#She will make mistakes and fail some things but that is about it!
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Post-canon, how do you see Celine + Rumi reconciling? Do you think Rumi eventually asked her mom about her mother + Celine’s relationships with her?
i honestly think it takes a really long time for Celine to reach out
Rumi's death wish was a come-to-Jesus moment for sure
she completely breaks down after that night. she does care for Rumi, of course she does. she'd never want her dead, never even dreamed of it, and she can't believe Rumi would think to ask her of something like that
over the next month, she barely sleeps and she thinks. she keeps replaying little moments she's had with Rumi over the years, and now realizing that she never really gave Rumi her praise or affection. she was proud, generally, but that's not what a kid, teenage, or adult Rumi needed. she could barely look at or touch her, most of the time. she didn't give her those things and treated her as if she was a mistake that needed to be fixed.
she loved an idealized version of Rumi that literally never existed. she was unprepared to take care of a kid like Rumi yet she never learned
she failed her so badly in nearly every way. how do you even reconcile something like that? years of quiet resentment and self-hatred?
the guilt nearly eats her alive. she watches Huntr/x's performances post-IAs. they're amazing as always (of course they are - she trained them) but all she can focus on is Rumi. how Rumi's patterns are more iridescent than the angry pink they were when she last saw her. she looks happy, truly happy, and Celine wonders if she even should even reach out again and ruin that
she does anyway. she wants, needs, to apologize. this isn't something she can let go of, Rumi isn't someone she can just "let go" of. she finally called Rumi maybe three months post-IAs
Rumi's talked through what she thinks about Celine with Zoey and Mira over and over, and she still doesn't know what to think of her foster mother. she's so angry, she almost never wants to see her again, and yet she craves...something. closure? closure for what?
so when she gets a call from Celine she lets it go to voicemail, just to see if Celine will leave one. she does, and Rumi takes about a week to listen to it. another two weeks to respond, and Rumi talks to Zoey and Mira about it. they're both kinda on the fence, as is Rumi (Mira is more on the side of "don't talk to her again" but she's not 100% on it) they encourage Rumi to do whatever she thinks she needs to do
Rumi meets up with Celine back at her home
they're quiet for a long time. there's so many things to say and Celine has no idea where to start.
Rumi looks and sounds exactly like her mother but has the patterns and spirit of her father, one thing Celine adores and other things that she despises.
Rumi isn't her parents. or her patterns. she's Rumi. she's making these decisions on her own
she starts with an apology. a real one. how she would've never forgiven herself had something happened, if Rumi had slipped through her fingers like she was so close to doing
Rumi asks her why she taught her that her patterns were wrong, why she was wrong, and Celine answers honestly - that's how Hunters were taught. most of what she said and thought came down to her own upbringing as a Hunter and her own misconceptions about demons
and it makes sense, Rumi has to admit. not that it's GOOD, just that it makes sense. she's too tired for this shit and she says as much.
more hard questions, more honest answers. some suck to ask and some suck to tell
the conversation ends with another apology from Celine and that if what Rumi's doing (in regards to showing her patterns) makes her happy, she's not going to object to it
it's not all sunshine and rainbows after that. Rumi is still so hurt and has only begun to scratch the surface of unlearning everything Celine taught her. there's bumps of course, but it's a start, and that's gonna need to be enough for now
she's much more verbally supportive to Rumi after this. she tries not to lay it on too thick for fear of coming off in a bad way, but Rumi does appreciate it. Celine gets to know who Rumi really is now and she can't believe she's been missing out on this amazing person for the last quarter of her life
one night while they're having tea, Rumi asks Celine about her relationship to her mother and father and that's just a whole other can of worms that Celine is NOT ready to open and won't be for a long while and Rumi offers her a little bit of grace about it bc it's clearly a lot. But Celine does share some stories about their time as Hunters
it can still get prickly from time to time. memories bubble up and a little resentment boils over, but that's to be expected. healing takes time
maybe a year after everything, with lots more conversations and Celine generally being a better person, Rumi hugs her before she leaves the tower after she showed up to congratulate them on some kind of award she got
Celine doesn't initially reciprocate - not bc of any fear this time, but just shock. she was still pretty unsure of what Rumi thought of her and she's never been much of a hugger herself. Rumi starts to let go and apologize, but Celine hugs her back for the first time since she was a young young child
she pulls back and has her hands on Rumi's shoulders and just taking in the woman that's standing in front of her, patterns and all. and there's no fear or hesitation anymore
she tells her she loves her - like FOR REAL this time - and now they're crying again
#this is a pretty sparse writing of what their reconciliation would be like#my thought process to this is at the end of the day#Rumi and Celine only have each other as the link to Rumi's mother#and i don't think either of them would throw that away#and i think Rumi is kindhearted ENOUGH to wanna hear Celine out#if she can see the best in JINU she can see the best in Celine okay?#kpop demon hunters#celine kpdh#rumi kpdh#mira kpdh#zoey kpdh#huntrix#huntr/x
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One thing that really made me gravitate towards him was the contrast on how people talked about him, genius, over achiever, to him talking about wanting to drop out of college and lying to people because he didn't want to admit he was struggling and that's why his grades were dropping.
That makes me sad.
I’m going to make a lot of assumptions right now but by piecing together some small bits of information we have gotten, I think he’s a smart guy undoubtedly and it seems like growing up the people around him put a lot of emphasis on that made him related intelligence with praise, appreciation and even maybe love.
There was a quote on Rolling Stone article that just hit me hard: “Luigi was always chasing perfection because his identity was being smart”. Him struggling with brain fog and messing up his grades, he was probably ashamed. I don’t think the thought he could fail and make mistakes which is heartbreaking.
Also when his mom was asked about him around the time he went off the grid, she said “Luigi’s such a genius, he wants to do his own thing and has moved to Hawaii.” the genius line throws me off because it was not needed, again that’s why I think his family put emphasis on that.
The other quote that breaks my heart is him saying that “life has gotten tough and nobody understood him” after a friend tried to reach out. I still think this was Luigi’s way of asking for help and it was overlooked.
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Not gonna lie, I really love how the Kuruna lemon animation / gif turned out xd. I am not someone who genuinely animate much qwq. So doing this, esp just being for fun and being all wacky about it, really makes me happy and giggle about it >w<
I still laugh at the stupid faces tbh xd. I think that, because I made a silly little gremlin, that I've allowed myself to actually make this craziness and wild expressions be in character >w<. Just feels fitting and I am blasting all for it!
#nymphrasis#ramble#Dude I already made the lemon gif as part of both of my front profiles#on toyhouse and pokeheroes x3#Kuruna is 100% my comfort character#and someone who I can def play around with!#Which is really nice :D!#Not to mention that I dont often give myself the chance to be wild with gremlin energy on more cuter characters#Esp one that is more innocent#usually it is on a wild and crazy looking oc of mine#not someone who really seem so innocent#so this is a nice change :D#also yes Kuruna is a good guy!#She actually is not a villain or anything bad nwn#She will make mistakes and fail some things but that is about it!#I will note again that she is 13#Just to keep check and away from any potential creeps >>
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Wait did both Alice and Zane record Alan when he was at his lowest point? Didn't Alice make her exhibition to show the world what she sees? To show Alan the truth about himself? That it never was Scratch visiting and terrorizing her, but Alan himself? Did she depict his "self" and Zane depicted his "persona"? The two sides of him that he wishes he can eliminate bc they brought him into trouble (Scratch representing anger and the fallouts with paparazzi and stuff, Zane representing his self-destructive behavior with alcohol and drugs and the party nights)? The both sides that caused his marriage to start falling apart? Was that the reason Zane made that video of Alan when they were on that booze and drug-fueled bender while working on the Return manuscript? Is this party video the companion piece?? Alan's downward spiral, same as Alice's photos? Do they fucking work together aasdffjfjfkfk
#Can this game please stop messing with my head??#I mean we don't know how many years passed since Alice went to the dark place#She could have met Zane long ago. Over Zane's similar appearance to Alan they both have a connection to him#So they talk about him. They understand that they must help Alan to ascend the spiral bc he's too far gone to do it himself#Or Alan wrote them in their story as a plot decide bc he understood at one point that he must confront his lesser pleasant parts#In order to become “whole”#And he seems to deliberately ignore how close his marriage is to fail. Her POV is so different from his. Of course she mourns him#Bc she never stopped loving him. Although he did the things he did. That's simply not how love works.#Alan is a good man although he makes selfish and terrible decisions and has a questionable morale at times. Bc he thinks he can do it right.#Bc he thinks he can correct his mistakes later. That's how he's always been. He thinks a flower bouquet and chocolate and a bottle of wine#Is all he needs to give to Alice and she will forgive him. He was incapable to acknowledge his shortcomings but he tries!! In his own way!#And alice sees it. And she has accepted it's for the longest time. Alan is emotionally constipated except for his anger.#Guy needs to do some serious self reflection#alan wake 2#Alan wake theory#Alan wake 2 theory#Alan wake 2 meta#Alan Wake#Alice Wake#Thomas Zane#Tom Zane#Sorry for the endless fucking notes 🙏
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Imagine doing so much hard work and persevering through law school to have your failed tests advertised on the internet news. The bar is really hard; he’s not “cringe fail.” I am jealous of his ability to even attend college without committing suicide. He did a good job. Leave my dude the fuck alone.
I don’t care if they’re elites. If they’re elites; then make fun of them solely for being rich nepotism babies. There are non-elites who have failed the bar (or any important test) once or twice as well who will see this and feel bad about themselves.

#My uncle failed the bar I think three times before he passed and he’s a smart dude. It is extremely difficult#I respect anyone — even if they are an elite — who is capable and willing to put in that much mental work on anything#No one deserves to be ridiculed for moving past failure and trying again#That is a strength.#Or do we as a society only care about the “naturally smart” and “gifted?”#I’ve failed tests and retaken them before and so have you; should the internet ridicule us?#The SPED kids I work with very often don’t understand things the first the time around; should we ridicule them as well?#At what point do we stop judging people for their mistakes?#Also if the roles were reversed and the former princess took the bar three times; would you still say she were “cringe fail?”#or would you be too afraid of sounding “anti-feminist?”#Why? Is it because men are “supposed” to be smarter than women#and tasks that are “expected” from them would make a woman a “girlboss” for completing them?#or perhaps is it because we just don’t like men and think them creatures of lesser intellect worthy of our jeering and pet names?#Because I for one am androgynous and sick of the double standards. They help nobody#Don’t expect more from men than you do from women; don’t expect less from women than you do from men#That includes how one gender group speaks of and behaves around the other#It is the reason why a man feels he cannot physically fight a woman who is attacking him#because if he successfully defends himself he looks like an asshole; and if he fails he looks like a wimp#It is the reason women vastly underestimate and devalue their physical strength and resourcefulness as a tool#because men are the strong resourceful ones because it’s “in their biology”#Even though I am androgynous and would possibly love to be on testosterone#I don’t need testosterone or a man’s body to pull off great feats of strength and cunning and neither do you#Ladies! Build some determination: “I CAN do it and it WILL work because I fucking say so.”#Get angry. Mess your hair up. Break a nail. You are a durable physical beast put on this earth for more than looking pretty#You are meant to break a sweat. You are meant to do things that aren’t “ladylike” because women are STRONG. Physically#Men you are not less manly for enjoying housework; and ladies you are not less feminine for enjoying outdoor labor#Crush gender norms. Vive la résistance!
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FATAL OBSESSION — l.hs
even if your best friend seemed to have found the love of her life, the one that keeps her the happiest, while also treating you, and everyone else with respect—you can't help but feel something was... off about him. you didn't dwell on it much—something which proved to be a fatal mistake on your part.
GENRE — pwp, kidnapping au, psychopath au, best friend's boyfriend trope
WARNINGS — DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, noncon, noncon-ish dumbcon, psychopath!hee, kidnapping, character death, oral (both m! and f! rec), throat fucking, throat bulge, bondage, exhibitionism, voyeurism, gun play, gun in v (DON'T!!!), sucking the barrel of a gun (seriously, don't), squirting, unprotected sex (don't), doggy, cumming inside, groping, tit squeezing, nipple pinching, clit pinching, bondage, let me know if i missed any!
WORDCOUNT — 11.8k
NOTE — READER'S DISCRETION ADVISED!!! went a little too insane while writing this. thank you to my bestie sena who always encourages me to write my deranged wip ideas that I get during the most random times—this one in particular came to my mind while I was... studying. no I'm not lying. this was, as always, not proofread. so if you see any mistakes? just pretend you didn't, okay?
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
there was something severely off about heeseung.
your best friend, chaeyoung, had met heeseung—who is currently her boyfriend—at a bar. from what she had told you, apparently she was simply drinking there, celebrating her first ever paycheck—alone, since you were stuck at a family event. when it was time for her to pay, the bartender informed her that someone had already paid for her. surprised, she asked about this mystery person, getting directed towards a guy sitting a few seats away from her.
apparently for her, it was love at first sight.
he looked like everything she ever wanted in a guy—tall, dignified and confident posture, rich attire, a good taste in fashion—not to mention how attractive he looked while sipping his drink, a light smirk on the corner of his mouth, eyes locked with hers. he never broke eye contact—not even once, as she walked over to him—albeit quite bashfully.
from what she told you, they talked all night—about their reasons for being in the bar, their hobbies, their backgrounds, their families, and other things that you couldn't really bother to keep track of.
they exchanged numbers, texting each other every single day. eventually, he asked her out, taking her to the most exquisite restaurant in the city, treating her like royalty. according to her, he was the biggest gentleman—a complete green forest, if you will. he always took care of her interests, noticed every single detail about her, and never failed to bring a smile to her face. truly, she was the happiest version of herself while they were dating.
eventually, she introduced him to you, him being an absolute sweetheart with you as well. he made sure not to make you feel like a third wheel, including you in their conversations. it didn't feel awkward for you at all—almost as if you three were a trio of best friends who hadn't met in a while, catching up.
everything was perfect with him. until it wasn't.
you didn't understand why, but for some weird reason, you started to get a certain... vibe from him—even though his behaviour never really changed. he was still an absolute sweetheart, treating chaeyoung like his own personal goddess… yet there was something so—unsettling about him.
heeseung didn't really do anything, but you still found a chill running down your spine whenever chaeyoung mentioned his name. if you saw him in front of you? you bet either your leg or hand would shake uncontrollably, betraying your anxiety.
anxiety for exactly what reason, you didn't know.
you thought it was ridiculous. why would your best friend's more than perfect boyfriend’s mere presence have you shaking like a goddamn leaf? it made no sense at all.
until it did… sort of.
well… heeseung, despite being such an amazing boyfriend, ends up becoming an ex. how? the story behind that is… messy. extremely so.
you see, they had been dating for almost a year. everyone expects a good and memorable gift from their partner for their anniversary, right? so did chaeyoung. she was really looking forward to it too, given how much of a great boyfriend heeseung was.
and he didn't disappoint. he gave her a present, one that was definitely memorable. it wasn’t memorable just for her, either. it was memorable for you as well. was it good? not so much.
it was around eight in the morning when your alarm rang, effectively waking you up.but it was a sunday, so you turned the alarm off, trying to go back to sleep. but you were already awake, so it didn't really work.
you picked up your phone, the date catching your eyes—it was chaeyoung and heeseung’s anniversary!
your eyes widened. how could you have forgotten such an important date? it was a date your best friend had been extremely excited about, with her always talking about it to you for quite a few days now, yet you forgot. did that make you a terrible friend? probably. eager to redeem yourself, you quickly shot her a text.
you: happy anniversary to my favourite couple!!! enjoy yourselves you both <33 give me all the details tomorrow!!
you let out a small breath, one which you didn't realise you were holding, hoping your best friend hadn't realised that you hadn't remembered her anniversary. however, you didn't get to ponder too long on that, since your phone rang with a ding. chaeyoung had texted you back!
chae: thank youuu!! also girl i need help chae: can you make it to xxx restaurant by twelve?? a friend of heeseung got broken up with, so he wanted him to accompany us for the morning to help him cheer up. chae: he also mentioned something about ‘not wishing him to be a third wheel’ so please do me this favour?? chae: pleaseee??? i promise i’ll make it up to you
you were a bit hesitant about the request. you honestly wanted to stay in today, since it was a sunday—a rest day—but you also didn't want to disappoint your best friend on her first anniversary with her boyfriend, so you agreed.
