#I’m the lamest person ever but you know what?

[33max]

I have accomplished something today and like 99.9% of the planet will not care but

I filled 500 emoji slots in my max server

when I tell you I am emoji obsessed, I mean it, I get sad that I can’t use them on any other social platform

:frogcute: :maxdaddy: :catlove:

[wherethefireliliesgrow]

Make You Remember

Yoo Jimin (Karina) x Reader

GENRE: angst, fluff

TYPE: One Shot

Inspired by: Make You Remember - Lazy Weekends

A/N: i’ve been in a writing slump this year, but every now and then, i’d come here to read. recently, a few pieces caught my attention and reignited my urge to write. so, here we are! while revisiting my 2018 spotify playlists for a dose of nostalgia, i stumbled upon one of my favorite songs from back then—it felt like the perfect way to ease back into writing. (a little shoutout to 2cool-2die, her stories were what got me back into writing). anyway, hope you all enjoy the story!

“Stop staring at her like a creep,” Minjeong whispered, her large eyes narrowing in a protective glare.

Jimin couldn’t help herself. She had been watching you for the past hour—watching the way you threw your head back in laughter at something your friends said or carefully picked the tomatoes off your sandwich to hand them off to someone else. Her fists clenched at the sight.

You used to pluck off tomatoes and feed them to her, letting her play your knight in shining armor against your sworn enemy: tomatoes. It should’ve been her.

Oh, how she missed that smile you used to reserve just for her.

“Dude, I’m serious,” Minjeong hissed again, this time throwing a balled-up tissue at Jimin’s face. “This is getting out of hand.”

Jimin grunted in annoyance, lazily stretching her long arms overhead before sprawling out on the metal bench. Her head landed on Aeri’s lap as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

“I can’t help it. I miss her,” she admitted quietly, closing her eyes as Aeri absentmindedly began combing through her soft raven-black hair with her fingers.

“Well, you should’ve done better,” NingNing said flatly, taking a deep drag from her Juul. “She really loved you, you know.”

The girls expected Jimin to snap back, as she always did. Instead, they watched her deflate entirely, burrowing her face into Aeri’s stomach for solace.

“I know.”

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Jimin had always been sure of herself. She was proud of her decisions, every one of them. After all, she had transferred from one of the top universities in the UK to pursue her passion for dance in Korea—a choice that went against her parents’ wishes. They had warned her about the instability of a dance career, but she’d proved them wrong.

She had met Minjeong, Aeri, and NingNing shortly after her return, and together, they formed a dance group. Now in her third year of university, Jimin was part of AESPA, a group that had skyrocketed to fame after winning first place in a national competition.

With a growing fanbase, a promising future, and an upcoming performance in front of the president at the annual ceremony, Jimin had every reason to be proud of her choices.

Every reason—except for letting you go.

She had met you during her first year back in Korea. You were the university’s student ambassador, tasked with introducing new students to campus life. Since she was the only mid-semester transfer at the time, Jimin had the luck of spending the entire day with you, just the two of you.

You captivated her immediately. Your soft, angelic voice, dry sense of humor, and those big brown eyes that lit up with excitement over the smallest things…like the library. Jimin had thought you were the lamest, cutest little thing she’d ever met. And from that moment, she was hooked.

Jimin made it her mission to sweep you off your feet. Surprised but not surprised, you had plenty of admirers. You were popular, down-to-earth, and undeniably beautiful, the kind of person who effortlessly drew others in. That only made Jimin's task harder, pushing her to work tirelessly to win your heart.

To everyone else, you were the classy student ambassador, smart, athletic, and poised. But Jimin knew the truth: beneath all that polish, you were a total nerd. 

So, she went out of her way to prove how much she cared. She’d pick you up from class with your favorite snacks, even when her schedule was packed.

She once secretly drove across state lines to attend an anime expo, just to get you those rare Pokémon cards you’d been obsessing over…though she swore she lost at least a million cool points doing it. But every second was worth it when she saw your face light up. Jimin even sat through every Avengers movie, biting back sarcastic remarks just to see you smile. 

Before long, you were hers and she was yours. You found yourself snuggled into her arms during late-night movie marathons, or cheering from backstage as she started entering dance competitions.

You were her there to support when she doubted herself after losing a dance battle, always ready with a hug and soft kisses. You were AESPA's unofficial fifth member, helping them set up for street performances and cheering louder than anyone else when they won.

And when AESPA skyrocketed to fame, you stood faithfully by her side, despite the growing distance you felt creeping in. 

But fame did something to Jimin. Slowly, the girl who once drove hours for Pokémon cards began to lose sight of the things that mattered. You were the first to notice the changes. Jimin started craving the spotlight more than anything else, and you quietly faded into the shadows.

You stopped bringing up your hobbies after a fan on her livestream mocked you for being childish. You stopped asking her for late-night drives when her excuses became more frequent. And you stopped waiting for her to notice how tired you looked, how empty you felt. 

She didn’t notice when you began packing up your prized Pokémon collection, throwing it all away as if erasing a piece of yourself. She didn’t notice when you started leaving events early, hiding the hurt behind a polite smile. Jimin was so caught up in her world of adoration, flashing lights, and applause that she failed to see you slipping through her fingers. 

She didn’t notice until it was far too late. By the time she turned around, desperate to hold onto what was left, you were already gone. She had lost you. And in losing you, she lost the part of herself that had once felt complete.

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“C’mon, Jimin. Get out of your head.” Jimin slapped her forehead in frustration as she stumbled through the routine once again.

The sound of sneakers squeaking on the polished floor was followed by a collective groan from the rest of the girls, who collapsed onto the studio floor in exhaustion. AESPA was under pressure. They were supposed to perfect a dance routine for a massive ad collaboration, a career-defining moment. But with finals looming and the team juggling school and practice, their patience was wearing thin. 

“I’m really sorry, guys,” Jimin said quietly, glancing at her exhausted teammates sprawled on the floor.

Aeri’s pink hair stuck to her damp face, and Minjeong lay flat on her back, staring blankly at the ceiling like she’d lost her will to live. 

“It’s been three months, Jimin.” NingNing sighed, rubbing her temples. “When are you going to get over her? This isn’t like you.” 

“I’m trying,” Jimin muttered, her gaze locked on her scuffed sneakers, her throat tight with unshed tears. “But at the same time…I don’t want to.” 

“Well, what do you want, then?” Aeri asked, sitting up with a tired glare.

She was drained. She was tired of practice, of exams, and most of all, of watching her leader spiral into a deep abyss of self-hatred and regret in front of her. 

Jimin hesitated, her dark brows knitting together as if weighing the weight of her answer.

“I want her back,” she finally admitted. “I want Y/N back.” 

“Absolutely not,” Minjeong snapped, suddenly sitting up and joining the conversation. Her arms crossed, and her expression was livid. “You broke her, Jimin. You fucking broke her heart.” 

Jimin lowered her head, guilt weighing heavy on her shoulders, but her she had already made this decision days ago. After finding one of your old LEGO pieces buried under her bed, a reminder of simpler, happier times, she had cradled it in her hands and cried like a baby.

That night, she spiraled into a social media stalking session, scrolling through your photos, searching for any trace of the love she had destroyed. That was when she decided she’d do whatever it took to make things right. 

“I’ll treat her right this time,” Jimin whispered, her voice trembling.

“I’ll do anything to make her happy.” 

Minjeong stood abruptly, storming over to Jimin, her smaller frame radiating fiery anger. Despite the height difference, Jimin instinctively cowered under Minjeong’s glare. 

“Do you know how many times she came to me crying in the middle of the night because you couldn’t even show up for a date? How insecure you made her feel? How your stupid fangirls tore her apart?” Minjeong jabbed a finger into Jimin’s chest with every accusation.

“She’s my best friend, Jimin. I won’t let you hurt her again. She gave you everything. She gave you so many chances, and you let her down every single time.” 

The room crackled with tension as Jimin’s lips parted to respond, but no words came out. Sensing a fight about to break out, NingNing and Aeri hurriedly stepped between the two girls. 

“Hey, now’s not the time to fight,” NingNing said gently, wrapping her arms around Minjeong’s shoulders to pull her back. “We all care about Y/N, okay? Let’s take a second.” 

“Please,” Jimin pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper. Tears rimmed her eyes, but there was an earnestness in her tone that softened her hardened edges.

“Just give me a chance. I swear I’ll never hurt her again.” 

“No. No fucking way,” Minjeong snapped, her voice firm. 

“How about we let Y/N decide herself?” Aeri suggested cautiously, flinching slightly under Minjeong’s searing glare.

“Jimin can talk to her. If she says no…then that’s it. Jimin walks away and never bothers her again.” 

The blonde hesitated. She knew how deeply you had loved Jimin and how much it had cost you when things fell apart. Letting Jimin reach out could undo all the progress you’d made. But at the same time…if she stopped this, would you resent her for it? 

With a heavy sigh, Minjeong finally relented. “Fine. Just one sentence. If she reacts badly to whatever you say, you stay the hell away from her. For good.” 

Jimin’s lips curved into a genuine smile for the first time in months, a smile full of hope, the kind that crinkled the corners of her eyes.

“One sentence is more than enough to make her remember.”

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They say the easiest way to someone's heart is through their stomach, so Jimin threw herself into her first mission with relentless determination. The five-hour drive to Busan and back didn’t faze her—this was for you. She needed to remind you of the small things, the little joys you used to share.

The memory of your trips together flooded her mind: your hand in hers, your voice belting off tune to whichever K-pop song was stuck in your head, and your infectious laughter filling the car. She prayed to the gods to hear that laugh again. 

By the time she returned to Seoul, the darkness of the night had already cloaked the streets. Armed with the pink box of macarons from your hometown bakery, Jimin’s heart raced with anticipation and dread. Aeri had passed along a tip (reluctantly overheard from Minjeong, who would never willingly disclose your whereabouts to Jimin) that you were working a shift at the local bistro. 

When Jimin walked into the cozy bistro, the soft chime of the bell drew attention from other patrons. Murmurs rippled through the room as people recognized her, AESPA’s leader, a rising star. But Jimin’s focus was on you. Only you. 

You stood behind the counter, your hair tied up in a messy bun, concentrated on preparing a tray of drinks. You weren’t as put-together as you are in school, with your crisp white shirt bearing faint creases, but to Jimin, you were as breathtaking as ever. 

She made her way to the counter, sitting directly in front of you. She waited, patient and quiet, as you prepared another Long Island, your tongue sticking out in concentration. 

“Hi, sorry for the wait. What can I—” You froze mid-sentence as your eyes met hers.

Recognition flickered across your face, followed by a flash of pain. Your expression changed into something cold, guarded. 

“No.” Your tone was flat, final. “Please leave.” 

Jimin didn’t flinch. Her gaze softened, a melancholic smile tugging at her lips. She didn’t respond, she couldn’t. Not yet, she only had one chance. All she knew was that seeing you here within an arms length, was enough to momentarily soothe the ache in her chest. 

As much as you tried to suppress it, your heart betrayed you, fluttering at the sight of her. Jimin looked effortlessly stunning, her leather jacket rolled up to reveal familiar tattoos snaking down her forearm. She was exactly how you remembered and yet entirely different. 

She stared at you for another moment, her silence unnerving. Her eyes brimmed with emotions you couldn’t understand. Finally, Jimin rose to her feet, placed the pink box on the counter, and lightly squeezed your arm before turning to leave. 

You stared at the box, stunned, your mind reeling. It was from your favorite bakery in Busan, the one she had driven hours to visit countless times when you were together. Your chest tightened as you realized the lengths she must’ve gone to for this gesture. 

But you couldn’t let yourself fall for her again. Not this time. 

“I’ll be right back!” you yelled to your coworker, grabbing the box as you stormed out of the bistro.

The cold November air bit at your skin as you scanned the street for her. 

You found her leaning against a lamppost, a cigarette dangling from her lips. The sight stopped you in your tracks. When had she started smoking again? Fury flared in your chest. You strode toward her, plucking the cigarette from her fingers and tossing it to the ground. 

“What the hell, Jimin?” you snapped, glaring at her. “I thought you quit.” 

She continued to stay silent, her dark eyes fixed on you as if trying to engrave your face in her memories.

Your anger wavered. You shouldn’t care. You couldn’t care. Not after everything. Shoving the pink box back into her hands, you hissed, “Don’t ever come to this bistro again.” 

The words tasted bitter, and regret coiled in your stomach the moment they left your lips. But you couldn’t take them back. Not now. 

Jimin nodded wordlessly, her lips curling into a soft, bittersweet smile—one that inexplicably cut deeper than any argument could. With that, she turned and walked away, disappearing into the cold night. 

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It seemed after that night, Jimin had made it her mission to claw her way back into your life, whether you wanted her to or not. She didn’t speak, didn’t push, but her presence was always there, an unspoken reminder of everything you’d once shared.

