#i should just write a fucking fanfic for them at this point

[impala124]

Bad Buddy Ep 8

My thoughts on Ep 1 | Ep 2 | Ep 3 | Ep 4 | Ep 5 | Ep 6 | Ep 7

Me, at the end of this episode:

Awww. Pran really went from not knowing about Nong Nao doll to snuggling with him in a matter of days.

Wait a fucking second. How dare they just give me a shot of their photos together on Pran's headboard? No, I need the lore behind each and every one of those pics.

Pat is serving him breakfast in bed. And making references to the first time Pat slept over❤️.

The (rival) faculty shirts hanging on the wall side by side in the background are just chef's kiss.

A major chunk of their relationship is happening off-screen, so it's running my imagination wild. You know what that means—a lot of potential for fanfics. Help a girl out and share your favorite BB fanfics!

I've seen ice cream kisses before (thank you, Brian Kinney), but thanks to Pran, I'm witnessing ketchup(?) kisses too, though not as explicit and that's okay, I'll take it. I love it when they are playful with each other.

Pran, my beloved, taking 0.001 seconds to adjust to holding his boyfriend's hand in the corridor is just AGFDHKH

I mean, they weren't technically lying to Pa; they just happened to live in their own version of the play they were supposed to be rehearsing.

Pa is onto them, but being the best sister she is, isn't pushing for more details.

Excuse me, what do you mean they held hands behind Pa's back while she was walking ahead of them. I'll take this, please and thank you; the parents and their rivalry can go to hell for all I care at this point.

I know they are taking me to the highest of highs to push me down to the lowest of lows. Let me get my parachute out.

WHAT SHOULD WE HAVE FOR DINNER?! Nothing is easy with Pran; my son has to make Pat guess the answer he's giving using the fucking Thai xylophone. Once again, I ask, why is this kind of flirting not seen on any shows airing right now?? I want this back on my screen so bad!!! I want to scream about it in real time. Who do I need to write a letter to to make it happen?

I do feel bad for Director Toto, first, one of the main leads quit, and now the new main lead is busy fooling around with his music composer, but, Sir, be careful there; don't hurt Pran.

Ink is on my screen WITH Pa. Why is Wai here? This manipulative asshole is dampening my good mood. Oh, he wants info on Pa, but Ink, my girl, isn't having any of it. Get his ass, bestie!

Drinks with Wai or dinner with your boyfriend? Seems like an easy choice, Pran. Drop Wai's ass, stat.

Can't wait for the day Wai finds out that Pa is Pat's sister!! I hope he doesn't find out until he's in too deep with Pa. Might seem a bit schadenfreude, but I don't like that boy at all.

Pat telling Korn that he's having dinner with his mom and Pran telling Wai that he's having dinner with his dad will definitely not come back to bite them in the ass. FOR REAL.

My boys are making the grave mistake of not having at least one person who they are both familiar with be in the know about their relationship. Pran, bestie, send me your mail ID so that I can link you to some sources as to how to be in a secret relationship successfully.

Okay, so someone knows about their relationship. Who could it be? My money's on Wai. When Pran mentioned that he was meeting his father for dinner, he must've followed him because his mom loves having Wai over. It can't be any of Pat's friends because they are impulsive shitheads and would've been on Pran's ass the second they saw him approaching the car.

More of Ink and Pa, I've been blessed. Thank you, senior, who couldn't make it to the restaurant.

I am not enjoying watching Pran be so helpless on the rooftop!!

Acts of service, my beloved!!!

Oh Pat, my lovable puppy, you didn't really think this through now, did you?

The parallels between the play and their reality are very clever because Pran is never going to talk about his issues with Pat openly, at least not yet.

Pran's "I'm just the music guy shtick" is so funny that even Toto is like, I'm on my way to book a hall to hold a fan meet with you guys after the play, byeeeeee.

Pran, you are just not a sound guy anymore. So, Wai found out that Pa is Pat's sister. I mean, Pran disclosed it to save his boyfriend's ass, so I'll take it.

Pran waxing poetic about love😍, but with Wai🤮. I have a lot to say about this conversation; put a 📌 on it for now; I promise I'll get back to it. Needless to say, PRAN officially became a HALL OF FAMER in my favorite blorbos of all time category.

Oh, incoming angst, how much I hate you and love you at the same time.

I snorted out loud when Pat's dad said, When did I teach you to lie? Sir, with all due respect, which is none in your case, the correct question to ask YOURSELF would be, Where did I go so wrong that my son couldn't be honest and had to resort to lying to me? Just a suggestion; take it or leave it.

Not the fucking "I thought you knew your priorities, but clearly I was wrong." How about asking your son if he WANTS to play rugby anymore? You, sir, are on a TIMEOUT again, indefinitely this time.

Pran, my beloved, I know that you're new to the whole boyfriend thing, so let me offer you a crash course. When your normally happy and upbeat boyfriend calls you sounding sad and dejected and asks if you're free to talk, you say YES AND LISTEN TO HIM.

I knew you were a quick study. Now, cheer up your boyfriend.

Virtual hugs, my beloved!!! And back hugs too!! Why are they so stinking cute??!

You heard it here first. Pran is Pat's Nong Noo (baby girl)!!

Call me a wuss, but Pat saying, Familiar scent of you, while sniffing Pran's shirt, made me tear up a little. "Give me a big smile with small eyes. Show me your dimples." AAAHHHHHH. It should be illegal to be this cute!!!

Not Pran keeping up with the elevator bit till the end.

Pat could wear Pran's shirt, but no, my baby boy draped it over his already covered chest.Now, I need to know for reasons if this is the same shirt Pat borrowed last time, because it looks the same, but Pran might have multiples, so is there any way I can know for sure??

Oh Pran! Oh no, Pat took off the shirt. My boys are hurting.

Wow. Pat playing the Thai xylophone to express that he's upset and the fucking montage!!! I'm in tears.

Oh, the little detail of Pran looking around to see if anyone's around before approaching Pat😭

Okay, it's good that they are apologizing to each other. "Aren't you afraid people will find out? I am. But I care about you more." Pran, when I catch you—

Pat, you damn cheeseball, with your "Telling the world we're not just friends.". STHAP IT!!

FUCK!!! What in the ever-loving hell just happened?! What do you mean the curtain fell down? And the theater isn't empty.

Let me note that the curtain falling down is so fucking symbolic because the curtain falling indicates that something has ended, and in this case, the secrecy of their relationship has ended.

Oh my god, their friends are in the audience. Wai, you fucking asshole. You were the one who saw them leaving in the car together, weren't you? You switched on the sound, and everyone heard Pat saying that Pran is his boyfriend. Why are you the fucking worst?? Were you not held enough as a child? Maybe you were mad that Pran lied to your face and discouraged you from going after Pa, but this isn't how you treat anyone, least of all your best friend!! I don't care for your reasons; I hope you rot in hell!!

Now, I expect Pran's mother to make an appearance in the next episode because he's involved in the play with Pat. Now, why did Pran agree to take on the role of the music composer? It's because Wai fucking manipulated and guilted him into doing so.

Pran's conversation with Wai at the bar:

Our facalties are rivals..... Do you really believe Pat's family will accept you? In the end, you have to keep your relationship a secret. It's an exhausting relationship. It's so hard just to see each other. It's tough just to talk to each other. It's not important enough that it can't be reversed. No moving forward because it's a deadend. It's a kind of relationship that I always avoid unless a relentless puppy that I'm particularly fond of enters the equation.

There we have it, the crux of the issue. Pran doesn't believe that he's worth taking that chance, because, as I've mentioned before, Pat might be willing to throw caution to the wind to see where things land, unlike Pran, who deeply believes that he brings bad luck to Pat (backstory required asap). They can't move forward until they resolve this issue.

It actually makes me think that it was very intentional that it was Ink who took Pat to the noodle shop in the last episode, the same Ink who told Pran that she isn't interested in Pat romantically, because if it were a potential romantic interest for Pat in the picture, Pran WILL back off because Pran feels like he doesn't have the right to feel jealousy over Pat. On the other hand, Pat, my beloved, doesn't have any such hangups and feels like it is his god-given right to feel jealous of Wai in relation to Pran.

To end on a happy note:

Pat's " If my victory puts my boyfriend in trouble, I'd rather lose." 🤝 Pran's "I'm afraid of the world finding out about us, but I care about you more."

Tagging the usual suspects: @shortpplfedup, @incandescentflower, @starryalpacasstuff, @7nessasaryevils, @greenteadumplings, @grapejuicegay, @madworld-bbs, @usodeshou, @tao-moonb, @fanatic-freakshow . If anyone wishes to be tagged in the future, let me know.

[inkwell-illustrations]

I need more Paulkotho content in my life!!

[teastainedprose]

How about something like Homelander at a meeting with the seven and his wife.

"Wait, wait. I thought we were meeting your wife?" The Deep bursts out, gaze flicking between the two men already within the conference room as the rest of The Seven and Ashley file in. Homelander's smile is strained at best, while Butcher? He's as stone faced as ever. This isn't exactly a spot he ever considered he'd ever be in.

"Bit of an inside joke, ya see." Butcher mutters, stepping up to where Homelander sits to grasp the supe between neck and shoulder. As he tightens his grip, the gold band on his ringer finger catches the light. "Ain't that right, luv?"

Homelander tilts his head up, catching Butcher's eye as he smiles. There's no affection in it, more a predator barring his teeth at a rival. Nothing of the interaction screams that these two are lovers in any sense of the word, let alone a happy couple introducing themselves to The Seven.

An uncomfortable silence follows as everyone else in the room watches the couple. The expressions range from incredulous to utterly baffled. Well, Noir's is blank on account of his mask.

"Homelander- Are you gay?" The Deep sputters out, face pinched in clear confusion as his eyes flick between the two men. "No, you fucking-" A-Train cuts himself off, then takes a breath. "He's bi, like Maeve was." His attention shifts back to Butcher, "Aren't you trying to kill all of us?" Butcher inclines his head, white teeth flashing as he smirks but before he can spit out some British wit The Deep cuts in. "Maeve was bi!?" The Deep's eyebrows jumping up as he turns to stare at A-Train. He leans closer, voice a conspirital whisper. "I thought she was like- A lesbian, ya know?" Homelander has to take a steading breath, squelching the urge to lean over and casually crush The Deep's windpipe. "Boys, boys- Just, stop." Homelander raises a hand to cut off any further conversation as he sighs. He has to take a moment, eyes closing as he rubs at the bridge of his nose. Butcher's hand on his shoulder seems to be half to restrain him and half to keep the supe anchored. "Just- Uh. Don't worry about the labels and yes, we were enemies but- Let's just say we've worked it out."

"Okay, great. Fantastic!", Ashley chirps out in faux cheerfulness while trying not to love her absolute shit. Her mind is spinning with the sheer PR nightmare of introducing the world to the fact that Homelander, Christian ideal supe that he is happens to be a bisexual man and now married to a pardoned terrorist.

[lupins-hehim-pussy]

I wanna know ur Fontaine msq criticisms 👁️👁️👂I’m all ears

I'm not sure if you wanted me to talk about this secretly or publicly but! Here I go!

The TLDR: Fontaine MSQ aestheticised prison, poverty, child abuse, the justice system/court and didn't properly address any of it.

More:

Focalors/Furina has way too much of a sympathetic angle for a dictator who's lets people drown with her inaction.

Neuvillette feels Bad for sentencing some people to death/prison, but that's it. He's one of the most powerful people in Fontaine. If he felt like there are systemic injustices, I.E sending an abused Child to prison, he should be the first person to DO something about it, not just cry and be sad so the audience can be like aw, that's complex character writing isn't it? No it's not! And guilt doesn't absolve you!!!!!!! (These are stuff we deal with in OTCOJ read my fic now /j)

Meropide has children in it, both Sentenced there (Wriothesley) and BORN THERE (Lanoire), and this is just a quirk of the place. Not only that, Meropide accepts prisoners of all genders and crimes. There are abusers and abuse victims in one place. Do you know how bad that is? How much potential for crimes to happen in a place like that— oh wait, Meropide isn't under Fontaine's jurisdiction. If you are assaulted as an inmate it literally means nothing to the court.

Wriothesley had no qualifications when he took over. Depending on how long he lived on the streets, how old he was when he killed his parents, how old he was when he was first taken in by the orphanage, etc, the man might never have more than 4–5 years of formal education. Sigewinne probably had to teach him how to write reports. And do Meropide's spreadsheets. Edit because I forgot to elaborate on this one: This isn't a point brought up anywhere, which is bad, because when poverty and incarceration robs you of a proper education (and the rights to vote in many places too, too, by the way), it reduces your prospects for jobs, reduces many people's ability to get a home etc etc. Wriothesley was just, narratively, Given his position.