you: fineee i can do that you: but you're gonna owe me one
chae: THANK YOU SO MUCHHHH chae: you have no idea how stressed i was about this chae: honestly i didn't wanna agree to it at first chae: but you know i can't say no to him
you: girl it's okayyy i can understand you: i’ll distract the other dude so that you guys can enjoy your day, alright?? <33
chae: ugh have i ever told you how much i love you???
you: love you too now GO!!!
as soon as you keep your phone down, you instantly regret your decision. so now you have to go and attend the anniversary lunch of your best friend and her boyfriend… along with some mopey guy that recently got broken up with. great. just great.
you were in front of the restaurant that chaeyoung had sent you the address of—right on time too. you had been trying to call her for the past thirty minutes, but she wasn't picking up. you knew it took a while to get ready, and look absolutely out of the world, but seriously, it doesn't take that long.
you tried to call her for the—what, seventh time now? once again, the call went to voicemail. jesus christ, was she getting plastic surgery or something?
you heard your name being called, causing you to turn around. it was heeseung, waving at you, dressed in an absolutely dashing suit, his ever-so-polite smile adorning his face. the only odd thing was that he was alone—no sign of chaeyoung near him.
you frowned, voicing your thoughts out. “did you not come here with chae? she hasn't been picking up my calls—i have been trying since the past half an hour already.”
he looked surprised at that. “she picked up my call around… forty? minutes ago? she told me her make up wasn't setting right? something else about her foundation being almost out? i told her i was gonna wait, and we could schedule the reservation for later, but she told me it wasn't possible—made me come here on my own. but—i figured she must have called you for help, since, you know, you're the person she usually goes to during these kinds of emergencies–”
you shook your head, your forehead creasing in frustration. obviously chaeyoung thought the ‘emergency’ wasn't urgent enough to call you—now she won't pick up your calls, or arrive on time.
you looked at him again. “when is your friend supposed to arrive?”
he looked at his watch. “we told him to come at fifteen minutes past twelve, so that me and chae could have a little time alone before it's all about him, so… he should have been here ten minutes ago.”
right then a ‘ding!’ sounded on his phone, causing you to raise a brow. you gestured at him to check, which he did… his face falling almost immediately. he looked up at you, sighing heavily. “he just texted me. apparently his sister was busy, which meant she couldn't pick up his niece from school—which left him to do it.”
you rubbed your temples in frustration. for fuck’s sake, this wasn't your anniversary lunch, why the hell were you here on time? to help a friend out, who didn't even need the help anymore, and who was yet to arrive at her own anniversary lunch?
noticing your distressed state, heeseung quickly tried to make the situation better. “h-how about we go inside, yea? chae said she reserved the table under her name, so we can sit down—maybe even order something to eat till she arrives? how does that sound?”
you nodded, sighing mentally. you loved your best friend, but seriously, she needed to be more responsible. being late to your own anniversary lunch? causing your boyfriend and best friend to sit down and possibly even eat lunch until you decided the time was finally ideal enough for you to show up? real mature.
heeseung could sense your building frustration and anger, causing him to do his best to keep you calm. you waited by the front of the restaurant, as he practically sprinted towards the help desk to get the reserved table. he quickly ran back to you, ushering you towards the table. as soon as the two of you sat down, he quickly looked through the menu, asking for your favourite drink among the ones listed. once you gave him the name, he quickly called upon a waiter, ordering your drink choice. while they took their time to give you your drink, he engaged you in a friendly conversation, trying to diffuse the tension, and any possible awkwardness. safe to say, it worked, as you even cracked a laugh or two at his terrible jokes.
another half an hour went by. chaeyoung was yet to show up. the two of you decided to order lunch, the wait having made you both hungry.
while you both were digging in, heeseung made sure to keep you engaged in conversation, the atmosphere not turning awkward even once—despite the circumstances. the food was top tier too, so you had to give chaeyoung that one. credit was needed where it was due, after all.
by the time it was the turn for dessert, your anger had started fading into worry. where the fuck was chaeyoung at?
you knew your best friend well enough to know that she wouldn't miss her anniversary lunch, no matter how much her make-up sucked. so why wasn't she here yet?
heeseung, being ever the gentleman, politely kept you engaged in conversation. oh, for chaeyoung to have ended up with such an amazing guy, and to miss their first anniversary? yea, your best friend is definitely the problem here.
once dessert was finished, you excused yourself, going to the washroom. you needed to wash your hands anyways, and redo your lipstick. you also wanted to try and call chaeyoung again.
while you were washing your hands, one of the servers came in, giving you a polite smile and a small bow. she washed your hands alongside you. “ma'am, may i ask you something? it might sound a little intrusive, but i promise i mean it in a nice way.”
caught slightly off-guard, you nodded your head. “absolutely! don't worry about being intrusive, just ask whatever you want to.”
she gave you a wide smile, giggling slightly. “you and your boyfriend look so cute together! how long have you been together? if you don't mind me asking, of course–”
you quickly cut her off. “oh no no no—he isn't my boyfriend, he is my best friend’s. they have been together for a year, so this was supposed to be their anniversary lunch.”
the waitress gave you a skeptical look. realising exactly how weird your answer just sounded, you rushed to explain yourself. “w-wait wait wait—i know it sounds weird, but i promise i’m telling the truth. i sent her a ‘happy anniversary’ text this morning, to which she told me to accompany her to her anniversary lunch, since her boyfriend’s recently dumped friend was coming along, and her boyfriend didn't want him to be a third wheel…” you trailed off, noticing the look of disbelief on her face.
you didn't know why you felt the need to explain the situation to a complete stranger, but you weren't going to question your anxiety induced instincts. you took out your phone, showing her your texts with chaeyoung from the morning, while continuing to rant to her. “–but for some reason, she hasn't been picking up my calls, despite her being the one to invite me to this. she even reserved the table in the first place, but… oh well.”
at that, the server furrowed her brows. she seemed to believe you, although only to a certain extent now. “uhm… ma'am, are you sure? the table you were sat at was reserved by who we thought was your boyfriend. no girl came in to reserve that table for today. but he did so, yesterday. said he wanted to have lunch with his girlfriend in peace, without anyone interrupting, and that today was the only opportunity for doing so.”
you were stunned at the revelation. you were sure heeseung told you that the table was reserved by chaeyoung, not him. why would the server lie? hell, why would heeseung lie? this revelation, paired with your best friend not picking up her calls… something wasn't adding up.
the server waved her hand in front of you to get your attention. “uh, ma'am…?”
you quickly snapped back to reality, the unsettling feeling you usually got around heeseung creeping back. “o-oh yea, uhm—can you help me out really quick?”
sensing the undertone of panic in your voice, her face quickly became serious. “of course, whatever you need.”
you gulped. “so, uhm—i- i think my best friend’s boyfriend—the guy i was sitting with right now—lied to me, and my friend isn't picking my calls either. d-does your restaurant perhaps have a… a backdoor, or something similar to that?”
she didn’t question it anymore, nodding quickly. she gave you the directions to the backdoor, which luckily happened to be nearby, just behind the kitchen. she promised to keep your escapade a secret, and also promised to make heeseung pay the entire bill.
“–oh, and please be careful. the backdoor is connected to a network of alleys, which are filled with homeless people. they are always looking for an opportunity to steal, especially from unsuspecting women. there's also a lot of—well, men, so you need to be extra careful.” you quickly thanked her, heeding to her directions.
you got out of the washroom, finding the backdoor quickly enough. you went outside through it, the door leading into a back alley. you quickly navigated through it, wary of any potential homeless people that might think you're an easy target for them to steal from.
you kept turning corners, staying at least five meters away from any suspicious people. however, you soon felt as if you were being followed. since you were in an area infested with men that were starving—in more ways than one, you didn't pay as much attention to it—although you should have, since that was extremely stupid of you. it turned out to be a big mistake on your part, since you soon felt someone hit your head—hard—with something that was probably made of metal.
your head exploded in pain, causing you to clutch it tightly with both hands. you felt someone catch you as you fell backwards, holding onto you tightly, your vision unsteady. as you swam in and out of consciousness, you could swear you heard a laugh. it was the most unsettling sound you had ever heard. the last thing you heard before you blacked out sent a chill down your spine.
“that eager to escape me? not fucking happening princess.”
when you woke up, you couldn't open your eyes, nor could you open your mouth to scream. you tried to move your hands and legs, but they seemed to have been tied up as well. you could tell that you were tied to a chair, but you had no idea why, or how—or who did it. what would anyone gain from kidnapping you?
you let out a muffled scream through your gag, trying to catch the attention of literally anyone. to add to your anxiety, you heard another muffled scream in response. you tried to struggle against your binds—which you just realised were fucking metallic chains—but it was a futile attempt.
in the midst of your struggling, you didn't hear the footsteps nearby, or the door opening. so naturally you were surprised when the blindfold was yanked off of you. you squint your eyes, to adjust to the sudden brightness, while your captor ripped off your gag as well. you promptly let out an ear piercing scream.
your captor let out a groan, putting his hand on your mouth, effectively shutting you up. “for fuck’s sake, shut up. no one can hear you—at least no one that can save you can hear you, so shut up and spare me the trouble of going deaf. or i can leave the gag on, whichever works best for you.”
you immediately stopped trying to scream, your eyes slowly adjusting to the brightness—or excessive darkness, whatever it was. to your utter horror, your captor was lee fucking heeseung of all people. you did have a bad feeling about him, but for it to be true? that was something you weren't prepared for.
you gulped, your throat feeling slightly parched. you looked around, your eyes landing on another girl that was tied up. her blindfold and gag was still on, but she didn't seem to be straining against her binds. from the almost dried tear patches on the blindfold, and the dried tear tracks on her cheeks, you assumed that she had given up trying to struggle.
as you analyzed her carefully, the pit in your stomach grew. that was chaeyoung. “w-what did you do to h-her? why—why are we here? why are you doing this? l-let us go!”
he let out a chuckle, which only caused the pit in your stomach to grow bigger. he put both of his hands on the arms of the chair you were tied to, leaning closer to you. his face had the most bone-chilling smirk ever. “‘why?’ that's a great question. cute, even. it's cuter how you think i’ll let either of you go.”
noticing your breath hitch, he leaned even closer, his voice more of a sultry whisper. “your friend… she was just a puppet. a pawn, in my game.”
your eyes were brimming with unshed tears, your voice shaky. “g-game?”
he chuckled. “why yes, a game. my game. the game to get closer to you.”
you froze, causing him to hold in a laugh at how your eyes widened comically. “m-me? closer t-to me? w-why? why would you want to—how would that even benefit you–?”
he tilted his head to the side. “why? because i like you, silly. i’m in love with you. always have been.”
your mouth hung open in disbelief. “...what?”
he caressed your cheek, his touch tender—a great contrast to how he kidnapped you, and tied you up to a chair, in some random, abandoned, basement. “we went to the same school. we were never in the same section throughout all of our school years, but i still noticed you. i always did. how could i not? you were the most beautiful among them all, a rose in between thorns. a lone firefly, shining in a field of darkness. naturally, i was drawn to you, like a moth to a flame.”
he cupped your jaw with the same hand that was caressing your face just seconds ago, his thumb brushing against your lower lip. “anything and everything you did, always had me thinking, wondering, hoping—that you were doing it for me. just for me. to catch my attention. you don't need anyone else anyways, i’m more than enough for you. you just… don't see it yet.”
his grip on your jaw grew slightly tighter, your wince of pain going unnoticed by him. a crazy glimmer appeared in his eyes. “that's why i needed to wait. wait for the perfect opportunity, the right moment—until it finally presented itself. in the form of your best friend, chaeyoung. she wasn't difficult to sway. her trusting nature made it even easier. she talks a lot, a bit too much sometimes—but of course, you would know—you’re her best friend after all. she made it easy to know everything about you, things i couldn't find from stalking you. suddenly, you were so, so much closer. but not close enough. you still didn't care enough, you still weren't mine.”
you were freaking out. this whole situation was insane. he was insane. you were a hundred percent sure that you had never even seen him at school! yet he claimed to have been in the same one as you? either you were as invincibly ignorant as a town-fop judging of a new play, or he was bluffing. based on the current situation, he was definitely not bluffing.
but how? how could you have missed the fact that you were getting stalked? stalked! this was so, so bizarre. you were terrified, both for your life, and chaeyoung’s. you felt guilty that she had gotten involved, when clearly this was all about you.
heeseung continued talking. “so i had to do something. something, literally anything, to finally have you all to myself. the one thing i was glad for, was the fact that you remained single, your disinterest in relationships being both a blessing and a curse. it was the reason i lured chaeyoung into this, instead of getting to you directly. although, she could have gotten away from all of this, unharmed, if you weren't so… nosey.”
he started caressing your cheek again. “don't know why, but for some reason you started to become… uncomfortable around me. i didn't know why, since i was more than sure that i didn't do anything to make you feel that way. but you still did. so of course, i had to do something fast. i scraped together this elaborate plan, one that involved me and chaeyoung breaking up, after i found her ‘cheating’ on me on our one year anniversary, and you consoling me, but—you just had to run away. naturally, i had to bring both of you here.”
you gulped, trying to steal your nerves. “please—you said it yourself, it's me who you want, not her—so please, let her go. she did nothing, she doesn't need to be involved in this–”
he tutted, cutting you off. “ah ah ah—where’s the fun in that? she is going to remain right here, as long as i see fit.”
he took his hand off your face, stepping away from you. he walked towards chaeyoung, a few meters away from you. your heart broke, seeing the fresh tear tracks on her face, the wet patches on her blindfold being clearly visible. your own tears broke free, once he ripped her blindfold off. she squinted in the light, her eyes landing on you. a fresh batch of tears cascaded down her face.
before you could call out to her, your eyes widened, your body freezing. heeseung was pointing a gun to her head. chaeyoung realised it, muffled sobs breaking free from behind her gag—which, for some reason, he didn’t take off, unlike what he did to yours. he rolled his eyes, nudging her head with the gun. “shut up. or i won't hesitate to blow your brains out.”
she immediately tried to stop, a small muffled hiccup escaping her in the process. heeseung rolled his eyes again, walking away from her, towards you. he kept the gun pointed towards her. he stopped in front of you, clicking the safety off. he smirked down at you. “you want her to live?”
you nodded frantically, your eyes shaking from how much you were crying. he snickered at your state. he put the gun under your chin, using it to tilt your head up, towards him. “in that case, you better do whatever i tell you to. and no trying to act smart, or else…”
he pointed the gun at chaeyoung again, flipping the gun in his hand, making it point at her again. he made a small ‘bang!’ sound with his mouth, imitating the gun going off. with your body raking with silent sobs, you nodded again, eyes red from your tears.
he smirked again. “that’s a good girl. just keep being obedient like this, yea?”
he didn’t wait for you to nod your head, or say yes again, going straight to business instead. to your—and chaeyoung's—utter horror, he began using his unoccupied hand to unbutton his jeans, under which he was somehow already hard. he pulled down the zipper—your widened, teary eyes and shocked, tear-stricken face making him stifle a groan, sending more blood straight down south, towards his cock. oh, he was going to have so much fun playing with you.
you looked in horror as he shrugged off his pants, glancing over at chaeyoung’s equally horrified face, before looking up at his face. in a panicked state, you spoke. “w-what are you doing–?”
he snickered at you, the gun not once moving from the direction of your best friend. his pants had come off, his hard bulge straining against his boxers, a large spot of precum having already formed on it. “what do you think?”
your expression was one of disgust, mixed with panic. there was no way you were going to suck your best friend's cock right in front of her, while you were both tied up to chairs, your lives in great danger. “you can't make me–”
“i can’t?” he interrupted you with a scoff, his hand pulling down his boxers. he shrugged them off, his leaking cock slapping on his stomach, leaving a trail of his sticky precum behind. his tip was an angry red, demanding immediate attention. “i can’t?” he repeated, his voice taking on a mocking tone. “what makes you think you have a choice? unless you want your oh-so-beloved friend here to die?”