You could feel her eyes on you during lunch, lingering from across the cafeteria as if she thought she could will you to look back. Even on your way to work, you swore you’d catch her silhouette in the distance, leaning against a lamppost or sitting on a nearby bench, always careful not to cross any boundaries but still there.

The weekends were no escape either. When AESPA was invited to perform at the school fair you unfortunately was in charge of organizing, it felt like fate, or perhaps Jimin, was mocking you. She stood front and center, capturing attention with her effortless charm, but every so often her eyes would search for yours in the crowd, a desperate glance that left you feeling raw and exposed.

What annoyed you most, though, was her silence. She never spoke to you, never tried to bridge the impossible gap between you. And yet, as much as it infuriated you, you hated to admit how much you missed her voice.

The way it would rasp slightly in the mornings when she whispered sweet nothings into your ear, or the confident drawl she carried when talking to others.

This Jimin, silent and unsure, almost timid, felt like a stranger. It was disarming, and you weren’t sure if you hated her for it or if it broke your heart just a little more.

As much as you tried to build walls around yourself, Jimin had a way of chipping at them, bit by bit, with gestures that felt achingly familiar.

One evening when you finally left the library, you found a gift on the hood of your car, neatly wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine, was a book you had mentioned loving once, years ago before you got together with her, a rare edition of poetry that you never got the chance to buy.

Tucked inside was a small card with her unmistakable handwriting:

For when you need an escape.– J

Your heart twisted painfully, remembering how she used to surprise you with little things like this, whether it was a book, a drink she knew you loved, or a random trinket that reminded her of you.

Another day, on your way home from a long shift, you found her waiting by the campus fountain. She didn’t approach, didn’t say anything, just held out a single stem of a sunflower, your favorite flower, the kind she used to bring to your dorm every time you aced an exam.

You wanted to yell at her, to demand why she was doing this now, but instead, you took the flower silently, clutching it tightly all the way home.

The memories came rushing back. The way she used to sit with you for hours in the library, pretending to study but really just stealing glances at you over the top of her books. How she’d wake up early to walk you to class, even if it meant cutting her own sleep short. The nights she stayed up late with you on the phone, talking about nothing and everything until you both fell asleep to the sound of each other's breathing.

Jimin knew exactly how to unravel you, and she was relentless in her quiet persistence.

Another day, after a particularly stressful day, you find yourself staring at a box left outside your apartment. Inside was a Slowpoke doll (you used to call her your SlowPoke because she was always running late and had a knack for falling asleep in random places) and a note: 

I know how these made you feel like you weren’t good enough, but these are the things I love about you. All your interests, your little habits…don’t stop.

You shoved the box under your bed in a haze of shame and anger. You’d given up your obsession with Pokémon long ago, sacrificing that part of yourself just to appease her fans and their cruel remarks. But as the days stretched on, your resolve wavered. You caught yourself glancing at the box more often than you cared to admit, the memories flooding into your mind. 

Eventually, you couldn’t help yourself. With a reluctant sigh, you pulled the Slowpoke doll from the box and placed it on your bed. That night, you held it close as you drifted off to sleep, comforted by a piece of the past you thought you’d lost. 

Each gesture tugged at the guarded heart. You hated her for how easily she slipped back into your life, even as you found yourself clutching the flower she’d given you, rereading her notes late into the night, and biting your lip to suppress the warmth spreading in your chest.

You hated her, and yet, you couldn’t deny your feelings for her. You never could.

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You wrapped your scarf tightly around your neck, shielding yourself from the brisk evening wind as you waited for Minjeong outside the movie theater.

The newest Marvel movie had finally been released, and although you’d downplayed your excitement, your heart raced. Your lame obsession with Avengers had always been a sore spot, especially since Jimin’s fangirls used it to mock you mercilessly.

Over time, you tried to bury that part of yourself, to hide how much you still adored superheroes. It was easier than facing the ridicule—or the memories tied to it. 

When Minjeong, your best friend since elementary school, asked if you wanted to see the movie, you hesitated at first. But her easy acceptance of your quirks had always been earnest, so you agreed.

The sound of tires crunching gravel pulled you from your thoughts, and you looked up to see a sleek black Mercedes pulling into the parking lot. Minjeong stepped out, her face drawn in a disgruntled scowl. She spotted you and quickly brightened, crossing the space in a few brisk strides before pulling you into a warm hug. 

“Hey, Y/N-nie. Have you been waiting long?” she asked, her voice light, though her body was stiff against yours. 

You shook your head, but something about her demeanor made you pause. Your gaze drifted back to the car, the sleek black exterior gleaming under the parking lot lights. A pit formed in your stomach as realization hit. 

“Was that… Jimin?” you asked cautiously. 

Minjeong froze. Her jaw tightened, her grip on your arms faltering slightly before she let out a resigned sigh. She avoided your eyes as she nodded.

“Yeah,” she admitted reluctantly. 

“She’s the one who asked me to bring you here,” Minjeong added after a pause. Her tone was careful, measured, as though she were treading on thin ice. “She even bought the tickets beforehand.” 

You blinked at her, stunned. 

“I didn’t want to do it,” Minjeong continued quickly, frustration in her voice. “I told her this was a bad idea, but…” She trailed off, biting her lip as her gaze dropped to the ground.

“She was persistent.” 

Your heart did a strange flip at that. You could almost picture Jimin sitting across from Minjeong, stubborn as ever, insisting that she take you to the movie. She must have known showing up herself would only push you away, so she found a way to make sure you’d still see it. It was so… Jimin. Thoughtful in a way that made your chest ache. 

“She’s been doing things like this for weeks,” Minjeong muttered, almost to herself. “Little things. She thinks they’ll fix everything.” Her round eyes flickered with an anger she didn’t bother to hide.

“I told her to leave you alone. I told her you didn’t need her messing things up again.” 

“She hasn’t been bothering me,” you said softly, reaching out to squeeze Minjeong’s hand in reassurance when her voice grew sharp.

“I promise, Jeongnie. She hasn’t done anything. Don’t worry.” 

Minjeong’s shoulders sagged slightly, but her lips pressed into a tight line. “Has she talked to you yet?” 

You shook your head. “No. Weirdly, she hasn’t said a word. Just… left some gifts every now and then.” 

At that, Minjeong’s eyes widened, and she groaned, slapping her forehead.

“I’m so stupid,” she muttered, half to herself. 

“What?” you asked, confused by her sudden exasperation. 

She shook her head quickly, waving the question away. “Nothing. Come on, let’s go inside. The movie’s about to start.” 

As she guided you toward the theater, her arm looped protectively through yours. Though Minjeong was close friends with the leader, it was clear she didn’t like Jimin trying to worm her way back into your life.

You could see it in the tightness of her jaw, the subtle furrow in her brow. She didn’t trust Jimin. Not her promises, not her intentions, and certainly not her ability to heal the wounds she’d caused. After all, it had been Minjeong who had patiently helped you piece yourself back together, bit by bit.

And yet, the fact that she’d brought you here today, using Jimin’s tickets, betrayed the tiny sliver of hope she held for her.

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This was the fifth time that day Jimin walked past the bistro, casually peering through the windows with her hands stuffed in her leather jacket pockets before walking away.

You watched her each time, fidgeting, kicking the ground with her boots, looking like she wanted to step inside but was holding back. It was endearing, not that you’d admit it. But every time, she chose to walk away, opting to follow your words from before instead.

It had begun to snow, and you couldn’t stop yourself from worrying.

“Stupid oaf,” you muttered, before slipping outside to call out Jimin’s name.

She was already on her sixth round of circling the bistro, her slender figure blending into the gray snowfall.

“Yoo Jimin!” You called, your breath forming a cloud in the cold air.

The raven-haired girl stopped in her tracks, her shoulders stiffening before she slowly turned around to look at you. A nervous grin tugged at her lips, and your heart fluttered involuntarily.

“Just…just come in.” You sighed, avoiding her gaze.

Jimin’s face lit up, her eyes sparkling with glee like a little kid as she quickly made her way over.

You led her through the busy bistro, past the tables full of customers, to the counter, exactly where she had sat the first time she came. You couldn’t help but feel self-conscious at the way she was staring at you, her face resting in her palms, eyes wide and starry.

Sighing, you pushed the menu to her. “What do you want to order?”

Jimin merely looked at you, a silly smile gracing her lips. Your eyes flickered to it, momentarily lost in the soft curve of her mouth and her luscious lips, before quickly looking away.

“Fine.” You mumbled, quickly pouring her a cup of warm coffee.

Fortunately, you were distracted by the steady stream of orders. It was a Saturday night, after all, and that meant people were coming in for drinks. You were busy making drinks, serving them, but with Jimin there, it felt different, lighter, happier.

That was when Joon, a usual customer and a tall, blurry figure, stumbled over to the counter, clearly drunk. You tensed instantly. Joon was always handsy when he drank, more often than not, and you always tried to stay out of his way.

“Y/NNNNN,” he slurred, leaning way too close for comfort, his breath heavy on the counter.

Jimin’s eyes narrowed, and you saw the muscles in her jaw clench.

“I missed you,” Joon continued, leaning forward, his gaze lingering in a way that made your stomach churn.

“How about we go on a date? My place is just around the corner.”

“I’m not interested, Joon.” You pushed back, trying to create some space. “Please, leave me alone.”

Joon’s expression twisted into something more sinister, his hand suddenly reaching over the counter to grab your arm, his fingers digging into your skin. You winced at the pressure, red marks forming on your arm as he held you tight.

That’s when Jimin had had enough. She stood up, towering over him, her height equal to his, but with a quiet strength that commanded attention.

“Get. Your. Hands. Off. Her.” Her voice was cold, and before you could react, she pushed Joon off, sending him stumbling backward into the wall.

Joon recovered quickly and swung at Jimin, narrowly missing her face by a hair. You stepped forward, panic flooding your chest, quickly pulling Jimin away from him.

“Let it go, Jimin,” you urged, your voice shaky as you tugged her close to you. “Please, stop.”

Jimin hesitated, her eyes softening as she looked at you. She reached down and gently cradled the arm that Joon had grabbed, her cold fingers brushing over the tender skin, sending a shiver up your spine.

“I’m okay,” you said, trying to reassure her.

She looked like she was about to say something when a yell from your coworkers snapped your attention back to the scene. You turned just in time to see Joon charging forward, having managed to break free from the grip of your coworkers. His fist collided with Jimin’s temple with a sickening crunch, and she crumpled to the floor.

You screamed, panic rising as onlookers rushed to contain Joon. Jimin lay motionless, and you immediately knelt by her side, heart racing.

“Jimin?” You screamed, rushing to her side. The blood had already begun to trickle down her temple, and a bruise was swelling rapidly.

You knelt beside her, panic clawing at your chest. “Jimin? Baby? Please, wake up.”

You cupped her pale face in your trembling hands, her skin cool against your palms. She was so still, and it terrified you.

After a few moments of desperate attempts to rouse her, her eyelids finally fluttered open, and you let out a shaky breath of relief.

“Oh thank god,” you sighed out in relief, your chest tightening as her eyelids slowly fluttered open.

“Jimin? Can you hear me?”

Her cheeks were squished as your hands cupped her face. You might have found it cute if you weren’t so worried. Her dazed expression and the way her chubby cheeks puffed out only made your heart ache more.

“Am I dreaming?” she asked, a dopey smile still lingering on her lips.

You leaned back, running a hand through your hair in relief and exasperation.

“No, Jimin,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “You just got punched. This is very real.”

Her grin faltered in realization. Her eyes widened in horror as she scrambled to sit up.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she muttered, groaning in embarrassment, her hands shooting up to touch her tender forehead.

“Please forget I said anything. Please.”

She couldn’t believe that she wasted her only chance, her only sentence, just to ask her if you were real.

You reached out, gently stopping her from touching her injury. “Don’t touch. You’re bleeding.”

Your manager let you leave early after apologizing repeatedly to Jimin. After all, one of the biggest rising stars had just been injured in his bistro.

Jimin smiled good-naturedly and shrugged off his apologies, clearly not phased. She had refused to go to the hospital for a check-up, and unable to stop yourself, you found yourself driving her back to your apartment.

You promised yourself this was a one-time thing, that you were just being a caring, responsible friend. Anyone would’ve done the same for her, right?

As you led her into your room, she glanced around, the familiar space tugging at something in her heart. Her eyes landed on her sweatshirt that she had lost so long ago, still draped casually over the chair.

She noticed the absence of the photos on your vanity mirror, ones that once captured all the memories of the two of you. But, then, her gaze softened as it settled on the SlowPoke doll still sitting on your bed. Her heart skipped a beat. You had kept it.

You still cared, even if you seemed so distant, so far away.

Maybe, just maybe, you hadn't forgotten her love.

You paused in your tracks as you saw Jimin poking at the SlowPoke on your bed. You turned a brilliant shade of pink, flustered, before quickly ushering her to sit down so you could tend to her wound.

"Don't move," you muttered, your voice softer than you intended as you reached up gingerly to disinfect the cut on her temple.