Meropide is an industrialized prison, and they portray this as a good thing. Prisoners are paid in coupons for their labour, and this is also portrayed as a good thing.

The One-Meal-A-Day reform was something Paimon gushed about being so great of a perk, that people might want to go to jail for food (could be interesting and reflective of systemic poverty if MHY had brains, but they don't, so I was just Pissed because essentially all Paimon wanted to say was "Prison isn't so bad, but still don't go to prison guys! Prison labour is really hard!"). By the way, in most real-world prisons they are obligated to feed you three meals a day. Because that's how much food a human needs. MHY went with one meal just so they can say "if you want to eat more, you have to work." And then the welfare meal is a goddamn gacha. So imagine you're a starving child who's too weak to work in the fucking robot assembly line, and you wander up for your first meal in 24 hours, only to luck in with a shit one. I'd kill myself.

They wrote Wriothesley, who's a victim of the system, into a guy who's say shit like "I'm the Duke I can do whatever I want" for a cool moment where he choke-slams an inmate (I know he was a bad guy. But also, in copaganda when cops are violent/disregarding protocols, they are always only portrayed to do that against bad guys, so what does our critical thinking tells us about this one?) They wrote Wriothesley, who was an inmate of a prison so bad, so notorious that it is the literal boogeyman of Fontaine, that has a legal (???) fighting pit, with an administrator who abuses his position to be unreasonable, to willingly stay in the place and become an Administrator who would choke-slam an inmate while saying a cool line about how he has the power to do whatever he wants. They wrote him, the guy who had to be fed on the streets by melusines, to think one-meal-a-day was a good enough reform (while he spends god-knows how much on his boat). This wasn't a victim-turns-into-abuser narrative either, they want all this to be seen as positive character growth.

And then, the final kicker is, they gloss over his entire abuse. You can only read about these shit in his profile, which most people don't because they don't Have Him or doesn't care to unlock it/read it online, and they jammed his entire backstory into a flaccid info-dump at the end of his character story quest. This man isn't Allowed to feel abused and neglected and show any reaction to it within the narrative of Fontaine itself, because if they actually Gave Weight to what happened to him, they'd have to confront THE FUCKING JUSTICE SYSTEM they had NO PLANS on criticising. I don't think they ever explicitly said the fucking Crime-Theatre nonsense was Bad either.

I could go on, but this is already so long. But yeah, I hope this gave you an idea.

[an-theduckin]

Why am I not good at anything I do :(

[lordsardine]

harbinger voice lines..............

[festivalofthe12]

mmmmmmmmmmmmmm when it comes to Kyou I sometimes worry if I'm being too hard on him through like a certain kind of projection, right

but. I can't be... the only one to think there's at least..a little bit of a...victim complex in him, right...?

WHICH: to clarify straight up, he was treated awfully and never deserved any of that, and is all-around 100% a victim who's right to think of himself as such. All of that is correct!!!!!!

but. The whole STORY. is that the cat is the one animal who gets exiled. The one 'bad' one. The one who's ostracised.

And with that comes a certain... I mean, it's a bit easier to think of yourself as the victim, when that's the way everyone frames it, right? That you're the one who's been hard done by? That everyone else has it out for you? That to make things right, everything should be inverted, so everyone apologises and bows down to him for once???

Especially with Yuki. And, again to be fair, Yuki is not at ALL immune to minimising the shit that Kyou's been dealt with because it's often the inverse of what happened to Yuki and that envy is toxic and because Yuki was raised to think that way and also just because Kyou is annoying to him personally hahah.

But. Yuki knows about Kyou's True Form. Kyou... doesn't actually know what happened between Yuki and Akito. And psychologically, there's a hell of lot to benefit him if he reaaaaaally doesn't think about it.

So. Am I being biased to think that, all things considered, Kyou is more dismissive of Yuki's struggles? And that even up through the end of the manga, he still sorta... doesn't really entirely get it?? (At least from what I remember... which is little........)

But here's where I feel like I'm projecting because. My experiences are WAY more like Yuki: pushing things down, trying to do the right thing, feeling like you're just supposed to be grateful for what you have because you've been so privileged. And people who match the sorta description I have of Kyou above have kinda. screwed me up mentally in a lot of ways hahahahahahhhh.

so. I know it's such a cliche thing to have people learn about what Yuki's been through and be so Shocked and Comforting and ooo weepy uke Yuki or what ever (ever notice how nobody ever gets mad at the smug asshole seme stereotype?? HMM.) and I know I might just be biased against Kyou, because of all that IRL stuff and also because early in fandom people kind of did IIRC act like Kyou was right about everything and Yuki not that far off from how Kyou saw him. but.

IDK there's always a part of me that just. keeps thinking up scenarios where Kyou like. still doesn't entirely gets it. and gets called out a bit, or proven wrong.

and maybe that's really dumb or childish of me hahahah;;;;;

[nerdy-novelist017]

Little Bunny (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader)

First time writing fanfic in years but what can I say? I see Austin Butler smoking a cigarette and giving Bedroom Eyes™️ and I'm suddenly a poet. Enjoy!

Part 2 here

Word Count- 2.7k+

Summary- Being surrounded by loud motorcycles, drunk bikers and hungry eyes was not something you'd ever experienced before. Neither was the intense blue gaze of a certain blonde biker.

*****

You didn’t belong here. That much was obvious. You in your white dress blowing softly around your thighs from the summer’s evening breeze. You in your kitten heels sinking into the mud beneath you. You . . . holding your Tupperware filled with homemade cookies. You felt the eyes of just about every person there burning into you as you walked across the grassy field, trailing slightly behind your friend as she made her way to the picnic benches in the center of what looked to be a makeshift race track. 

This is not at all what you pictured when Kathy had told you last night about a cookout and race she was going to. She had said that it was hosted by one of her friends in a club and that you should come to. You were just going to gently shoot her proposition down, but with one of your New Year's Resolutions being to push yourself to be more outgoing and attempt to break the shy vice that often gripped you tight, you reluctantly agreed. In a pathetic attempt to get the nerves to go away, you were up all night baking, something you found to be therapeutic as it gave your hands a task other than nervously tapping on something. Kathy didn’t specify what kind of club she was in, but she was always friendly and outgoing so you really had no idea what to expect, going in blind. When she made a comment about your choice of heels for the environment, you raised a brow, offering to run back inside to change. 

“Don’t worry about it,” she had said as she grinned at you from behind the wheel. “I think the club is goin’ ta love you.”

Standing here now . . . you would have never guessed this was the kind of club she was a part of. Sure, you noticed how her clothing changed some and she smoked a lot more, but seeing her interact with these bikers was shocking. She was like a different person. No, not different. She was still the same Kathy you had been friends with since 8th grade. She was just more confident now.

“Hey, who’s your new friend, Kathy?” someone called from your left. You glanced over at the many sets of hungry eyes that raked over your body as if they were a pack of wild dogs and you were a small rabbit. Your eyes widened as you looked to your other side to find a crowd gathered there too. “Introduce me to your little friend.”

“Fuck off, Richie,” Kathy called out nonchalantly, not even sparing them a look. You quickened your pace to be right on her heels, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the possibility of being left alone to these people.

“Kathy, I–I don’t think I should be here,” you whispered but if she heard your words, she ignored them. “When you said club, I was expecting a–a book club or something. . .”

“Don’t be silly.” She glanced at you over her shoulder, a smirk capturing her features. “I didn’t think I belonged neither, but look at me now. ’Sides, this club is way more fun than books, trust me.”

Before you could protest anymore, she led you to a table and you nearly collided into her when she stopped abruptly, your eyes still jumping around to the leather jackets and grime covered faces. You move to stand beside her, attempting to grab her arm and signal that you wanted to leave but she didn’t meet your gaze. Instead, she pointed a finger at the man sitting in the middle, legs spread leisurely, cigarette hanging from his mouth. 

“This is Johnny, he runs this club,” she introduced, moving along down the line. “That’s Brucie and his wife Gail. This big dumb idiot is Cockroach.” He throws a beer cap at her but she ducks out of the way. “That’s Cal and Corky behind them. . .”

With each member she introduced, you felt your courage sinking further and further into the ground. They each (including the woman) had an air of intimidation that screamed don’t fuck with me. Their leather jackets and ripped jeans hardened their appearances and you felt extremely out of place with your perfectly curled hair and manicured nails. They looked like people your parents had warned you to stay away from your entire youth. Growing up with difficulty making friends has left you somewhat naive and you’d never been around a crowd like this.  Yet suddenly, here you were, a helpless gazelle tossed directly into the lion’s den. Your heart pounded in your chest and you’re sure every person here can hear it echoing off the metal bikes surrounding you. 

“. . . and that’s Benny,” she finished and nodded in the direction of the person on the furthest left. Your eyes travelled up his long legs which are stretched out over the seat, up to where he’s sitting on the table. Your gaze lingered for a moment over the cigarette smoke pluming from between his lips before finally locking with his, and it took your breath away. It was like all the boys you had ever known in life, the ones you had been out on boring dates with, were just that – boys. This was a man. That was evident in his furrowed brow, his dark and unreadable expression, the way his piercing gaze moved from your face down to your toes and back up again. Trouble, his aura screamed, run far away from me. And you desperately want to grab Kathy’s arm and beg her to take you home, but she’s already moved away, making her way over to a cooler of beers, leaving you standing before them like an offering. You think maybe she had asked you if you wanted one before she left, but it’s hard to hear anything over the pounding of your heart in your ears, and even harder to focus on anything besides not breaking the intense eye contact the blonde in front of you was maintaining. 

“Whatcha got there?” someone from the table in front of you asked and you blinked, snapping back into the present. 

Benny had never seen anything like you. He watched from his seat atop the table as you blinked down at your pink Tupperware bowl. You looked like a doll freshly plucked straight from the box, every hair perfectly in place and not a speck on your pretty dress. The thought of running his hand up your thigh and dipping beneath the hem of that pristine dress, leaving a smudged trail of grease along your clean skin corrupted his mind, setting his teeth on edge with desire. The sun was just beginning to set over your left shoulder casted you in a warm glow that seemed almost ethereal, a picture of innocence and unspoiled charm. Your eyes, almost comically wide, glanced back up to him only for a second before moving to the others to find the owner of that previous question.

“Cookies,” you said so softly that Benny could barely hear you from where he was. And he knew then and there that he was a goner. 

The familiar pop of a motorcycle backfiring echoed through the air and you practically jumped out of your skin at the sound. You were just a little bunny, he mused, a smirk pulling at his lips. In one smooth motion, he pushed himself off the table, flicking the rest of his cigarette butt to the ground and stood to his full height. Driven by a fervor burning deep in his belly, it only took him a few strides before he stood in front of you, close enough to smell the sweet perfume you were wearing, close enough to see the blush tinting your face, close enough to touch you.

“What kind of cookies?” he asked in a low voice, hoping not to scare away this little bunny.

You glanced over your shoulder towards the parked cars and, for a moment, Benny thought you might try to book it, but then you moved your chin back and suddenly you were gracing him with your beautiful gaze again. He noticed the slight tremble of your slim fingers as they removed the lid and held the bowl out in an offer. In that moment, the air seemed to crackle with an unspoken connection, a promise of worlds colliding. No, he’d never seen anything like you.

“They’re chocolate chip,” you replied, eyes fluttering to the middle of his chest to avoid eye-contact. 

He lifted a hand slowly, dipping his head in an attempt to catch your eyes once more. He waited patiently until your gaze fluttered back up to meet his before he raised a brow in question. You gave just the slightest nod, and he dipped his hand into the bowl, retrieving one of your cookies.

You were locked into place, knees weak and head swimming as you watched him bring your cookie up to his lips. You wanted to look away, hell, you wanted to run away. But you couldn’t. You were drowning in his ocean eyes, unable to breathe as he bit into the cookie. Your gaze dropped briefly to his mouth as he swiped at it with the back on his hand, the muscles of his forearm flexing beneath tanned skin.

“Take her for a ride, Benny!” someone shouted from behind him and you suddenly remembered the rest of the group.

“Show her how to ride, Benny!” More egging. You took a hesitant step back, holding the bowl to your chest as if it would somehow deflect their teasing. You peeked around Benny trying to get Kathy’s attention, but she’s already sat down at another table, conversing with a small group of women. The women looked just as mean and tough as the men and you swallowed the lump forming in your throat. You take another step backwards. This was a mistake. You should have never come here. You needed to go home. These people – these animals – would eat you alive. The idea of just walking home crossed your mind briefly. But you were miles from your house, and you weren’t exactly sure where you even were – some farmhouse out on the other side of town. You needed to get Kathy aside to ask her to drive you home. 