he made a move as to pull the trigger, as you quickly yelled out, your eyes widening in panic. “no no no wait—please, i-i’ll do it, don’t shoot her, please–”
he smirked. you were so, so easy to scare. but apparently chaeyoung was too, since he heard a scared whimper—or a muffled sob—whatever, from her direction. he rolled his eyes subtly at the sound. he stepped closer to you, holding the base of his dick. his musky smell immediately invaded your nose, causing you to subtly scrunch it. although the smell wasn’t disgusting, his act sure was. he nudged it against your unwilling lips, coating it in a layer of his precum. he decided that it was by far the prettiest gloss he had seen you wear. “well? go on and suck it. or do you need more motivation?”
by motivation, he meant putting chaeyoung to sleep forever, of course. obviously you didn’t want that, so you quickly opened your mouth, your tongue darting out to give his tip a tentative lick. the salty taste immediately invaded your taste buds, causing you to gag slightly.
the action, however, elicited a completely different reaction from heeseung. he almost fell forward with a groan, balancing himself just in time, by holding onto the top of your chair. it set a chain reaction of his cock getting pushed further in your direction. despite your unwillingness, you were fuelled with the thought of you and your best friend getting out of the hell hole—unharmed—if you obeyed him. so you tilted your head, licking a long stripe along a vein on the underside of his cock. it stretched from his base, till his tip. your tongue’s movement caused him to twitch above you, more precum dribbling out of his tip.
above you, heeseung was a mess. god-fucking-damnit, this was what he had been missing out on?! chaeyoung’s head game was nothing compared to yours, and you had barely done anything.
it was getting harder to keep the gun pointed at her, so he decided to taunt her instead. he turned to the side, towards her, to mock her—only to be met with her eyes shut tightly, tears streaming down her face. displeased by the sight, he called out to her, trying to not sound breathless. “stop acting like a fucking prude, and open your goddamn eyes. i could shoot you right now, the only reason i’m not is because of your friend right here–” he gestured down to you, seeing as she opened her eyes again, which were red and swollen from crying. “–so you better be grateful to her, and keep your eyes on her. or else… you know what kind fate is waiting for you.”
hearing him threaten her directly, made your actions falter. you glanced at chaeyoung again—the sight of her teary eyes causing a fresh batch to roll down your eyes. you mouthed a ‘i promise i’ll get us out of here—unharmed’ to which she simply shook her head. your promise was empty words, as long as you both were here—under the threat of heeseung’s insanity. she didn’t hold it against you, she knew you didn’t want this either. but as long as heeseung was here, you both weren’t safe.
not liking how you stopped, heeseung fisted your hair tightly in his unoccupied hand, pushing your face forcefully towards his cock once again. you had done the mistake of gasping at his tight grip, causing his cock to push itself inside your deliciously warm mouth.
heeseung had to once again let go of your hair, to hold onto the top of the chair, trying to steady himself. fuck, your mouth felt so much better than chaeyoung’s ever did. he let out an unbashed moan, as you slowly bobbed your head up and down his length. “fuck,” your tongue swirled around his tip, collecting his precum, the action only causing more to ooze out. your tongue pressed down on his slit, causing him to throw his head back. “just like that baby,” he gripped the top of the chair tightly, in order to avoid thrusting into your mouth. “hah—doing s’fucking great f’me–”
he got cut off by his own groan, as you hollow your cheeks, sucking him off harshly. your tongue rubbed deliciously on the underside of his cock, the combined mixture of your saliva and his precum making it easier for you to take him in and out of your mouth. you tried your best to tune out the muffled sobs from chaeyoung in the corner—you were doing this so that she wouldn't be killed, not for your selfish reasons. as long as heeseung was satisfied, you both would be safe.
heeseung thought the same, as he seemed to want to take full advantage of that fact. unable to resist temptation anymore, he thrust his hips forward, relishing in how you gagged around him. he stood still for a moment, just to bask in the warmth of your throat.
but you only had one goal. satisfy him—impress him—till he deemed your performance good enough to let you and chaeyoung leave. which is why he was soon pleasantly surprised, as you took him further in, deep throating him. he almost moaned at the sight of his bulge in your throat. chaeyoung could never do that.
he took a glance at her, his hand holding the gun starting to ache. she was looking straight at you, small sobs raking through her body, tears running down her eyes in a steady stream. with his gun still cocked straight in her direction, he used his unoccupied hand to grab your throat, pressing down on your bulge. he let out a moan as you choked, the pressure on his cock being more than perfect.
seeing you struggling to breathe, he rolled his eyes slightly. “breathe through your nose.” it was all he said, before he pulled almost completely out of your mouth. without giving you barely enough time to take a breath, he slammed back in, your nose pushing against his abdomen. his balls slapped against your chin, as you choked, trying hard to breathe through your nose. his hand gripped your hair tightly, as he started fucking your mouth—throat—roughly.
your wrists and shins were hurting from how the chains were digging into them, bruises having definitely formed on them by now. from his merciless pace and brutal thrusts, your throat palate, as well as your chin, was sure to be bruised later as well. tears were streaming down your eyes, mirroring chaeyoung's—not just from the brutality of his pace, but from the entire situation. you never thought that one day you would have to let heeseung fuck your throat, just to ensure that you and chaeyoug could live for another day.
but unexpected situations happen everyday, as heeseung’s pace turned sloppy. “fuck fuck fuck–” he changed his fast pace and short strokes to slow and deep thrusts, his cock going impossibly deep inside your throat everytime—as if he was trying to leave an imprint in it.
finally, he let out a broken moan. “o-oh fuck—mmm–” he pulled out of your mouth quickly, his hand clutching the base of his cock to avoid cumming immediately. he started jerking off at a fast pace in front of your face. “f-fuck—open your m-mouth f’me baby—n’ stick out your tongue–”
you did as he said, screwing your eyes shut. you didn't want to accidentally make eye contact with your best friend. your face and neck was already burning hot from embarrassment, you didn't need to feel guilty as well—not that any of this was your fault in the first place.
with a loud curse, and a broken moan of your name, his orgasm finally crashed over him. spurts of warm cum erupted from his angry red tip, landing all over your face. most of it landed on your tongue, but quite a bit landed on your eyelids, nose, and cheeks as well. admiring his masterpiece with a darkened look in his eyes, heeseung spoke. “don't swallow… yet.”
he swiped the excess cum off your face with his finger, to the best of his abilities. “swallow.” he ordered, leaving no room for disobedience. he watched as you gulped, your subtle look of disgust going unnoticed. “open your mouth again,” he said, watching with a dark satisfaction, as you obeyed. he pushed his cum covered finger inside your mouth. “suck it, and swallow everything.”
you did just that, although you really wished you could spit it out instead. without him asking, you opened your mouth wide open, showing how you swallowed every drop. it was only then, that you dared to speak, your voice hoarse from his ministrations. “c-can we go now? i p-promise neither of us will tell anyone.”
at your question, he laughed. full on laughed. “‘leave’?” he echoed; as if it were some foreign language. he brought his hand that was holding the gun towards your face, before using it to tilt your chin up. “why do you want to leave so soon, baby? you need a reward first, don't you think so?”
you blinked confusedly. “a reward…?”
a smirk creeped up on his face. “why yes, a reward. you have been such a good girl for me, of course you need a reward! besides, it's only logical that i return the favour, isn't it?”
your eyes widened, as the realisation settled in. “oh, i-i don't think that's necessary–”
he subtly rolled his eyes, already sinking down on his knees in front of you. “of course it is necessary! can't just leave a girl hanging, you know?”
your eyes were wide with panic, looking at chaeyoung, as if expecting her to help—her own eyes were wide open, as she gulped inaudibly. at this point, she was simply grateful that the two of you were alive.
you squirmed, as heeseung placed the gun down beside him, giving chaeyoung a break. his hands moved up and down your legs, lifting your dress up, bunching it around your hips, leaving you squirming uncomfortably. “h-heeseung please, i r-really don't think this is necessary.”
his jaw clenched at your words, as he tightened grip on your legs. he forced his voice to be sickly sweet, as he spoke. “but that's the problem, isn't it? you women always think you know everything; whatever you decide is correct, is always correct. news flash darling—not everything is sunshine and rainbows. there are loads of things out of your control, things that you should simply relax and let others do for you. so shut up, and let me do what i want to, got it? or do you want me to blow chaeyoung’s brains out, since threatening you seems to be the only way you learn to listen?”
you gulped, tears stinging your eyes, as you met his hardened gaze. how long were you both going to be trapped here? how long before he finally got bored of these games and killed you both off? how long?
heeseung produced a knife from his pocket, your panic settling in again. you only calmed down—slightly—when you saw him use it to slowly tear through your panties, careful not to hurt you. although, the knife being so close to your skin scared you shitless anyways.
he sliced through them, the cold air coming in contact with your bare core, a shiver running through you. as he smirked at you, leaning closer to lick a stripe up your cunt, you suppressed a flinch. fuck, this was really happening.
you watched as he gathered a wad of saliva with his tongue, before spitting directly on your clit. you flinched slightly, which he took great delight in. heeseung watched his spit slowly drip down your pussy, causing him to be unable to resist temptation. he pushed his face towards your core, kissing it, before diving in. his tongue pushed deep inside you, something which unintentionally caused tingles of pleasure to run through you. you gasped loudly. “oh—god—wait, d-don't–”
your broken sounds only spurred him on more, as he dragged his tongue across your inner walls, his moan reverberating through your cunt. he licked at your walls, slurping up your juices, like a starving man. you tasted so fucking good, so much better than chaeyoung. but your squirming was pissing him off, his bruisingly tight grip on your thighs not being enough to keep you still.
even after digging his blunt nails into your thighs, you didn't stop the squirming—even though he knew you were loving it. especially given the way you kept letting out broken gasps and the way you pushed your absolutely delicious cunt further onto his face. it was really starting to piss him off.
he quite reluctantly pulled off to glare at you. “why is it so hard for you to sit still, hm? it's getting really fucking annoying, you know?”
you gulped, panting slightly. “i-i just—really want you to stop…”
he raised a brow, his expression otherwise blank. “oh really? because ‘it doesn't feel good’?”
you nodded quickly—a little too quickly. “y-yea! it f-feels weird—not good in the slightest.”
his jaw clenched—again. “well,” he gritted out. “in that case, i’ll have to try something else, don't you think so?”
you blinked, before furrowing your brows. “what–?”
he proceeded to pick up the gun from beside him, relishing in the way your eyes widened in horror. “if my mouth makes you feel so—uncomfortable, we will just need something else, hm? an object perhaps?”
your breathing grew shallow, as you realised where this was going. “n-no, please–”
he sneered at you. “too fucking late for that, princess.”
he pushed the barrel of the gun inside you slowly, watching as it slid in with ease, due to his previous ministrations. he ignored your sobs and cries to stop, relishing in the way your pussy sucked it right in. “sure you don't want this princess? your pussy disagrees with your mouth, you know?”
your head faced the ceiling, your teeth biting down on your bottom lip painfully, to conceal your whimpers. your eyes were screwed shut, praying that this was just a terrifying nightmare, one you hoped you would wake up quickly from. you swore you heard a whimper near you, which was probably one of utter horror, elicited by chaeyoung, since she was witnessing everything—but you didn't have time to worry about her anymore, since your own life was in a much graver situation.
you let out a whimper as heeseung pushed the barrel of the gun even deeper inside you, the disgusting squelching sound from your slick almost making you gag. why, just why did this situation have to happen with you of all people?
heeseung on the other hand, was enjoying himself. he pulled the barrel out slightly, before pushing it right back in. the sounds that your cunt produced were music to his ears, your whimpers of horror and choked sobs only fuelling his sick delight. he knew you liked it, even if it was only to a certain extent. why else would your cunt clench down on the gun enough to make it hard for him to pull it out?
he made sure to voice out his exact thoughts to you. “such a slutty hole you have… don’t you, pretty girl? it will get wet for anything that is hard enough to stick inside it, won’t it?” he revelled in the particularly loud squelch that your pussy made, when he pushed the barrel in deeper. “ah… point proven.”
tears were streaming down your face at a fast, never ending pace, your face and neck burning up from a mix of emotions—fear, anger, humiliation—everything. even if you gave him his—his satisfaction, would it be enough to keep him satisfied for long enough? were you really going to die here? here? under these circumstances?
heeseung used his other hand to rub your clit, tired of your resistance. he rubbed dizzying circles around your hardened bundle with nerves, with deliberate slowness, the gesture teasing, with a hint of impatience. your breath hitched, giving him the incentive to continue his actions. he pinched your clit, drawing out a shocked gasp, before rubbing it harshly.
your head was spinning. with the gun still dangerously sliding in and out of you, and the added stimulation of your clit, it was hard to focus on anything. your head tipped back, and before you could control yourself, a moan slipped past. “h-heeseu—ah–”
you immediately bit your lip, your eyes widening, surprised by yourself. did you really just…?
heeseung on the other hand, was on cloud nine. he was both elated, yet shocked at the same time. with a nasty grin, and a crazed gleam in his eyes, he fastened the pace of the gun, pinching and flicking your bundle of nerves. “fuuuuck baby—do it again, c’mon—i knew you were a nasty little slut, just needed a little bit of… encouragement, isn’t that it? c’mon pretty, again–”
your eyes screwed shut, as you refused to let any sounds escape again, despite the very loud moan bubbling up in your throat. you tried to squeeze your legs shut, as his actions started to make you feel alarmingly good. for fuck’s sake, there was a goddamn gun inside you—how on earth were you liking this?!
heeseung caught on immediately, pushing your legs further apart, sliding the gun in and out of you at a ruthless pace, forcing another moan out of you. with how fast he was rubbing your clit, it was extremely hard to not moan—in fact, it was hard for you to even breathe, given how he was drawing out choked out moans from you at an almost inhuman pace.
he leaned down, replacing the thumb on your clit with his tongue, sucking on it harshly. you almost doubled over from the intense feeling, letting out a sharp cry. he bit down on your clit, the gun drawing out disgusting noises, as it dragged across your slimy walls, coated in your arousal. he flicked your clit with his tongue, enjoying the choked sob you let out.
your stomach started to tighten, the alarming realisation of your rapidly approaching orgasm alarming you. you tried to squeeze your legs shut, drawing out a groan of… pleasure, from heeseung. he sucked on your clit harder, rolling it around with his tongue. he paid no attention to what you were babbling about. “h-heeseung—hng!—stop—i- i can’t—ah–”
he flicked your clit again, before increasing the pace of his hand, the gun pounding into you with alarmingly deep strokes. he bit your bundle of nerves again—not too harshly, but enough to finally make the band in your stomach snap.
your vision went white, your ears ringing loudly, as your orgasm crashed over you like a tsunami. clear liquid sprayed out of your cunt, coating the lower half of heeseung’s face and his hand with your squirt. he was quick to try his best and lick up every drop, before looking up at you; his eyes dark, a predatory smirk on his face.
as you came down from your high, you locked eyes with him, immediately understanding what had just happened. red hot shame washed over you, covering you like a blanket of fire. it creeped up your neck and face, making you want to crawl into a hole and never see the light of the day again.