She winced and hissed in pain but didn’t pull away, remaining still, her dark eyes never leaving your face. The closeness of your bodies was unnerving, her skin so warm under your touch, and that tight white shirt she wore, showing off her tattoos, only added to the flurry of thoughts rushing through your head.

Why did she have to be so damn beautiful?

Jimin, on the other hand, couldn’t take her eyes off you. The softness in your eyes and the gentleness of your touch, was making her heart race. She wasn’t sure if she'd ever have this chance again.

"Why are you doing this, Jimin?" you asked, your voice coming out a little more strained than you'd planned, your hands trembling as you applied a thin layer of medicine.

Jimin’s brows furrowed in confusion. "Doing what?"

"All this," you said, motioning between the two of you. "Not talking to me, but following me around... giving me gifts..."

Jimin paused, taking a deep breath, before saying, “I wanted to make you remember.”

“Remember what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you finished applying the medicine.

She let out a small breath, trying to steady herself. "Remember us."

She looked down at her hands, then back up at you, her voice growing quieter, more vulnerable. "And... make you remember my love for you."

You froze, your hands retreating from her face as your heart pounded in your chest. You searched her eyes, so open, so full of regret and hope.

And in that moment, you knew you still loved her too.

"Jimin..." You tried to form words, but your throat was tight, the emotions threatening to spill over. “I-“

Before you could finish, Jimin quickly knelt beside the bed, gently cradling your hand in hers and placing it in your lap.

“Please, give me another chance, Y/N,” she begged, the tears she had been holding back finally breaking free.

"These past few months without you have been... miserable. I know I hurt you. I know I lost myself, but I promise, I won’t let this happen again. I love everything about you, your softness, your quirky obsessions... everything. I’m sorry I didn’t reassure you when you were doubting yourself, or protect you from the hate.”

She took a shaky breath, and in a voice barely above a whisper, she said, “I don’t think I could ever love anyone as much as I love you.”

Your heart clenched, the weight of her words crashing over you. The pain you had felt for so long, the loneliness that had settled deep in your soul, began to break. You missed her, but you're scared, so scared. Scared of trusting her again, scared of the hurt she could cause, scared of how much power she held over you.

“You hurt me, Jimin. So much,” you said softly, unable to keep the pain from your voice. “I don’t know if I can trust you.”

Jimin nodded, her face softening with understanding, though the sadness in her eyes remained. But she wasn’t giving up.

“I know,” she said, her voice steady. “But I will spend the rest of my life earning back your trust.”

And in that moment, with everything on the line, you finally gave in.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Her eyes widened, and that smile, so hopeful, so full of warmth, spread across her angelic face.

“Yes, Jimin. One chance.” You whispered, your heartbeat thudding loudly in your ears.

“Yes!” Jimin punched the air lamely, her eyes sparkling as she grabbed your hand, pulling you up effortlessly.

Before you could even react, she spun you around in a twirl, making you let out a small scream in surprise. The sudden rush of laughter filled the room as you both stumbled and collapsed onto the bed, her arms immediately wrapping around you.

.

.

.

.

The soft thud of Jimin’s heartbeat was lulling you to sleep, a comforting rhythm that calmed your racing thoughts. You gently traced the ink on her forearms, each line and curve filled with her memories. Her steady breathing was a lullaby, peaceful and steady, as you cuddled up to her.

After tending to her injury, you had given her a change of clothes, and let her stay the night. She refused to let go of you, her arms wrapped tightly around you, her lips pressing soft, affectionate kisses to your forehead. It was a strange feeling, like nothing could go wrong in that moment.

For the first time in months, your heart felt whole again, free of the old pain that had lingered too long.

But then, a thought crept into your mind. Gently, you pulled away slightly, your eyes meeting the beautiful dancer’s.

She whined, unhappy at the space between you. You laughed softly, seeing the playful pout on her lips. Outside, she was fierce, confident, and intimidating even, but here, in front of you, she was just a clingy baby.

“I wanted to ask,” you began, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear, “Why did you want me to forget about what you said at the bistro? When you told me to forget it?”

A faint pink blush spread across her cheeks, and she shifted uncomfortably, not meeting your eyes.

"It was because..." she trailed off, her voice hesitant, and you gently cupped her chin, forcing  her gaze to meet yours.

“Because of what?”

"Because Minjeong said I could only talk to you once. One sentence. If you reacted badly, I would have to leave your life for good," Jimin admitted, looking away in embarrassment.

"I couldn’t believe I wasted that one sentence on asking if you were real. I was scared Minjeong would beat me up if you got mad."

You stared at her in disbelief. "That was why you refused to speak to me?"

Jimin nodded, her lips twisting into a sheepish smile.

"You’re so fucking stupid, Jimin," you muttered under your breath, shaking your head, though a fond smile tugged at your lips.

"Thank god you’re good at dancing, or else I’d be worried about your future."

"Hey!" she whined, pushing you playfully. "I’m not stupid! It’s just... Minjeong is scary when she’s mad."

Unable to hold back your endearment for this stupid lovable girl, you finally leaned down to press your lips to hers.

Jimin froze, marveling at the feel of your soft lips against hers. She had been dreaming about this moment for so long, and she quickly kissed you back with just as much enthusiasm. The kiss was soft at first, tentative before it deepened following the quickening of your heart beats.

When the air between you became a problem, you both pulled away, gasping for breath, but neither of you made a move to break the closeness. Your foreheads rested together, and for a moment, you just smiled into the space between your lips.

“What did you plan to say then?” You whispered, still breathless from the kiss, “The sentence.”

“Oh, I was going to say: Look at this cool tattoo I got.” She said mischievously, before sitting up and pulling off her shirt, leaving herself in nothing but a bra top.

You blushed immediately, eyes instinctively flicking to the defined muscles of her abs as she twisted to show you the back of her shoulders. For a moment, you couldn’t help but be distracted by the way her muscles flexed before your gaze landed on a small patch of ink on the corner of her right shoulder.

“You got a tattoo of a Charmander?” you sputtered, almost disbelieving.

“Yeah, it’s cute, right?” Jimin grinned, proud of herself.

“It reminded me of you. You have the same eyes as Charmander. And also, it’s your favorite Pokémon, so it’s a win-win.”

“Jimin, my favorite Pokémon is Chikorita…” you sighed, shaking your head in exasperation.

“Chikorita.” She repeated, her lips pursing in thought. “Not Charmander?”

“Not Charmander.”

She thought for a second, then shrugged with a grin. “At least it looks like you.”

Unable to contain yourself any longer, you grabbed the collar of her top and pulled her into another kiss, one that made her remember that you were definitely hers.

got a bit carried away so some scenes kinda dragged out 😬

but hope you all enjoyed this loserish version of jimin!

[eurydicees]

i think iwaizumi is like. ok so he comes off as cool and athletic and smart and popular and, yk, to a degree, he totally is! he’s incredible at volleyball and he gets decent grades and he’s a good friend and overall well-liked by the general seijoh population.

ALSO at the same time he is like. the lamest popular guy in the world.

this is a title that oikawa has given him and the part that iwaizumi protests is not “lame” but “popular.” some points that oikawa makes, when talking to iwaizumi about how much of a normal average deeply Just A Guy iwaizumi is:

iwaizumi’s favorite activity is, first and foremost, volleyball; and second, it’s “spend time watching d-rated martial arts movies with my best friend.”

i appreciate it and love this, oikawa says, obviously, but you do have other things you can do with your time. do you know that. it doesn’t seem like you know that.

he’s popular, he has other friends, he could have his pick of girlfriends, and he chooses to instead monopolize oikawa’s time through varying methods of aggression and/or affection.

why do you not have a girlfriend yet, oikawa asks. i’m too busy keeping you in line, iwaizumi says. to which oikawa replies, you suck at being popular, iwa.

people think he’s cool because he likes the outdoors, likes going on hikes with his free time, excels at every athletic task, etc etc.

what they do not know is that he likes going on hikes to look at the changing leaves and his favorite way to interact with nature is like his fucking rock collection or some shit.

do they have names, oikawa asks, teasing. shut the fuck up, iwaizumi says. then, fucking obviously they have names.

he’s not scared of bugs, girls whisper when he passes in the hallways. he saved me from a spider one time, they say, and oikawa claims they swoon.

and like, oikawa HAS to laugh because this is the same boy who tried to keep a tank of beetles he collected from the park and cried hysterically both first when they all escaped, and second when his mother yelled at him for ten minutes about the five she found in the sugar jar. he was fourteen.

“he’s so smart,” someone says admiringly when iwaizumi helps them a bit with their class work. oikawa is rolling his damn eyes because iwaizumi is smart, sure, he’s doing fine in school, but he’s evidently not smart enough to calculate the risk/reward of a monetary bet on how many pork buns he can fit in his mouth. more than 8 gets him 1000 yen. less than 8 makes him lose 1500.

what the fuck was he thinking, oikawa is forced to ask, first when he nearly has to perform the heimlich maneuver and later when he buys iwaizumi a consolation bottle of water. what the fuck.

people think he’s mysterious and stoic and kind of darkly intriguing because he doesn’t necessarily laugh a lot while he’s in class and focused, and while he’s friendly with everyone, he still sticks pretty close to his little group.

oikawa cannot believe that anyone could ever think this because iwaizumi gets home after school and does not shut the fuck up. and he’s so easy to make laugh. and his every expression is so easy to read.

how could you possibly have anyone convinced that you are cool and mysterious, oikawa asks. how the fuck did you do that.

iwaizumi is forced to shrug. he doesn’t really have an answer. people just kind of make their own assumptions about him no matter what he does. doesn’t matter anyways. oikawa might be the only one who seems to truly get him, but he’s okay with that. if it had be one person, he’s glad it’s someone he loves.

and now what the fuck is oikawa supposed to do with that.

(push him down on the bed and kiss him, oikawa finds, seems to be the right answer.)

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

What about sleep token x reader where they know reader has feelings for them, but reader doesn't know that they know it! How would they treat you or teasingly hint that they are aware of your feelings before they confess their own? x

(sorry if this is silly. love love your work)

Uuuuuuuuuuuuu I love this!!!!!

Vessel

Look, I think you both would be helpless. If there would be a blueprint for - clueless and blissfully unaware- it would be you and Vessel. So at first, he’s honestly missing all the signs himself. Convincing himself that there was no way that you could like him. But then it’s the rest of the boys that start hitting him with the “So when are you bringing your girlfriend over?”, “off to see your misses?”, and he’s red like a tomato, denying all the comments.

But they make him start looking. Pay attention. And he realizes that you look at him the same way he looks at you so surely you have to have feelings for him. But he’s so afraid to make a fool out of himself so instead he starts humming parts of the songs that hint at his personal feelings. From “My arms belong around you”, to “and you make it more than I could ever feel before”. Watching you bite your lip as you watch him.

“I like this line”, you would whisper, making Vessel hum, “Do you? Why?” You’d shrug, trying to keep your cheeks from turning pink, “Just reminds me of the love I want”. And it’s so loud the implication within your words. The reality Vessel had painted within his mind, slowly unfolding. “It’s the love I want to”, he would breathe out, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face.

iii

It’s iii… I mean he would be a tease. But just because he’s a sucker for making you smile. It’s like someone is getting him high every time he hears your laugh. More specifically you laugh at something he said.

“Okay one more, one more”, he’s pulling you by the hand. It’s a post-show green room celebration. Everyone is slightly tipsy. He’s been by your side all night. “iii, i will piss my pants”, you grunt but end up giggling as he pulls you back onto his lap.

“I sold my vacuum yesterday”, he nodded all seriously. “Did you”, you bite your lip, “All it was doing was collecting dust”, iii shrugged, but here you were snorting once more at the lamest joke he could muster. “You are diabolical”, you pushed at his chest. “But you love it”, iii wiggled his eyebrows, “Correction - you love me”, he jabbed your chest leaning in. “Oh, shush you… silly goose”, you quickly turned his face to the side. “Don’t wound me. At least kiss my cheek”, he whined, “Payment for all my hard work”. You would roll your eyes leaning in only to meet his lips instead. Quickly pulling away as you clasped a hand over your mouth. Eyes growing big. “That’s more like it”, he smirked, “Don’t be shy, I know you wanted to do that”.

ii

Hmm… ii… ii… ii… see I didn’t know… I don’t think that he’s one for games and teasing. Or maybe…He is guarded and if he loves he loves. It’s straightforward. So when he caught feelings for you, i think he would try to keep it just between you two but it would be the boys that would get the job done. Going out of their way to tease you.

“Yn, drooling again, love”, iii would call out, “ii put a shirt on a girl can’t work”, your cheeks going pink as you instantly rushed to deny that you had been looking at him. “It’s okay, ii likes it don’t you man”, Ivy would smirk. “Get your heads out of a gutter”, ii would grunt. Watching as you quietly busied yourself around the room, cheeks still crimson.

