don’t want to get your hopes up.

it’s quiet again, though this time it’s too quiet. you’re left with thoughts of gerard running through your head, and you wish that one of you would say something. you should be ashamed, you scold yourself, thinking of him the way you do when he’s sitting right next to you.

“what are you thinking about?” he prods gently. he’s soft with you, the way he always is, careful not to overstep with his questions.

“nothing really,” you lie, because you’d rather not risk what comfort you have now. “what are you thinking about?”

it seems like he didn’t expect the question to be turned back on him. he hesitates, and the silence is thick…too thick. his face is illuminated by the light from the tv, and he looks nervous. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look quite as terrified as he does now. the lighting shifts, and he’s blanketed in darkness again, but you notice something change in his eyes.

“i think i love you” he whispers against your ear.

you feel like you can’t breathe. you think you heard him wrong. you’re worried this is all a dream, a good dream, the kind that would leave you reeling when you wake up.

you want to hear him say it again.

you lean your head back against his shoulder, and he breathes out with a shudder. you watch the explosions on tv as your hand finds his. “i love you too.”

that’s it then, everything is out in the open. maybe you’re tired, but you sigh gently as he cups your face in his hands. thinking back, you can’t exactly pinpoint when your feelings for him changed, but you suppose it doesn’t matter now. he loves you and you love him. it’s surprisingly simple.

“can i…?” he doesn’t need to finish his question as you lean in closer to him. his breath is warm, and he smells like coffee and sleepless nights, and you’re waiting for him. your eyes are closed as you breathe him in, and they stay that way as he kisses you softly.

he’s…soft, softer than you imagine, and you can’t help but smile.

in the wee small hours of the morning, he is yours, and you are his.

[brawltogethernow]

—

L fell over from his customary seated position, died in his nemesis's arms, then came to in his customary seated position.

  He fell over.

  "Richard?" said Wammy, the alias he'd been using four cases ago. "Are you alright?"

  "Watari?" he said dumbly, into the floor. Wammy was dead. He hadn't wanted it to be true, but he had been sure when he saw the data kill switch had been flipped, pieces of information slotting together to form a whole even when he didn't want them to. His own hand had carved him into a device that did this process automatically. It was too late to deny facts.

  "What?" said Wammy like he didn't recognize the Japanese alias.

  L pushed himself up halfway off the ground. "Fuuuuuck this," he said, and fell over again.

⁣

"Why me?" he wondered aloud. "Does this happen to everyone killed by the murder notebooks? I can't investigate an infinite multiverse, Weatherby."

  "Probably not," conceded Wammy. He was currently humoring L gamely. L had been able to provide multiple descriptions of future events that would confirm he wasn't cracking up, but none of them had happened yet. He had never been much of one for keeping track of the date regarding matters where someone could do it for him, which didn't help. Well. Wammy would come around.

  L was humoring himself, too, for now. There was no point assuming his mind wasn't reliable. Using his brain to run diagnostics on itself could wait until it seemed necessary. If he was having an Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge moment it was certainly going on for a very long time.

  He ground his molars against each other. The Kira murders had been supernatural, but clearly guided by a hand that either was mortal or thought the same way. So far, this seemed...random.

  "I don't like this," he informed the room, and incidentally Wammy. His latest sugar cube tower collapsed and split into two factions, one falling into his tea and the other scattering across his desk. Tea sloshed out of its cup in futile pursuit of the desk faction.

  He picked up the teacup by the mostly not sticky handle and sipped it, pursuing the grit at the bottom of its basin. He put it down and but his thumbnail. It was slightly sweet. He needed to wash his hands. He added, "Well. I like it better than being dead."

⁣

He sent the party interested in his current case an e-mail with enough key bullet points of the solution for them to clean up what was left of it themselves, which was more than he felt like doing for a rerun of a case. If he were stuck only rehashing already closed cases he might entertain the theory that this was Hell. But the world was wide, he had only lived a year or so beyond this in the first place, and the Kira case was still open.

  He tried to console himself that Light Yagami possessed one of the most ruthlessly brilliant minds L had ever encountered. This did not make him feel any better about being beaten by a fucking child. L was an extremely petty man about things like that.