“well…” heeseung said, sliding the gun out of your sensitive pussy, your face scrunching from the sound of your wetness. “there is absolutely no way you can deny not liking this now—any of this. you’re enjoying this a lot more than you’re letting on darling, and this proved just that.”
you pant, trying to catch your breath. you suddenly remembered about chaeyoung—fuck. she watched all of it. well—there was nothing you could do. heeseung is… insane, that bit was for sure. this was all technically her fault. if only she didn’t approach him that night, all of this wouldn’t have happened. you wouldn’t have been the one to suffer.
were you feeling bitter? yes, extremely so. after all, why wouldn’t you? chaeyoung was a pawn in heeseung’s sick and twisted game to attain you for some weird reason, which could have all been avoided if it wasn’t for her thirsty ass that fell for a random guy that smirked at her in some bar one day. her lack of self control caused this, so yes, excuse you for feeling bitter and resenting your oh-so-beloved best friend.
suddenly, as if heeseung hadn't yet reached the height of insanity, he brought the barrel of the gun towards his mouth. he locked eyes with you, relishing in the way your eyes widened in a mixture of shock and fear, before engulfing the barrel with his lips. still maintaining eye contact with you, he sucked the barrel of the gun, licking off your juices.
your breath hitched, as you gulped. what the actual fuck was wrong with him?
you watched as he took the gun out of his mouth with a pop, setting it aside. he got up, his dick on full display, already rock hard, with precum dribbling out of it. he untied your hands, but gave you no chance to move them, before producing a pair of handcuffs from his discarded pants. he used them to bind your hands together, before untying your legs.
once you were free to move from the chair, he dragged you off it, before shoving you down on the ground, face first. you landed with an uncomfortable thud, almost falling on your face because of your dress. you managed to balance yourself on your hands, trying your best to steady yourself.
before you could do much, heeseung was grabbing you again, manhandling you, so that you now faced in chaeyoung's direction. he went over to her—ignoring her sobs—turning her chair to make her face you directly. you gulped, tears streaming down you face again as you both locked eyes. silent apologies were exchanged between you both, the fear of heeseung’s newfound crazy side terrifying you both to death.
your heart raced against your chest, as you watched heeseung pick up the gun again. he got behind you, as you heard his knees hit the ground—presumably from kneeling down. all the colour vanished from your face, your blood running cold. was he seriously going to–
you didn't have to wonder for too long, your fears getting confirmed, as he lifted up your dress unceremoniously, bunching it up on your lower back. you squeezed your eyes shut, a whimper of utter humiliation leaving you, as he squeezed your ass cheeks. he slapped them, watching them jiggle, before continuing to rub and squeeze them. it was then that you made a promise to yourself: if you made it out of there—alive—you were going to make sure he rotted in jail for the rest of his life.
you felt his hand graze against your wet and still sensitive cunt, a shiver running down your spine. he noticed it immediately, giving your pussy a slap. your eyes widened in shock, a loud gasp leaving you. his grip on your ass cheeks tightened. “you know…” he leaned down, his torso pressing against your back, his lips close to your ear. “you looked so, so cute squirting over that gun—even after pretending that you hated every second of it. think you can do it again? on my cock this time?”
your eyes widened, as you stared down at the ground in a mixture of shock and disgust. “heeseung,” you spoke, your voice shaky. “i-i think this has gone too far already–”
he pinched your clit harshly, making you cry out in pain. “shut the fuck up. i don't remember asking you whether it has gone ‘too far’ or not. was the question really that hard for your pea sized brain to comprehend?”
he grabbed the knife from the pocket of his discarded jeans, barely giving you any time to react, as he cut open your dress—leaving you bare to his eyes. he groped your tits with one hand, keeping the knife away again. he twisted your nipple, smirking when you let out a whimper of pain. “perhaps you can't answer such simple questions. must be too hard for you to understand, aren't they?”
his mocking tone made your face and neck burn with humiliation—along with the fact that chaeyoung was witnessing all of it. her boyfriend of one year forcing himself upon her best friend. you didn't know who to feel more sorry for—yourself, or for her.
with another pinch on your nipple, this time harder than before, heeseung drew your attention back to him. “maybe i should stop asking questions and just get on with it. you would like that, wouldn't you? oh, my bad, forgot sluts can't comprehend basic questions.”
without another word, he plunged two fingers right into your—to your utter horror—dripping hole, dragging them across your inner walls. you suppressed a whimper, as he began scissoring his fingers inside you, stretching out your already stretched and very sensitive cunt.
you screwed your eyes shut, your forehead touching the ground—floor, your teeth painfully biting down on your bottom lip. you hated how he dragged you both here, hated what he was doing to you, hated that he made chaeyoung watch—you despise his very existence. unfortunately, seething in your mind did nothing to improve the situation. in fact, it only continued to lower your morale.
heeeseung rubbed slow circles around your hardened bundle of nerves, trying to evoke any kind of sound from you—nothing. you were being stubborn, refusing to give in. well—fine by him. he could always catch you by surprise. which, given the current situation, was something he had been doing this whole day.
he pulled you closer by your hips, your knees scraping the ground slightly in process, a pained noise of protest eliciting from you. but that wasn’t even the actual surprise. your breath hitched, your heartbeat running wild, as you felt his tip sliding through your wetness, collecting your slick. this was really happening.
knowing it was bound to happen—dreading it—didn’t really make it easier. if you had known that chaeyoung going to the bar a year ago would have landed you in this position, you would have never let her go. this—this was worse than anything else that could have possibly happened.
you felt him start to slowly push in—a slightly difficult feat, since you were doing your best to resist—but your cunt was doing the opposite. his grip on your hips tightened. “c’mon pretty,” he pushed in another inch. “just let me in, yeah? don’t—fuck—don’t be such an uncooperative little bitch.”
he pushed all the way in with a grunt, your pained whimper accompanying it. “fuuuuckkk,” he groaned in satisfaction, enjoying the way your core pulsed around him. “see? that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
heeseung didn’t really wait for an answer—he knew he wasn’t going to get one from you anyways. he slid almost completely out, before slamming back in, letting out a loud groan of satisfaction at the wet squelching noise. noticing that you were struggling to hold yourself up, he let out a snicker, before yanking your body upwards slightly. he balanced himself on his knees, setting a slow, yet satisfactory enough pace for himself. he squeezed your tit with one hand, before yanking on your chin, making you face chaeyoung again. he leaned down to whisper in your ear. “look at her,” the small sob you let out had him thrust into you at a particularly harsh pace. “doesn’t she look lonely there? such a shame, this was all your fault after all. if only you noticed me back in school.”
he slammed himself into you, tip kissing your cervix, his pelvis hitting your ass. he reveled in the way it bounced with every thrust, his hands never stopping their wandering, groping and squeezing every bit of flesh he could reach. the look in chaeyoung’s eyes made you wonder if cooperating with him in the first place was the right decision. wasn’t dying better than this torture that he was putting you both through currently?
fisting your hair, he yanked your head back, slamming his mouth onto yours. he practically devoured your lips, barely giving you a chance to breathe. it was as if he was quite literally trying to steal your breath. biting down on your lip, he fastened his pace, each thrust forcefully eliciting loud gasps and whimpers from you, sounds that he gladly swallowed. “keep making those pretty sounds for me baby, it’s only making me want to continue to ruin you.”
a fresh batch of tears rolled down your eyes, as his hand snaked down to rub your clit. more moans of his name spilled out of your mouth—telling him to stop—but they only served to encourage him further.
detaching his mouth from yours, he put his hand on your back, pushing it into an arch, as he continued to pound into you. you could see stars at the back of your eyes, unwanted pleasure starting to cloud your senses. holy fuck—this wasn't supposed to feel good. but it did. it felt so fucking good.
you could feel every single vein of his dragging across your inner walls, cock curving into you and hitting all the right spots. it felt good—he felt good. dizzyingly good.
you didn't even realise when you let out a broken moan of his name, pure unadulterated pleasure laced in your voice. “hee—ahh—seung–”
the effect, however, was immediate. his hips slowed down, before he completely stilled inside you. when he spoke, his voice was soft, sounding like a dangerous whisper. “what was that?”
you didn't really hear his question, too focused on the way the pleasure was suddenly gone. you wiggled your hips, trying to get it back. it was as if you were drunk; completely delirious of your surroundings. he gripped your hips to still you, repeating his question. “i said, what was that?”
you barely registered his words, opting to just say his name. “h-heeseung?”
“fuck.”
with a loud groan, he pulled almost completely out, before slamming back in, his pace brutally fast now. the grip he had on your hips was sure to bruise later on. the fast pace had his balls slapping against your clit continuously, the motion only serving to pull more sounds of unadulterated pleasure from you. it was sickening, the way your body was starting to like this, the rational part of your brain completely ignoring chaeyoung’s existence.
it wasn't that any of it mattered to him. all that did matter to heeseung was you, and right now you were doing more than okay. chaeyoung was a… casualty in his quest to obtain you. a quest that obviously was—to his utter delight—very much successful.
you didn’t know how long he had been going at it, you just knew it had been long enough. the tingling in your clit was driving you insane; your release so close—yet so far.
heeseung was seemingly holding out. it was as if he was afraid of this to end, in a way. afraid that maybe all of it is just a dream—you’re not really here. none of this is actually real.
fortunately for him, everything was very much real. it was all happening. you were really in his grasp, he was really fucking you, while chaeyoung was being forced to watch. along with the fact that you were liking it. enjoying it. that was real too.
perhaps he had enough of playing around. or maybe he just remembered his previous wish—was it even a wish?—of wanting to see you squirt on his cock. but either way, he suddenly did a three sixty. or one eighty. whichever would be more accurate in describing his current mood, as he harshly pinched your clit.
you let out a sharp gasp, an incredulous “heeseung—!” leaving you. but he ignored it, opting to flick your hardened nub, rubbing torturous circles around it. he has to see you squirt on his cock, he knows you can do it—he can make you do it.
your gasps soon turn into moans, which encourage him to continue. his actions were driving you to your breaking point, that much was clear from your reactions. the way you were clenching around his cock, making it harder for him to continue to thrust into you? so fucking delicious.
perhaps he should have done this sooner. you know, this whole kidnapping thing. you could have been his a lot earlier then. but then again, patience is the key. this was the best chance he has ever gotten, it was only logical for him to pull such a stunt today. besides, good things take time to acquire. and you, are the best fucking thing to ever exist.
the band in your stomach continued to grow tighter and tighter and tighter, to a point that it physically hurt. so you did the logical thing, and told him—all the while tears slipped past uncontrollably from the pain. “h-heeseung—please, it hurts, i can’t–”
but he shut you up immediately, rubbing your clit at a harsher pace. “yes, yes you can, you’re so fucking close, c’mon–”
the pressure in your stomach was insane, so was the pressure on your clit. the pace of heeseung’s thrusts was bordering maniac, that’s how fast he was going. it was a mix of pain and pleasure, your brain fogging up, vision going foggy.
heeseung’s hand was starting to tire, but he doubled his pace, desperate to see you squirt again. “please please please–” he chanted, like a mantra. you were so fucking close, damn it–
then it happened. your vision went white, shapes visible in the back of your eyes. white noise ringing in your ears. your back arched almost uncomfortably, as you let out a loud cry. your orgasm washed over you like a tsunami, your squirt spraying all over his lower abdomen, wetting his shirt. it kept spraying, coating his cock, as he plunged in and out of you at an insane pace, making you ride out your orgasm.
as your vision slowly swam back, you felt him pull your hips back one last time, burying himself to the hilt, before ropes of warm cum spurted out of his tip. it coated your inner walls in white, as he let out a satisfied groan. he slowly pulled out his softening length, reveling in the way his cum dripped out of you.
you collapsed to the floor, close to passing out. you were sore, so fucking sore. heeseung felt the tiniest bit of pity for you, but he could take care of you later. right now, he has something else to take care of.
he slowly pulled you up, making you sit in his lap, facing the front. he forced you to open your eyes, and face chaeyoung. your eyes widened slightly, regret and guilt starting to hit you. you had almost forgotten that she was still there. you could barely meet her eyes from shame, not wanting to look at her expression of hurt, or her dried tears.
but heeseung wasn’t having any of it. he made you face her, properly. your breath hitched, feeling the gun touching your chin. “look at her properly darling,” his voice was husky, and creepy. something about his tone didn’t make you feel very good about whatever was about to come out of his mouth next. turns out, you were right to be scared.
“because this will be the last time you ever do.”
before you even had time to process his words, a loud ‘bang!’ rang out through the basement, making you flinch. as you opened your eyes, disbelief and horror was etched upon your features.
surely—surely that wasn’t chaeyoung slumped over in that chair? blood dripping from her head. surely? she was—she was just alive! it can’t be—it simply couldn’t be–
but you didn’t even have time to process that, as you felt a sharp pain on your neck, before everything started to go black. you hadn’t noticed when heeseung had produced a syringe from his jeans’ pocket, just like you didn’t notice him picking up that gun. the same gun that ended chaeyoung’s life.
when you woke up, you were dressed in clothes that you didn’t recognise. but they were larger than you, so you guessed they belonged to heeseung. your left hand was tied to the bedpost with handcuffs, the rest of your body free to move—even if it wasn’t exactly freedom. the room you were in was… dingy, and quite small, with just one window and a singular cabinet on the other side of the room. there was a nightstand with an untouched glass of water on it—but you wouldn’t dare drink from it.
as you slowly sat up, you folded your legs up to your chest, resting your head on your knees. you stared at the wall—and everything started rushing into your mind at once in a huddled mess. chaeyoung and heeseung’s anniversary lunch, chaeyoung’s absence from her own anniversary lunch, the kidnapping, chaeyoung’s death–
oh.
oh.
chaeyoung was dead.
when the tears came, it was as if a dam broke. the tears flowed and flowed, with no signs of stopping. you didn’t want to cry. what was the use of crying? would these tears bring her back? it wouldn’t. nothing would. she was gone. your best friend of almost two decades—gone. poof. just like that.
all because of some maniac, who didn’t care for anyone. a jerk, a disgusting psychopath, who doesn’t realise that human’s lives aren’t dispensable to his will.
in the middle of your wallowing, you heard the door open. you picked up your head, your vision blurry from crying. you squint your eyes, seeing heeseung enter the room with a tray, filled with a bowl of cut fruit. he placed the fruit near the end of the bed, sitting down, maintaining some distance between you both. he knew you didn’t want him near you right now, given his previous actions, but you would warm up to him soon enough. you had to. this was your new life.
he tilted his head, noticing the glass of water still untouched on the nightstand. he raised a brow at you. “you’re not thirsty?”
you glared at him, shaking your head, despite being absolutely parched. he sighed at your defiance, saying nothing. he got up, went around the bed, towards the nightstand. picking up the glass, he sat close to you, grabbing your jaw in his other hand. “drink up, c’mon. don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
as he brought the glass near your mouth, you pressed your lips into a thin line, before smacking the glass out of his hands with your free one. he watched as the glass shattered into a million pieces on the floor, an unreadable expression on his face.
his silence suffocated you. you were already regretting your decision. why did you always have to act in such a brash manner?
he turned his face towards you again. as he brought his hand up, you flinched, screwing your eyes shut. you felt his hand caress your cheek, leading you to open your eyes. his face was expressionless, even when he spoke. “don’t be mad at me because of chaeyoung. it was bound to happen anyways. she was a hindrance in our story, don’t you see? she would have taken you away from me if i didn’t kill her. don’t hate me because of her.”
your hand twitches, and so does your eye. you wanted to strangle him. calling chaeyoung a hindrance?! oh, he was so dead. as soon as you escape this hell hole, you were going to make sure you personally hunted his sorry ass down and gave him a death far more slow and torturous than the one he gave to chaeyoung. he was going to pay. you were going to make sure of that.
you stayed silent, simply glaring at him. you were currently at a disadvantage, so you couldn’t really do anything, except for waiting. so that’s what you were gonna do. wait.
sensing that you weren’t going to say anything, he kisses your forehead—to which you have to stop yourself from slapping him—before getting off the bed and making his way to the door. right before going out, he turned around. “don’t forget to eat the fruit, or you will grow weaker than you already are.”
he shut the door, finally leaving. you breathed a sigh of relief. finally. you were alone again. you could continue to wallow in self pity now. you didn’t plan on eating anything, since you didn’t trust him.
you laid down, looking at the ceiling. how long were you going to be trapped here? would you ever be able to get out? right now, there didn’t seem to be any hope of escaping, but perhaps in the near future…
a wave of sleepiness washed over you. you were tired, so, so tired. maybe sleeping would be good for now. yes, you should get some rest.
when you woke up, it was dark. confused, you blearily sat up, blinking at your surroundings. why were you suddenly up?
then you heard it. the gun shots. they rang loud and clear, yellings of ‘get down!’ and ‘surrender now!’ rang through the place. a flash of hope rose in you. was it the police…?
suddenly, the door to your room banged open. two female police officers entered the room, pointing the gun around the room. upon realising that there was no one else other than you, one of them quickly broke the handcuffs as best as she could, as the other frantically checked upon you. “ma’am are you okay? did he hurt you?” she kept throwing questions at you, as you assured her that you were fine—as fine as a person could be, after the kind of hell heeseung put you through.
they wrapped a coat around you, before bringing you downstairs. it was a dingy two storey house in some shady part of the town, apparently, according to what they told you. they told you that they got a tip about a kidnapping from an anonymous source, which, from your deduction, was probably that waitress from the restaurant. although you could be wrong, of course.
downstairs, you saw heeseung with a busted lip, hands restrained with handcuffs behind his back, two police officers assisting him to the car. when his gaze landed on you, he spoke with a bone chilling smirk. “don’t worry darling. they won’t be able to keep us away from each other for too long. i’ll come back for you, i promise.”
the policemen scoffed at him, rudely pushing him forward. although his words scared you, you trusted the police to do their job. as you were guided out of the dingy house, you suddenly remember chaeyoung. you informed the police of her, causing them to share a look. they led you to the car, four of them staying back, to look for her—her body.
two months had passed since that incident. a trial was held for heeseung, which almost immediately declared him to be ‘guilty’, due to the presence of overwhelming evidence. he was charged with a lot of things, things which you both knew, and didn’t know of. either way, he got what he deserved. a lifetime in jail.
it was finally time for chaeyoung’s funeral. her family and you wanted to wait until heeseung got what he deserved, and now that he was finally behind bars, it was time to say goodbye to chaeyoung. for the last time.
as the coffin was lowered down, you said your final goodbyes. you never imagined this day would come, at least not this soon. but it was here. life was unexpected and cruel, that’s what you had learnt in the past two months. but it has to go on. you couldn’t let events—no matter how unfortunate they are—hold you back. so you wiped your tears, leaving the grounds quietly.
as you sat inside your car, your phone rang with a ‘ding!’. it was a notification. a message, from an unknown number. you frowned, clicking on it. the contents had the blood from your face draining. your hands shook, as the phone fell out of your grasp.