“You ever been on a motorcycle before, Little Bunny?” Benny asked you, his voice hushed and almost drowned out by the razzing from behind him.

Your brow furrowed at the nickname. Was he making fun of you? Daring to look into his ruggedly handsome face again, you attempted to read his expression for any signs of malice. Surprised to find something kind swirling in his eyes, your lips parted to say something, but the words were stuck in your throat. “Mm-mm,”

He flashed a glimpse of his white teeth with a secretive smile as he took a step closer. “Can I be your first?”

“What?” Suddenly your mouth felt as though it were filled with cotton. 

He nodded over at the lineup of motorcycles to your left and waited for his question to fully sink in. You tilted your head, wondering if the double inuendo was intentional or if everything that came out of his mouth dripped with an underlying sensuality.

Trouble, trouble, trouble. That word rang out in your head like a siren, attempting to warn you and that’s when you realized that there wasn’t an ocean in his eyes. It was a blazing fire. There was a fire in his eyes and it threatened to burn every complacently comfortable thing inside you, threatened to burn every perfectly built wall surrounding your heart. 

You shook your head. “No, thank you. I don’t like going fast and I know that’s what you . . . bikers do.”

Was that a polite response? You weren’t sure because the smile on his face grew despite the fact that you just declined his offer. Any time you’ve ever rejected a man’s offer, they’d frown, grumble under their breath and walk away. But this man — Benny— just stood there, sliding his hands in the pockets of his jean jacket, tilting his head slightly as he stared down at you with a smile. He was confusing!

“Excuse me,” you muttered as you sidestepped him, quickly approaching the picnic bench Kathy had migrated to. Your cheeks burned as a few members of the crowd whistled. You set the Tupperware bowl on the table and several hands dipped in to retrieve the goods as you planted yourself next to Kathy. 

“Is this a gang?” You whispered to your friend and she laughed into her beer bottle. Since when did she drink beer?

“Gee, that Benny sure is a hunk, huh?” She deflected your question as she raised an eyebrow at you suggestively. 

Feeling his gaze still burning into you, you didn’t risk a glance back at him. “I don’t feel comfortable here, Kathy.”

“Do you want a beer?” She asked as she placed a cold one in front of you. 

“No,” you replied quietly. “Can we go now?”

She sighed. “Alright, fine. Can I finish my beer at least?”

You nodded but your relief was short lived when another biker woman sat down from across Kathy and began talking with her. Agonizing minutes ticked by. You drummed your fingers on the worn wooden table top, watching as Kathy sipped leisurely from her beer. Someone shouted as the racing bikes fired up, startling you. That’s it. 

“I’ll wait for you in the car,” you told Kathy and ignored the disappointment on her face as you stood and spun. You halted in your tracks when you find Benny still standing where you left him, still watching you. You kept your head down as you walked past him quickly making your way to the car. 

Weaving in between other cars and motorcycles parked in the far field, you breathed a sigh of relief when you made it to Kathy’s car. Once sitting inside the passenger seat of her pickup truck, you slammed the door shut behind you. Embarrassment burned your core and you groaned as you brought your hands up to cover your face. They probably thought you were some niave girl who was afraid of her own shadow. And you probably were but you clung to the slight relief that you would never have to see any of these people ever again. 

You jumped at the knock on your window. A tall figure stood outside your door and your heart jumped into your throat as you scrambled to roll down the manual window. Benny stooped over and held up your pink Tupperware bowl. 

“You left this.” One side of his mouth quirked up. “I’d say they were a hit.”

You glanced down at the empty bowl in shock. You had baked two dozen cookies and they were gone within minutes of leaving it on the table. A smile tugged at your lips at the thought of someone appreciating your hard work. “Thank you.”

You reached for the bowl, fingers brushing softly against his. A jolt of electricity traveled up your arm, through your chest before settling hotly in your lower belly. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth as he lowered himself to lean against your door, arms resting over the window frame. His eyes roamed over your face as if he were trying to memorize every detail. Your mind struggled to find something to say to him to get him to go away but all thoughts were halted in their tracks as his eyes found yours again. Instinctively, you felt yourself leaning in a little closer to him, your faces only inches apart. 

“Can I at least give you a ride home?” His gravely voice broke through the thick silence. 

“Kathy is—” you started as you glanced over his shoulder to the direction of where you left your friend. Your words died on your tongue as you noticed her surrounded by a small group now, a fresh beer in her hand. 

Your gaze returned to him and you felt heat creep up your neck. “I—I’m wearing a dress though. . .”

“I’ll be sitting in front of you. Nobody will be able to see anything.” 

You fixed him with an incredulous expression before looking away. Silence settled between you again and you waited for him to walk away. Only, he never did. He just . . . waited.

"Are you just going to keep asking?" you griped as you turned to look back at him.

"I like to think of it as more of an offer." There was a teasing undertone laced in his words and you narrowed your eyes at him to keep from smiling.

“I won’t drive fast,” he said softly and your heart fluttered at the gentle promise. 

Trouble. Your head still reminded you even as you found yourself getting hypnotized by the intense blue of his eyes, so close to yours. Despite the sincerity in his eyes, there was still that darkness, that fire that burned through. That burning fire, threatening to cover a dark past. And you could see it, there was a dangerous undertone in that fire. Trouble, and yet you couldn’t hide the smile as your fingers reached to open the door. 

This fire you needed to touch — at least once, just to see how hot it truly burned. 

[maelancoli]

Adding Tension After the Ship Happens

i feel a lot of slow burn ships lose steam after the characters finally get together, whether it's just from sleeping together or them actually engaging in a relationship, so here are some ideas for how to maintain steam.

their problems are not solved now that they've crossed the thresh hold

first things first, the plot itself i'm sure has other details than just their relationship. even the most fluffy of fluff has other things going on than kisses and giggles. don't abandon these details once the relationship truly begins. and if there was any kind of unresolved tension point or previously mentioned ex/trauma/insecurity/fear bring it back! bring things back around that might put a strain on a new, tender relationship. this can either make them have problems or be a way to develop their bonds and *show* it in action. any of these foreshadowing/resurrected points can be added in edits if you didn't start out with them or with retconning if you're writing rp/fanfic. all the writers do it. we see it in tv everyday it's ok if u gotta pull a rabbit from a hat.

their relationship will not be suddenly smooth and solid as if they have been married 20 years

okay they kissed/fucked/agreed to be together. now what? what circumstances kept them from getting there sooner? are those circumstances still present and how will they deal with it as a team? you also don't have to have characters officially together once they've done something physical. there is still discussion to be had and boundaries/expectations to establish. those conversations could be interesting to explore. and, even more-so, this is the perfect point for plot to happen and keep them from being able to have those conversations when they should. you can add angst, you can add miscommunication, you can add anything that tickles your fancy. especially a perfect time to have an ex return to cause some tension and uncertainty if they haven't made it official. they don't know what they are yet and that uncertainty is a delicious point to write it and really give the characters a hard time

utilize the main plot's tension

again, if you're writing more than just a contemporary fluffy romance, the romance should enrich the main plot. the romance as a subplot should be a component which merges with the main storyline and does not take away from it. if you don't want to milk the will-they-won't-they anymore than you already have it's time to build the relationship up in the midst of OUTSIDE conflict. let them disagree about how to resolve problems. let them butt heads. let them be scared and do and say stupid shit because they're scared. let them be worried or angry or frustrated and have to figure out how to balance their newfound vulnerability with who they are and were before that point. let them hurt each other a little so they can come back together stronger.

utilize the characters around them

if it is a plot which is mainly romance filled, then think about the tension from the lives around them. think about their loved ones and how their own issues could influence the plot points the characters have to face together. this could be a time for them to be introduced to loved ones. you could throw in a group trip with silly mishaps and shenanigans. you could even have loved ones try to break them up or doubt the love interest. navigating new relationships while also dealing with friends and family can be a source of plot and tension in and of itself. this can be a point to let love interests reassure each other and prove their salt. it can help them grow closer. it can be the heroic moment for one of them to stick up for the other or prove they're there for them no matter what.

overall if you're struggling with what to do after the slow burn feels like it's sizzling out it's time to zoom out. make sure you are not losing the whole picture of their environment or steamrolling past the real development of new relationships.

[tunemyart]

So I've just watched the finale and I'm feeling... Weird. I think part of it is because this show started with everything I like in a story (cool badass ladies, a queer romance, found family, redemption, etc etc) and ended up being... Not all that (most characters die, the romance is doomed, and I guess the redemption mostly happened but wasn't entirely satisfactory to me). Also, I'm someone who as Trauma (tm) with death so, I guess my brain's first reaction is "fuck that I just want them all happy and safe" and it takes me a while to accept when stories take these paths, however well written they might be.

Still, I thought it all went a bit fast in the last 2 eps, with parts of the show ringing just a little bit more hollow than I would have expected? I'm left feeling like the characters of Alice, Mrs Hart and Jen were treated a bit superficially (Lillia's story felt more complete). I also wished we had seen more of Agatha's past because spending centuries just conning witches then killing them is... a bit boring? (maybe we learn more about her in WandaVision, I haven't seen it). And obviously I wished we had seen more of Agatha and Rio. It's like the show couldn't decide if it was about Agatha or about Billy (partly because, I'm guessing it's setting up a 3rd show about him?), and with this short format we ended losing a bit on Agatha's part.

Anyway, curious of what you think of all that because your analysis are always super interesting, and like I said my own brain might be a bit biased towards resistance with this one. And obviously would love to read your fanfic(s) should you write any!

So, I've started and restarted a reply to this a few times, but I think what my answer boils down to is: we're meant to have multilayered responses to this finale. We're meant to sit with it. It's meant to change our experience of the show we've had to this point.

I think the best metaphor for this is the fact the revelation that Rio is Death. Bear with me, because I know this got spoiled for us way early on and we all knew it and were all just waiting for the revelation to drop - but imagine for a second that we didn't know that Rio, Agatha's ex-girlfriend and spooky fun vaguely-a-psychopath as played by the delightful Aubrey Plaza, is death. Your perception of Rio would have been turned on its head. Your perception of Agatha would have been turned on its head. Your perception of the Witches' Road and what we're even doing here with Death walking alongside us as a tourist would have been turned on its head.

Now, we all had an incredibly fun time even with the knowledge that Rio is death before we should have had it. But I think some of the power for what it meant for the story - and our perception of what was really happening - was muted.

Jen, at the beginning of 1.08, says, "She told us who she was from the very beginning."

Sit with that - because the same is true of this story.

---

It turns out that the Road is a metaphor for death. This isn't fully illustrated for us until Nicky, the author of the Ballad, walks down the road with Death's hand in his, and we go, oh. Oh.

Agatha tells us in the beginning that the Road doesn't exist, a rare instance of her giving anyone unbridled truth. And sure - the Road that our coven walked down doesn't exist. The Road that all the witches Agatha lured to the deaths believed in doesn't exist. It's a fiction. But it's significant that Agatha lured them all to the Road and killed them. They wanted to walk the Road. They died. Not "they died instead" - it's a two-fold statement. They wanted to walk the Road and they died. In a gruesome way, Agatha's been taking witches on the Witches' Road since the 1750s.

I don't think the significance of that is lost on Agatha, either, especially where we pick up at the beginning of 1.08. Lilia's dead, and everybody's reeling.

Perhaps Agatha more than anybody.

---

I also want to quickly take a look at Rio's accusation of Agatha regarding Billy.

"The bodies are really piling up." "Did you doubt me?" "Yeah, I did. I thought there'd be a trick in there somewhere. And there was! You were distracting me from him."

Because this is a revelation about Agatha's actions toward not just Rio, but any audience watching her - i.e., us the viewers. She's been distracting us! Not from who Billy is, we know that of course, but with regard to what the Road itself is. Agatha's known the Road isn't real the entire time. She's been protecting Billy from that knowledge. She's been protecting Billy from Rio. She's been protecting the coven itself from disintegrating. And, the biggest con woman move of them all, she's been distracting us - with less and less success as the show goes on - from the fact that she is not even the slightest bit in control.

---

So I definitely want to circle back to what you said about how the show started out with everything you like in a story, because oof, yeah, I felt that. I felt that hard in the finale. Coming off the impact of the incredible storytelling in 1.07, and the queer jokes and campy Wicked cosplay balancing out the sad, I think many of us spent the next week expecting some kind of emotional resolution that probably involved the remaining coven banding together in some more of that found family we've felt them becoming along the way.

Here's where things starts going wrong, right off the bat: they don't. Instead, they splinter. Not only are you aware of just how few of them are left (Jen, Billy, Agatha), but Jen and Agatha can't handle Lilia's death. Jen's distraught. The close up on Agatha running away out of the trial and back onto the Road, alone, shows her looking hunted and wild in her guilt. Everything that follows has its seeds in that moment of rending that began with Lilia's death.