  (He had been a worse minor. If he had been eighteen as well when faced with such an infuriating suspect, he would probably have been the one instigating physical altercations. He would have broken Light's perfect nose instead of playing around with him, and then maybe he wouldn't be undead.)

  He gnawed his thumbnail, brain too itchy to be content just pressing it against his bottom lip where he could usually stop. He knew on one level of thought he was risking ending up with sore and bloody cuticles, but it was not the level primarily in charge of his teeth and hands when he was stressed. Was he stressed? Extremely, yes. But should he have been? His life wasn't even in danger, nor was Wammy's. Kira hadn't claimed his first kill yet, probably hadn't acquired his weapon, that awful, intriguing, unassuming notebook. And when he did, L could just...

  L didn't even have to do anything. He could just ignore it, and stay ensconced in whatever HQ he chose. Name unrecorded, face unknown, existence not relevant to Light Yagami's twisted morals. He already knew all the key mechanics of Kira. The method, the means—he was sure he'd already known the why. He had all the answers he wanted. Light had given him his answers.

  His true face... It was all the confession L had needed. An honor, even.

  Ha!

  L didn't need anyone's sanction to solve the Kira problem, either. He could steal the notebook. He could hire a hitman.

  Dull pain and the taste of blood alerted him that he'd bitten through his thumb.

  He popped it into his mouth to keep blood off his keyboard. No, he didn't want to kill Light Yagami. He probably should kill Light Yagami, but he didn't want to. He wanted to... To...

⁣

Of the many casualties of the Kira case, there was no one he cared to intervene for he hadn't led to danger with his own hand. (Should he have cared more about Beyond? Eh, he'd interfere if Wammy brought it up.) Even Naomi, who he hadn't spoken to in years, should have no reason to return to her home country if L didn't repeat old plays.

  ...He wondered if he was perhaps taking the wrong lessons about treating people as expendable from the situation.

  He tapped his fingers. Naomi. He had liked her.

  He spent an hour at the keys confirming where she was. The sun had set around him, at some point, leaving him in a black room with the monitor a white inferno at the center. Moved to Burbank, engaged, retired. She must be bored out of her mind in an empty room of her own making. No wonder she had died over this case too.

  He hoped it was exciting first. Light had never mentioned her.

  Focusing all of her faculties on her boytoy only for a killer to take him away... She must have gotten very unlucky to have not proved a bigger obstacle.

⁣

After it came clear that L was reporting his experiences accurately (or hallucinating his confidant's confirmations), Wammy sat silently for a subjectively long minute and forty-seven seconds.

  "What is it like?" he asked at last. "Dying."

  "I don't know, I was kind of distracted," L deflected, because this is true.

  Wammy gave him a blank yet communicative look.

  L bit down on his other, less raw thumb. Why hadn't Wammy come back with him, possessed of his own experience to draw on? Was there another Wammy, elsewhere, who has gone back alone?

  Could it be he really didn't die? No. L was sure.

  Kira had done that, but even spider-scrabbling blunted fingertips at the bottom recesses of the linty pockets of his heart, L couldn't find it in himself to feel too righteously indignant. L was the one who had wanted to win badly enough he'd anted up his allies in their game. He had been cocky. He had been too cavalier.

  "Frustrating," he answered. "Like when you can't stay awake even though you're in the middle of a project."

  The brain, whirling determinedly away even as it stopped receiving fresh blood, as the vision narrowed down to a thin line, a screen shutting off uncaring of whether it was the end of the program.

⁣

He researched relevant players he hadn't been aware of at this point. All were transpiring to be about where he'd have plced them.

  The web of events was elaborate. But that could have been dream logic. He'd tried, but never gotten the hang of, lucid dreaming. He was not sure he would be truly convinced this was happening until he'd discovered a why.

  He hovered his overful teacup not quite at his lips. Next, he could find a backdoor into the TCPD systems, but...maybe...

  He wormed into Yagami Light's computer instead. After 24 hours of passive data collection this provided him with Souichirou's passwords and how Light concealed he was using them.

  It was very amateur, which was the best way to hack an organization that thought it was going to be hacked by professionals. Casual exploitation of loose security.