“black suits you. but red looks the best on you, don’t you think so?”
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How I got scammed

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/05/cyber-dunning-kruger/#swiss-cheese-security
I wuz robbed.
More specifically, I was tricked by a phone-phisher pretending to be from my bank, and he convinced me to hand over my credit-card number, then did $8,000+ worth of fraud with it before I figured out what happened. And then he tried to do it again, a week later!
Here's what happened. Over the Christmas holiday, I traveled to New Orleans. The day we landed, I hit a Chase ATM in the French Quarter for some cash, but the machine declined the transaction. Later in the day, we passed a little credit-union's ATM and I used that one instead (I bank with a one-branch credit union and generally there's no fee to use another CU's ATM).
A couple days later, I got a call from my credit union. It was a weekend, during the holiday, and the guy who called was obviously working for my little CU's after-hours fraud contractor. I'd dealt with these folks before – they service a ton of little credit unions, and generally the call quality isn't great and the staff will often make mistakes like mispronouncing my credit union's name.
That's what happened here – the guy was on a terrible VOIP line and I had to ask him to readjust his mic before I could even understand him. He mispronounced my bank's name and then asked if I'd attempted to spend $1,000 at an Apple Store in NYC that day. No, I said, and groaned inwardly. What a pain in the ass. Obviously, I'd had my ATM card skimmed – either at the Chase ATM (maybe that was why the transaction failed), or at the other credit union's ATM (it had been a very cheap looking system).
I told the guy to block my card and we started going through the tedious business of running through recent transactions, verifying my identity, and so on. It dragged on and on. These were my last hours in New Orleans, and I'd left my family at home and gone out to see some of the pre-Mardi Gras krewe celebrations and get a muffalata, and I could tell that I was going to run out of time before I finished talking to this guy.
"Look," I said, "you've got all my details, you've frozen the card. I gotta go home and meet my family and head to the airport. I'll call you back on the after-hours number once I'm through security, all right?"
He was frustrated, but that was his problem. I hung up, got my sandwich, went to the airport, and we checked in. It was total chaos: an Alaska Air 737 Max had just lost its door-plug in mid-air and every Max in every airline's fleet had been grounded, so the check in was crammed with people trying to rebook. We got through to the gate and I sat down to call the CU's after-hours line. The person on the other end told me that she could only handle lost and stolen cards, not fraud, and given that I'd already frozen the card, I should just drop by the branch on Monday to get a new card.
We flew home, and later the next day, I logged into my account and made a list of all the fraudulent transactions and printed them out, and on Monday morning, I drove to the bank to deal with all the paperwork. The folks at the CU were even more pissed than I was. The fraud that run up to more than $8,000, and if Visa refused to take it out of the merchants where the card had been used, my little credit union would have to eat the loss.
I agreed and commiserated. I also pointed out that their outsource, after-hours fraud center bore some blame here: I'd canceled the card on Saturday but most of the fraud had taken place on Sunday. Something had gone wrong.
One cool thing about banking at a tiny credit-union is that you end up talking to people who have actual authority, responsibility and agency. It turned out the the woman who was processing my fraud paperwork was a VP, and she decided to look into it. A few minutes later she came back and told me that the fraud center had no record of having called me on Saturday.
"That was the fraudster," she said.
Oh, shit. I frantically rewound my conversation, trying to figure out if this could possibly be true. I hadn't given him anything apart from some very anodyne info, like what city I live in (which is in my Wikipedia entry), my date of birth (ditto), and the last four digits of my card.
Wait a sec.
He hadn't asked for the last four digits. He'd asked for the last seven digits. At the time, I'd found that very frustrating, but now – "The first nine digits are the same for every card you issue, right?" I asked the VP.
I'd given him my entire card number.
Goddammit.
The thing is, I know a lot about fraud. I'm writing an entire series of novels about this kind of scam:
https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865878/thebezzle
And most summers, I go to Defcon, and I always go to the "social engineering" competitions where an audience listens as a hacker in a soundproof booth cold-calls merchants (with the owner's permission) and tries to con whoever answers the phone into giving up important information.
But I'd been conned.
Now look, I knew I could be conned. I'd been conned before, 13 years ago, by a Twitter worm that successfully phished out of my password via DM:
https://locusmag.com/2010/05/cory-doctorow-persistence-pays-parasites/
That scam had required a miracle of timing. It started the day before, when I'd reset my phone to factory defaults and reinstalled all my apps. That same day, I'd published two big online features that a lot of people were talking about. The next morning, we were late getting out of the house, so by the time my wife and I dropped the kid at daycare and went to the coffee shop, it had a long line. Rather than wait in line with me, my wife sat down to read a newspaper, and so I pulled out my phone and found a Twitter DM from a friend asking "is this you?" with a URL.
Assuming this was something to do with those articles I'd published the day before, I clicked the link and got prompted for my Twitter login again. This had been happening all day because I'd done that mobile reinstall the day before and all my stored passwords had been wiped. I entered it but the page timed out. By that time, the coffees were ready. We sat and chatted for a bit, then went our own ways.
I was on my way to the office when I checked my phone again. I had a whole string of DMs from other friends. Each one read "is this you?" and had a URL.
Oh, shit, I'd been phished.
If I hadn't reinstalled my mobile OS the day before. If I hadn't published a pair of big articles the day before. If we hadn't been late getting out the door. If we had been a little more late getting out the door (so that I'd have seen the multiple DMs, which would have tipped me off).
There's a name for this in security circles: "Swiss-cheese security." Imagine multiple slices of Swiss cheese all stacked up, the holes in one slice blocked by the slice below it. All the slices move around and every now and again, a hole opens up that goes all the way through the stack. Zap!
The fraudster who tricked me out of my credit card number had Swiss cheese security on his side. Yes, he spoofed my bank's caller ID, but that wouldn't have been enough to fool me if I hadn't been on vacation, having just used a pair of dodgy ATMs, in a hurry and distracted. If the 737 Max disaster hadn't happened that day and I'd had more time at the gate, I'd have called my bank back. If my bank didn't use a slightly crappy outsource/out-of-hours fraud center that I'd already had sub-par experiences with. If, if, if.
The next Friday night, at 5:30PM, the fraudster called me back, pretending to be the bank's after-hours center. He told me my card had been compromised again. But: I hadn't removed my card from my wallet since I'd had it replaced. Also, it was half an hour after the bank closed for the long weekend, a very fraud-friendly time. And when I told him I'd call him back and asked for the after-hours fraud number, he got very threatening and warned me that because I'd now been notified about the fraud that any losses the bank suffered after I hung up the phone without completing the fraud protocol would be billed to me. I hung up on him. He called me back immediately. I hung up on him again and put my phone into do-not-disturb.
The following Tuesday, I called my bank and spoke to their head of risk-management. I went through everything I'd figured out about the fraudsters, and she told me that credit unions across America were being hit by this scam, by fraudsters who somehow knew CU customers' phone numbers and names, and which CU they banked at. This was key: my phone number is a reasonably well-kept secret. You can get it by spending money with Equifax or another nonconsensual doxing giant, but you can't just google it or get it at any of the free services. The fact that the fraudsters knew where I banked, knew my name, and had my phone number had really caused me to let down my guard.
The risk management person and I talked about how the credit union could mitigate this attack: for example, by better-training the after-hours card-loss staff to be on the alert for calls from people who had been contacted about supposed card fraud. We also went through the confusing phone-menu that had funneled me to the wrong department when I called in, and worked through alternate wording for the menu system that would be clearer (this is the best part about banking with a small CU – you can talk directly to the responsible person and have a productive discussion!). I even convinced her to buy a ticket to next summer's Defcon to attend the social engineering competitions.
There's a leak somewhere in the CU systems' supply chain. Maybe it's Zelle, or the small number of corresponding banks that CUs rely on for SWIFT transaction forwarding. Maybe it's even those after-hours fraud/card-loss centers. But all across the USA, CU customers are getting calls with spoofed caller IDs from fraudsters who know their registered phone numbers and where they bank.
I've been mulling this over for most of a month now, and one thing has really been eating at me: the way that AI is going to make this kind of problem much worse.
Not because AI is going to commit fraud, though.
One of the truest things I know about AI is: "we're nowhere near a place where bots can steal your job, we're certainly at the point where your boss can be suckered into firing you and replacing you with a bot that fails at doing your job":
https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/15/passive-income-brainworms/#four-hour-work-week
I trusted this fraudster specifically because I knew that the outsource, out-of-hours contractors my bank uses have crummy headsets, don't know how to pronounce my bank's name, and have long-ass, tedious, and pointless standardized questionnaires they run through when taking fraud reports. All of this created cover for the fraudster, whose plausibility was enhanced by the rough edges in his pitch - they didn't raise red flags.
As this kind of fraud reporting and fraud contacting is increasingly outsourced to AI, bank customers will be conditioned to dealing with semi-automated systems that make stupid mistakes, force you to repeat yourself, ask you questions they should already know the answers to, and so on. In other words, AI will groom bank customers to be phishing victims.
This is a mistake the finance sector keeps making. 15 years ago, Ben Laurie excoriated the UK banks for their "Verified By Visa" system, which validated credit card transactions by taking users to a third party site and requiring them to re-enter parts of their password there:
https://web.archive.org/web/20090331094020/http://www.links.org/?p=591
This is exactly how a phishing attack works. As Laurie pointed out, this was the banks training their customers to be phished.
I came close to getting phished again today, as it happens. I got back from Berlin on Friday and my suitcase was damaged in transit. I've been dealing with the airline, which means I've really been dealing with their third-party, outsource luggage-damage service. They have a terrible website, their emails are incoherent, and they officiously demand the same information over and over again.
This morning, I got a scam email asking me for more information to complete my damaged luggage claim. It was a terrible email, from a noreply@ email address, and it was vague, officious, and dishearteningly bureaucratic. For just a moment, my finger hovered over the phishing link, and then I looked a little closer.
On any other day, it wouldn't have had a chance. Today – right after I had my luggage wrecked, while I'm still jetlagged, and after days of dealing with my airline's terrible outsource partner – it almost worked.
So much fraud is a Swiss-cheese attack, and while companies can't close all the holes, they can stop creating new ones.
Meanwhile, I'll continue to post about it whenever I get scammed. I find the inner workings of scams to be fascinating, and it's also important to remind people that everyone is vulnerable sometimes, and scammers are willing to try endless variations until an attack lands at just the right place, at just the right time, in just the right way. If you think you can't get scammed, that makes you especially vulnerable:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/24/passive-income/#swiss-cheese-security
Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg
CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en
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The cherry tree I planted in front of the greenhouse blossomed for the first time this spring! A round of applause!


The wind always blows from the valley so I planted this tree strategically so that in spring a delicious smell would be delivered in my living-room through the windows, and around the outdoor table where I work, and it worked :) I estimate that it improved my quality of life by 11%. A light spring breeze carrying a cherry blossom smell is the kind of thing that stops me in my tracks ten times a day and makes me close my eyes and take a deep breath and think oh, life is good.
More tree updates: I talked in this post from 2021, then this one from 2022, about how I hoped to plant a 'fruit tree path' in the woods behind my house—this project is still ongoing and, well, hasn't borne fruit yet, but has finally blossomed. My Fruit Alley now boasts 10 trees, and looks like—what it is, a small opening in the woods that I have to deploy heroic and sustained efforts to keep open, because the woods try to reclaim it year after year, patiently, like a slow green tide.

The white thing in the middle is one of the tarps I've been using to smother brambles, I move them every few weeks and it works pretty well. I also use cardboard, but in the spring it's hard to keep up with the sheer rate of growth everywhere. Of course the main enemy is the army of broom that you can see in the distance, all yellow and cheerful-looking at the moment. I mostly fight them in the winter, every year I manage to push them back a few metres...
Here's a photo where you can better see some of the trees :
In total I have planted 2 apple trees, 1 quince tree, 1 mirabelle plum, 3 red plums, 1 nectarine tree, 3 cherry trees. I'm really glad that all of them survived, as I was a bit worried about damage from deer or boars. I did lose 2 chestnut trees that were destroyed so savagely I have to assume it's wild boars, but I had planted them much farther away in the woods and I won't make this mistake again. I now have two new baby chestnuts and I planted them near the greenhouse (downhill):


I think I'd never seen nectarine flowers before, they look exotic! I also discovered this year what quince flowers look like:


The only tree that didn't bloom was the smallest apple tree, and honestly that's her fault because for some reason she decided to make tender new green leaves in the middle of winter, so she pretty much exhausted herself for nothing. And you can't blame climate change and seasons being weird for this, because it was a cold and snowy week and no other nearby fruit trees were making any leaves. The confused apple tree is a New Zealand cultivar, so I suppose you could argue she thinks she's still in New Zealand, except she's never been to New Zealand in her life, she was born and raised in France, she doesn't know New Zealand exists. The only possible explanation is, I suppose, a deep-rooted yearning for their ancestral homeland among New Zealand apple trees.
I was a bit concerned when this tree then failed to produce any leaves in the spring, I worried she might be hopelessly hemispherically-challenged, but then I went back to check two weeks later and she was finally green! In a seasonally-appropriate way!
Other trees I've planted, not in the fruit tree path: a persimmon, but it died very quickly :( I will try again; a goji berry shrub, which has been here for two years and seems to be doing well, but so far no sign of berries; and in front of my house, an amelanchier (un arbre dont ma mère n'arrive jamais à se rappeler le nom et qu'elle persiste à appeler "le mélenchon"):

Finally, my last piece of important tree-related news is that I had the hazel tree near my house removed this winter:


I asked the guy who was working on the road nearby with an excavator digging a drainage trench if he could do it, and it took all of 10 minutes, like picking a flower, it was impressive!




And the reason I wanted to remove it is that there are hundreds of hazel trees in my woods and I wanted something different in this spot by the house. Unfortunately for this deserving hazel, it just wasn't special enough.
So I planted a tiny ginkgo :) And now I just have to be extremely patient as I wait for everyone to grow.

#crawling along#and i'll continue to expand the fruit tree path at the rhythm of 3 new trees per year#(because that's the maximum number of saplings i can fit in my car)
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ʟᴇᴇ ʜᴀᴇᴄʜᴀɴ ꜰɪᴄ ʀᴇᴄꜱ! ᴘᴀʀᴛ 3 ✿⃘ֹ
✿⃘ֹ #1: meandom!haechan who's still weak for his gf - @hyuckmov
✿⃘ֹ Touch me - @byuntrash101 (with lots of love and patience haechan was able to heal your soul. with him it feels right and you are ready to take the next big leap)
✿⃘ֹ she’s quiet (s,f) - @ijuliet (although you were not looking to make new friends, the ones you had tried their hardest to push you out of your comfort zone to find something abnormal for you. which is why you’re at a frat party on a thursday night, watching as lee donghyuck observes you from afar.)
✿⃘ֹ falling in love with haechan - @ooshu
✿⃘ֹ stalker!haechan x fem!reader - @neocentral
✿⃘ֹ flustered by you - @lelengerine (your boyfriend surely knows how to make you flustered, even when he’s the one who should be.)