From the beginning, the point has been that Agatha Harkness is a covenless witch. It's something we've seen her revel in - maybe simply because she has no choice but to own it. But the fact is that here, for the first time in centuries, she had a coven. She didn't intend to have one - she intended to kill them all in her basement and not think twice about them again. But events transpired the way they did. They became her coven. And one by one, they all died on the Road.

Rio, of course, has the words to cut right to the quick: "Your coven is shrinking," she teases Agatha cruelly. Agatha looks wild - because she's right. The worst thing is that she killed Alice - and she didn't mean to. She didn't want to. But she did, and in exactly the same way she'd intended to kill her at the beginning, the same way she's been killing witches for hundreds of years. "Your coven is shrinking," and it's Agatha's fault. It's Agatha's coven. It's Agatha's coven.

Hold on to that, too.

---

One of the things that I've been mulling over most is Agatha's character. She's so much fun in the beginning. We're all fucking charmed by her. We also don't have the full context of just how much of a serial killer she is.

So for me, at least, watching 1.08 and not only not getting found family, but getting an Agatha so far away from a "redemption" story that she only just barely is willing to not sacrifice Billy for herself, was kind of a rude awakening. Agatha's a lot more of a villain that I was prepared for. Surprise!

Agatha's so far away from "redemption", in fact, that she's only just barely starting to feel empathy for other witches. She's just starting to be affected by people who aren't #1. And that's a trauma response. And it's so, so, so deeply rooted in her that she's only just starting to be able to conceive of the idea of people who care for her. Of the possibility of being able to live in community. She's not ready for a redemption arc. There was no way that the kind of redemption arc she'd need could fit into nine episodes, because so much of it would for her be predicated on a mental shift that Agatha just hasn't arrived at yet. She's still so angry. She's still so traumatized. She's done almost none of the work. And even at the end, even with the final gesture of sacrificing herself for Billy, that's not a final act of redemption, oh Agatha's now a good person/forgiven/insert word frame of choice.

What this show did in terms of redemption for Agatha was set her up to be in a place where she might want it - where she might want to do and be better for Billy, and someday, for Nicky.

And it's significant that that point comes for Agatha in dying… and after death.

---

This show is about death. The Road is about death. Death is a character on the show.

Like, okay, you're saying. Fine. But what about my gay fun times? What about my queer romance, my found family?

And please know that I'm there with you.

I'm not hugely in touch with what the larger fandom is saying and how they're reacting because I have my little echo chamber here on tumblr and a few friends who have actual social media, but even here I get the sense that we're all kind of :/ for fairly similar reasons. What happened to the show I fell in love with?

And for me, the last few days, I think it's been important to realize that the fact that the show I fell in love with didn't suddenly become a different show. It didn't pull a bait and switch. No twists were in bad faith. Everything has been right here in the text of the show from the very beginning.

And I think it's important to see the story that Jac Schaeffer et al. were actually telling vs. our expectations of what they were telling, or worse, what we wanted them to tell. For just one example, I was convinced we were going to see Alice again - maybe Lorna Wu, too. I wasn't expecting it to be for the sole purpose of recognizing that not only is she dead, but to give Alice herself the space to say that it wasn't fair, that she wasn't ready, that she'd just broken her family's curse, that now she can really do something with her life! Because, ugh, yeah! It's not fair, for all those reasons! But that's also death. Likewise, Sharon's just dead, and worse, her death was pretty much meaningless. Lilia rediscovered herself again, and she chose her death to save everyone else - extremely meaningful. But at the end - she's just dead. We don't see her again. She's gone. She, like the others, walked the Road and away with Death.

I loved these covenless witches. I loved them finding themselves together. I loved them bonding around the campfire and discovering community. I miss them all, so so much. But they told us from the beginning how haunted by death all of them were: Alice and her mom, Lilia and her coven in Sicily, Billy and William Kaplan, Agatha and her son and her ex-lover. And of course, Death herself. Forget haunting these individuals - she came to actually join the temporary coven. Like, fuck. They told us what this show was about.

---

This show is about death, but it's more complicated than that: we'll take our cue from Rio again, who, in being Death, is also the original Green Witch. In short, this show is about Green Craft, "growth and decay in constant flow."

So yes - almost every single witch in the coven dies. Yes, it's permanent. No, the queer romance isn't resolved happily. No, Agatha doesn't have a redemption, satisfying or otherwise. And no, none of it follows what we've come to expect from found family story trajectories.

But the focus shouldn't be solely on the decay. There's a whole cycle of growth coming up after it, even now, and it's being made possible by the death and decay that we just witnessed. And most importantly, it's confirmed that this isn't the end of the story - just the end of "Agatha All Along."

---

I'll finish by actually answering your question - I've been sitting with the finale for a few days, because I also felt weird about it. And I think that's the right word: "Weird." Very spooky season-esque, first of all, but also not tipping all the way right into "bad".

The first thing to acknowledge is that no story is perfect - they were limited by nine episodes by what they had the space to show, and finales are really hard to get just right. The second is that you're allowed to not like any or all of it, especially when something happens that asks you to change your entire understanding of the story thus far, i.e. the Road isn't real, or when you have a particular trauma around death and it turns out that that's what the whole show is about in ways we hadn't fully realized. The third is that it's worth sitting with stories sometimes and seeing how they marinate and develop in your brain and your soul over time. All of these things can and should coexist.

This isn't my first go-round with a series finale that initially made me ???, so I was fortunate in that I felt like I had a cheat sheet. I've still got some marinating to do to see how this continues to change for me. But it's helped me to realize that my ??? reaction is what the story wanted me to have - that the characters are reeling right along with me. Not just Alice in shock about her death, but also Billy at the implications of his creation of the Road regarding his responsiblity for what happened on it. We're meant to feel this way… and then we're meant to reconsider the journey we've been on, the Road we've walked with all of them and the death we've died alongside them, and see it anew for what it really is.

[elodieunderglass]

I'm not as familiar with LOTR as you are, so I wondered if you could tell me if my wild theory is completely off-base.

No one knows where the Hobbits came from, except that at some point they diverged from the line of men. No one knows much about the Entwives' appearance, but we do know that they fucked off a long time ago.

Could the Entwives have been dryad-ish and hooked up with the hobbits' ancestors and so be the foremothers of the hobbits?

Ah I think I saw that post! The concept has a lot of charm, and when the Tolkien estate loses its corpse-grip on the property in 2050 or so, I think you should write it and sell it 😤 I’ve definitely read some good takes on entwives in fanfiction that both leaned into canon and moved away, and I think that sounds like good fun to explore. A common theme in the fandom is playing with Yavanna, the Green Lady, being the mother or patron of hobbits. This isn’t canonical, but she’s a “green goddess” archetype and is married to Mahal/Aulë, the father of dwarves, which shippers often leverage to their advantage. You could do something quite charming there with Yavanna if you wanted to. We also know that Entwives loved gardens and orchards rather than forests.

Some things I would explore with this include:

what is going on with all these consistent ideas of people, races, women disappearing. We know that a lot of it is how Tolkien processed an almost OCD-like Catholic framing of “the fallen world is getting worse and can never be repaired”, war experiences, romanticism and other stuff stewing in his old man head. What are some ways you could show what’s stewing in your head? What does “people disappearing” mean to you? and why is it especially healing that they disappeared in order to make new families?

I think “they disappeared from their old kin and made new kin” is an interesting and weird thing worth wondering about!

- this would possibly make hobbits a more recent race than is implied. What does that mean to you?

- why are hobbits teeny tiny?

A very good starting point, that Terry Pratchett used a lot, is taking some grand statement in fantasy fiction, and making it reflect a different political reality. “Most dwarves are girls actually.” “Wizards parody academia, but, like, FOR REAL.”

I personally have a different take because of my own political feelings and framings! I have a lot of complex feelings about Tolkien chickening out of hobbits. For various political reasons I personally have to take the stance that they are fully human, fully indigenous, and have their own native language. and that their disappearance is less “teehee we lost them” or “O, the Catholic guilt of the Fallen World, how far we have fallen from the light of the two trees God’s sinless light” and a lot more “oh yeah I’ve seen THAT pattern before.”

If you have a political sort of lens on, someone telling you “yeah… hobbits came from nowhere 🤭 and then disappeared 🤷‍♀️ sad!” is a story that can also invite the response of “OHhhhh you wanted their LAND real bad, huh.” Like, we know what that means, right.

It’s a political stance for me. Hobbits have to be close enough to us to touch, and we have to be able to face that, and the fact that 5,000 media properties will chew on tolkienelves and sell them to you before even admitting to the 🤭 just makes it even more of a 🤨. To me.

…But I have literally just been elbow deep in my own demented fanfic thing that involves inventing a language just to swear in, to enable my standing on a box shouting HOBBITS OUGHT TO RESIST GOING EXTINCT ACTUALLY, based entirely on, I think, spite. Why do multiple authors publish orc football games (Terry Pratchett) and orc coffeeshops (Legends and Lattes guy) and do every damned thing with every bit of Tolkien’s corpse but refuse to look directly at hobbits. I am feral over this and wrote 59k words so far to damage and harm my friends

In conclusion I see a great story shape there about kindred and I think you should explore it and it should be about evolutionary biology and women and divorce and nobody being wrong.

And if anyone argues you with some podcast boy “well actually”, just bite them and do more character work and sit on their heads

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not having time to read my mutual's writing?

Met a mutual on here, bonded through fanfic, have been tight with them for a few years with pretty much no bumps in the relationship, just overall had a really good time hanging around them when I could. We both write a lot and share our writing, and occasionally we talk about that writing/workshop it in passing.

In the past few years I've gone through a ton of life changes. Most notably I went from a multi-person household to a single-person one, and I've been living alone in a prohibitively costly city for a while now working 40 hour weeks and barely scraping by. As soon as the transition started I spent the last of my free income on a shitty little laptop so I could still write, putting down words on my bus/train commutes in the morning and quite literally writing on my breaks at work because I feel insane when I can't create. I bring this up to really stress that I don't have the time for the hobby, I force myself to make the time and even then it never feels like enough.

The only thing I can really stand to do with my 3 hours of free time at night is hang out with my moots online. I'm an extrovert so being around people recharges me. If I don't have designated social time I get super depressed and can pretty much feel my soul withering away. I also feel like I should probably mention that I kinda have a slew of mental issues, personality disorders and PTSD and AuDHD and the works. Point being, shit is rough my dude, but I am a person who likes to work hard and face challenges head on and even though we strugglin, we doing it with a positive outlook.

But! I am an incredibly solution-oriented person and I have found what I personally believe to be a good balance. No one should have to live like this, but I do, and I have found a way to be happy. My writing and my social time is all load-bearing. It is not something I just choose to do on a whim, it's all planned and scheduled and I adhere to those routines very strictly because, I cannot stress this enough, I will go fucking bonkers if I don't.

I'm mutuals with a lot of writers obv, and I sadly don't have time to read their work anymore, unless I get some extra time on my days off or something gets cancelled or like, I end up taking a vacation. I carry a great amount of guilt for this, though, even though I logically know it's reasonable. I try to support them where I can, cheer them on when I see them writing and tell them how cool their ideas sound, hype them up even when I can't actually read & review.

One of the things I do is sometimes I leave a kudos on fic I haven't read. I'm not trying to be ingenuine, and if they asked me I'd tell them like 'Oh I didn't read it yet, just wanted to show support!' but to me it's kinda like ripping a paper tab off a poster so that other's feel inclined to do the same. Plus my pals get a little email and a hit of serotonin.

Except one of my acquaintances, the one I mentioned at the start here, saw that I left kudos on a couple pieces another mutual of mine wrote this year. They more or less blew up my DMs with a ton of accusatory (like, literally presented like a 'GOTCHA!') stuff about how I was selective in who's fic I read, more or less implying that I secretly held some sort of grudge or negative feeling toward them and was making the conscious decision not to read or interact with their writing because of. Something, I don't actually know what they were trying to say. They also told me they vented to their friends about this MULTIPLE times, but they never once approached me to let me know they were feeling paranoid or neglected, they literally just took the most bad faith reading of it possible and then presented that to me like it was something I intentionally did, while the whole time I was unaware.

I tried to explain to them the kudos thing, that I didn't do it to every story, just ones I caught/noticed in my busy schedule. And I laid all this out and asked, multiple times, what free time am I supposed to read with? They didn't answer, and doubled down, kept trying to show me 'proof' that I was shorting them and no one else. Once they started to realize how wrong they were they backed down, but they didn't really apologize, or admit they were wrong, and they tried to end our relationship and left every single server we were in together. Because of some other unrelated stuff going on in my life, I didn't really consider them to be a close friend, but they were someone I really held dear and would've walked through hell for if they'd asked.