“Hey, sorry about them”, he would stop after the rehearsal, “I don’t want you feeling uncomfortable”. You would quickly shake your head, “I should be saying this. I don’t want you thinking that I’m gawking at you”. ii would nod slowly, “are you, though?” He watches as your face falls, draining off color before bursting into flames. A slight smile spreading across his face, “It’s an honor to be gawked by you”, pushing his thumb beneath your chin, lifting your head up, “Let’s just say you have my permission to do so”.

Ivy

He’s a shameless flirt. You never really took any of his gestures seriously. It was ivy. Ivy thrived on attention. So it killed him honestly. Seeing you brushing it off. That made him scale down on his gestures when it came to other girls. No more playful banter. A joke here and there but that was his personality.

Quite frankly he had lost hope to win you over. You had denied his offers for a date for weeks. But he never backed away. Sending you flowers. Little treats. He was doing anything he could to win you over and it’s a pissed off look at him that gave you away. He had simply walked up to the bar to refill his and the boy's beers when a bartender reached out for his hand. Slipping a note with a phone number into his palm.

Ivy had walked back to find you looking as if someone had shat in your morning coffee. “Missed me so much that your night went sour”, he nudged your shoulder. “Well, your night sure seems to be going great”, you nodded toward his palm. A smirk spread over his face, “You’re jealous, darling?”, he mused making you roll your eyes. “I don’t care what and who you mess around with”, you tried to brush it off but he could tell that you had been upset over it.

“Well, I do”, Ivy stated, showing you both of his palms. Both empty palms. You frowned slightly, looking up to meet his eyes. “I threw it away the moment I turned around”, he pointed out, “Already got my eyes set on the target”, he winked at you. “Asshole”, you huffed, “I could be your asshole”, he chirped leaning in to take your hand.

[gaymaramada]

Rise! Boys reacting to S/O using their full name:

Y’all know that tiktok trend where ppl were calling their partners by their first name? This is basically that.

Leonardo

He’s definitely caught off guard, physically recoiling when you say it, “Whoa?? Government name??”

He makes a few jokes about it but inside he’s genuinely nervous that you’re mad at him.

When you don’t stop, he immediately assumes he did something to upset you and begins to defend himself.

“Look, I know I’ve had to cancel our last few dates, but these villains are getting crazy! I’m not trying to avoid you, I just— how about we do something tonight, yeah? I promise I won’t flake out, okay?”

Is low key on his knees begging for you to forgive him.

He doesn’t even know what he’s apologizing for, poor thing.

He’s extra sweet to you for the rest of the day, going out of his way to compliment you, ask how you’re doing, care for you—

You two are out and he breaks into a full sprint to open a door for you that you won’t reach for another three minutes.

When you eventually explain it was just a trend, he gets super embarrassed but tries to brush it off.

“Oh. Yeah, yeah, I knew that. I was just playing along for the joke, heh. Duh.”

Donatello

Uh, no. He must have misheard you.

He does a full 180 at his workbench and all but yanks his goggles off his eyes, “Pardon, what did you just call me?”

He’s almost offended because that is not his name when you two are alone.

Hell, it’s not even his name when you’re not alone — it’s just Donnie.

He immediately abandons whatever he’s working on and starts typing up a list of all the pet names you two use with each other.

“As you are already aware, my terms of endearment tend to range from ‘dear’ to ‘darling’ to ‘my love’ in the majority of our interactions.”

“You often refer to me as ‘D’, ‘honey’, ‘love’, and — my personal favorite — ‘Einstein’. Never once in the length of our relationship have you ever called me by my full name.”

He’s petty about it because, in truth, he doesn’t know why it bothers him so much.

It’s just his name.

But something about the way you say it so casually just feels very wrong.

When you tell him about the trend, he’s even more perplexed.

“What kind of ‘trend’ is that? That is the lamest idea I’ve ever heard of. Please, for the sake of both our sanities, just call me Donnie.”

“… or Einstein. That’s good, too.”

Raphael

Oh, he is immediately worried and it shows, “Are you okay? Did… did I do something?”

The two of you use pet names religiously, so hearing you say all three syllables of his name is jarring.

He’ll ask you if there’s anything he can do for you and give you space when he thinks you need it.

Which would be very sweet if you were actually upset, but you’re not.

He misses being called ‘Raphie’ and ‘bubs’ and ‘sweetheart’.

Eventually he takes your hands and says, “I’m sorry if I made you upset, or if I’m just being dramatic, but… Raph loves you, and he just wants you to remember that.”

And that’s all it takes for you to cave in and tell him about the trend.

“Aw, honey, don’t do that to me! You know I get all worried about that kind of stuff. I’m glad you’re not mad at me, though — I was starting to miss your nicknames.”

“Sorry, bubs,” You say, and his tail is wagging immediately.

Michelangelo

He’s not too phased at first.

Like yes, that’s his name.

But then you keep doing it and he starts getting confused.

He doesn’t get why you’re doing it but he won’t stop you.

He does get a bit self-conscious after a bit, though, when it’s the only thing you call him.

He tries to subtly guide you into using nicknames throughout the day.

“Don’t worry, Mikey’s got it!”

“Hey, there you are! Your loving sweet potato made you some lunch!”

“Aw, come on Y/N! Could you say no to this cutie pie?”

Eventually, he’s had enough, and you find yourself in a stern confrontation with Dr. Delicate Touch.

When you explain that it’s just a trend, he immediately pulls back.

“Oh! That makes way more sense! I was starting to think you’d just forgotten all my pet names, or something!”

[arealphrooblem]

Mutually Assured Destruction Part 3

Part two Here

Part one Here

Tagging: @those-damn-snippets, @heroes-villains-side-blog, @anonymousewrites, @follow-me-into-the-fog @sunnyside-world

Synopsis: Villain x Civilian. Civilian can sense other people's powers through auras but hides this ability. They are terrified of the most boring person at their office job, who hides the most powerful aura Civilian has ever felt.

One week later, Civilian showed up to find a single red rose laid across their keyboard. The gaze of several coworkers makes the hair on the back of their neck stand up.

True to his word, Jonathan reported their burgeoning relationship to HR but not to anyone else. At work he had kept a professional distance from Civilian, meeting up only for lunch. The to-go boxes Civilian never had to pay for are the only hint that something unprofessional could be happening between them. A hint that did not skate pass unnoticed by their coworkers, but one Civilian could easily explain away.

There was no explaining this away. And of course the most notorious gossip hound in the office came sniffing immediately.

“Oho, what’s the occasion?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

“I — I don’t know,” Civilian mumbled, mind frustratingly blank from any excuse.

“Maybe it’s from a secret admirer?”

Jonathan chose that exact moment walk past, giving Civilian a shy smile before pressing onward to the break room. Their coworker’s eyes followed like a bloodhound.

“Or a not so secret admirer,” she amended with a wicked smile.

Despite knowing the truth, Civilian felt a blush rise to their cheeks, damning them instantly.

“I have a lot of work to do,” they said instead. “Please excuse me.”

“Of course, of course,” tittered their coworker. “We wouldn’t want to be late for lunch now would we?”

If anything, they blushed harder before turning their attention resolutely back to their computer.

At 12 PM sharp, Jonathan appeared at the edge of their cubicle.

“Hungry yet?” he asked. “I’m feeling tandoori chicken. You? My treat of course.”

Civilian could see their gossipy coworker out of the corner of their eye.

“Sure,” they said lightly. “Sounds good to me.”

Their fingers closed around the stem of the rose as they followed Jonathan out of the building. Outside a blustery autumn wind picked up, a sharp reminder that they forgot their jacket in their cubicle.

The moment they turned the street corner, Civilian brandished the rose in his face.

“What the hell is this?” they demanded.

He glanced over, looking nonplussed. “It’s a rose. For our one week anniversary?”

“Are you serious? That’s the lamest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Perhaps, but Gloria thought it quite romantic.”

He stops them with a sudden grip under the awning of the restaurant, fingertips brushing down their hand as he takes the rose. Then he tucks it behind their ear.

“You will too,” he murmured, a deceptively soft order.

Civilian jerked as the thorns poked the delicate skin behind their ear, earning them a smirk from Jonathan.

Even after a week, it unnerved Civilian to see the change between bland, affable Jonathan to sharp, dangerous Jonathan. It happened without warning, at any time they weren’t under the watchful eye of their coworkers. A shift from prey to predator, like one of those carnivorous plants that snap on an unsuspecting ant.

And that’s what Civilian felt like under his aura. An ant.

“There’s a Rothko exhibit going on at the Art Museum,” Jonathan said as they wait for their food. “We should go this weekend.”

“Who is that?” Civilian asked.

Jonathan gave them a long stare. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“ . . .I’m not? Is he famous or something?”

That made him close his eyes, as if in pain. Civilian smirked inwardly.

“Or something. Well that certainly settles it. Be ready by ten AM Saturday. I’ll pick you up then.”

Civilian bristled at the command.

“Who said I wanted to go?” they snapped without thinking.

Jonathan went still. “I’m sorry — did you already have plans with your nonexistant friends?”

The truth stung, the pain sudden and sharp.

“They exist!” Civilian lied. (It didn’t used to be a lie).

“Really? What are their names? When was the last time you saw them? Where do they live?”

To Civilian’s horror, a lump arose in their throat and their eyes stung.

“Like I’m telling you that,” they muttered, busying themselves with stirring the ice in their drink, unable to look Jonathan in the eye.

A thick silence fell between them. Civilian’s folded their straw wrapper into a teeny tiny square as they worked to get the sudden and unwanted stab of loneliness under control. And Jonathan, to his credit, gave them that space.

After a few minutes, though, his fingers tilted their chin up to meet his impassive gaze.

“Come with me to the museum this weekend,” he said, the command softened by the gentle tone.

Civilian swallowed. “I’ll be ready by ten.”

Part Four

[cat3ch1sm]

i am single-handedly running the L agenda (jkjk)

with that being said lemme scoot in here and request something that actually came to me in a dream (giving prophecy). this is literally the second time it has happened to me

i just love the idea of the task force continuously embarrassing themselves in front of snarky girlfriend. like these are grown men with many years of investigation under their belt and they get destroyed by someone in their young 20s lyke

that’s how specific the dream was for me. literally no more details 😔

but i trust you bestie.

also so i don’t spam your inbox i am also requesting on the side a lil f*ngering moment if you will. L’s fingers in the manga really speak to me on a personal level 😏

hello, my favorite follower<33 missed u in my inbox. reporting for duty to carry out the L agenda 🫡

for this writing, i pulled that one l, light, and misa date from the anime and put my own spin on it- featuring Y/N as well. i tried my best to directly quote the anime, idk how well i did tho😭 but it’s the same idea, basically. hope you enjoy💚

ೄྀ࿐ fem!reader, nsfw ahead, f!ngering, light and l fight😭ˊˎ-

It was clear that the day was going to be weird when Aizawa, a respectable and work-oriented member of the task force, came into the headquarters with no pants on. Just white boxers decorated with red polka-dots.

Soichiro glanced absently in Aizawa’s direction upon hearing him come in, then did a double take, expression questioning. “Uh… Aizawa… did something happen?”

Matsuda had the same reaction as Soichiro. “Uh- where’d your pants go?”

Pants and belt slung around his arm, Aizawa trudged towards the other two men, looking exasperated. “Stupid security system wouldn’t let me in. In my opinion, Ryuzaki’s gone a little overboard with the security measures.”

“I’m fairly certain we’re past the point of overboard- this is the Kira investigation, after all,” Soichiro pointed out:

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Aizawa admitted, stopping in his tracks to hurriedly put his pants and belt back on before sitting in a chair between the two men. He searched around the room curiously, noticing an absent presence. “Hey- where’d Ryuzaki and everyone else go?”

Matsuda gestured to the screen displayed in front of them. “Oh- Ryuzaki, Misa-Misa, Light, and Y/N are on a date upstairs.”

Aizawa let out a groan. “For God’s sake, Matsuda, will you stop it with this Misa-Misa crap?”

Matsuda offered a sheepish grin. “Ah- yeah, sure.”

“Man… this has got to be the lamest date I’ve ever been on,” Misa groaned beside you, arm propped up on the back of the sofa and her head resting in the palm of her hand.

“Oh, don’t mind us,” L offered, twirling a fork around in his mouth. “Just act like we’re not even here.”

Misa frowned, crossing her arms. “This could have been a cute double date- with me and Light and you and Y/N- even if you guys are super stalker-y. But Light’s sitting over there with L handcuffed to him while I’m stuck over here with Y/N. It’s like this totally fucked-up double date where L is dating Light and I’m with Y/N.” Misa glared at you, and it took everything in you to keep your expression stoic in return. “By the way, I don’t swing that way, so, like, if that’s what you were thinking-“

“Misa, shut up,” you cut her off harshly, gaze as stony as ever. Then you addressed both Misa and Light. “Listen, we get you’re uncomfortable, but you both understand the circumstances we’re in right now,” you told Misa sternly, also sending a look in Light’s direction. “This is only necessary.”