✿⃘ֹ Danger - @daegall (however, on one particular day, the epitome of 'danger’ shows up to your doorstep and is asking you on a date. you recognized this certain person as lee haechan, one of your art classmate, renjun’s, best buddies.)
✿⃘ֹ getting even | lee haechan (P1) - @ofjunemoment (Haechan is notorious for his pranks. Who can forget about the one time the campus fountain was bleeding red? You were weary of never getting on his wrong side, but when you get to know him better, it seems like behind all that front he's a sweet and caring guy. That is until you get a bucket of water dunked on you straight after he promised he wouldn't pull something on you. You're not only pissed that he had fooled you like this, but that he chose such a simple prank.)
✿⃘ֹ double dog dare - @waithyuck (your best friends renjun and jeno decide that it would be funny to dare you to sit on the lap of your long time crush, lee donghyuck, during a college party.)
✿⃘ֹ ⇢ haechan as your boyfriend - @justalildumpling
✿⃘ֹ THE ONLY EXCEPTION - @jaylaxies (mark was an overprotective brother and he didn’t fail to show it, warning all the guys to stay away from you, his best friends were no exception. so, how will you make it work when you return back after graduating school, only to find that your crush is paying more attention to you than ever? it most certainly doesn’t help that it’s lee donghyuck, to whom, you are strictly off limits.)
✿⃘ֹ body language [l.dh] - @badalivie (You and Donghyuck have been dance partners for the past 6 years. When he gets into an accident that costs him a competition and substitutes himself with another dancer, he realizes he’s not so open at all to having you dance with someone else, especially having their hands in the places he considered his.)
✿⃘ֹ pancakes for two - @pearlesscentt (haechan x reader, college!au)
✿⃘ֹ ❛NICE GUY❜ ( l. haechan ) - @luvyeni (in the midst of your stalker running lose you trust haechan , he seems like nice guy)
✿⃘ֹ all is fair in love and war - @lonelyharmonies (when you meet a guy once and forget his name, the last thing you expect is meeting him again on your new job.)
✿⃘ֹ spur of the moment (ldh) - @haetrack
✿⃘ֹ pairing: lee donghyuck x reader - @yrqrnc (wherein, it’s a late afternoon and you’re watching your favorite series with your dearest boyfriend as you cuddle on the couch, but it seems that it’s physically impossible for you to keep your attention fixed on the large monitor in front of you, and not him.)
✿⃘ֹ impulse - @nctsworld (saying i love you for the first time during the heat of the moment doesn’t really count... right?)
✿⃘ֹ home is a feeling | lee donghyuck - @neonun-au (Fresh off a break-up, not willing to stomach spending Christmas single with your family, you book a last minute trip overseas to escape the impending loneliness, not realizing that perhaps running away from your feelings will only serve to intensify them. You arrive at your home-away-from-home only to find you’re not the only one staying there. Through some unfortunate (or not so unfortunate) mistake, the AirBnB you booked has also been booked by a handsome young man looking for a similar escape from his own life. Now you have to choose whether or not to stay and spend your Christmas with a stranger or scramble to find a lonely hotel room last minute over the holidays.)
✿⃘ֹ corny stuck under the bed scenario - @sherwees
✿⃘ֹ indica dreams | ldh - @hazyhae (when you finally decide to do something about your sleeping problem, your best friend suggests weed as a solution. he introduces you to donghyuck — a plug who makes it his personal mission to teach you everything there is to know about it.)
✿⃘ֹ ( 📁 twenty minutes. by lee haechan _ ⭐ O1O1 ) - @lavandiors (where haechan finds you in the practice room and can't help but want you all to himself.)
✿⃘ֹ ⎯ sweet nothings… - @foolsunz (you’re going to be the death of him, he knows it.)"
#nct#nct x reader#nct fluff#nct angst#nct dream#nct dream x reader#nct dream angst#nct dream fluff#nct haechan#haechan fluff#haechan angst#nct 127#nct 127 x reader#nct 127 fluff#lee donghyuck#haechan fic recs#nct donghyuck#haechan#donghyuck#hyuck#haechan smut#haechan suggestive#haechan imagines#haechan scenarios#haechan fics#lee haechan fluff#lee haechan#lee haechan imagines#nct imagines#haechan fic rec
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@memeticallyengineered
If you think about it, Susato also wanted to be perfect (because she HAD to be perfect) so "failing" once made her want to give up.
She has a lot in common with Franziska, although they are also different, this is very interesting.
#susato!!!#cherry blossom crisis#franziska!!!#susatoposting#she puts so much pressure on herself to be the perfect daughter and the perfect judicial assistant#i think with susato there’s some sort of imposter syndrome going on#like she feels like if she’s not perfect if she ever makes a mistake then it’s proving that all her doubts were right#and that she’s not as capable as kazuma or ryunosuke or anyone else#and then when she inevitably fails to be perfect because she’s human she doesn’t trust herself#she gives karuma (the physical representation of her brother’s soul) to ryunosuke.#she tells ryunosuke to correct sholmes’s deductions even though she’s the one who’s a fan of herlock sholmes.#she tries to take away her ability to be a judicial assistant because she’s afraid she made a mistake with the crime scene.#and when you’re this obsessed with perfection then mistakes turn into your biggest fear#and I think that while susato’s instinct is to run away franziska’s is to fight#susato tries to remove herself from the situation so nobody has to see how imperfect she is again#and franziska pushes herself harder to not make the same mistake again#until so many things have gone wrong it’s pushed her to her breaking point#there’s so many similarities between susato and franziska there’s also the fact that#both of them went into law at least partially because they didn’t want to be left behind by their brothers#and then they both lose their brothers and they’re left in a situation where#they have to watch their brother’s partner/childhood best friend succeeding despite the tragic loss#while franziska can’t seem to stop losing for the first time in her life and susato starts to question her entire worldview#i think i might write a longer post about this later actually.
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The Drawer
Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Felicity Leong-Piastri (Original Character)
Part of the The mysterious Mrs. Piastri Series.
Summary: There is a drawer in Felicity's mind.
Warnings and Notes: Some more context for the Silverstone chapter, also some insight into Piastri family dynamics in this verse. Big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble 😂
There was a drawer in Felicity’s mind that no one knew about.
Not Oscar.
Not Bee.
Not even the professors who used to stare at her as if she were a marvel or a mistake.
Certainly not her parents, who had made her intelligence the defining trait of her existence, before they realised it also made her uncontrollable.
It wasn’t metaphorical. Not really. She’s always seen her thoughts as architecture—corridors, rooms, switches—and that drawer? It was real.
Smooth metal. Coded lock. Hidden behind a panelled wall, so even she had to work to reach it. She built it young, instinctively, the moment she realised how much of her mind was terrifying.
Not just brilliant.
Terrifying.
Because she knew what she was capable of.
Not just the soft brilliance people praised her for—solving equations on the train, reading journals like bedtime stories, explaining mechanical stress tolerances to a three-year-old. That was the friendly kind of smart. The kind people could admire without being afraid of it.
It was a drawer in the deepest part of her brain. Filled with truths she never let surface. Scenarios she’d played out but never spoken. Numbers she’d crunched just to see how far she could push a system, a structure, a person.
She didn’t like the contents.
Not because they were monstrous. But because they were possible.
A drawer full of the things she could do.
And that was the thing.
Felicity could do so many things.
She could write a paper that would fundamentally reshape the way the world viewed mechanical cognition. She could dismantle institutions in six bullet points and a spreadsheet. She could design systems so precise they would make countries pivot. She could break things. Build new ones. Rewrite rules.
But she didn’t.
Because she knew how dangerous it was to hold too much power in your head.
That was the terrifying part about Felicity’s mind. Not just that it could solve things. But that it could predict them. Build them. Unbuild them. Break a system with a smile, bend rules until they screamed without ever technically snapping them.
The drawer held plans she’d never use. Arguments she’d never make. Responses sharp enough to cut and leave no scar. Equations that could manipulate systems most people didn’t even know were rigged. Ideas that could change industries—ruin them, in some cases—if she ever let them out.
She never had. She never would.
Because Felicity, for all her brilliance, for all the terrifying elasticity of her mind, had made a choice very early on:
Kindness.
Kindness as rebellion. Kindness as resistance. Kindness not as softness, but as control.
It would be easy—so easy—to weaponise what she knew.
To be cold, untouchable, triumphant in the way the world sometimes worshipped people who were sharp enough to draw blood.
But Felicity had grown up under that weight.
The genius child.
The gifted girl.
The one with the test scores that could split atoms and the eyes that saw too much. She had seen how quickly awe turned to fear. How quickly people began to see you as other.
So Felicity failed the IQ tests. Not failed, exactly—but she answered just enough incorrectly.
They’d tested her, of course. Again and again.
She’d made sure to get a few wrong every time.
Not because she couldn’t get them right.
But because she’d already figured out what perfect scores meant.
Perfect scores meant more pressure.
More isolation.
More adults speaking about her instead of to her.
More expectations that stole her childhood before she could claim it.
So she let the number drop.
She missed the logic trap here, the pattern extrapolation there.
Felicity learned how to underperform just enough to be labelled brilliant, but not inhuman.
Even now, as an adult, she sometimes wondered what her real number was.
And then forced herself not to care.
160.
It was the number she gave when someone asked. A score high enough to seem impressive. Low enough to still feel human.
Kind of.
Even Oscar didn’t know the rest.
He knew she was clever. Knew she could rewire an engine with her eyes closed, design systems on paper napkins, debug code while stirring a risotto. Knew she’d earned a PhD while raising a toddler. Knew she could predict tyre degradation better than some engineers.
But he didn’t know the extent.
She never let him see it all.
Not because she didn’t trust him. But because she needed one place in the world where she wasn’t being measured. Where she could be small and ordinary and barefoot in the kitchen, with flour on her hands and Bee at her hip.
Oscar made space for that version of her. Never asked for anything else.
He called her brilliant sometimes, but always like it was a secret he was lucky to know.
Still, the drawer remained. Locked. Heavy.
Felicity could open it any time. Could unspool every thought, every possibility, every blueprint. She had the capacity to reshape things in her image—universities, companies, ideologies.
But Felicity didn’t want that.
She wanted to plant tomatoes and teach Bee how to read tire degradation charts. She wanted to place mosaics on the bathroom wall and write love notes into the margins of Oscar’s travel calendar. She wanted to bake bread and be left alone.
Sometimes, she worried what people would think if they really knew.
If they saw how far her mind stretched. If they knew the truth behind the quiet way she lived.
She wondered if they’d be afraid of her.
So she kept it hidden. Chose love. Chose patience. Choose not to win every argument, not to finish every sentence, not to prove every point. Choose not to be the sharpest thing in every room.
She built a life where brilliance could live without needing to bare its teeth.
Even Oscar—her Oscar, the one person who saw her fully—didn't know the contents of the drawer. He didn’t ask. He didn’t need to.
Because he didn’t love her for what she could do.
He loved her for who she chose to be.
And that mattered more than any number ever had.
Felicity Piastri could break the world if she wanted.
But she'd rather raise one small girl to love it instead.
***
Oscar wasn’t stupid.
He’d never been. Not about her.
From the outside, maybe it looked like Felicity lived simply. That she liked soft things and quiet days, and teaching their daughter how to make pancakes shaped like brake callipers.
Maybe it looked like she’d set her brilliance aside—like she’d traded academia for motherhood, engineering for sourdough starters and thrifted overalls.
But Oscar had seen it.
Oscar had known for a long time that Felicity was smarter than she let on.
Her intelligence wasn’t a secret—she had a doctorate, after all, and could explain things to Bee that most engineers would struggle to unpack for adults. She could read technical sheets like bedtime stories, fix electrical issues in the garage with a sigh, and beat him at chess in nine moves while stirring dinner on the stove.
Oscar knew Felicity was brilliant.
Not in the casual, top-of-the-class way most people used the word. Not even in the terrifyingly competent, engineer-who-fixes-cars-better-than-his-mechanics kind of way.
Felicity’s mind was something else entirely.
Felicity remembered everything.
Not just formulas or wiring diagrams or where she’d last seen his keys (spoiler: it was always where he swore they weren’t).
Felicity remembered things with the kind of clarity that felt almost impossible. Entire pages of textbooks from university, word-for-word. The serial number of a broken dishwasher part she’d glimpsed once six months ago. The lyrics to a song Bee had sung in a kindergarten play, she only rehearsed at home once.
It wasn’t something she ever bragged about. Felicity didn’t do that. But Oscar had seen the way it worked, the way her eyes would go a little distant when she was accessing something buried in a mental archive no one else could reach. Like she was pulling open a drawer in her head and retrieving exactly the right file.
But there was something else. Something beneath the brilliance she allowed the world to see.
What most people didn’t realise—what even her own professors hadn’t figured out—was that Felicity Piastri was smarter than she let on.
It wasn’t that she lied. It was that she edited.
She softened the edges. She chose quiet, every time. She let other people win arguments she could’ve dismantled in seconds. She smiled through conversations she could have rerouted, rewired, rewritten.
Oscar saw it. In the way she paused before answering a loaded question. In the way she hesitated before explaining something complex, like she was calibrating, gauging how much truth to give. In the way she’d sit silently for long moments before asking a single question that dismantled the entire problem.
It was in the way she sometimes stared at a problem—not with confusion, but with hesitation. Like she already knew the answer. Had known it five minutes ago. But was weighing whether or not to share it.
It was in the way she let other people think they’d found the solution first. The way she edited down her thoughts into bite-sized pieces, digestible, unthreatening. The way she built space for others to keep up, even when she could’ve sprinted ahead.
Oscar saw it. Always had.
She never talked about it directly. Never told him the full of it. But he’d seen flashes. Once, early in their marriage, she’d rewritten the firmware on Bee’s baby monitor after it glitched. Not patched. Rewritten. In an hour. While breastfeeding.
Oscar had seen her write equations upside down on napkins. Had seen her reprogram Bee’s tablet because the parental controls were inefficient. Had watched her make an engineer go quiet with a single, softly-phrased observation.
She did it all while wearing thrifted cardigans and cutting the crusts off sandwiches.
But Oscar saw.
He never asked what else she was capable of. Didn’t want to know the limits—if there even were any. It wasn’t fear. Just reverence.
Because she never used it as a weapon. Never used it for leverage. Never made him feel small.
She could’ve built empires. She chose to build a home instead.
And Oscar thought that was the most terrifying, awe-inspiring thing of all.
He’d seen the shape of her mind in the way she mapped out their life. The way she always knew when he’d be tired before he did. The way she tracked logistics and race schedules, cross-referenced nutrition plans and school rosters and still found time to replace the smoke alarm batteries before he remembered they even existed.
He saw it in Bee, too. That fierce little spark that Felicity somehow guided with both freedom and quiet structure. Like she knew how to give Bee the right questions before she ever offered the answers.
And her memory… the older they got, the more years they layered onto each other, the more he came to realise: it wasn’t just impressive. It was intimate.
Because Felicity didn’t just remember numbers and maps, and measurements.
She remembered him.
Things he’d said in passing, half-asleep or distracted, that she somehow tucked away like treasures. The fact that he hated the sound of crinkling chip bags. That he liked exactly twelve raspberries in his porridge. That he didn’t like being touched when he was overstimulated after a bad race — but he did like having her nearby, just within reach.
She remembered the stories he only told once. The ones he hadn’t even realized were important until she brought them up again, years later, gently, like holding something fragile.
She remembered the colour of the shirt he wore the first time he kissed her.
She remembered all the versions of him — even the ones he tried to leave behind.
Sometimes, Oscar thought about how exhausting it must be. How heavy it must feel to carry everything. To have a brain that never let anything go.
Oscar had always known she was something more. That brilliance was only the surface. That Felicity could see things others didn’t, feel patterns before they existed, stretch logic so thin it became poetry.
She never showed it all. Not even to him.
But he saw it anyway.
In the way she rewrote financial models to stabilise their family income. In the way she adjusted Bee’s lessons mid-week because she sensed boredom before Bee could say the word.
In the way she rewired the battery system of his sim rig because she didn’t like the voltage drop, and did it while talking to Bee about the life cycle of stars.
Oscar knew.
He just never said so.
He never said anything. Never pushed. Never asked.
Because he knew—deep in his bones—that Felicity had spent her whole life being treated like a resource. A phenomenon. A marvel to be studied, dissected, and showcased.