I still feel like there is something I'm missing here, and that's why I wanted to ask if I'm TA. I'm a pretty good communicator but one of the things I told myself when talking down my disordered thoughts (guilt about this prior) was "no one in their right mind would use reading fanfic as a metric for friendship." Now that I've had that exact thing happen, I'm starting to think maybe those thoughts weren't so disordered. Maybe this IS a big deal, and I should think about it more, but I don't even know what the solution to that would be. I just. Don't have time to read something lovingly crafted and appreciate it for what it is. All the hours in my week are used up, I'd have to lose sleep for this and with my mental health the way it is that is not an option.

Feel free to be a brutal, my skin is thick. Thanks!

What are these acronyms?

[anonymouscheeses]

Even more and more of obvious shit I point out because I want an excuse to rant while not interacting with actual people in real life who also like this show because I'm masking 😍💜💜

BARELY STARTED AND BRO. YOU JUST LET HER DO THAT TO YOU, ME PERSONALLY-

HE'S PETTING KEE-KEE I LOVE HIM SMM

HER HOOVES. I LOVE IT. NOT LIKE THAT, IM JUST A FURRY-

*grabs pen*

ANGRY CHARLIE FOR THE WIN. I LOVE WHEN THE HAPPY CHARACTER GETS ANGSTY (Cough. Luz. Cough).

The people writing fanfics where she gets FURIOUS. Omg. That was something I read. I LOVE MY FELLOW FANFIC WRITERS BUT OH MY- YALL REALLY HAD CHARLIE M A D.

"Uh-"

I love his reaction lmao look at his goofy face.

HER BOW BECAME HORNS (my "redesign" is now 100% worse)

SAD VAGGIE. THE BOW. DROOPY.

Oh and the angel dust fellow back there 🤯

I LOVE ROSIE SO MUCH HUH

Tall.

No explanation needed. <3

PLEASE HELP???

CUTIE PATOOTIE. I LOVE HER SM UGGHHH

CHARLIE HATES OLD PEOPLE COMFIRMED YAY 😍😍💅💅

Hot

That's it.

IN SYNC. I LOVE THIS SONG AND THE ENTIRE SCENE. WHY IS IT RANKED SO LOW WITH SOME OF YALL?? Okay well-

I thought this song was gonna be a Charlie and Vaggie duet- tbh I still preferred that BUT I LOVE CARMILLA SO I KINDA DONT CARE.

BUT I WAS ROBBED OF AN ACTUAL FULL CHAGGIE DUET (REPRISE DOESNT COUNT) IF H*SKERDUST GETS A FULL ONE WHY CAN'T CHAGGIE? *SOB* uhh anyway-

Is that. Like. How she thinks actually 😰

I know there's been a lot of the lack of Vaggie's self-worth, which I wish was explored into more. I just think the Vaggie(3rd) episode just wasn't needed at all if it didn't even have an impact. Don't get me started on that episode, it was rushed, too early to have character arcs already, and overall not needed or even should have existed periodt.

I hope they explore it next season because GOD this woman needs TO LOVE HERSELF. OR ATLEAST CARE ABOUT HERSELF LIKE????

SWEET MAMA PLEASE. TAKE ME IN YOUR WINGS AAAAAAAAA

Charlie, sharing is caring <3

Out of all the people I thought Charlie would vent to I didn't think it would be ROSIE. It's a nice surprise tho I love her <3

bisexuality.

That's it.

HE'S DANCING. ALASTOR IS DANCING. THEY ARE SLAYING BESTIES. THE MAN IS DANCING. HELP.

Season 2 is going to be Charlie in her villain era and Alastor's reputation era 😍

I LOVE VAGGIE'S FACE. PRECIOUS BABY UGHH... THEN THE WINGS REPLACE THE BOW AND DROOP UGGHH I HOPE IN SEASON 2 WE SEE MORE OF HER WINGS. OR CUT HER HAIR SHORT SO WE CAN HAVE IT ALL THE TIME. Also so Husk and Vaggie can bond over both having wings. Sorry I love their potential friendship so much. AND LUCIFER AND VAGGIE TOO!! BOTH BEING FALLEN ANGELS OMG. UGH THE POTENTIAL OF VAGGIE'S RELATIONSHIPS WITH NOT JUST CHARLIE ARE SO GOOD AND I HAVE BEEN ROBBED OF SEEING HER AS AN ACTUALLY MORE FLESHED OUT CHARACTER. I AM SCREAMING AAAAAAAA.

I can't say how much I love them. It's too much. I cant- yay the teaser image before the show came out <3 they are so fucking adorable. UGH SOME1 END ME

Charlie loves the wings hehehe. Vaggie looks nervous about it. It's probably a reminder to her about when she used to be an exterminator. The healing from everything will take a long time but hopefully Charlie will be there for her the entire time. And vice versa

Ayo- 😰

CHARLIE. T H E PRECIOUS BABY.

Uh next one tomorrow cuz yeah 🤯

[lowkeyrobin]

could you write something where walker scobell and reader like each other, are super obvious about it but also super oblivious when it comes to knowing each others feelings? (bonus points if the cast of percy jackson is involved and all know about their feelings for each other)! 🎀

aweeee oh my lord yes!!! stop this is so fucking cute wtffff 😭🙏 ; thanks for requesting and I hope you enjoy!!! ; ALSO!! this features a random oc because apparently no one from the older cast other than Charlie and Aryan can be normal so 🤞, oc is supposed to be like a bg character for one of Luke's friends in the show anyways!!! ; sorry this turned out so bad after you waited so long for it LMAO

WALKER SCOBELL ; oblivious

summary ; youre both oblivious to each other's feelings, and your costars need to help push you together

warnings ; language

disclaimers ; I mentioned some stores/brands that I'm pretty sure are zionist corps, so please don't go support them! this is just a fanfic, don't see this as advertisement bc these places kinda suck anyways. free palestine and do your daily clicks on arab.org

word count ; 1.6k

masterlist

"You're so stupid," Aryan sighs, walking next to you toward the mall entrance.

Leah and Walker walk ahead of you two, both talking about whatever they wanted to do while they were here. Charlie and Jordan walk behind you, acting as your parental gaurdians because apparently at ages 14-17, you weren't responsible enough to walk around a mall yourselves and needed a pair of 19 year olds by your side.

"He doesn't like me, and I don't like him, Aryan. Get it through your thick skull" You chuckle.

"Uh huh" He nods sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

Walker and Leah quickly turn around, walking backwards. "Come on, we're going to Target!"

You and Aryan share a look and quickly chase after them, Charlie and Jordan walking behind all of you like uninterested parents.

You jog across the top floor of the mall and take the escalator down right in front of Target, heading for the interior doors. Leah, Walker, and Aryan head towards the children's toys aisles while you find yourself distracted in the music department. Charlie and Jordan walk around the store, just browsing while you younger teens do whatever. They weren't going to be responsible for any destruction.

You scan through the CDs, looking for anything you didn't have that you found interesting. You pick up a Conan Gray CD, one of his new album Found Heaven. You look to the left, seeing Walker quickly walking towards you, nearly walking into some lady's cart around a corner of one of the aisles.

"Hey." You chuckle, making it clear you saw him nearly get his hip busted by a middle-aged woman.

"Hi" The blonde smiles nervously, "What're you up to?"

You hold up the CD, "Browsing"

He nods, "I've never listened to him, should I?" He asks, beginning to flip through the CDs himself.

You look at him with slightly widened eyes. "Walker, how have you never listened to Conan Gray?..."

He shrugs, "I dunno"

"I'm forcing you to listen to him in the car."

"Okay, okay"

You continue looking through the CDs, seeing if they had anything else to your interest. For a split second, your shoulder brushes against his, considering you were standing so close.

You keep quiet, feeling your face heat up a bit. He feels the same way, unbeknownst to you. You nervously glance at each other, milliseconds apart so you never saw the opposite look.

"Walker, we found water guns!"

"They're so awesome, I could literally just stare at them all day while they talk about their favorite movie" The curly haired blonde smiles, slowly strolling down the lower half of the mall with Aryan and Leah at his side. "I don't think I've ever smiled and laughed so much than when I'm with them, seriously. Everything about them is so amazing, like, I could marry them here and now"

"And you said you don't have a crush on them," Leah states sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "You're something else"

"I don't have a crush on them!" Walker exclaims, the plastic bag in his hand slinging back and forth as he walked, spinning it around his fingers. "I was just describing what I like about them, yeesh"

The two look at him with similar expressions.

"You have a crush on them. Accept it, dude." Aryan sighs, patting Walker on the shoulder. "I'm like, 99% sure they feel the same way as well"

"Shut up!"

"Walker!"

"Quiet!"

You instantly connect the disembodied voice to your familiar blonde friend, having been grabbing a pretzel with Jordan and Charlie. You were stealing their money for food since you'd spent fifty dollars on CDs, plus an extra one for Walker. Thank God Charlie knew who his favorite band was, you'd wanted to get him an actual gift before you left for home tomorrow.

Jordan and Charlie sat down at one of the tables next to the big escalator in the middle of the mall, in clear earshot of the trio who just walked out of Bath and Body Works. They send a shared expression to Leah and Aryan, and they both nod back.

Walker doesn't notice, considering he was busy ranting about how he doesn't have a crush on you and was more focused on his body language and speaking with his hands then figuring out who or what his friends were looking at.

You walk to the table, get a look at the trio, their backs face towards you, and you hand Charlie and Jordan their food.

The two are oddly quiet as they munch down, which makes you question if they're conspiring against you. You ignore it, though, wanting to enjoy your pretzel while you had it.

Charlie and Jordan finally start conversation as you finish up your pretzel and soda, which you devoured. They were talking about some TV show they liked as you stood up, threw your garbage away, and headed toward the bathrooms. You leave the elder teens alone, walking down the dim side-hallway to the restrooms.

Charlie quickly pulls out his phone once your back was to them and calls Aryan. He was with Leah and Walker across the mall, where he and Leah had sneakily set Walker up to get you a little gift. The teens converse quietly and privately, not wanting their victims to hear.

"Yeah, he's inside with Leah, where's Y/n?"

"Restroom" Jordan answers, as they'd FaceTimed him. She pushes her dark hair away from her face as she speaks.

"Okay, where are you guys going next? We're going to Barnes and Noble back near you guys, on the top floor." Aryan informs

"Alright, we'll go fix my phone plan really quick and head over" Jordan nods, looking at Charlie for approval.

He nods as well, and quickly whispers bye as he hangs up. You walk back toward them with a light smile, asking where you were going next.

"We're gonna fuck around with my phone bill, and-"

"-Meet them at the food court!" Charlie finishes, trying to keep you and Walker apart for a moment. He sends a glance to Jordan, who pulls out her phone.

"Oh, okay" You shrug.

After joining Jordan to be a Karen to get her phone bill fixed, you three head up to the food court to meet up with Walker, Leah, and Aryan. As you sit down with them, they all make excuses to leave or go to different spots to get food. That leaves you and Walker at the table alone, both of you unable to start conversation.

You'd just eaten the biggest pretzel of your life, and it turns out he had a milkshake not too long ago. You both nervously smile at each other, biting your nails and fidgeting your fingers a bit. Aryan and Charlie watch from the Noodles and Company line, trying to see if you'd hand over your gifts for each other.

Right on queue, you decide to just give Walker the CD you'd gotten for him, not wanting to miss the sort-of-private opportunity to give it to him. You pull it out of the plastic bag that rests on the floor next to your feet. You hand it to him over the table, awaiting his reaction.

He quickly smiles and looks up at you. "Is that for me?"

"Duh"

He graciously accepts the gift, looking at it front and back over and over again. "How did you know I liked David Bowie?"

You shrug with a smug smile. "One, everyone likes Bowie, two, I know more about you than you think"

He playfully and lightly scoffs with a smile. "Thank you. Actually! That reminds me, I got you something too"

He reaches into the bag that sat next to him, and pulls out a few candy bars and bags, and slides them over the table for you. One of those is a lollipop shaped like a rose.

You smile and give him a warm thank you, laying your eyes on the Twizzlers for the most part.

"Y'know, I have a feeling I'm gonna like Conan Gray in the car"

"Oh, you will, trust me"

In the distance, Aryan and Charlie share looks.

"They're so head over heels for each other" Charlie sighs, "Can they just kiss already?"

Aryan nods, "We need to really push them together"

"How?"

"We'll ask Jordy and Leah"

"Sounds like a plan"

You and Walker sit side by side, smiles on your faces as you rest on the ledge of the fountain. You look back at all the silver and copper coins in the water, shimmering under the rippling water.

"And the whole thing exploded all over me! It was the dumbest thing ever"

You chuckle, listening to Walker talk about some science project exploding all over him in seventh grade.