“Yeah, Misa, it’s probably best we not protest it,” Light agreed, gesturing towards you. “Obviously, we both know we aren’t Kira, but given the evidence, it’ll be difficult to change L’s mind about that fact.”

“Ugh, do we have to talk about that boring crap? Light, all we ever do is talk about Kira, Kira, Kira. Why can’t we talk about normal boyfriend and girlfriend stuff?” Misa whined petulantly, and despite the fact that this “date” had just started, you already found yourself wanting to absolutely deck Amane.

“Well, if you haven’t noticed, that’s all there is to talk about,” Light countered, sounding a little agitated. “Neither of us go to school anymore, and I’m very literally handcuffed to L.” He lifted his hand to indicate the chains around his wrist, raising an absent L’s hand in the air as well.

L was obviously thinking about other things, his dark eyes fixated on the slice of cake, adorned with a small red strawberry, sitting on the coffee table. “Are you going to eat that cake, Amane?” L inquired, pointing at the slice with his fork.

Misa glanced at the pastry disdainfully before rolling her eyes to the ceiling again. “No. Cake makes you fat. I’m not gonna eat it.”

“Well, I find that you don’t gain any weight as long as you burn it off with brainpower.”

Misa bristled. “Huh? So now you call me stupid?”

L shrugged and started to reach for the plate, but then a light appeared in Misa’s eyes and she leaned over and snatched the plate last minute. “Hold on. You can have the cake if you-“ Misa glared at you from the corner of her eye- “and Y/N promise to leave me and Light alone.”

“Yeah, right,” you scoffed, folding your arms across your chest. “Even if we did do that, we’d still be watching on surveillance cameras.”

Misa whirled around to face you, cheeks red with fury and pink lips in a pout. “Well- then we’ll turn all the lights off and get under the bed covers! Right, Light?”

Light made a face. “Misa…”

“Infrared cameras exist, you know,” L replied vacantly, still focused on the cake.

Misa recoiled, sticking her tongue out as if she was a toddler. “Ewwww! You pervert! Will you just stop it with your creepy hobby?”

“You can call me whatever you like. Last chance for cake,” L announced, standing up and scooping the plate off of the table. Misa hmphed and turned her nose up.

There was silence for a little while- Misa fuming while L started on his cake, you and Light simply silent. But then Light spoke up, turning to look at L with a confused expression on his face.

“What’s wrong with you?” Light queried, tone a little bit accusing and making your focus shift to him instantly. “I thought moving here was supposed to help us to catch Kira. But since we’ve been here, you don’t seem all that motivated to me.”

L paused for a moment, swallowing a bite of cake and setting his fork down. “Hm. Not motivated…” He trailed off, in thought, before facing Light and replying, “You’re right- actually, I’m depressed.”

You almost flinched. With your status as L’s partner, you’d obviously noticed the shift in L’s overall mood, and you two had already had a very similar conversation to the one you believed L and Light were about to have. However- you knew for a fact that Light was bound to react a lot worse than you did.

Light, meanwhile, pressed on. “Depressed? What for?”

L dragged the fork along his teeth before glancing up at the ceiling and answering. “Well, he began dubiously, “briefly all this time I thought you were Kira, and my entire case hinged on that fact.” He sighed. “I guess I just can’t get pass the fact that my deduction was wrong. Although having said that, I’m still suspicious of you. That’s why we’re wearing these.” L lifted his arm that was attached to Light’s, making the handcuffs jingle. “And we also know that Kira can control people’s actions. Which means… it’s highly likely that Kira was controlling your actions so that I would suspect you. If I assume both you and Misa were being controlled by him, then everything we’ve observed so far makes a lot more sense to me.”

“So… if what you’re thinking is correct, that means Misa and I were Kira at one point, right?”

L glanced at Light sideways. “Yes. I don’t think we could have been wrong about that. The two of you are Kira.”

Both Light and Misa frowned, Misa pouting in a stubborn expression, but much to your relief, remaining silent.

L continued his monologue, although you could tell he was talking more to himself than to Light at this point. “If what I was thinking was correct, when your confinement began you were Kira. I don’t believe it’s coincidence that as soon as you were imprisoned, all the killings stopped. Until then, everything pointed to you being Kira. But after two weeks… criminals actually began dying again. Based on that evidence, I can only conclude that Kira’s power passes between people.”

Light’s expression softened, and he nodded thoughtfully. “That’s an interesting idea. But if it’s true,” he noted with a frown, “it’ll be nearly impossible for us to catch Kira.”

L nodded as well, staring straight ahead. “Yes. That’s why I’m overwhelmed. Even if we catch someone under his control, they are likely to lose their powers and any memory of their crimes. So in the end, pursuing them becomes futile.”

Light was quiet for a little bit. “But… at this point we have no way of knowing if that’s the case,” he offered halfheartedly. “So cheer up, would you?”

L? Cheer up? You almost couldn’t stifle your laugh.

L seemed surprised by this for a second, but shook his head slowly. “Cheer up? No. I’m sorry, I can’t. It’s probably better if I just stop trying so hard. By chasing Kira so desperately, we’re just putting our lives at risk for nothing.” Again, he twirled the fork around in his mouth, gaze directed at his feet. “Yes…it’s just a waste of time.”

There was more silence- but this time, you felt how tense it was rather than thoughtful, and you suddenly felt a little uneasy.

Then, Light: “Ryuzaki…”

“Hm?”

Your head snapped towards Light a split second too late. The next thing you heard was the sound of Light’s fist meeting L’s face- hard, and suddenly the two of them were flying- L backward and Light forward, unwillingly pulled along by the handcuffs that joined the two. Ryuzaki knocked into the table just before hitting the ground, and it flipped over, sending L’s unfinished slice of cake to the floor.

You and Misa both got to your feet abruptly, and you could hear Misa’s whimpers of disgust as she accidentally stepped in the smushed cake. Misa, however, was far from your concerns. “What the hell?” you demanded, eyes furiously darting from L on the ground to Light, bent over and breathing hard. “Light, what do you think you’re doing?!”

Light whirled around to face you. “What? You can’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same thing!” Then he turned back to glare daggers at L, whose eyes were wide with surprise and his hand cradling his cheek where Light had punched him. “That’s enough! You don’t feel like doing anything just because your genius deduction was wrong and I’m not Kira?!”

L stared up at Light, the look in his eyes unreadable. “Hm… perhaps I phrased that the wrong way. I meant that it would be pointless for us to make a move, so why even bother…”

Your face twisted with annoyance. Good grief. Couldn’t L see he was just adding fuel to the fire? Half the time you didn’t know if he was genuinely unaware of his actions or just doing it on purpose.

“Man, I didn’t think this date could possibly get any worse…” Misa whined from behind you, now wearing one sock because of the cakey mess on the other one.

“Misa, be quiet, for Christ’s sake,” you snapped, and Misa recoiled before eventually shutting up, plopping herself down on the couch and putting on a petulant pout. “You two- stop being ridiculous and get off the floor. Can’t you see this isn’t helping anything?”

L peered at you from behind Light’s angry form. “You know, Y/N is really right…”

“Don’t change the subject,” Light snapped. “If we don’t chase Kira, he’ll never be caught. Is that what you want? If you’re just gonna give up, then why did you involve all those innocent people? More importantly, what was the point of putting Misa and me behind bars?”

L mulled over this for a moment. “I understand. But still, whatever the reason…”

You knew exactly what was coming next when L slowly climbed off the ground, a dark twinkle in his eye. And he struck Light back, fist buried in his eye and eliciting a pained grunt from the student.

“An eye for an eye, my friend.”

Again, the two men flew- but now it was Light’s turn to fly backward and L forward, the handcuffs holding fast. They both hit the floor with a massive thud, and you knew without a doubt that the task force downstairs could hear you all now.

Why aren’t those idiots doing anything?

Misa let out another dismayed cry, and you finally decided you had to intervene. Before either one of them could land another blow, you got in between the two, preventing them from reaching each other.

“Are you both insane?” you snarled, giving both of them equally vaporizing glares. “What the hell are you fighting like some schoolyard children for? Can’t you see how idiotic the both of you look? Blindly swinging instead of effectively talking about this?”

The pair paused, seemingly taking your words into account, but stares still fixed intently on each other, and you knew they both were aching to swing again.

Finally, L spoke up, but it was directed at Light. “It’s not my deduction that was wrong,” he panted, eyes burning into Light’s. “The fact is, I can say that Light Yagami is Kira and Misa Amane is the second Kira. But it won’t be enough to solve the case. And that’s why I’m a little depressed. Is that so unreasonable?”

Light wasted no time retorting, “Yes. Yes, it is. Besides, you said it yourself. It is as if you won’t be satisfied unless I am Kira.”

L considered this, briefly averting his gaze from him. “Hmm…I won’t be satisfied unless you’re Kira.” Another lapse into silence. “Well… there may be some truth to that. In fact, now that you mention it… you’re right.” Now L’s stare were more piercing than ever. “I think I wanted you to be Kira.”

Before you could even blink, Light’s fist had slammed into L’s eye, but the detective seemed unfazed this time.

“As I said before, an eye for an eye,” he rasped. “I’m a lot stronger than I look, you know.” And he raised his fist to return the blow.

But now you’d had enough of watching these two grown men brawling like middle school kids. They’d ignored your previous words and warnings, but they would soon learn that that was a mistake.

So, as the two went flying into the wall yet again, you darted in between them at a speed you didn’t realize you were capable of, took hold of the handcuff chain, and just when Light moved to hit L again, you yanked as hard as you could on the cold metal chain. The combined force of your hand and the growing strain on the chain from Light and L jerking it around made it snap right in two, sending the detective and scholar positively soaring in opposite directions. Misa let out a shriek and rushed to Light’s side as he slammed into the floor with a very painful-sounding thump, but you didn’t move to help L when he barreled into the wall for what had to be the fifth time in the past ten minutes.

When the chaos finally settled, both men were still on the ground, wincing from their collective injuries and struggling to get up. One of the legs on the table that Light had rammed into was actually beginning to splinter, and the cake L had dropped earlier had made a big mess on the carpet what with Misa stepping on it and trailing it across the carpet. The wall L was flopped over against had a gaping hole where L’s head had hit, the cracks spreading from behind L’s hair like some twisted spider. And finally, there was you, standing exactly where you’d been standing with the severed chain dangling from your closed hand, staring at the metal like you yourself couldn’t believe what had just happened.

It was totally silent for at least five minutes straight. Nobody moved, taking in all that had just occurred and the damage in the room. But the awestruck silence was disrupted when the phone, which had slid off of the table near the spot where L was sprawled out now, rang.

At first, nobody moved to answer it. But when it kept ringing, L at last picked it up, holding it between his index finger and thumb like always.

“Hello?”

The voice from the phone was unclear from where you were, but you could tell it was Matsuda.

“Ryuzaki, I’ve got great news!” he chirped, his overly enthusiastic voice making you cringe slightly. “Misa-misa’s number one in “Eighteen" magazine’s reader popularity poll!”

Matsuda was usually too invested in totally useless things at totally inappropriate times, but this time you could see right through him. He’d heard the chaos going on upstairs and had wanted to try and de-escalate the situation, so here he was with this stupid stuff.

To yourself, you muttered, “Jesus Christ.”

L blinked at you and then blinked at the phone. “Ah. I see.”

“And get this- she’s gonna get a lead role in Nishinaka’s next movie!”

Light’s head popped over the toppled table, face bruised. “What was that?”

L promptly dropped the phone to the ground . “Matsuda’s acting stupid again.”

Light chuckled dryly. “Well… that is his specialty.”

Yet another moment of silence. Then, a tiny voice from the phone L hadn’t hung up properly: “I can hear you, you know.”

It had been several hours since the earlier incident, everyone from the task force having gone home and Misa sleeping in her hotel room. You and L were the only ones still awake, perched beside each other on the desk in front of the monitors; the normally bustling center of operations was now quiet and dark. Since you’d broken the handcuffs earlier and L had yet to replace them, you got to be alone with him for the first time in a while.

“You know,” L spoke up, breaking the calm silence, “I wasn’t expecting you to jump into me and Light’s brawl like that earlier.”

You gave L a look. “How could I not? You were both embarrassing yourselves. That was completely senseless behavior. I wasn’t expecting you to indulge Light’s impulsivity.”

L cocked his head at you a little questioningly. “You sound pretty ticked off.”

You blinked, realizing that he was right, and let out a long exhale. When you spoke again, your tone was softer, but your words were still harsh. “Being around Misa all day irritates me, anyway. You both acting like idiots didn’t really help my mood. And now we’ve got a busted-up hotel room with a hole in the wall and the broken table.”

L considered this, then nodded slowly. “Yes. That hurt, by the way.”

You let out a wry chuckle. “I bet.”

Neither of you spoke again for a little while- but you still felt L place his hand on your thigh.

“What are you doing?”

L’s eyes lifted to meet yours. “I figured you’d want to unwind a little. Is that alright?”

You paused for a moment. “Yes,” you replied airily, squirming just a little bit with your legs swinging from the table.