He would never do that to her.
What she needed—what he gave—was safety. Space. The freedom to be clever without being dissected for it. The right to choose gentleness without being underestimated.
So he didn’t pry. Didn’t press.
He just held her hand when she needed grounding, listened when she muttered equations under her breath, and kissed her temple when she got that look—that distant, calculating look—before she blinked it away and smiled at him like she hadn’t just solved something the world didn’t even know was broken.
Felicity never showed him the drawer.
She didn’t need to.
Because he already knew what she kept inside it.
And he loved her anyway. Not in spite of it. But because she’d chosen him—and Bee—and love and bread and softness, over every sharp and brilliant thing she could have unleashed instead.
Her mind wasn’t a party trick. It wasn’t a tool. It was an act of love, the way she wielded it.
She used it to take care of the people she loved.
To take care of him.
Oscar wasn’t blind.
She was brilliant. Always had been.
But the most remarkable thing about Felicity wasn’t her mind.
It was the fact that she could’ve been anything—could’ve ruled rooms, reshaped industries, rewired entire schools of thought—and she’d chosen this.
Chosen him.
Chosen Bee.
Chosen tomato plants, and mosaic tiles, and quiet, ordinary joy.
She chose kindness. Again and again and again.
And he respected the hell out of it.
Because Oscar knew, in the marrow of his bones, that if Felicity ever opened that drawer—if she ever stopped pulling her punches, if she ever decided to stop choosing kindness—then the world would bend.
#formula 1#f1 fanfiction#formula 1 fanfiction#f1 smau#f1 x reader#formula 1 x reader#f1 grid x reader#f1 grid fanfiction#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri#Oscar Piastri fic#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri x reader#op81 fic#op81 imagine
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CAN'T CONTROL IT
pairing: Franco Colapinto x Fem! Driver! Reader
word count: 739
just something a little short and sweet for franco colapinto. also i think the can't control their mouth and can't control their face would suit him well?! idk bro
The F1 social media team had a new favorite hobby: catching YN's reactions to everything Franco Colapinto did.
It started during pre-season testing in Bahrain. Franco, fresh in his Williams racing suit, had spun on his installation lap – a rookie mistake that had the paddock chuckling. The TV director, whether by instinct or divine intervention, cut immediately to YN in the Alpine garage.
Her expression was poetry in motion: eyes rolling skyward, lips pressed together to suppress a smile, followed by a head shake that somehow conveyed both "I can't believe this" and "that's my idiot" in one fluid movement.
The clip went viral within hours.
"Have you seen this?" Franco bounded into the Alpine hospitality area, phone already extended. "'Every Time YN Dies Inside Watching Franco Colapinto: Testing Edition' – they even put sad violin music over your faces!"
YN didn't need to look. She'd already seen the compilation – a masterfully edited collection of her various reactions to Franco's testing adventures. Her personal favorite was the slow-motion zoom on her face when he'd described his first F1 car as "spicy."
"I'm starting to think you do these things on purpose," she muttered, but her treacherous face was already softening at his enthusiasm.
"Maybe I just like seeing your reactions," he winked, dropping into the seat beside her. "Remember in F3 when you said your face wasn't that expressive?"
"Remember in F2 when you said you'd learned to think before speaking?"
His laugh echoed through the hospitality area. "Some things never change, no?"
The Australian GP brought new material for the ever-growing collection of "YN Can't Control Her Face" content. As Alpine's reserve driver, she was in the garage when Franco scored his first F1 points – a remarkable P8 in a chaotic race.
His radio message was pure, unfiltered Franco: "P8! P8! YN, are you watching? Better than that time in F2 when you said I'd never score points because I was too busy talking!"
The cameras found her instantly: pride blooming across her features before she could school them into professional neutrality.
"Every time they show your face, the comments explode," Esteban teased later. "I think you've got more screen time than some of the actual drivers."
YN groaned. "Don't remind me. Someone made a TikTok trend out of my different 'Franco Reactions.'"
"At least you're not 'Can't Control His Mouth' Colapinto," Pierre chimed in. "Did you hear him in the press pen? He spent five minutes explaining how you once bet him he couldn't qualify top 10 without talking on team radio."
"Did he mention he lost that bet?"
"No, but your face when they asked you about it said everything."
Monaco was where things reached new heights. Franco, running in P6 during practice, had been providing commentary that somehow always circled back to YN:
"YN's watching, no? Tell her this is how you take the hairpin properly—" Franco spoke through team radio confidently before scraping through the hairpin. "Ah. Maybe not like that."
The camera cuts to YN's perfect face-palm, followed by a head shake that somehow conveyed both "I knew it" and "why am I even surprised" in one swift motion.
The resulting clip went viral on Tiktok and became F1's most-watched social media post of the weekend.
"You know what I think?" Franco asked one evening, as they shared takeaway in the quiet of the paddock after everyone else had left. The cameras were finally off, but YN's face was as expressive as ever in the dim light.
"That's a dangerous start to any conversation with you."
He grinned, nudging her shoulder. "I think you like that I can't control my mouth."
"And what makes you say that?" she asked, trying and failing to keep her expression neutral.
"Because every time I talk about you, you make this face – like you're trying not to smile but can't help it. It's my favorite one."
"I do not have a special face for when you talk about me."
"Si, you do! You're making it right now!"
She threw a napkin at him, but her smile – soft and genuine and completely uncontrolled – gave her away.
The next day, during the drivers' briefing, Alex caught Franco staring at YN with an expression that mirrored all of hers – soft and fond and entirely unguarded.
The photo went viral with the caption: "Looks like neither of them can control anything anymore 💕"
#franco colapinto#franco colapinto x reader#franco colapinto x you#franco colapinto fanfic#franco colapinto fanfiction#franco colapinto fluff#franco colapinto fic#f1#formula 1#formula one#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 fanfic#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 x you#fc43#f1 imagine#f1 fic#fc43 x reader#fc43 x you#fc43 imagine#williams racing
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HOW QUICKLY THE NIGHT FADES - Bucky Barnes

Summary: It was a mistake- the tension, the kissing, the sex. It was only because the two of you were so pent up from stress that it had been the outlet you chose. What happens when that one night stand turns into a lifetime when you realize you're pregnant?
Warnings: (please read) implication of suicide, talk of death and injury, pregnancy & symptoms, talk of terminating, one night stand, distanced bucky, self doubt, heavy angst with some comfort, mention of sex; intimate moments (memories), Bob comforting reader when she needs it
w/c: 1,5k | II | next chapter ▷|
Quick and sharp- the sting was unmissable. Your eyes threatened to shove the tears out, and your body wanted to cave in on itself from the intense feeling of guilt. Guilt and worry. Hands trembling concerningly from the amount of stress that had consumed and racked your entire body.
Holding up the pregnancy test, showed a prominent two lines.
two lines.
Pregnant.
holy fuck- you were pregnant.
and it was buckys baby.
The day had stayed in your mind since. Memories resurfaced, the moments repeating over and over. The quick shuffle of clothing being swiftly taken off. His sweet words of praise and affirmation. How you were so so good, perfect for him. Shivering as they played one by one, scene exactly as it had been. It wasn't exactly forgettable- your first time, and with bucky barnes.
But he hadn't known that. The whole thing- the whole love making.. it had been a mistake. And you both knew, deep down. The way bucky looked at you with pitied eyes, and avoidance. What once was a look of understanding now turned into none at all. Distance.
That was all you had felt.
he saw the tears fall down your cheeks after a failed mission. The way your hands tensed when he went to hold you. The cautious flicker of your eyes when he comforted you. He had suggested it- a quickie. Nothing that actually meant something.
But it had. It really had. And you both couldn't stop feeling it- but in vastly different ways.
Team meetings were awkward. When the only empty seat had been by bucky, he had chosen standing by Bob instead. When you approached the couch he found it easier to enter the kitchen. And when you were going on a mission-
There were no goodbyes. No wave, or funny lecture telling you to be careful out there, don't let them bend John's shield again or he's not getting another. And make sure you stay outta danger, no dying out there for me, okay?
His eyes spoke of restless dreamlike states of thought, realities away from the present. They didn't dare to stare you down. Even when you hadn't been looking. You didn't feel him anymore. Not his comfort, not his scent of gentle cedar and freshly washed laundry. It was silence.
The team had seen it as clear as day. No more conversations with you in them when bucky had started up about a mission- leaving as soon as you approached. No more snacks made purposely for him when he never wanted to admit he was craving, but somehow you always knew just what he'd want.
They noticed the dimmed look in your eyes. Like someone had burned the light in them, and it hadn't been replaced in months. Your clothes preference stayed to comfortable and baggy, hair sometimes left just a little more tangled than the next. Some days they didn't see you get out of bed. Your room was dark, and no sound hit their ears. You had distanced yourself from the outside world.
Missions had become a blur; ones you did go on were borderline careless and you became dangerous. John had lectured you on your reflexes and how if they were any slower you would've gotten yourself killed!
Yelena told you to put your comms back on- she almost wasn't able to get you out of the building in time before it collapsed, your big trouble these days. Laced with sarcasm, sure, but also indescribable amounts of concern.
Ava phasing through a wall just fast enough before a bomb had exploded right where you were standing, because what were you thinking! What were you thinking?
How nauseous you had become when early mornings demanded you to rise. How you'd immediately scurry back to your room after breakfast for it all to come out. How your dizziness had almost caused you to fall beside Bob while drying the dishes.
You knew. But at the same time, you didn't wanna know.
The truth. The pain. Bucky.
Baby.
You could get rid of it. A viable option. But what if he found out? If he didn't know the truth before it happened. The lengths you'd have to go to get out of the building to pull it off without anyone knowing. The work, the recovery. It wasn't going to be easy, but it was a choice.
The day you knew for sure was the day that you found yourself debating the balcony of the avengers tower as a good way out. The wind nipped at the tops of your ears as your hair blew with the chill night, a deep breathe in and out.
You hadn't stepped foot on the ledge- too much? Or just not yet? By the end of the night, not even you knew.
"Y/n?" Causing your head to whip around at the low voice, Bob had stood distinguished by the remaining lights on from the inside, framing him with a homey yellow.
You didn't know how to reply. What to say. What you were doing. How to explain it all to him. So you left him to do the talking. Bob wasn't one to do the talking- so it made you hopeful that maybe he wouldn't want answers. Maybe he'd urge you instead.
He stood there. Calmly, but not in a fashion that hid the way his fingers twitched. The hitch of his breath illuminated by the cold.
"Would you.. at least come closer? M-maybe away from here?" He questioned softly. Not sorry. Not pitiful. But honest.
You broke down.
Tears immediately slipped past the strong facade as he took you into his soft arms hidden by his usual crew neck fashion.
Ugly and hard- disheveled and all over the place. You cried. You tugged on the blue edges of the sweater. Stained it along with smudges of mascara that had been the one thing making you seem somewhat put together.
He rubbed your back. Let you cry. Let you whine, and sob, and sniffle. Took deep breaths in tandem.
Tiring yourself out from the way you had emptied everything balled up inside, he had led you (half carried) to your bedroom.
before tucking you in himself, he asked, "do you.. you wanna talk? About it."
Wiping the snot running down, trying to steady yourself. You knew Bob. He had been through a bunch of shit- and you knew he wasn't one to judge, nor tell.
"not forcing you or anything, I just- whatever your comfortable wit-"
"I'm pregnant" quiet, and uncomfortable. The words slipped out like spitting out something you absolutely despised the taste of.
Bob stared, froze even. But for a millisecond. Then he hugged you. Brought you in closely, tightly. And you held onto him like your landline. Kindly excepting you and your pain- the struggles, the challenges. The night had ended with his steady hands and undying comfort lulling you to a somewhat, lengthy full night's-worth of sleep.
Bucky knew something was wrong. Not the usual case of regret in a mission. Not in a way that a muscle was torn or a stab wound had presented itself. In the way you were reckless. In the way he knew he was guilty, and wrong.
He had left you after that night- regretted it. Didn't know what to do. How to comfort. To approach. How to appreciate the good things. But he was sure as hell good at avoidance. Distance.
Running.
Running far, far away.
Wasn't that the better choice for you anyway?
At first, that's what bucky thought was the answer. But soon it got worse. Dark circles under your eyes. Less snacks stolen in the little moments from a cabinet dedicated to you specifically. Even meals were rare to see you at.
At first he thought it had been him. You didn't wanna acknowledge what you two had done either. But soon it presented as more. Suspicion had risen from within him, building. He found himself staying up those late nights he assumed you took to yourself. As you left the darkness of your room, you looked.. out of it. Steps were forced and dragged. Your hand was always one step ahead by landing itself a place on your stomach like a shield. And then he saw Bob.
At first, he thought maybe late nights were you sneaking around with another man and regretting it after him. Multiple nights later that wasn't the case either. He was getting antsy. Eager. But then he heard it- the tears. More like sobs. Hands around Bob, your expression one of terrifying truth and another of unbearable sadness combined.
He felt it. He felt the rawness in your sighs. In the breaking-down of your body going limp against the other man. All at first he assumed and yet- bucky hadn't asked. Hadn't stood up, asked if you were okay.
He stood to the side. Where Bob should've been. Especially when you had said,
"I can't anymore- this baby- it's killing me in more ways than one."
He wanted to move. Wanted to lash out. Wanted to ask. Wanted to question. But he didn't. In silence he stood. In shadows he stayed. Away from you. Away from the truth and acceptance. A baby- and he couldn't make himself move.
Pathetic,
How pathetic
Running.
Running again.
How long could he play this game?
thank you for reading :) requests are open! || Marvel Masterlist
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes#bucky angst#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes x you#bucky x reader#bucky x you#james bucky buchanan barnes#james buchanan barnes#marvel fanfic#marvel x reader#marvel angst#feelingdozy
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something something memory is a monster and how somehow the two ppl who are the most on claudia’s side are the guy who killed her and the guy who never met her
bc while her fathers are so stricken by grief and guilt and their own emotions that they are constantly sidelining her neglecting her projecting onto her making her play a role, on the other hand!!!!!! armand knew exactly what he was doing making her be baby lulu!!!! but lestat did the SAME EXACT THING to her treating her like a doll except HE was totally sincere and couldn’t even comprehend why she was unhappy
and daniel being the one to stand up for her and say no claudia would not have hesitated to burn lestat!!! even while louis’s guilt will do anything to block out his memories of how he failed her daniel won’t let him, even tho daniel himself is a deadbeat dad who was constantly failing HIS daughters
like. in some ways armand and daniel are able to see her with the most clarity bc they have the least grief. and for louis and lestat their grief over losing their daughter actually is the epitome of memory is a monster like OK BUT THAT ISNT UR DAUGHTER. THATS A MIRAGE. THATS A FANTASY. THATS BABY LULU.
also obv armand being the only one who can understand her on the level of “child vampire” and how a lot of his hatred and disdain for her doesn’t come from a place of actual hatred but more like. the detached contempt of putting down a sick dog that doesn’t know it’s sick. it’s not about her either. it’s about the laws about how he believes she’s a mistake just like he was a mistake and she will suffer just like he’s suffered and he’s putting her out of her misery. he’s able to write off taking her life bc “oh well it’s a mercy killing, she’s inherently broken (like i am)” instead of seeing her as a fully actualized person who HAS AGENCY AND CONTROLS HER OWN NARRATIVE AND DOESNT HAVE TO FOLLOW THE CYCLE!!!!!!
like. insanity. her parents should have protected her but they didn’t. the person who probably could have understood claudia the most in the world (armand) and therefore SHOULD have protected her from what he went through decided to repeat the cycle and that taking away her agency was for her own good and her death didn’t really mean anything bc she was doomed anyway. the guy who’s reading her diaries and scavenging between the lines for hints about who she was is too late to ever hear her voice
#iwtv best most compelling show ever possibly#NARRATIVES MEMORY STORYTELLING GRIEF LOSS LOVE!!!!!#bites the bars of my enclosure#iwtv#claudia#armand#daniel molloy#louis de pointe du lac#lestat de lioncourt#ldpdl#interview with the vampire#claudia iwtv#iwtv analysis
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Can I request for Jack Abbot x fem reader? Their child wanted pet(s) and Jack just wouldn't let him since he wasn't convinced that they would take care of it and he's busy with work and so does her. Their kid persuaded her and she tried to tempted Jack to give in. Doing everything just to let him say yes. Jack knew his answer but just wanted to mess you with them🫣. Kisses, fluff, suggestive. Thanks!! :))
a/n: this is my first request omg omg omg, i absolutely loved your request! i changed a few times but hope it matches what you wanted. have fun dear. sorry if there's some mistakes, english is not my first language. enjoyyyy :)
mission called convincing daddy to get us what we want - jack abbot
pairing: jack abbot x wife!reader warnings: jack as girls dad, suggestive content
Parenthood was amazing. You loved it more than you expected. You loved being a mom as much as Jack loved being a dad and he was really proud to be a girl's dad. Your twin girls were the reason for him to absolutely love the new version of him.