  It was child's play on top of this to get a day-old visual on Light. L looked at the security photo and felt a thrill up his spine. Ah, death really didn't change me for the better at all, he thought.

⁣

"What's next in the docket?" asked Wammy, tidying up the workstation they were slated to abandon. (L remained on his computer chair and let this happen around him.) He was content to follow L's lead, even knowing he had led them both to their deaths.

  "I want to find out why I've come back in time, and how," said L. "...But I don't have any leads to speak of."

  "Except young Yagami," concluded Wammy, who was not an unclever man.

  "I don't want to return to the Kira case," L admitted.

  "Completely understandable," said Wammy without judgment. He was not an overly moral man, either.

  L fidgeted. Flopped somewhat. "The Kira case is the most interesting case on the planet right now," he said.

  Wammy waited.

  "But I already know how he kills," L sulked. "And dying kind of hurt."

  Wammy's mouth pursed at this. But he only asked, "What are you planning, L?"

  "I'm going to insert myself," announced L, rising and stepping out of his chair. "What do we have in liquid assets right now?"

  "What will this be put toward?" inquired Wammy.

  L rolled his eyes up toward the ceiling and thought about it, chewing his lip. "Shenanigans," he declared.

  He realized he had forgotten a social step and stopped his creep for the exit. He swiveled his head around. "Though Weatherby, if you want to return to the school for a year or two, or perhaps go on vacation—"

  "I'll go where you go," interrupted Wammy, chilly.

  L pursed his lips, finding now he'd began it that this was not the perfunctory check-in he'd taken it for. He said, "I would prefer if you didn't die."

  Wammy sighed. "A similar sentiment is why I will accompany you."

  L turned back around. "I see," he said, nodding. "Emotional blackmail."

  "This time I trust you to take the appropriate precautions," said Wammy.

  "Ugh," said L. "You're no fun."

⁣

To enact his very ingenious and only partially driven by general doubt in reality and spite scheme, L got a job at a pastry chain in Tokyo.

  After less than a single afternoon, the manager deemed L unfit to serve customers (this was correct), so he was shuffled onto glazing duty. He accepted this without complain as, due to the pop-up-cum-cart-style layout of the establishment, this still allowed him a clear view of anyone patronizing the establishment. Moreover, he did not especially want to serve customers.

  He despised the thin plastic sanitation gloves, which felt like rather than protecting his hands they moved the barrier of contaminated flesh up to his wrists, oils creeping and substances splashing upwards, until he wanted to decontaminate his arms up to the elbows and down to the bone.

   It's for the case, he told himself even though there was no case, not really. It was the same process of steeling himself to put discomfort aside for a greater cause.

  The greater cause this time was just bullying Yagami Light.

  This is a cinnamon roll of great justice, he told himself, then held it up to eye level and examined it, debating whether to eat half of it in front of his manager. For great justice.

⁣

His fingers twitched. He solved cold cases from his backlog and sent in tips about them thumb-typed on a PDA on his lunch breaks. He was so understimulated he contemplated playing some stocks, which he was trying to cut back on. He had more money than one person could ever need and than he had any inclination to redistribute responsibly, and also he acclimated to them the way some people did to pachinko.

⁣

The manager sat him down. "I have been informed I can't fire you," he said.

  "Yes," said L, who had purchased the chain before applying for the job.

  "But I want to," said his manager, like it was important L knew.

  "That's fine," said L. He pulled an industrial tub of cold icing over, stuck one finger into it, and licked it.

  The manager's mouth flexed murderously. L entertained himself briefly by imagining this scheme if Light was his manager.

⁣

When Light finally walked in, L had been shuffled back to cashier duty to get him to stop licking the donut icing, where he would remain until customer satisfaction dropped untenably low. With a pull that was gravity-inevitable, they locked eyes across the room, and a realization was clear to L at once:

  He's bored again.

  Without anyone challenging to oppose him, Kira was already getting bored. A smile spread like an ocean oil slick over L's face. Or perhaps like the mysterious and ever-widening sticky spot under the second stove that no one could seem to mop up.

  Everything was falling in line with his loftiest expectations. Light would crawl on his knees right to L. He didn't realize it, but he was desperate.

  And L would lead this insufferable man, in his supplication, right through the mystery floor goo.