"Y'know, you're like, really cool" He smiles, nervously glancing at Aryan.

You feel a smile tugging at your lips, "Oh, uhm, thank you. You're cool too, dude" You lightly punch his shoulder.

"No, like, cool cool" He clarifies.

You look over at your four friends, all wearing sunglasses, acting like they weren't spying on your conversation, on their phones or looking away nervously.

"Is this some kind of setup?"

"No!" He quickly replies, "I just, like, think you're really cool" He says, feeling too nervous to go out and ask the question or confess his feelings.

Leah groans and stands up, Aryan at her side.

"Just kiss already!" She says, throwing her hands in the air, "This show is too slow!"

"Kiss!" Aryan cheers, "Please! Do it already! It hurts to watch this anymore"

You look back at Walker, cheeks and ears as red as a stop sign.

Walker shrugs with a nervous look, which you share with him.

"Okay, well, I'm not kissing you on the ledge of a mall fountain"

"Yeah, I get that one"

[bitchlessdino]

scream your heart out (m)

🔪pairing: fem!reader x seventeen (???) 🔪genre: horror, slasher, smut 🔪tags: DISCLAIMIER!!! MAY NOT SUIT MOST AUDIENCES, Graphic sexual and violent imagery color coded in pink, abrupt changes in text color, features/mentions members (Chan, Seungkwan, Wonwoo, Minghao, Seungcheol, Seokmin, Junhui, Soonyoung, Joshua), established relationships, scream au!seventeen, Hybristophilia, erotophonophilia, homicidophilia, graphic images, mention panic attacks, smoking, mentions disfigurement of faces, severed body parts, knives, guns, threatening phone calls, face masks (horror), knife wielding, blood, gore, death/murder, knife play, bloody handjobs, cum mixing with blood, consensual sex but nonconsensual murder, HONESTLY SOME REALLY FUCKED UP SHIT AND IM SORRY BUT YALL SHOULD BE READING THE WARNINGS, sexual innuendos, kitchen sex, daddy kink, unprotected sex, cream pies, cuck! (??) member, voyeurism, exhibitionism, breeding kink, PLS LET ME KNOW IF IM MISSING ANYTHING PLS 🔪word count: 6.8k 🔪summary: you and your friends get caught up in a classic horror slasher movie, only it's in real life. Now you're off to fend for yourselves in Seungcheol's million dollar home. The question is, did you keep them out, or did you just lock them in? 🔪author note: thank you @multi-kpop-fanfics and @wonwussy for beta reading for me <3. here's some of their notes “I’m scratching my face to not fucking scream” “WELL SHIT BRO WHAT THE FUCK” -Zeta “It definitely does capture that slasher essence” -SJ this was so fun yet mind numbing to write but this is way more extreme than anything I’ve ever written like I lost a lot of sanity writing this. FR one of the most fucked up things I’ve ever written. I hope it was worth it. ENJOY EVERYONE and even tho it came out late HAPPY HALLOWEEN

Ever since the murders over a week ago, everyone in town has been on edge. All including the individuals most closely involved.

You had lost three core members of your eight. 

Joshua, someone you’ve known since grade school who was sliced open from the back before being stabbed 8 times to the point of excessive bleeding. He had just gone out to walk his dog, the poor creature being the only reason they found his body at all. If not for the dog’s bloody paws, and the trail of blood they left behind finding help, Joshua’s cadaver would’ve lost deep in the woods.

And then Chan, your long-time boyfriend, was stabbed fifteen times in the chest. His face was so disfigured from obvious violence and what looked to be burn scars, that he was practically unrecognizable if not for the fact he died in his own home. Police are still looking for his severed arms and legs to this day with no luck.

And finally, Seungkwan, who hadn’t died but lost to the paranoia festering in his blood like a disease. That caused him to take the train to the furthest destination possible to attempt to escape death if at all possible, leaving the rest of you with only the reassuring texts he left in his wake.

All that was left was you, Seokmin, Seungcheol, Minghao, and Wonwoo; the core five.

“Okay, absolutely no one is leaving this house for the time being. Until the psycho is caught behind bars, dead, or whatever the fuck! We’re safe here.”

Seungcheol, the eldest, did just as expected: contacted the rest of you into a personal prison. Luckily, he was loaded. The prison happened to be six thousand square feet of space with countless rooms, amenities, and a housekeeper to boot. From the looks of it, it’s paradise, but it’s definitely a prison.

“Holy shit, you have an indoor basketball court?”

A prison with an indoor basketball court. And a pool apparently.

Seokmin wasted no time to enjoy these features, breaking out of his clothes and cannonballing in his underwear. If you knew any better, Seokmin didn’t even look like he went through any trauma at all. It looked like every other day for him.

“There's a murderer and you’re doing butterfly strokes?” You asked, baffled.

The golden man scoffed, reaching the edge of the pool and resting against it with his forearms. “What am I gonna do? Wallow, crying to my mom, worrying about dying, and not taking advantage of this gorgeous mansion we’re staying in?”

“Thank you, Seokmin,” Seungcheol grinned.

Seokmin winked back at him, “Of course, daddy.”

“How are you both so unserious about all this?”

Wonwoo left a kind hand against your shoulder, looking back at you with warm eyes and a small smile. “They’re grieving. Just in their own way.”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “They’re being ridiculous. We shouldn’t be here. We need to be at the police station or something.”

“You were there when I got the call. The creepy voice said no police or you all die. Remember?”

You shuddered, hands over your sides to relieve your chilled skin. “Of course I do, but we’re sitting ducks here. This isn’t any better. We need protection.”

It was Seungcheol’s turn to scoff then. He strutted in front of you, flaunting his wing span before flexing his arms and then crossing them over his chest. “Well, you have me.”

“And me,” Seokmin joined. “Pure muscle right here.”

“Maybe pure laughing gas, not sure about muscle. We’re actually living in a horror movie right now and you’re all making jokes.”

“Hey,” Wonwoo stroked your head as his soothingly deep voice serenaded you, “Don’t say that. We’ll make it out of here.”

His arms come around you, forearms pressed against your collarbones, and his chin crooked over your shoulder. “You have me too. I would run through that knife before it could get to you.”

You genuinely smile for the first time being there, your hand stroking over his embrace. Wonwoo delicately kissed the temple of your forehead, reminding you what it was like to be constantly adored.

You were grateful for what he had become in your life. Wonwoo had kept you company in your time of need. In the absence of Chan. He had come to your house with whatever he thought you might need, lent you his shoulder that you could cry on, lent his ears so that he could listen, lent his body that you could heal. In more ways than one.

“You’re right. You are.” You turned to face him, wrapping your arms around his body and meeting his eyes framed in specs of hard plastic. “You’re the first person I can sacrifice if we face them head to head.”

He mused at you. “Ooh, now look who’s pulling jokes.”

“Who said I was joking?”

“You two are disgustingly cute,” Minghao commented coming through the back door. “Horror movie rules: they get killed while having sex.”

You punched the new face right in the arm, watching him scurry away to your other friends laughing.

“Not funny, Hao.”

Minghao sneers at you, a jester smile still on his face. “Ease up, princess. Wonwoo, watch your girl.”

“Only because she’s so pretty to look at,” he briefly grinned down at you before directing his attention to Minghao sternly, “but come on. We’re all a little psyched right now. Cool it with the murder talk. Alright?”

Wonwoo pulled you aside into the dining area, ignoring the careless laughter outside. His thumb stroked against your knuckles, lips pressing sweetly against your cheeks. His grin sunk deeper in his cheeks the further he made it past your jaw and then down your neck. He felt your throat vibrate against his lips. “Wonwoo…”

“I can’t have all these guys get you heated like this. That’s my job,” he teased with a rasp.

You slightly pushed him off, your arms swung over his shoulders. “You’re so ridiculous right now.”

“Anything to put that smile on your face.”

His lips reconnected with your neck, nipping at your skin. His humming sent tingles down your spine, and he took your body to press you against the side of the counter. Your hands grasped his baggy shirt, lip close to his ear, fanning your breath against his face. You smiled like a girl in love. Obsessed.  “Daddy…”

“I love it when you call me that,” he mumbled, just as love-struck, if not more. Your giggles brought out the pink on Wonwoo’s ears and cheeks while tightening the groin of his pants. You noticed immediately, cupping it in your palm, and running your finger along the seam. Your eyes skimmed over his taken expression, leaning your full weight into him. “I know there’s something else you really love.”

“Do you now?”

You nodded, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. “But do you really want to do it here? Risk getting caught?”

He leaned into your touch, allowing your fingers to take apart his pants. “Try new things right? Like you always say. Plus you’re scared. Gonna turn that fear into pleasure. Make you feel good, just what my baby deserves.”

“You're so good to me, Daddy,” you moaned.

His hand finds the hem of your shorts, pulling them down to expose yourself to the cold air. He fingered through your panties and slid two digits through your folds. He felt your breath hitch as he squeezed your clit, eliciting your soft whines. “You’re so wet down there, baby.”

“Just waiting for daddy to fuck me where anyone can find us and watch.”

Wonwoo eagerly pulled down his pants, kicking them and yours aside, but not without pocketing your underwear. He lifted you up slightly from the ground, his exposed cock hitting at your hip. “Look what you do to me.”

Your throat went dry at the sight of him, hand aching to wrap your hand around his girth and have him shoved inside you.

He didn’t let you wait a second long, and pushed in slowly inch by inch, burying himself in your pussy until he was nearly balls deep. You grasped his shoulder in a gasp, savoring the fire burning in your stomach. The girth of his cock stretched your molten walls, allowing them to melt all around his cock as he spread your legs. You writhe in his embrace, your limbs closing around his lean and toned build, already blissful from the few seconds of him being inside you.

Wonwoo’s words kissed your lips, flushed your skin, and left a permanent smile on your face. It swelled pride in his chest, better than any physical trophy would have. His hips slowly rolled against yours, letting you adjust to his size. He massaged the flesh of your side through his fingers, mentally reassuring himself you were his and his alone, but his names on your lips became more than proof.

Your hips buckled towards him in heat, matching his pace before the carnal side of him decided to fuck you like an animal. His cock then plunged sharply inside you, and then again, a whimper coming out of your lips. Your hips stuttered the harder he pounded, arching your back, you felt his hand above your ass, pushing you against him.

“Daddy…”

He lost control when it came to you, addicted—religious—the second your body came in contact with his. He loved how your fingers ran through his hair, not caring how his glasses fell off his face in the process. With drool out of the corner of his lips, he could feel the blood rush up to the surface of your skin, making him feel warm at home inside you. Throbbing, he only got harder feeling how perfectly snug you were, pricking his clammy skin with goosebumps as he bottomed out.

“You’re sopping, precious,” he murmured with a sly grin.

He had you begging, flustered, and beautiful. Your hand clasped his face as your other arm looped around his neck, swallowing his lips, anxious and thirsty for his breath. You craved every part of him viscerally. “Cum in me, daddy. Please…”

He scoffed, lips ghosting over yours. “Will you take every bit of daddy’s cum, hmm? Hold my cum inside you.”

You nodded gingerly. “Yes, yes. I promise, daddy. Give it to me please, I want you to spill your cum inside me and make me yours…”

“Hold on to me.”

You obliged, met with the hot stream of his climax, yours quick to follow. He embraced your sides, devouring your lips and muffling your whines. His loads pumped into you in erratic thrusts, fucking his cum back into you and making sure you drained him of every ounce. His fingers dug into your flesh, feeling you just come apart for him, undoing the tension that festered earlier.

But that tension was needed. It was necessary to survive. Everyone let themselves forget the current predicament, basking in the glow of the sunset until dinner time arrived. Despite the housekeeper that supposedly exists, she hadn’t been around since all of you stepped foot in the house, like a ghost presence. Seungcheol scrambled to find her—reminding you of his peculiar obsession with the woman—as he wondered when dinner would be ready since a rise in temperature or a savory scent couldn’t be found in the kitchen.

“That’s strange. She’d be finished with a whole chicken by now,” the homeowner commented, noticeably picking his nails.

“Aww,” Seokmin groaned, “Well, is there anything else to eat?”

“I mean…you can look around.”

You narrowed your eyes at him in disbelief. “This is your house. You don’t know what you have in your own house?”

“You try navigating a five-story home with countless cabinets!”

“Buy a smaller house, you prick!”

“Guys!” Minghao chimed in. “Breathe in…and out. We’ll just find food. Seungcheol, your maid, your house, your search. She’s probably fine.”

Your hands slammed against those pristine marble counters. “We are NOT splitting up right now. This is what the killer wants. She’s probably already dead and we’re fucked.”