Evangeline and Cecilia were his sunshine, his everything. He would die and kill if meant to make them smile. Even before they came to the world he was excited about the idea of having two versions of himself with the person he loves. He spent nights imagining how life would be so much cooler and brighter, he even confessed to you that he always wanted to be a girl dad but never had the chance to make it right before you.
The whole pregnancy wasn’t easy, you had a lot of pain, restrictions and anxiety at the same time. Growing two girls at once was a hell of a full time job and apparently will be for a long time. You were eating more, sleeping more, feeling bigger than ever, you can’t even count how many clothes didn’t fit anymore. You started by doing less shifts and when you did, Jack made sure you didn’t work harder, which led you to a few fights.
“Jack, pregnancy is not a disease. I am more than capable of doing my job and still have two children inside of me.”
“I’m not letting you do everything you want so you can prove something to other people.” You laughed in his face.
“I am a doctor first and then a mother. So please, let me enjoy this moment before I’ll spend my days being known only as a mother.”
Everything changed when you got to hold your girls for the first time and actually be a better mom than the one you have. It was a full time job, the hardest job you’ve ever had, 24/7 of being alert and on the edge of your seat for the smallest things. You didn’t showered for almost a week after you got to bring them home, you cried when they cried and the worst part of it all was the excruciating feeling that you were already failing.
Jack was your number one supporter, your safe haven and he was happy to be there. He dealt with the sleepless nights like a champ, always holding the girls, giving them what they needed just for you to sleep for a while, he didn't even complain about being sleep deprived, he just accepted it. But he never told you how terrified he was of sucking at the only job he couldn’t fail. How he was afraid of sleeping and missing something important, or how anxious he was when they were out of his plain sight. He didn’t tell you he almost gave up being a doctor to stay with the girls.
As they grew up, you both understood how to be better parents and that brought you closer than ever, creating boundaries and rules to make this right. You agreed on coming back to work at your own pace, making cohesive schedules and trying your best not to go home during shifts. You worked the day shift so he stayed with them and he stayed with the girls all day and he worked at night shift for you to be home during bedtime.
Real teamwork.
Cecilia was like a mini version of Jack. She was bossy, talkative and had the same bad attitude as him, which sometimes made your life so difficult, but she was glued to you. Everywhere you went, she was there like a shadow. Evangeline was a whole version of you, she was sweet, calm and did her best to be nice to everyone and yet Jack was the only one who could calm her down when she wasn’t having a good day.
There were nights Ange cried non stop because she wanted daddy and as a consequence Cece cried because her sister was crying. You have to call him at two in the morning, knowing he was busy with a trauma, trying your best to not cry on the phone, asking him to talk to her. Or when Cece was giving him an attitude because he wanted her mama so bad that everyone else was an enemy, he had to call you just for her to feel better.
You decided to change your tactics again and put the girls to socialize in preschool. At first you hated the idea as much as Jack but eventually you decided to give it a try. They absolutely loved it. The first week was filled with tears and anxiety (from you, especially), the desire of bringing them home and putting the whole experiment behind. By the second week the girls begin to cry less and be more excited about going. It was a relief for your mind and both of you could focus more at work.
At six years old you could see these girls were smarter than you imagined. They talked about what they learned at kindergarten and included details about everything they knew and saw. There was no better feeling than watching your favorite human beings embracing their personality.
One day after school during a pick up, you noticed them speaking quietly and giggling with each other pointing at some drawings in their notebooks.
“What’s happening here? Am I missing something?” Ange and Cece looked at each other and giggled louder.
“Mama, we want a dog.” Cece screamed and lifted up her piece of paper.
“Oh really? Why do you want a dog?” You asked curious.
“Today Mrs. Sunny told us about responsibilities and she told us having a pet helped us with that.” Ange was so excited and her sister was agreeing on everything. “We are big girls now.” Big girls that made her father look under the bed every night for monsters.
“Girls, having a pet is a big thing. Me and daddy are really busy taking care of more things to have animals.” You tried to sound soft, knowing how emotional they can get. “Plus, I don’t if you’re ready for this kind of responsibility.”
“We can help!” Cece jumped in, “We can give them food, water, snuggles and we can take them to our walks with daddy.”
That would be fun, you think to yourself, Jack was going to have a stroke when you tell him that. Or better, you’ll let them speak to him.
The idea of a pet was something you and him already talked about. During your pregnancy you had long conversations with your husbands on the subject, you grew up with animals and in fact helped you with the responsibility of taking care of the people you loved. He wasn’t against it, but you’re both busy and now with two kids taking a lot of attention and time, an animal would make it worse and more chaotic.
“I agree with you, girls.” Of course you agreed with them, the smiles they gave you is more than enough. “We need to convince dad to let us have a pet, what do you think?” They squealed and laughed, starting to make some plans and creating some crazy scenarios where the pet was included. “I suggest you two work on something really good for him and we talk about this before dinner, alright?”
When you got home, Jack was already waiting outside. Crossed arms, polo shirt, faded jeans. What a view. The moment he opened the car door for them, they were already on him, talking about their day and showering him with hints about the conversation that would happen later.
He just looked at you confused and nodding with whatever sentence was coming out of their mouths. You walked behind them, contemplating the sweet view of your family.
While Cece and Angel were doing their homework, you were studying a few things for your lecture and Jack was making dinner. You approached him quietly and held his face to make him look directly at you.
“We have a problem, a big one.” His heart almost stopped at your words. “They want a dog.”
“Really?” He chuckled, going back to slicing the onions.
“Something about Mrs. Sunny teaching about responsibility.” You poured yourself some wine and leaned against the counter. “They are on a mission called convincing daddy to get us what we want. It’s gonna be tough on you, buddy.”
“What exactly did you say to them?” He put the knife down and stared at you.
“I said the truth. We’re busy and getting a pet would add more chaos into our lives but I said yes.” You said quietly and he raised his eyebrows. “I can’t resist them, you know that!”
Dinner was chaotic. Cecilia and Evangeline were on fire telling all the good reasons for having cats and dogs. They even called themselves ‘doctor daughters’ and their specialty is love and snuggles. You held your smile the whole time, while Jack was so hypnotized by them he didn’t even blink.
“Girl, I understand you really really really want that but we need to discuss it better.” Their eyes were full of water and while he talked about their busy life, their school time and the extracurricular they do, a dog was harder.
“But we are good girls, daddy.” You almost got up and went to the nearest shelter to get the damn dog.
“I know, bug.”
After bedtime you were laying next to Jack, tracing lines in his chest and you couldn’t stop thinking about their wish of having an animal. Jack knew this conversation was about to happen for the way you tucked them in bed and he heard you saying you would try to convince him using your ‘supermom powers’. Before the conversation started he was already laughing.
You smacked his chest and rolled your eyes, trying to focus on whatever you were about to say to him.
“You know why we can’t have a dog.” You looked at him.
“Why not? Are you afraid he will steal your prosthetic leg?” He burst out laughing holding your arm.
“You would like that, didn’t you?” He teased and your eyes studied his face.
“Jack, we are raising two girls. A dog can make our job easier.” You think about your next words. “It can teach them responsibility.”
“A dog can be dangerous.” He found it amusing how you rolled your eyes every time you disagreed.
“Men are dangerous, a dog is the sweetest thing they can have. Besides, we can use that to make them stop asking for another sibling.” You reminded him, getting more comfortable against his body.
“You have a very good point, love.”
“Of course I have.”
“A sibling?” You giggled, hiding your face between his chest. “They can have a dog and a sibling, then.”
“Easy there, tiger. It’s debatable since I’m the one who carries the children here.”
“Everybody wins something here, just saying.”
“You’re a trouble, Jack Abbot.”
“You married me.” He held your face, caressing your cheeks gently.
It took Jack three days to get a dog. He talked to an old army friend of his that had the contact of a guy that had retired dogs and just like that, you got a dog - Luke. He’s the nicest, trained and responded very well to the girls clinging on to him.
You’ve never seen them so excited and happy to have a furry friend and the best part is watching Jack pretending he’s not blusinh watching his girls run around the backyard. You were sitting next to him, listening to Angel and Cece squeal every time Luke licked their faces and screamed when he runs from them.
“About the sibling situation.” He smirked and watched your face with the same look that got you pregnant before.
“Not before bedtime, Abbot.” You pushed his shoulder.
“Can’t wait for our talk later.”
Maybe life is worth it for the moments like that where everybody is truly happy.
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Part 4 is here!!!
I’m glad so many people are enjoying this :) I’ll probably have to come up with a real name for it now, huh
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
~
Thoroughly chastised, Eddie laid off on his investigation into the mystery behind Harrington and his unlikely friends for a few days. That’s not to say he wasn’t thinking about it. He had simply paused any needling of all involved parties until he had more information about how to continue without pissing everyone off. Something he wouldn’t really be worried about, if it didn’t mean he would never get to the bottom of things, which would eat at him until the end of time if never resolved.
The next time he found himself directly involved in Harrington affairs was in a place he never would have expected: his own driveway. Well, the driveway directly across from his, which in the trailer park, may as well have been his own driveway. Eddie had been minding his business, working on the lyrics for a new song, when the voices he could hear growing steadily louder outside finally caught his attention; shifting his focus from his notebook to the ongoing.. argument?
“Why do you even care?” A girl’s voice rang out.
Yeah, definitely an argument, though it wasn’t a voice he recognized as one of the frequent offenders of loud trailer park discussions. Using his incredible deduction skills from years of puzzle-based games, he guessed it was the red headed girl from the family that had just moved in across the driveway. Before he had time to think too much about that, a voice he did recognize answered her.
“Why do I-“ Harrington cut himself off with a scoff. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“You’re not my goddamn brother!” The girl, Eddie thought her name started with an M, Marie… Mandy..? shouted in response.
“Thank god for that.” Harrington shot back.
That must have had some sort of effect on the girl because it was silent for a beat. Eddie took the opportunity to move so he could peek out the window to watch them. Harrington and the girl stood next to his car, which was parked in front of the trailer Eddie knew to be where she lived. Harrington had his hands on his hips while the girl had her arms crossed and was glaring daggers at him.
“Max, I-” Right! That was her name.
Harrington sighed, a tired, defeated thing. “Things have been rough since… since Starcourt. For everyone. I want to make sure you’re ok. You shouldn’t… y’know, feel alone in this.”
“How could you possibly know how I fucking feel?” She spat back at him.
Harrington remained unintimidated, an impressive feat, if you asked Eddie, since Max was looking at him like she was trying to blow him up with her mind.
In response, he threw his hands up in the air, exasperated. “I guess I wouldn’t! Because you won’t talk to me! You won’t talk to Sinclair! You won’t talk to anyone!”
“None of you would understand! None of you-“
“What?” Harrington pushed, crossing his own arms. “You think you’re the only one who’s lost people? The only one who feels guilty about things that were out of our control?”
“I don’t feel guilty.” She nearly growled.
“Could’ve fooled me.”
This whole scene was really reminding Eddie of the bitchy figure of Steve Harrington that he remembered from school. Never knowing when to back off. Poking the sore spots. Eddie would almost be worried about Max, if Harrington wasn’t planted firmly in the same spot through the whole thing, and if she wasn’t giving as good as she took, looking more exasperated than anything.
When Max failed to reply, Harrington continued. “Look. I know how tempting it is to try to shut it all out and move on. That’s what Nancy and I tried to do the first time, and look where that got us.”
Eddie couldn’t really make out Harrington’s expression from this distance, but he almost sounded pleading. “I don’t wanna see you make the same mistakes I did. I don’t want you to ruin your friendships, or what you have with Lucas, because you’re too afraid to talk about it. I’ve been there, and it sucks. Hard.”
That seemed to be the final straw for Max. Eddie watched her turn abruptly around and storm into the trailer, whose lights were suspiciously dark for the time of evening it was.
“Hey!” Harrington called after her, making an aborted movement to follow her. “Mayfield!”
Harrington opened the door to the backseat of his car and pulled out what looked like a pizza box. He jogged up to the front door of the trailer and knocked. After a few moments of silence, he called into the house, “At least take the pizza!”
Eddie couldn’t hear what Max said in response but he watched Harrington shake his head and put the pizza down on the doorstep. Then, watched him all the way back to his car where he got in, looked back once more at Max’s trailer, then drove off.
A few minutes later Eddie saw one of the lights in the trailer turn on. He waited a few minutes to see if she would take the pizza now that Harrington was gone, but she never did.
Now, Eddie knew this was none of his business. He knew this was something he absolutely should not poke his sticky little fingers in. But there was something about the anger in Max’s eyes, her determination to be misunderstood, that struck Eddie. Reminded him of how he had been when he’d first been dropped off in this trailer park with his uncle after his whole life had been upended.
And maybe a part of him was also hungry for more crumbs of the Harrington conundrum, but maybe, he thought, if Max was going through something none of her friends could understand, maybe he might offer a different perspective.
He slipped out of his own trailer and made his way across the driveway to Max’s. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door. Almost immediately, Max’s voice returned.
“I thought I told you to fuck off, Steve!”
“Then, it has never been more convenient for me to not be Steve Harrington.” Eddie quipped.
He heard footsteps behind the door before it swung open harshly. Max eyed him up and down like she was trying ro figure out the best way to destroy him.
“You’re that guy that runs Lucas’ stupid club.” She eventually said.
Guess he had been right about her goal being to destroy him. He instinctively recoiled, gasping. “Hellfire is not stupid-“
“You sit in a dark room with a bunch of freshmen and pretend to kill monsters and save the world.” She interrupted before he could start his spiel.
Eddie narrowed his eyes at her, questioning why he even came over here in the first place. He decided to shelve this particular argument for a later date, and forged ahead.
“Whatever, I’m not here to discuss the merits of role playing games.” He waved a dismissive hand.
“Good. Because if you were, I would be telling you to fuck off.”
“Such harsh language.” Eddie mock-chastised.
Max rolled her eyes. “Why are you here, weirdo?”
Eddie shrugged. “Just overheard your little spat with Harrington, was wondering if I should be concerned about the safety of my new neighbor.”
Max scoffed. “Steve? Hurt me? He’d sonner wander into traffic.”
Of course Eddie didn’t really think Harrington would be the type to terrorize girls barely out of middle school. At least not now that he was a high school graduate.
Eddie put his hands up in surrender. “Just checking, you never know what bad actors might be lurking around this town.”
Max didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, you mean like the creepy super senior who waited until I was home alone to come talk to me.”
Eddie was really getting sick of her attitude, but also, had to respect her commitment to it. “You know you shouldn’t tell random people that you’re home alone. Stranger danger and all that.”
Max rolled her eyes yet again. “Did you actually want something other than to rag on Steve and piss me off?”
“I was actually wondering if you were gonna eat that?” He pointed to the pizza box.
For a split second Max looked like she wanted to say no and let him take it. Throw it in his face even. But then something else flashed behind her eyes. Something all too familiar to Eddie: Spite.
“I am, actually.” Quicker than Eddie could process her words, she flung a foot out and kicked the pizza box into the trailer and slammed the door.
“Do I need to say it, or do you get the idea?” She yelled through the door.
Eddie hummed theatrically, not willing to show he could be dissuaded so easily.
“Mmmm, I think I need to hear it one more time.”
He imagined her slightly shocked expression behind the door for the beat she took before yelling, “FUCK. OFF.”
Eddie saluted lazily, despite Max’s inability to see him. “Message received, Red.”
And with that, he hopped the steps down the porch of the Mayfield trailer and made his way back to his own, somehow with even more questions regarding his most recent fixation than before.
Part 5
#wow you guys really blew this up :)#welcome to the max interlude i hope you enjoy#steve harrington#eddie munson#max mayfield#stranger things
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