  L favored Light with his (he was told) very unsettling customer service smile. "Welcome to Cinnabon," he said.

—

AO3

[phoward89]

Series Masterlist

Chapter 4:

In the time that Coryo's been taking care of you, which has been nearly 2 weeks now, you've discovered that he's an enigma. You just can't figure him out. On one hand he can be a right condescending bastard, but on the other hand he can also be very caring and attentive.

Some of his remarks cut deep. They even make you feel frustrated or useless sometimes. You hate feeling like that; you hate that his smug attitude has that effect on you.

But then he has his gentle moments, moments that make you feel cared for. The way he gently runs his calloused fingers down your back when checking its healing progress sends sparks up and down your spine. How he has you lay on top of his chest every night, to keep pressure off of the lashes on your back, while wrapping his arms around you has you swooning. His kisses can be soft and sweet or hungry and feral full of neediness and want, but every kiss you share makes you feel desired.

Yes, he's quite the enigma indeed.

“You think you're healed enough to go to the market with me?” Coryo asks, walking thru the door.

He went back to his peacekeeper duties a few days ago, but that hasn't stopped him from living with you. In fact, he sets an alarm to go off about an hour before wakeup call in order to sneak back into the barracks before dawn. Coryo always presses a kiss to your hair and tells you to go back to sleep before he goes.

You always groan and bury your nose in his pillow.

“Yes, I can go, but why didn't you just do it before coming here?” You reply, finding it a bit odd that he just didn't buy some groceries before returning home- like he usually did.

“Sejanus says that you need to get out and about; that fresh air and walks will be good for your healing.”

“Oh.”

“How bout you take a shower and I'll help you get dressed when you're done, okay?”

“Okay.” You nod, rising from the table and heading to the bathroom.

At least Coryo's letting you shower by yourself now. For a while he was bathing you, afraid that you'd hurt your back if you were left to your own devices.

As Coriolanus rooted thru your clothes basket to find you something suitable to wear in the harsh winter weather, his encounter with Sejanus earlier played in his mind like an old movie rerun.

“How's your girl doing, Coryo?” Sejanus asked his friend as they patrolled the streets of the factory sector of the district.

“She's doing better. Her back’s healing, but she still can't put any pressure on it.” Coriolanus explained your condition to his friend. “I've started cutting down her doses of morphling; been giving it to her during the night and leaving her a bottle of aspirin for the day.”

“Has she been out and about yet?”

“No, Sejanus. She hasn't left our apartment.” He told the dark-haired peacekeeper, who in return shook his head at Coriolanus. “What?” Shot out of Coriolanus' mouth faster than a shooting star. “She's been hurt; she lost her coat during the whipping incident, plus I had to start patrol work again. Why would she be out and about?”

“You can't keep her locked up in her apartment, Coryo. She needs fresh air and some exercise to help her healing.” Sejanus explained, hoping that the platinum blonde would see reason.

But, of course, he didn't see reason.

“She knows how to open the window, if she wants fresh air that bad. And she's been walking around the apartment, it's not like I'm a monster that's got her tied up to the bedpost or something.”

“Did you forget that I've been inside of her apartment? She doesn't have a bedpost, her mattress is on the floor with a tiny wooden table next to it.”

“Stop calling it her apartment, I live there too.” Barked out Coriolanus. Pointing at Sejanus, he added in, “And don't worry about our bed. That's my bed with my darling rose, you hear me?”

“Yea, I hear you.” Sejanus heavily sighed. “Look, if she needs a coat and ya’ll are struggling to buy one I can always have Ma send Y/N one in the mail.” The kind hearted peacekeeper offered, hoping that a new coat would help with you being able to leave your apartment. An apartment that Coriolanus insisted was his now too. “As a Christmas present.” Sejanus quickly added in, reminding Coryo that the winter holiday was in a week.

“Yea, Ma can send my girl a coat for Yule.” Coriolanus nodded.

Sejanus smiled, happy that his friend was letting him do something nice for you. If only he could convince Coryo to let you off of your house arrest…

“Coryo, Y/N needs to spend some time with you outside of your apartment. Even just a few minutes will be good for her healing.”