Nodding to himself, L moved his hand up your thigh, opting not to indulge in foreplay and teasing. Brazenly, he flipped up the lacy hem of the slip you’d put on to go to bed, and you felt a shiver go down your spine when his hand made direct contact with your skin. Carefully, he reached for your panties and tugged them out of his way before dipping two slender fingers in your rapidly dampening entrance, making your back arch slightly.

You bit your lower lip to stifle any sounds lest you two alert Watari, making the only audible noise in the room the wet sounds of L gently moving his fingers back and forth, slightly curled and brushing against your sweet spot. Despite your efforts to silence yourself, as he slowly picked up the pace and you neared your climax, a few breathy moans escaped your lips anyway, and you could feel the familiar heat building in your lower body and spreading across your face.

You allowed yourself a broken gasp when you came, a small amount of thin, sticky liquid flooding from your dripping hole and coating L’s fingers. His fingers slowed inside you, helping you make the most of your orgasm, and when you’d finally come down from your high he gingerly withdrew his fingers and watched the wetness pool beneath your slip and dampen your underwear. Then he promptly popped his index and middle fingers into his mouth, his tongue swirling around them and licking your taste from his skin.

After a minute or two L turned to look at you again. “Well, you look like you feel better.”

You instinctively dropped your eyes, uselessly fighting the color spreading across your cheeks. “I guess I do…”

L’s eyes were wide as he stared at you, his expression betraying nothing. “No matter how many times we do this, you’re always so flustered after you finish…”

You groaned and dropped your face into your hands, and L laughed.

[pipravisstan]

Anyone Who Knows What Love Is (Will Understand), a fluffy pipravi fanfic by me :]

rating: g

ship: pipravi

fanfic under the cut ⬇️⬇️⬇️

~

The lake was a deep muddled blue that day, which was rare. Pip guessed it was probably because the sun was out today, making its monthly appearance only to most likely disappear the next day. It dappled through the forest roof above them, casting splotches of afternoon sunlight onto the two of them, at their spot.

Pip’s car was parked not too far behind them in a clearing, it also having its own designated spot at the lake, tire marks permanently etched into into the earth beneath it.

She stood on the ledge above the water, slowly pacing beside Ravi as he sat facing the lake, legs dangling dangerously close to the water.

“So, i’m gonna retake the exams, pray on a passing grade, and then hopefully I can land an apprenticeship,” Ravi spoke, fingers drawing shapes in the dirt path.

“I for one think it’s a great plan. I mean, you helped solve a murder, who’s to say you won’t be a great lawyer?” Pip joked, kicking up a rock into the water.

“Gonna add that to my résume. ‘Helped solve murder-suicide case. May or may not have used illegal methods,’” He said, mimicking writing it down in the air with his finger.

“Oh, god, don’t remind me.” She shuddered.

Pip kicked another rock and he continued drawing in the dirt idly. “So, you decided on if you’re going to Cambridge?” He looked up at her, and then tore his eyes away. “Sorry, I realise that may be a stressful decision.”

She chuckled. In truth, she did want to go, she had just been overwhelmed at the time, everything had seemed so unsure. Her relationships with Ravi, with her mum, what made a good person a good person. She still hasn’t figured that one out.

“No, it’s fine. I’ve actually already received invitations to a couple of Universities, you know, considering I was headlining the papers as the ‘Prodigy student who solved a five year murder case.’” She sighed. “But yeah, i’ve zeroed in on Kings College, that’s a Cambridge one. Not too far, only about an hour and a half from Little Kilton.”

There was a silence, a comfortable one. He stood up, a small pile of stones in his hands. He smiled down at her. “Best to three?”

She stepped toward him and took one from his hands, smoothed down and flat, a good rock for skimming if she’d ever seen one. “This again? Remember how much of a devastating loss you suffered last time?” She said, tossing the stone up and down. Catching it in the palm of her hand. Up and down again.

They stepped down from the ledge to the lower step, water ebbing at the concrete in front of them.

Ravi just snorted in amusement. “I’ve had practise this time, don’t get all cocky with me.”

“I’d like to see this practise first hand, if you don’t mind.” She swiped the her hair out of her face from the wind and readjusted the collar of her jacket.

His eyes flicked toward hers, warm with a competitive edge. He nodded, she nodded, and they whispered a countdown in unison.

“Three,”

“Two,”

“One.”

They both threw the stones forward, one bounce, two bounces against the water. A gust of wind. And then there was one, her’s disappeared somewhere in the murky water of the lake.

“Devastating loss, right Sarge?” Ravi laughed. His stone didn’t last much longer, but that had been forgotten as she turned towards him with mock offense over her face.

“Oh, come on, you saw that, it was the wind!”

He raised an eyebrow at her, smirking. “Really? The wind? That is the lamest excuse you have ever given.”

Pip crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes. “It wasn’t an excuse, it was a valid point that you choose to ignore as it worked in your favour.”

“Right.” He chucked, shuffling the spare stones around in his hands. “Well, you’ve got two more rounds to redeem yourself. Or are you gonna make more excuses when you loose again?”

She shoved an elbow into his side playfully and took a stone from his hand in silent determination.

“Three,” He said, and she held her hand back, grip loose around the stone.

“Two,”

“One!” They both threw the stones forward, watching as they flicked across the dull blue surface of the water, leaving behind ripples.

~

Being near Ravi was the best thing in the world, Pip decided at that moment. Siting beside him, backs against an ancient spruce tree in the cool autumn air. In the dappled sunlight beside the lake, their lake, she wished she could live in this moment forever.

He’d won the stone skimming tournament, but not without a fight from Pip. 2-1, and another complaint about how the ‘uncontrolled environment’ was making it unfair. Now they sat here, soaking up the last of the sunlight together.

“Sun’s nice today,” Ravi said, and it was true, and she knew it didn’t really mean anything. Just something idle to fill the comfortable silence that surrounded them.

She hummed in a agreement, resting her head on his shoulder and not bothering to fight the smile on her face.

It was pure bliss, being in his presence. She knew it sounded corny, but being with him felt safe. His eyes were bright and his smile was warm. Every word out of his mouth put her at ease.

A moment passed, a rattle through the woods of a cool breeze. Ravi’s hand found its way to hers and his fingers began tracing circles in her palm.

“You ought to stop doing that,” Pip mumbled, squeezing her hand against his.

He hummed, fingers sliding between hers and interlocking their fingers. “Why’s that?” He shifted slightly to look at her as she rested her head on his shoulder, a half smile drawn across his face.

“Your hands are much too warm, I’m afraid.” She yawned and buried her head at the back on his neck. She closed her eyes and smirked. “If you hold on any longer, my hand will melt into yours and I might never be able to let go.”

He chucked at that, looking back out toward the lake again with his head resting on the bark of the tree. “Wouldn’t that be nice, Sarge.”

She hadn’t said it yet, and she didn’t know when she would, but she loved him. He was the Watson to her Sherlock, or as he had argued, the Sherlock to her Watson. He was her constant, the good in the grey area of her mind. He was everything that everything wasn’t, and yet simultaneously, he was her everything.

It didn’t make much sense, didn’t make sense to Pip. But maybe she didn’t need sense.

She squeezed his hand again, and he squeezed her hand back. It wasn’t an I love you, but it felt like one.

[daincrediblegg]

I’ve been seeing some complaints about Hari’s wig so I’ve decided to use my arcane knowledge of Jared Harris images to rate some looks from 1 (I’m questioning my choices) to 10 (I’ve never been more right) in order to prove the point that that wig wasn’t even the worst look he's ever had. Not even close.

1. the jaz haz of receiving psychic damage. With the exception of the moustache he is perfectly fine (honey. Listen. It just doesn’t work in this case. ily) but also him making that face specifically like he’s psyduck personified is extremely funny to me. 7/10

2. He looks like he could conceivably be in mortal kombat??? But also his fatality move would be the lamest shit ever? Babygirl you don’t fight like that. Put those things down. You’re gonna hurt yourself. Simultaneously I feel like I’ve stumbled onto the set of a very strange porno from the 70’s and I’m actually a little uncomfortable (again. Honey. You can do better with the stache thing. I’ve seen it. There are some good images with you in a mustache. It’s not this one tho I’m sorry) 5/10

3. The fuckin wig. Listen. Y’all in the hair and makeup department do wonderful things on this show. Really. I mean that. But what made us say that this is the move? Who said “young Hari, huh? I know what to do” and then made him a fucking beatle in the worst way possible (though I can’t entirely fault them- wouldn’t be the first time he’s done this). Though I suppose they didn’t want us to forget that this show is a comedy, and at least they’re aware of that. 5/10

5. … who is he? He came out of the fucking woods with the most unimaginable stank and breath of haggis. I literally am completely baffled by his presence. Perhaps a little perturbed by it. Perhaps a little turned on. Who knows. Schrodinger’s rating: either 2/10 or 6/10 depending on how desperate I am

6. Literally the ideal man. I don’t know what to tell you folks but you’re lookin at him. He looks like he just stumbled out of an elton john houseparty at 3am and is still riding out his ecstasy high and if he asked me for my firstborn child I don’t think I or any godly creature could possibly refuse him. 100000/10

7. Orenge. This one I felt merited 3 consecutive images bc the frequency of this appearance astounds me. This man like my father before him has held onto his yellow sunnies from the 90’s for far too long. There has never been a more depression image ever shot than that first one and it was really mean of the person who took this to do that, but also it’s a mood somehow. Can’t shake the combo of this with the buzz tho like thats… buddy there are better choices. I am glad you are making them now but damn. 4/10

8. Danger Will Robinson… you’ve been assigned old man at birth by production crew. Even that benjamin button cunt didn’t have it this bad. EVEN WIG BOY HARI SELDON DOESN’T HAVE IT THIS BAD!!!! I deadass want to take him home and put him in a bath and make him bathe in conditioner for a week. 1/10

9. Now look here sonny jim. You can’t do this to him. Like I’m sorry. What was the logic here, disney? You make a man look so unabashedly GORGEOUS with the long red hair and the outfit and the whole thing? Only to have him say fuck all?? You don’t deserve him. NONE of you deserve him. I want to take him to a whore house in red dead redemption and fuck him silly. I want justice for the bitches that wronged him. 9/10

[saltygilmores]

THOUGHTS WHILE WATCHING GILMORE GIRLS: S3/EP4/ONE’S GOT CLASS THE OTHER ONE DYES (PART 4- THE KAREN-ING)

Lane's hair has now been sufficiently purpled, and the deed has been documented with a quaint Polaroid camera, but then she hears her mother's footsteps and descends into a panic spiral. She sends Rory back to the beauty supply store to buy black hair dye. Shane is on the phone with someone as a customer approaches (her manager, Cynthia, is chill with it). Let's listen.

Shane is clearly talking to Jess, Rory knows it, and the missing object in question is absofuckinglutely her discarded bra, because Salty says so. Salty declares that this is actualy a delicious nugget of foreshadowing to that future scene where Rory finds a bra in the backseat of Jess' car.

Rory! Cover your virgin ears! Your innocent little mind can't possibly process whatever filth you're about to hear!

She goes on to tell Jess that she feels too bloaty to eat, on the other end of the line Jess presumably disputes that bloaty is a word, , she insists to him that bloaty is valid because she says so. Jess says something on the other line that causes Shane to call him a jerk. Hearing Shane discuss this made up word makes Rory incredibly angry for some reason and she proceeds to go FullMegaKaren on her. Is that the real reason he offed Shane and fed her to the swans? An etymology argument or a game of Scrabble gone horribly wrong? Let's get ready to see Rory Karen like she has never Karen'd before.

Hang it up Shane, you have a Mini Karen at your register and she's clearly not interested in hearing about when, where, and how you like to get off. Narrator: Rory Gilmore did indeed, have all day, because she had no job.

Adult Rory in 2023: "This coupon for 50 cents off black hair dye expired in 2002, but I demand you honor it. *Reading name tag* Shane, is it? Well, Shane, I would like to speak with your manager." Rory never met a blond girl secure in her sexuality or another teenager with a job that she didn't like. I swear to god Rory, it would be in your best interests to be nice to this girl, because you know Jess is going to discard her soon enough (yeeting her into a lake) so if you want Jess for yourself that badly in the future, you should be asking her for advice. (failing that, Madelyn and Louise). In the greatest and as far as I'm fucking concerned only Slutty Philadelphia Jess fic, Stop Thinking You're The Only Option, Rory befriends a girl who gives her advice on how to give proper handjobs and blowjobs. And Rory listens. And Jess is grateful. She's not going to get that kind of useful information from Lane or her mother. I'm just sayin. Shane is a modern woman and she reads Cosmo.

Cynthia! Get in here! We have a Code Karen! Threat Level 5! And it clearly was a business call. When it comes to middday booty calls, Shane is all business. Seriously, what the fuck Rory? What set you off into this MegaKaren Mode? You can't handle a little friendly competition now, good luck at Yale, sister.