Wonwoo came to your side, laying a cool calm over your shoulder, and rubbed your sides. You let yourself melt in his touch, his sweet voice soothing you effectively. 

Seokmin sat up from his stool, “Okay, okay. I will help Seungcheol and you guys stick together.”

“That’s still splitting up!”

“Better than alone.” Seungcheol rebutted. “You guys stay.”

Despite your protests, they went on their search. Your head banged against Wonwoo’s chest, muttering in anguish about how everything was going wrong and that it’d only get worse. Meanwhile, Minghao seemed to regain some of that tension but masked the fear with the bright light of his phone, scrolling through TikTok. You didn’t know what was more annoying, sensation of imminent death possibly behind any door, or the same five songs replaying on Minghao’s feed.

After 15 minutes when they were nowhere to be seen, your patience had run thin. You picked yourself up from Wonwoo’s lap and dusted yourself off. “Fuck this. We’re finding them.”

You felt his hand on your shoulder, a concerned glow in his gaze. “Babe, hey. They’ve got it. Trust them.”

“Wonwoo, you know I can’t do that. Let’s just find them, hmm? Together?”

“Not a bad idea,” Minghao agreed. “Better in groups right? We go together, eliminate us as any potential suspects.”

Your boyfriend sighed, collected your hand, and laced his fingers through yours. “Fine.”

You were all joined together by the hip, making sure you were each other's sights. Through the wider than wingspan hallways, past the ridiculously expensive sculptures, you kept your eyes out for your estranged friends. Silence couldn’t have been more loud in these cavernous spaces, only hearing the gut feelings in your stomachs that’s churned in trepidation. Every step taken was the group closing in on the killer. 

Fortitude meant nothing if the danger was already inside.

Before turning around the corner, Minghao—reluctant to lead the group—crashed into a human-sized obstacle, causing the stumble of your entire party. You all faced a wide-eyed Seungcheol with the missing young housekeeper walking hand in hand with him. Suspicious, but besides the point.

“Holy shit, we said we’d come back!”

“It’s been 20 minutes, Cheol! You guys could’ve been dead for all we know.” You retorted.

“Wait, where’s Seokmin?” Wonwoo asked, noticing he didn’t see him nearby.

“He went ahead. He needed to piss or something and meet up later.”

“You idiot.” Your eyes burned a frustrated rage. “I said don't split up. DON’T SPLIT UP! That’s the number one rule of horror movies. You’re going get us fucking killed. He could be the murderer for all we know.”

Seungcheol scoffed, shaking his head. “Seokmin? No way. He’s the last person to even think to do that.”

“Well, do you see him? No! Probably he’s off someone being Ghostface reject with his stupid little voice modulator and cheap party city costume.”

“I told you—“ Before he could finish, his phone went off in the nick of time. When he pulled it out to saw Seokmin’s caller ID on display and the owner of the device wouldn’t help but smile. “See the bastard is even calling.”

He picked up and put him on speaker, eyeing you cheekily, amped to prove you wrong. “Seok, you little shit. How long does it take to piss, huh? Just say you wanted to take a dump.”

“Oh yeah, I took the shittiest, stinkiest, fattest dump. You could probably smell all the way from the other end of the hall.”

Instead of Seokmin on the other line, all of you were met with the eerie voice that had called you multiple times before. The voice that felt like spiders crawling up your legs. The voice that had you second guess whether you locked the front and the back door. The voice whose owner had killed countless people already. 

Seungcheol held the phone in a vice grip swallowing, fear stilling in his unsteady eyes. “You—Where the fuck is Seokmin, you son of a bitch?”

The morphed voice on the other end laughed, sounding bone chilling as nails against a blackboard. “What’s to say? Why don’t we play a little game to find out?”

“Mother fu—“You grabbed the phone from Seungcheol to answer in his place, cutting the older man off. “Why go through with this?”

“Why, I just want to help you find your beloved friend. All out of the kindness of my heart.”

“If it was all kindness, you could tell us where he is.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Psycho,” Minghao muttered under his breath, eyes wide in shock and fear, as if registering the idea of death for the first time.

“And if we refuse?” Wonwoo interjected.

“Seokmin dies, rock for brains,” Seungcheol gritted.

“Ding, ding, ding. Or should I say, chop, chop, chop, since that’s what'll happen if you get any of my questions wrong.”

You scoffed, coming down the stairs with your friends to follow. “Have at it then, you freak.”

“Hey, hey, play nice. Maybe I’ll get too excited and decide to cut him up early.”

Seungcheol glared at you briefly before taking back the phone, storming down the stairs, and reaching the ground floor. “Ask away, as long as Seokmin is safe.”

“First an easy one. What’s your favorite scary movie, Seungcheol?”

His feet stopped at the end of the couch in his living room, stammering to answer. “What kind of fucking question—uh, The Ring?”

“Don’t lie to your friends, Seungcheol. You know that’s not the answer, that’s just what you say to anyone that asks. Say the real answer.”

“That’s the movie though!” he started to shout, visibly shaking.

“Just say it, Cheol!” Minghao pushed.

“Stop playing around Choi Seungcheol! Just say it,” You joined.

“Fine!” He faced the friends, evidently swallowing his pride as he choked up on his answer. “I never watched a goddamn scary movie! Is that what you want to hear? I get panic attacks every time I hear one in the background, why do you I’m always going off smoking when you guys put one on,” he confessed through his tears.

“Congratulations. Your first right answer. Now was that so hard? Pussy boy?”

“Fuck you,” Seungcheol sputtered, tossing the phone back to you.

“Next question. ‘The Texas Chainsaw Massacre,’ Leatherface is known for wearing a mask when it was in fact several. How many and what were they in the original movie?”

“Who the fuck would know an answer like that?” Minghao croaked in disbelief.

“Three. A ‘Killing Mask’, an ‘Old Lady Mask’ and a ‘Pretty Woman Mask.’” Wonwoo calmly answers, garnering horrified looks all around. “I wanted to be a filmmaker, remember?”

“Correct. Next question. What Was Freddy Krueger's serial killer nickname before he died?”

“It’s on the tip of my tongue,” you said slightly panicked, “Wonwoo?”

“The Springwood slasher.”

“Wow, Another amazingly correct answer. Hold on to that one, Y/n. He’s a keeper. He’s smart and fucks your brains out to the point of you screaming bloody murder? What a catch.”

You didn’t respond, impatience seething on the tip of your tongue, “Just tell us where this is all going.”

“Patience, sweetheart. Last question. What exact kind of knife does Ghostface use in the Stab movies? Here’s a hint: it’s the same one I’m holding in my hand against Seokmin’s throat. (Help me please...)”

“S-Seok.” Seungcheol gasped.

Seokmin’s voice could barely be heard on the other end, weak and afraid, only staggering breaths audible.

“Wonwoo, please,” Seungcheol begged, tears falling past his neck. “He’s our best friend.”

Wonwoo swallowed, gears visibly creaking in his head, “I know he uses a hunting knife, b-but—“

“Oh…” the voice cooed, “Well, that’s just not enough, is it? Seokminnie, say goodbye to your friends (Please, no…).”

“Seokmin!”

“Wait!” You barged, clutching the phone to the point of it almost bending. “A modified Buck 120. I remember now. It’s coming back to me. Now, let Seokmin go!”

The line went dead and in turn, light cast in the evening darkness of the poolside. All your eyes shot back at the change of light, startled at the sight in front of them. Seokmin was seated in a chair, bruises against his sides, bleeding from the splices on his forearms, and duct tape over his mouth. Yet the most frightening part was his closed eyes.

“Seokmin!”

You all rushed towards him, swinging the porch door in a panic. Seungcheol tried slapping him awake, pleading he’d be alive. “Seokmin please, please, wake up…

The poor victim's eyes start to flicker open, mumbling through the adhesive over his lips.

“Buddy,” Seungcheol ripped the duct tape clean off him, his ear coming up to his friend’s lips. “Speak to me…”

Seokmin’s voice came out in croaks, hardly incoherently, all except, “Be…hind…”

Minghao spat up blood, doubled over as Ghostface was revealed right behind him, and fell right into the pool. You and the housekeeper both let out a blood-curdling scream. The masked intruder wiped off the blood using his black rope, anticipating a lunge towards their next victim. 

“Run,” Wonwoo breathed out. 

He took your hand and ran with it. Taking a second to look back, you see Seungcheol and the housekeeper try to escape similarly before she was tugged right back towards the killer and she was stabbed right in front of him five times, each one faster than the last, having the poor Seungcheol paralyzed and fallen on his knees. The sounds of suffering were loud enough to hear throughout the neighborhood.

Wonwoo dragged you back upstairs, his survival instinct telling him to seek haven high and far up the house. 

“You left them there to die,” You proclaimed.

“He said he could manage it. You’re more important.”

“You actually believe that? Ghostface snuck up on Minghao with neither of us looking!”

“We’re going to have to. Secungcheol can handle himself.”

Finally, he finds the room, closing the door behind him and pushing heavy furniture in front of it for more time to stall. “We’ll be ok for a little bit here. Let’s look for weapons.”

He started rummaging through drawers, looking for anything strap, blunt, heavy, anything worth using. He was red in the face, sweat drenching his entire body. The only thing running through his mind was keeping you, the most important person in his life, safe. 

“Wonwoo, I don’t know if we’re going to find anything. Fuck. I’m so scared right now.”

He recognized the panic in your eyes, the bounce in your step, and the quiver in your voice. “Hey, hey, baby. Look at me.” He grasped your face in his hands, wiping your tears away with his thumb. 

“I’m here, hmm.” He kissed your closed eyes. “You’re alright.”

Then your tempered cheeks. “We’ll get through this.”

The tip of your nose. “I love you like hell.” 

Finally your trembling lips. “I’ll keep you alive.”

“Promise?” You managed to breathe out.

“Scouts honor.”

The banging resonated from outside the locked door, only getting louder and closer every passing second as if teasing you to death. You shook in Wonwoo’s embrace, burying your face in his chest. “I don’t want to die here, baby.”

“You won’t. Not with me.” One arm wrapped around your body, and another had his fingers locked around the base of a lamp, tugging it from the outlet. Pitch darkness joined you, only having to rely on the dim-lit sky through the peek of the windows.

Whomever on the other side cracked through the wood of the door, breaking it piece by piece as it fell to the ground, knocking over the dresser that blocked 

“Shit, shit, shit.” Wonwoo pushed you behind him.

Finally, your barrier came down with a final kick, rendering it useless. Wonwoo let out a battle cry, charging at them with the lamp above his head. He swung his weapon while Ghostface swung theirs, both missing simultaneously. Gritting his teeth, Wonwoo pulled forward, aiming for the head.

They crash against the wall in the process, but not without mutilating the midsection of Wonwoo’s stomach. The visually impaired man fell back to the ground, groaning in agony as he clutched his stomach, while blood trickled through his fingers. “Mother fucker...”

Wonwoo’s vision started to fight against him with the loss of his glasses, dimming images before him, and slowly processing the murderous figure trodding before him. Wonwoo’s determination picked him right back up slowly, picking up his lamp once again, trying to take another move toward the perpetrator. And by pure luck, the lamp crashed against the crown of their head.

Ghostface stumbled back, quick to recover but visibly agitated.  Soon enough, they plunged the full length of the knife right into Wonwoo’s gut, sticking it deep and long before kicking him off of it. Wonwoo lands on the hardwood, blood gushing out of him like a public water fountain. “Fuck, fuck!”

“Wonwoo!” You come by his side, clutching at his wound desperately. “No, no, no.”

The sinister figure approached once more, hand creeping against the edge before he pulled it over and off his head. His eyes stared back at you both maniacally. His grin stretched from both ends freakishly before overtaking in deep chuckles. “Happy to see me?”

“…C-Chan?” Wonwoo managed to gasp.

“Hi, bestie.” His signature smile, once warm and inviting, reflected horrifyingly as if out of a film, one with too much bloodshed and betrayal to imagine. “Well, didn’t think you’d see me again, huh?”

“Chan, what the fuck?” You screeched. 

“You’re supposed to be dead.” Wonwoo voiced panic-stricken. “What, how?”

One foot over the other, Chan carried himself with conviction, ease, and the confidence of a man who slaughtered countless amounts of people. 

“You guys don't know how easy it is to fake my death. I was surprised by how incredibly stupid police officers are. Find a body that’s my height, my build, cut off their hands and arms to not get their fingerprints, singe their skin and face to the point of unrecognition, and plant them in your own home. I’m a fucking genius.”

“S-Seungkwan,” Wonwoo wept, his adam’s apple, “You actually—”

“It was beautiful. Masterful.”