“The last time she went out she got whipped so badly that I had to stitch up half of her back. So, excuse me, Sej, for just wanting to keep her safe; away from people gawking at her because of what happened.”

“She can't stay locked up in that apartment, spending her days in nightgowns waiting for you to come home every night all because you're scared of her getting hurt again; of not being able to protect her- again.” Sejanus told his best friend, trying to get it into the platinum blonde’s thick skull that you needed to see more than the inside of the same 4 walls day after day. “What happened shouldn't have, but it did, Coryo. It did and you've been caring for her better than a nurse could; now it's time to aid in her healing by letting her walk around town for a bit.”

Coriolanus bit the inside of his cheek and shook his head. Sejanus has a point, but he doesn't want to admit it. The district born boy's right, what happened to you shouldn't have happened, but it did because Coryo turned you in. Turned you in without the apple as evidence.

He truly didn't know how harsh your punishment was going to be. He thought a quick flogging, maybe no more then 2 or 3 lashes. But he didn't know that you'd be stripped naked in the snow and whipped repeatedly until you fell down from the pain. God, you had about a dozen lashes on your back and half of them were so deep that you'll have scars. Honestly, Coriolanus felt guilty when he watched you get whipped; felt remorseful and regretted his actions.

But he'd never let himself admit it. No, he keeps rationalizing his actions as the right thing. That you stole, that I'd you didn't steal then he wouldn't have turned you in. That he needed to look good in his superiors eyes, that turning you in got him one step closer to the Capitol.

To home.

But now his plans have slightly altered. Now he has you and he's bringing you home with him.

“Coryo, if you really want to protect her, then maybe you should sign up to take that elite officer's exam. Nobody messes with an officer's girl.” Sejanus told the tall blonde, pulling him out of his mental musings.

“Elite Officer's exam?” Coriolanus parroted, sounding stunned.

“Yea.” Sejanus nodded. “I thought you knew about it.” Apparently nobody told Coriolanus about the exam, but considering he's been trading work days with people to be able to spend so much time tending to you, it's not hard to figure out why nobody told him.

“There's a test in a week or so for an Elite Officer's commission. It's for Naval and Air Force tho, so you'll be shipped out of 8.”

“Thank you for telling me. I'll have to sign up before going home.” Coriolanus gratefully told Sejanus.

Yes, since he's in a good mood he'll take you to the market once he gets off work. You should have a sweater to wear; if not then you can borrow his. God knows he's moved his shit into your place; has the bag nestled right next to your wicker basket at the foot of your bed.

And while on your walk to the market he'll tell you the great news about the Elite Officer's exam he's signing up for.

Once you were finished with your shower, you stepped out of the bathroom and into the main room of your apartment wrapped in a towel. You saw that Coryo had laid out your blue floral dress and orange-russet sweater. He was sitting on the edge of your bed, clutching some kind of orange material in his hand.

Hearing your feet pitter patter across the one-room apartment, he looked up at you and asked, “Do you need any help getting dressed, baby?”

Coryo still asks you that, every time you bathe and need to change, even tho you're able to dress yourself now. You guess he just likes to feel needed; offers to help cause of it.

“No, I'm fine, Coryo.” You told him, coming to a stop at the bed. “But thank you for your offer.” You added in, picking up the cotton panties he laid out for you.

Coryo waggled his brows and lowly whistled, “Can't wait til your back’s fully healed so I can fuck you, baby.”, as you took off your towel and pulled on your panties.

Yea…

You knew he'd want to do that as soon as you got better.

There's just one catch tho.

“I've never been with anyone before, Coryo. You’ll prolly be disappointed with my lack of experience.” You told him, grabbing your dress and pulling it on.

Before you could reach for your sweater, Coryo took your hand in his and tugged you until you fell onto his lap. “Darling, don't say that.” He cooed. “I’m proud to be the only man to ever touch you; your innocence will never disappoint me.” He assured you with a soft smile. “Don't worry, I'll teach you everything you need to know.”

To Coriolanus, you being innocent when it came to sex fueled his ego. Made him feel powerful. Yes, he enjoyed having power over you. Sex was another way to wield that power. Plus thought of being the only man to have you makes him feral with primal, possessive instincts.