Per The Oxford English Dictionary: "There is one meaning in OED's entry for the adjective bloaty. This word is now obsolete. It is only recorded in the early 1700s." Not only is Shane a future homocide victim, she's also a time traveler. But she is technically correct. The best kind of correct. Ready for one of the lamest AmyShermanPalladino penned insults ever put to paper?

It's no “I’m not fighting you, it would be like fighting an accountant! I’ll call you when I need my taxes done!” (Dean to Tristan) but it's up there. You know it's a good thing Shane doesn't work at Luke's or somewhere else that Rory likes to eat or she'd be spitting in her food (like what Jess does to Dean's food whenever he comes in to Luke's).

Moments after this incident, Shane calls her manager Cynthia and they slap up a sign next to the register with Rory's photo that says "Do not sell to this person".

[stiffyck]

Hi again :>

This is from earlier ig -tcdm anon

——

“Y’know,” Mumbo started as he licked blood off his bowie knife, “I don’t actually know a lot about you.”

“I don’t know much about you, either.” Scar shrugged, handing over some rotten flesh to his brother who quickly tore into it. “I know you’re an almost-zombie.”

“I’m a vampire. There's a difference.” Mumbo acted offended. “Zombies are gross and disgusting and evil. I’m…”

“Cool?”

“Wow, you think so?” He teased, “thank you~!”

“Wh- hey!” Scar swatted at him. “You are not cool! You’re the lamest person I've ever met! Well… I’m sure if I remembered any other people, you would be the most boring one!”

Mumbo put a hand over his heart, “you wound me, dear brother!” He gasped.

“I’ll bite you. I’ll go all zombie and bite you.” Scar lifted his blood splattered goggles to rest on his head and glared. “And then you’ll bleed out and die again.”

“You wouldn’t kill me, you haven’t the heart!”

“Why are you talking like that!? Like you’re all- old-timey english!”

“Because I am.” Mubo smiled, “But I can speak even weirder.”

“Please don’t-”

“Mine brothair. Here we stand in our keep, Scear. Shalt any zombaie cross into our stead-”

Scar groaned loudly and pressed his hands over his ears. “What voice is that!?”

“Red king.” Mumbo smiled, “never met him, but you hated him, apparently.”

“What?”

“What?”

SNCJFIDKANS S SYES YEA YEA YEA

[fragileizywriting]

so i posted for sharks and sugar yesterday! let’s go over some of the lore together, because some of you aren’t in the discord server (and this knowledge has been buried for a year or so, now)

let’s talk about luka and felix 🥰

felix is PV felix but my version of PV :)

i headcanon that the graham-de-vanillas are brazilian, which makes adrien half brazilian too. so they’re slightly tanner than in canon, which is why i always write adrien’s skin as “tan” or sometimes even “brown” (i do that in other au’s too). felix is a dirty-blonde, almost brown haired, and box-dyes into the platinum blonde that he actually has in the pv. kitty helps him dye it :) either her or luka.

emilie is (was) a globo actress along with her sister, and the two of them got really famous. gabriel met her when she went to a fashion week in paris as a guest, and ended up becoming his muse. it’s kind of like a tom brady / giselle situation if you squint. i imagine emilie is (was) as famous as giselle.

i’m actually not sure what to do, because i’m torn about making felix adrien’s cousin or adrien’s uncle. this makes no difference in the end of it all, but considering that emilie and amilie are twins and emilie died(?) relatively young, that would theoretically be difficult for felix to be in his 30s. i did the math at some point and i’m too lazy to redo it. i’ll sit on this some more. but i do like the idea of just a little brother who decided to go to college in paris and got to house at his older sisters house for a bit. that’s super normal in brazil.

felix is married to bridgette cheng (surprise) who is marinette’s cousin, and met her as an exchange student in college. her cousin is in her late 30s, so to tease her with her age, sometimes marinette will call her “auntie”. i’m imagining that felix stayed with gabriel and emilie for a few semesters before being inhaled by the cheng family, so he was there for adrien’s birth.

ever since emilie passed away / whatever it is, gabriel has been no-contact with anyone on her side of her family. even before then, gabriel didn’t like felix being there (europeans are very different than brazilians in terms of family politics), so he was pushed out pretty early. adrien doesn’t remember any of it because he was a toddler. adrien does remember he has an uncle felix… i was going to put a dialogue tag somewhere in this chapter where adrien mentions he has an uncle named felix, but again, i couldn’t decide if he’s an uncle or a cousin, so i left that out.

felix has been trying to get back in contact with his cousin/nephew ever since gabriel pushed him out of the house, but it’s been impossible.

felix and bridgette have a daughter together. she’s a toddler. her name is antonietta, which is the portuguese version of antoinette. felix calls his baby ‘nietta.

felix knows that marinette is lady noire, because he’s a part of the cheng family and the chengs know that they take care of the miraculous box. he calls her “gatta-porrada”, which is the equivalent of “hitty-kitty”. i headcanon this because this is probably the superhero name he suggested to her when she found out that she had the cat miraculous, not the ladybug, and it was probably the only thing that made her laugh that week after sobbing so much her ears were ringing. it is the lamest superhero name. he is so proud of being the only person in the family to make her laugh even for a little bit.

felix, however, does not know that adrien is mister bug.

luka does.

luka finds out in a situation such as wishmaker where he finds out both of their identities at the same time, and keeps quiet, but let’s them both know about the issue. luka and marinette and juleka are childhood best friends (exactly the same lore as 4am) so if adrien hadn’t existed in her life, luka and marinette would’ve been endgame. the two of them are impossible. felix takes care of luka juleka and kitty as if he’s a responsible tio. luka makes sure to pull marinette out of situations she can’t handle. marinette is just there to cause continuous problems.

adrien is really grateful that luka knows. at least someone does. luka also knows that lady noire has been sneaking into adrien’s bedroom practically every night, because marinette has told him. and adrien has, too. just in case.

i think that’s everything 🫣

[necromaniackat]

Cherry Cola

Chapter 2: Dark Avenues

Word Count: 2.4K

Picture above is Riley (You)

Author’s Note: Sorry this wasn’t uploaded on Monday, I got swamped with school work and didn’t have time to edit it. See you guts next week for Brahms’ story.

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

“Alright, this is tonight’s homework. I expect it to be done by next class. Take one and pass it down,” Mr. Handley, your calculus teacher, explained from the front of the class as he handed each person at the front a small stack of papers.

Despite being able to hear your surroundings, you were far away in your mind. It was the only way you could escape the mounting pressure of missing a few weeks of school and then switching schools mid first semester. Although, it wasn’t much of an escape. You could still feel the pressure building with each class, but you were numb to it at the moment. Almost like you switched off your emotions. You did switch off your emotions. You’ve been able to do it for a while now, no one’s even noticed. No one really notices you; you were a background character in your own life.

You couldn’t get what your mom said about your dad earlier – you knew it was true but it still hurt. Although, your mom has some part to play in why your dad isn’t really a part of your life. But that’s beside the point; if he wanted to be here, he’d be here. But he’s not and that was like a dagger to the heart.

Your dad hasn’t returned any of your calls since…. You couldn’t blame him either – you were embarrassed by what happened but your dad, he must’ve been crushed and humiliated. He could never look you in the eye after that. Again, you didn’t blame him for his reaction and the distance that came directly afterward. Even though it hurt like Hell.

You’ve lost count how many times you left him a voicemail in the last few weeks; especially since you moved here. You wanted to be able to say you tried to have a relationship with him after…..

The distance was killing you – you were such a daddy’s girl. Before all this, you and your dad had an amazing relationship. Even though your mom and dad were divorced and shared custody of you, you had a really great relationship with your dad. You two constantly communicated; talking on the phone, or writing letters to each other, or even hanging out together. So for him to give you the cold shoulder like this was like an icy stab to the heart.

“Riley,” Mr. Handley called, catching your attention immediately. His beady brown eyes found you before he gestured for you to come see him. You silently sighed then got up from your desk near the back of the class. The late morning sun poured into the classroom as your peers quietly spoke to each other while busy doing class work.

You stopped in front of Mr. Handley’s desk with a neutral expression and body language; you were slumped forward slightly with your arms by your sides carelessly. This was your way of getting under peoples’ skin – they never know how to react to your completely neutral demeanour.

“Yes?” You flatly greeted. Mr. Handley looked you over once, trying to find a hint of personality. He fidgeted with his pen as he tried to find the words he wanted to say. This didn’t faze you though.

“How are you finding today’s work? Is it too difficult, or too easy? Do you already know all this and think I’m the lamest person ever to make you do this all over again?” Mr. Handley quirkily asked in hopes of fishing a hint of emotion out of you – he got none. You remained completely neutral. You decided that if you stay neutral then you couldn’t get hurt again. You didn’t want to get hurt again. After everything that’s happened you couldn’t afford to get hurt again.

“I’m actually a little further along than this but I don’t mind getting more practice in,” you stated monotonously. A faint smile formed in your mind but you maintained your poker face. Mr. Handley stammered, stumbling over his words or lack there of.

“Okay, if you want to redo the unit then by all means go for it, but I don’t mind giving you the unit you’re actually on,” he offered kindly, a friendly smile crossed his elderly face. Mr. Handley was close to retirement; hell he was passed retirement. This man passed it up three times before finally agreeing to it. This was his last year teaching pre calculus. It was his last year teaching, period. He said he’d still tutor though. He loves teaching and there’s nothing that’s going to stop him from doing exactly that.

“No, I don’t mind at all,” you retorted honestly even though your voice was still flat. “–Is that everything?” You asked curiously. Mr. Handley nodded his head, sending you walking back to your desk. For the hundredth time this morning you felt eyes on you as you made your way back to your seat.

Before you could sit down the jarring sound of the lunch bell ringing filled the school – it was chorused by your peers chit chatting as they filed out of the classroom into the halls for an hour of bliss.

You sighed heavily as you added yet another worksheet to the pile in your notebook then tossed everything in your bag. You hooked the bag over your shoulder as you left the classroom and was met with eager teens figuring out what to do for lunch, forming massive groups in the hallway and making it next to impossible to navigate.

You headed towards the front entrance; keeping your head down as you sifted through the crowd. Being the new kids meant having observing eyes on you at any given moment. Having someone stop you to introduce themselves and make small talk was your worst nightmare. You already had to stand in front of your home room class to introduce yourself first thing this morning.

That’s why you kept your head down as you navigated your way through the halls towards the front of the school. You weren’t sure as to why though, it was a half assed idea that most likely backfire on you. But thinking of your dad made you miss him even more; you wanted to hear his voice and have a conversation with him. You wanted him to know how sorry you were about everything that’s happened recently.

You shuffled into the small phone booth in the foyer, closing the door behind you for privacy. You set you bag down on the small shelf underneath the pay phone then fished a couple quarters out of your change purse. Anxiety rattled you as you fed the coins to the machine once you picked up the receiver. You held the phone between your ear and your shoulder as you dialled your dad’s phone number. You knew he was at work right now so you called there first. Your heart pounded in your chest, threatening to break your ribs.

The phone rang a few times before stopping; you half expected it to be his answering machine.

“Gunnery Sargent Jeremy Devins,” you dad’s voice greeted flatly. All the air fled your lungs; you felt like you were drowning without water. It’s been weeks since you last talked to your dad; or even heard his voice. It broke your heart to know that he no longer answers the phone with joy in his voice. You knew he didn’t know it was you so he answers the phone like that now. Like a broken man. And it was all your fault.

“Hello?” Your dad said after a moment of silence. You didn’t realize you’d just been standing there blankly. Guilt felt like a tidal wave crashing down on you; its mighty force throwing you around like a rag doll.

Without saying anything you hung up the phone. Stress tightened your body as you let out a shaky breath. You were in disbelief that you just did that. You couldn’t believe you just called your dad and then hung up without saying anything. You had so much to say to him but the idea of having to face your dad after everything that’s happened made you gag. You couldn’t do it. All because of a stupid mistake that wrecked your mom’s life and destroyed your dad completely. They always told you to make smart choices, to use your head. You didn’t use your head, and it cost you everything. You didn’t exactly weigh the pros and cons when…

Another shaky breath passed your lips as you came back to reality. You quickly gathered your belongings and turned to leave the small phone booth. You damn near jumped out of your skin when you turned around to see someone standing directly outside the booth staring at you. It was the guy from earlier in the office. Mr. Loomis. Asshole.

You collected yourself once again before opening the sliding door to the booth.

“You’re Riley, right?” Asshole asked right off the bat. You felt yourself cringe as your worst nightmare was made reality.

‘Who is this guy? Freddy Krueger?!’ You thought as you stood in the small doorway of the phone booth. You wanted desperately to remain neutral, but you couldn’t maintain it. Something about him was getting under your skin; you didn’t know what it was but it unnerved you greatly.

“Yeah,” you drew out in hopes he’d say more than just that, but he didn’t. There was a long pause between you two.

“Sorry, did you need the phone?” You apologized sheepishly. His sparkling eyes lacked personality and emotion – they reminded you of shark’s eyes.