You're his, all his!

Pecking you on the lips, he says, “Put your sweater on, little dove. I have something to give you that'll go perfect with it.”

You wondered what he had to give you. Silently, you nod and reach over to grab your sweater. You put it on while still sitting on Coryo's lap.

“This was my mother's; I'd like you to have it, Y/N.” Coryo told you, smiling brightly while handing you the orange bunch of silky material.

“Oh Coryo…” You gasped, taking the offered token from him. Inspecting the bright orange material, you quickly figured out that it was a large scarf or a shawl. “It's so pretty.” You mused, still in disbelief about receiving a gift of such fine quality. “Are you sure you want me to have it?. It belonged to your mom.” You ask, feeling a bit guilty about accepting the scarf. It belonged to his mom and from the look in his eyes, well, you know that she's gone.

“My mom would've loved you, baby. Please, accept my gift as a token of my affection, darling.” Coriolanus said, taking the scarf from your hands and wrapping it around your neck.

“Okay.” You relented.

Guiding you off of his lap and onto the bed, he told you, “Put on your knee highs; I'll get your boots.”

He picked your stockings up from the bed and handed them to you before going over to where your boots were at. As you pulled on your stockings, he brought you over the boots. Taking them from him, you slid them on.

Once you’re ready, Coryo gives you a closed lip smile and leads you out the door. He’s happy to be going to the market with you. You on the other hand…Well…You're nervous about people seeing you with a peacekeeper.

You and Coryo are walking along the urban streets of District 8, the cold winds chilling the both of you right down to the bone. You’re glued to his side with his arm wrapped protectively around your back. His large hand resting gently on it.

If he wasn't a peacekeeper from the Capitol, people might think that you make a cute couple. But, since he's a peacekeeper and you're a transfer, well…the residents of 8 turn their noses up at you in disgust. Coryo didn't seem to notice tho.

No, he was too caught up in his own upturn of luck to care what the locals thought of him with you. Their opinions didn't matter. They're just dirty dogs, scumbags, and rat bastards in his opinion. And soon Coriolanus will be an Elite Officer in either the Naval or the Air Force division of the Peacekeepers; he'll be getting the two of you out of the shithole you're stuck in and around civilized people.

“Y/N, I got some good news for you.” Coryo announces with excitement in his baritone, grinning from ear to ear; looking a bit like a homicidal maniac from Dateline.

“What is it?” You curiously ask. You two live in a wintery wasteland that's a smog and sweatshop hell. You're also a very unconventional couple, so you can't imagine what his good news is. Seriously, does anything good actually happen in 8?

“I signed up to take an Elite Officer's exam; when I pass we'll be able to leave 8; go to a nicer district or even the Capitol.” Coryo announced, his icy blue eyes gleaming, as his tone was filled with pride.

Hearing that the platinum blonde peacekeeper could possibly get you out of District 8 by becoming an Elite Officer gave you hope that maybe your luck wasn't shitty after all. You'd love to be able to go to a nicer district, like 1 or 2. And the possibility of going to the Capitol.

You…

Wow, it sounded wonderful. Perhaps too good to be true. But one things for certain, you wondered, “What's the difference between an Elite Officer and an Officer, Coryo?”

“An Elite Officer serves in one of the specialty forces- Naval or Air Force, while an Officer serves boots on the ground.” Coriolanus explained as the entrance to the marketplace came into view.

Looking up at him, you ask, “So you really think you can pass your exam; get us out of here?’

“My darling, I know that I'll pass and get us out.” Coryo confidently told you as the two of you walked into the marketplace. “Don't worry, I'll take care of you.” He pressed a kiss to your head.

As Coryo led you over to a produce cart, you could feel stares burning a hole into your back. You know that they're judging you because you're with a peacekeeper. Especially after what happened a couple of weeks back.

You're most likely a pariah now because you're with Coryo. But it’s not like you got into a relationship with him because you wanted to. You had to, because of your back injury. But that doesn't matter because to the citizens of District 8 you’re Peacekeeper's kept woman.

At least you won't be here much longer, since Coryo's slated to take his exam next week and he's positive that he'll pass. That he'll become an Elite Officer and be able to get the both of you out of the textile district of Panem.

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