“No,” he replied, causing you to furrow your brow confusedly. “–I was waiting for you,” he added with a slight smirk. The crease between your brows deepened as you gave him a confused and slightly concerned look. You gave him a once over; he was tall with medium build. His sandy blond hair was haphazardly tousled away from his face. He was clothed in a pale blue polo that was left unbuttoned to reveal the white shirt underneath. He wore baggy jeans and mucky sneakers.

Your eyes travelled back up his body to meet his gaze again. His blank brown eyes glimmered down at you. You felt a shiver run up your spine when an alarm bell started ringing somewhere in the back of your mind.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” You asked after a moment of processing what he said and trying to get a read on him. He was just…. –blank. It was unnerving.

He gave you a shy smirk as his hands sank into the pocket of his jeans.

“I’m Billy Loomis, we met this morning in,”

“–In the office, yeah I remember you,” you interrupted as you stepped out of the booth, standing at least six inches shorter than him. “–Why were you waiting for me?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest. Billy chuckled nervously as he stumbled over his words. You cocked an eyebrow at him.

“I wanted to ask you if you wanted to have lunch with me and my friends,” he finally got out. You weren’t sure how you felt about that. Nobody’s nice to the new kid for the sake of being nice. From experience, the new kid has to get hazed. Is that what’s happening here?

You narrowed your gaze at him as you carefully weighed the pros and cons. This was a new habit you picked up; so far, it’s a very useful habit to have. You quickly listed every pro and con. If you accept then it opens the doorway to friendship, which is something you both desperately needed and made you cringe at the idea. It’s not that you didn’t want friends – you have plenty of those. Or at least, you had plenty of those. After everything came to light a couple weeks ago, they stopped interacting with you; your calls went unanswered, your IMs went unread, and you sat alone at lunch. They completely abandoned you.

Now the thought of making new friends and having them find out about your past only for them to turn their backs on you too, made you queasy. You couldn’t go through that kind of rejection; being completely outcasted by your peers. If you didn’t make friends then you didn’t have to worry about your secret coming out.

But the pros were completely selfish; like most pros are. The pros of this situation you’ve found yourself in are: maybe you can keep your secret a secret while making friends, then perhaps this lonely feeling that settled on your shoulders would dissipate. And finally, and let it be the most sinfully selfish pro in history, but you found yourself attracted to Billy. Not romantically. Not platonically. You wanted him biblically. You knew there were some dark fantasies stewing in the depths of his mind; his eyes didn’t say much but his demeanour told you everything. That was the part that scared you shitless because you know how dark you can get – you’ve been to the depths of your own primal depravity. You’ve done things that’d land you in a hospital indefinitely. Either that or prison.

“Where are you having lunch?” You questioned, trying to seem less desperate than outright agreeing.

Billy’s thin pink lips turned upward into a smile.

“We’re going to the water fountain, enjoy the last days of sunshine,” he chirped a reply. You pursed your lips together as you pretended to think about it. You’d already made up your mind. Your selfishness won by a long shot.

Shyly, you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear as a weak smile tugged at the corners of your mouth.

“Yeah, I’ll join you guys,” you told him. Billy clapped his hands together in victory as a wide grin overtook his features. But a split second later he tried to play it cool; running his fingers through his hair as he gave you a casual shrug.

“I mean, unless you have better plans,” Billy said casually. You felt a smile form inside you but it didn’t translate to your features. You merely stared at Billy blankly. You pursed your lips as you pretended to think, then shook your head.

“No. No better plans,” you uttered. Billy flashed a smile as he nodded his head.

“Cool. They’re waiting for us at the fountain so we should probably…”

“–Go. Yeah, let’s go,” you chirped happily.

[pickypickypeak]

These professional musicians that enjoy analyzing songs telling you Wish's songs are bad are not going to kill you guys be for real.

Stop belittling the fact this is a kids movie, as though they don't have orchestras for these

How many of them are professional musicians unbiasedly analyzing songs because they enjoy it and studied music so they know music theory VS how many of them are people who don’t know anything about music and are jumping on another bandwagon.

I’m sorry if I said something bad about a post or review that fell into the first category, but it’s getting harder for me to give people the benefit of doubt by now. There’s been LOTS of catastrophic, overly dramatic comments, like wish songs are the worst disaster to ever happen to the music and movie industries, because they have the lamest lyrics ever (“I couldn’t sit through the movie and had to stop after 20 minutes because of the songs being too stupid / I had to skip the songs because they were hurting my ears” ????????????) and stuff AND THEN, they almost always argument with that one specific line from this is the thanks I get but like. Have you listened to the rest of the song? lol. Of course it’s gonna sound lame when you frame it like this and put the context away. Does “I’m especially good at expectorating” sound like a lyric from an oscar winner movie and EGOT winner composer? Idk, it’s very easy for me to think “ok, this person hasn’t even seen the movie and doesn’t know what they’re hating on, they’re just copy-pasting some other hate comment”.

Also, I’m sorry but I can’t possibly believe wish songs are less popular than songs from bolt, meet the robinsons or chicken little and I’ve never seen anyone “analyzing” why THOSE songs are “bad”. I’m keeping disney sequels out because. Don’t tell me songs from the fox and the hound 2 are better than wish’s

[gilliesmemes]

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐌𝐄𝐊𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎      !     /    sentence starters pulled callmekevins playthrough of mile 0 , prequel to road 96.   change whatever you want to suit your character interactions .

 oh my god , what has he taken ?

now, lets hop in a strangers car.

your dog die or something ?

i might play video games instead. that’s how i escape my problems.

aha ! i found an escape.

i’m not really one for tourism in a country run by a dictator.

i feel a little on edge here.

i’m taking that threat at face value.

i need some chaos, everything has been too organized.

now we’re talking, explosives ! let’s get in there.

oh god, he’s very upset.

does he have that type of power, though ?

then the manger came out and said i was the best escapist they’ve ever seen.

yeah, tony hawk move there.

we’re killing a lot of people, this is great.

oh my god , you don’t know anything about personal space.

i will kill you immediately , that’s what friends are for - murdering each other.

i want it to seem like someone died in here.

that looks kind of crappy, to be honest.

what the hell is yours supposed to mean ?

yeah, they’re both equally good.

i don’t even know who said that, a ghost perhaps ?

i’m just so obnoxious.

can i just throw them in the trash ?

i don’t really wanna do this job , i just wanna get the credit for doing it.

forty seven people injured in town square, read all about it in tomorrows paper.

oh, i didn’t see you there.

ah ! oh , sorry... the corner scared me.

can you just give me a second ? i’m trying to rob you.

my kd ratio is insane.

i have been destroying the place with no reasoning just because i can get away with it.

maybe the government are lying.

we’ve been truman show’d !

if you didn’t believe the government didn’t engage in propaganda here, you’d be pretty fucking stupid.

i do ! i just agreed with everything you said !

annoying poster guy in the park is my favourite hobby. also , he’s dead.

i forgot to update you , i killed him earlier.

that is the lamest dare i’ve ever heard.

i dare you to jump off the building.

pretty ironic to say i found it in the dumpster.

i jump in trash and then he quits , like yeah i’m done with that one.

push him. push him off the seat so he falls into the mud.

you’ve probably never even seen your father.

look at his little stupid face about to go down in the mud !

yeah , sucks to be you kiddo.

he looks like a guy who a kid could just sneak by into our house.

oh my god , how did you run so fast ?

that is the creepiest thing you could’ve said.

i need the worlds gnarliest rumba that’ll just shred everything on the floor.

i kinda like this dude, he’s just so naive.

i’m just causing so much chaos all the time no matter where i am.

i feel a little bad.

he almost had another kill on his belt !

jesus , what a neighbourhood.

he’s a lunatic.

now what , are you going to try and eat me ?

i like the dramatized version.

tell me this secret of yours or i’ll push you off the building.

oh, look ! it’s the square where i murdered everyone , good times.

stop trying to force me to talk about things i don’t want to talk about.

i’m going to snap my own neck.

i don’t think it’s about whether the government did it or not.

i just always assume the government are up to shenanigans to be honest. 

that’s not how i thought he would sound for some reason.

that’s his memory of it ... then he’s also like and i was doing some sick kick flips and jumping over ramps while the explosions were going off.

was that not enough ?!

WHAAA - oh wait , i already knew that.

oh no, i’m going to get pulled into this aren’t i ?

no it sounds complicated for you. i don’t want to get involved in this.

yeah , she seems like a big fan.

she’s still waving , she’s still there.

he sounds pretty pissed off.

can i just walk away ?

i don’t think he’d make an announcement about that.

okay that was unnecessary , that was just demeaning. 

this is getting weirder and weirder.

this is getting a little bit stressful now.

i'm playing to win , i am not a good loser. actually no , i'm a very good loser  -  i'm not a graceful loser is what im saying... i'm a sore loser.

stop distracting me , i'm winning.

did you make a whole scale model of his house ?

seems reasonable , yeah lets risk our lives for this.

the cops are closing in , you're in now so we got to get this done tonight.

mom will help , don't worry.

i just think cops are so cool , those guys are really cool.

please let me go now.

anyway, time to go straight to ( name's ) house and break in.

i managed to ditch my parents, i'm ready for the revolution.

i play the triangle, i never said i was a singer.

your eyes aren't as wonky as your posters would suggest. 

my mixtape ! how could i forget my mixtape. 

do i actually want to help him ? i don’t want to.

these past twelve hours have been good to you.

why is he holding onto the receipt ... are they going to business expense it ? 

the problem is ... i know the file wont be there when i get up there.

i’ve seen enough loony  toons back in the city to know that’s a fake.

god the standards are pretty low here.

is this my entry test ?

y’know , personal revenge and all that.

i want to take the gun and just shoot him.

is this how he sees it ? well , no wonder he's pissed off.

we’re all new comers to this behaviour.

that was a bit stupid, wasn’t it ?

yeah , it is kinda lame actually.

what ? you abandoned me !

[roman0writes]

𝒞𝑜𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒪𝓊𝓉

Bellamy x fem!reader

A/N: I wrote this as a commission for someone who tumblr is being glitchy and won’t let me tag rn. The original post is up on my old blog @rowan-sins but I figured I’d post it here too

Content warnings: fem!reader, coming out

In order to feel the joy of being loved you must face the horrifying ordeal of being known. Or the time the sea salt breeze on Dressarosa shores eases you into confessing your deepest secret.

You can taste the salt on your tongue, from the balcony overlooking the streets of the small trading port you called home. The balcony is small, barely enough room for two people to stand next to the potted plant you put petunias in it.

Enough room for you to stand shoulder to shoulder with someone you love far more than a friend. Enough room for you to justify encroaching in Bellamy’s personal space. He hardly seems to mind, if the way he scooches away from the side railing and presses his bicep into your shoulder, letting your head rest against the hard muscle of his arm.

You can taste the salt on your tongue, heavy like the ocean just behind your house. You can taste the truth on your tongue, light like the sea breeze the tickles your nose. It’s a confession you owe to no-one that falls off your tongue.

“I’m bisexual,” you say. It breaks the peaceful silence. And the air feels tenser now that your truth has been spoken. You don’t know why you said it. Or what compelled you to do so. This was very much your business and not his, but it still sat in the open air, light and frothy like sea foam stuck in sand of shore.

“Is that so?” He responds. “I’m glad you’re finally honest with yourself.”

Shock colors your expression, and you look at him incredulously. He turns to look at your expression, and smiles at the blatant shock on your face.

“How the fuck did you figure it out before I did?” You exclaim.

The wind ruffles his blonde hair, and if you weren’t mad at him, you’d reach up and fix his hair himself. But he’s being stupid, so his stupid blond hair can be as messy as the higher powers deem necessary.

“With that haircut…” He grins even wider, his fake teeth almost indistinguishable from the real ones “… I’m surprised you didn’t come out as a lesbian!”

“Bellamy!” You punch him in the shoulder when he starts laughing.

“Also, you’re not as slick as you think you are staring at Baby 5’s boobs.”

The second time you punch him you aim for the face.

You could probably hear his yell from the streets of freshly liberated Dressarosa. “Hey! What was that for!”

“Being a jerk!”

“Oh so I’m jerk now!”

“Yeah a big old meanie!”

“I’ll remember that the next you ask me for help when you fall out of a chair!”

You laugh and roll your eyes when he pushes you into the side railing on your side of the tiny balcony. “Like I’ll need your help when I get a pretty butch girlfriend.”

“Like you need a pretty butch girlfriend when you have me.”

The world gets quiet again. Birds chirping drowned out by the silence between you two.

“That’s the lamest way to ask someone out. Ever.”

“But did it work?”

“You free Wednesday evening?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Then it’s a date!”

“That was even lamer than what I said!” He exclaims.

You roll your eyes and lean closer to him. “But did it work?”

He groans and leans down, closer to you. “Just shut up and kiss me.”

And well, who were you to deny such a lovely request from such a lovely friend.