“Why?” Wonwoo stammered. “Your best friend—“

“He was an imbecile. Weak. All bark and no bite. You will never understand how good it felt to stick the knife inside him and watch the blood burst off of him like a sprinkler. Like the knife going in and out of him surged power throughout my entire body. So, I kept doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. AND DOING IT.”

His smile. That violating smile.

You sobbed, covering Wonwoo’s wound with your hands. “Y-you monster.”

“This was all just fun for you?” Wonwoo bared his teeth. “You get your kicks from lying, deceiving, stabbing your friends? You think you’re some Billy Loomis?”

“Of course I have fun. I had lots of fun. We had so much fucking fun.”

“We?” Wonwoo repeated.

“What the fuck do you mean we?” You asked horrified.

Chan started to chuckle to himself, chest heaving exuberantly before he stood completely still. Dreadfully still. 

“Well, I'm not the one that killed Joshua, am I?”

A million guesses ran through Wonwoo’s brain. None made sense the more he thought about it. “Your Stu Macher? Seokmin…Seungcheol…?”

Your eyes turned to him fearful, before it melted into something else, something familiar. Something terrifying. “No…” your lips drew close to his ear. “Me…” 

Your hands squeezed around his wound, gripping, earning his moans of anguish, screaming at you to stop, before you retrieved the knife hidden behind your boot and drove it into his shoulder. Wonwoo let out the loudest scream he could ever muster, feeling the blade sharply cut his nerve whilst pain shot into his chest. He tapped his heel incessantly on the ground, tears streaming from his eyes, looking at you in disbelief, overcome with hurt.

“And he was a good fuck too until the knife I put through his back made him scream like a little bitch.”

You pulled out the knife from him, seeing how the pain he felt in his body only complimented the suffering pooling in his heart, his mind, his soul. His lips quivered in your direction, sucking in his breath. “Y/n…Why?”

You simply shrugged. “Why does anyone kill these days? They’re bored, daddy. Same reason why things can change in the bedroom, to spice things up. The flavor of life is murder now, darling.”

“You’re killing people.”

You drove the knife one more time into his thigh, savoring his scream of agony. “And we’re more alive than we ever have been,” you said, twisting the knife before pulling it out.

You walked toward Chan, helping him pull off his robe. “And so is our sex life.”

“So, Junhui, Soonyoung…Joshua, and even Seungkwan.” Wonwoo asked, catching his breath.

“Every. single. one,” You chuckled. “Draining their cum out of like having a second puberty until life is literally drained out of their bodies. What a bunch of pussy boys. So obsessed with sex, they didn’t see the knife coming their way.”

Your hand reached for the ottoman and pushed Chan there to be seated, underdressed in the black tank top and black jeans he hid underneath with his momentarily abandoned bloody knife at his side. You unbuckled his pants single-handedly, your knife still in your other hand. “And Chan just gets so fucking hard with all the bloodshed. Like a bloodthirsty animal.”

“You just look so fucking sexy with blood on your hands,” Chan moaned, “Touch me how I like it, baby.”

“Mmh, my pleasure.” Your hand used the blood covering it as a morbid form of lube, closing around the girth of his cock to squeeze and lightly stroking it from base to tip, softly thumbing over the small slit on top. 

His stomach flexed, bucking his hips in your direction as he bit down on his bottom lip, beaming like a child on Christmas. Horny for your touch, Chan couldn’t help but squirm in his seat, warning up to your touch. He was absolutely growing at a rapid pace. “Like that baby, like that.”

“That feel good, daddy? You like how the blood is covering your entire cock? Seokmin’s blood, Minghao’s blood, Seungcheol’s blood? Wonwoo’s blood?”

“Fuck. Yes.”

“You two,” Wonwoo’s shock couldn’t stagger from the scene in front of him, unable to process all this information at once.

“You’re massaging our friends into my cock so good, baby.”

“Yeah?” You traced your fingers over the details of his shaft, your nails prodding at the veins as your hand slowly picked up pace. You rolled him in your fist, letting him rut in your defiled hand as he moaned your name like an animal in heat. “I’m getting so wet watching fuck in my hand covered in blood. You’re just a sick lunatic obsessed with killing your friends and fucking my sweet pussy. I love that about you, Daddy.”

“Fuck,” he screamed, hands gripping the ottoman in restraint, brimming with passion, “Wanna mix Wonwoo’s cum you kept inside you with the blood. Sit that sweet pussy on my cock for me, lover.”

You nodded invitingly, not missing a beat. You never did replace the underwear from before, making it easy to remove your shorts and sliding him inside your warm walls, massaging his length as you rolled your hips against his. You held the knife you still had in a death grip, stabling against the reliability of Chan’s shoulders. You mumble his name pleased, arching your back as you grinded down on his lap. “Your cock feels so good covered in blood, daddy.” 

“Your pussy feels even better knowing how much fun you had stabbing Wonwoo for me.”

“Of course, daddy.” You turned to the body mutilated and defenseless on the ground, grinning as Wonwoo was forced to watch. “That look good, Daddy Wonwoo?” Your ass bounced purposely in Chan’s lap, the jiggle showing off the splatter of blood left from the handjob.

Everything in Wonwoo told him to look away but he couldn’t, like a train wreck or a car crash, he couldn’t part with the mess of a situation he was witnessing. He wasn't sure what this meant for him, mentally nor physically.

“You like watching Chan fuck me, Daddy? His bloody dirty cock fucking me like you did a hour ago, fucking me like a nasty little whore.”

He hissed through his teeth, right the strange feeling surging in his pain-stricken body, “Shut…the fuck up.”

You laughed obnoxiously. “You love it. You love being a little cuck, watching other guys fuck my pussy. As if you hadn’t peeped on me and Chan fucking when he wasn’t ‘dead’.”

“It’s not true, you bitch.” The twitch in his trousers told him otherwise.

“You’re such a liar a dirty, dirty liar like I’m a dirty, dirty fucking whore.” You groaned loudly taking Chan’s cock, bouncing against his lap as you felt him pulse around your walls.

“That’s right baby take my cock.” Chan’s hand came over your bare cheeks, striking them with his full palms while his hips jerked up your body. “Taking the murder fueled, hard fucking cock.”

“Daddy, your cock is making me so fucking wet, stretching my pussy the way you sliced open our friends,” You growled.

“Fuck you’re such a little succubus, baby. Bouncing on my cock, coating yourself in blood. And I’ll kill more and more for you. I’ll do anything for you.”

“Yeah,” You began slowing your pace, drinking in his every word. “You’d do anything for me?”

“I’d kill the entire human population for you.”

That left you smiling from ear to ear, the tension coiling in your stomach. Your chest pressed against his, pushing against his thrusts. “Yeah? Would you cum in me, Daddy? Mix our dirty mess inside me. Let me take your cum, daddy.”

“I’ll let you drain me of every drop, my little psychopath.”

“Cum daddy cum, make me full and breed me with our homicidal baby daddy. Make you a real daddy.”

Chan shuddered, overwhelmed with immense arousal. His hips found life of their own, hammering into you at top speed, and watching the pleasure morph on your face and the staccato rhythm of your breath leave your lips, all while the load threatened to burst out of his sack. “I’m cumming, baby, all for you, ah—“ then it exploded inside you. His cum launched out of his cock like a hose, he painted your wall in milky white, turning pink as it seeped out of you.

“I’m so close, daddy…”

Chan threw his head back to catch his breath, hands possessively finding purchases on your hips. “That’s it, baby. cum for daddy.”

“I’m cuming daddy, I’m—“ You gripped your knife, taking Chan’s abandoned one before plunging both in his head. His smile dropped, a small and weak, “baby” leaving his sweet lips before spitting up blood on your chest and he fell limp. 

You didn’t stop, however, given the fact that your orgasm had just arrived the mere second Chan tasted metal in his mouth. Your moans could’ve been mistaken for anguish if not for the smile on your savage face. “I’m cumming all over your cock, Daddy, fuck! You’re so good to me, you do so much for me. I love you so much. Hitting my spot even in death.”

The wave of climax finally started to fade, unlike your smile, wretched and demonic. “Thank you for your sacrifice, Daddy. I’ll miss you so much.” You kissed deceased Chan’s lips, coming down from him, and fixing his pants before fixing his pants before pulling your shorts back on your body.

“Y/n…what the fuck?”

Watching you pull the knives out of Chan’s head, Wonwoo's expression was a mix of confusion and horror, struggling to back away as you approached him calmly, almost serenely.

“Chan has served his purpose,” You answered plainly as if obvious. “It was his time.”

“You did that, all that, with him, and you MURDER HIM? Your partner in sick, sick psychotic crime?”

“I told you spice was necessary, plus I’ve grown rather fond of you.” You bent down to his level, eyes noticeably just a deep pit of disparity. “I couldn’t let him kill you, so I beat him to it. Good thing too, because that was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

Wonwoo whimpered under your touch—well, the knife’s touch—as the tip of it dragged over his jaw, drawing out a shudder. “Y-you’re letting me live?”

Your smile. That damned smile. You and Chan were mere reflections of each other. How had he not seen this sick image sooner?

“As long as it's with me, because you love me right? That’s what you said. You’ll always love me and keep me alive. You promised.”

You pressed the blade against his neck, “You’re cold-blooded. Fucking your dead friend’s girlfriend, leaving your other friends to die to save me, and taking on a mass murderer just for me.” Your other hand caressed over his face. “That’s hard fucking core, baby. I love that so much. You really love and want me. Well, I want you just as bad.”

“Like you wanted Chan?”

You scoffed, using the knife to point at the abandoned soulless body on the ground. “Chan was disposable. He was already fucked up in the brain. I can nurture you, let you prove you’re that you’re mine and only mine. Then I’d have no reason to kill you. Not at all…say you’ll be with me forever.”

“…yes, sweetie. O-of course I will.”

You sighed a breath of relief, your harmless hand coming over to stroke over the stray hairs on his head. “That’s my daddy. My one and only. We can be the finals. Together. Only us—”

“Hello! Wonwoo! Y/n!” Miraculously, Seungcheol found their way to you, barely alive it sounds like.

Rage filled your eyes. “Holy fuck how is he still alive,” you mumbled under your breath. “I’ll take care of him.”

You held the knife to your side, standing by the door and away from its open view. “Cheol! In here! We caught the killer!”

Seungcheol managed to find the defaced door, peeking through the rubble to see a disheveled Wonwoo, panting and close to death. “Wonwoo!”

“Cheol…” Wonwoo grunted. 

“Hang in there, buddy. I’ve got you.”

“To…your…right.”

You glared at Wonwoo, betrayal in your eyes before launching yourself at the hero, who hardly had a scratch on their body. Seungcheol, taking his friend's warning in consideration, built up a wall of defense. His eyes caught you just in time and held up your arms, pinning you against a wall. His eyes finally registered on your face, and his grip on you only tightened. “Y/n, you evil little bitch.”

You chuckled tauntingly, struggling against his weight and strength. “Hi, Cheol. I know you always wanted to stick something in me, mind letting me do it first?”

“You—wow, you’re actually mentally deranged.”

“You don’t like that? Maybe my knife through your skull can change your mind.”

He kicked you in the groin, having you plummet to your knees, cusses streaming out of you like a river. “You pussy. Ass. Bitch.”

“Seungcheol,” Wonwoo groaned, painfully cheering him on.

You managed to kick Seungcheol down in your distress, crawling on top of him to gain leverage. “I know you liked to be topped.”

You held the knife, hands wrapped tightly around the handle before striking. Meanwhile, Seungcheol’s hands were wrapped around your wrists, the tip of the knife tickling his nose. Sweat beaded against his forehead, struggling harder than he thought he would as you smiled still.

“This would be a lot sexier if you let me run my knife inside you, baby.”

“Fuck you and your demented punk ass,” he grunted.

“I would if you’d just FUCKING DIE!”

A gunshot follows soon after and the blood gushed from your neck, pouring from both ends and falling lifelessly against Seungcheol, who let out a shrill scream.

“I found a gun,” Seokmin proclaimed weakly from the door before fainting to the ground.

Seungcheol rolled your body off of him, sick to his stomach. “Sick crazy bitch.”

He looked towards his friend who remained helpless his entire journey before his eyes got caught on the dead body he only realized now. “Is that…”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo whispered.

“And they…”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck, dude.”

Seungcheol went around to pick up Seokmin from the ground, grabbing the gun. Meanwhile, Wonwoo’s eyes lingered over your body, in disbelief it was alive a mere second ago, then he saw something strange, causing his eyes to fly open. “Cheol behind you!”

Another gunshot. Right between your eyes and your body that stood for hardly a second longer than it should’ve—of course with the knife still in your hand—fell right back on the ground.

“They always come back,” Wonwoo quoted.

Seungcheol let out a deep exhale, loosening his grip around the gun. “And aim for the head.”

“Sorry about your house.”

“…sorry about your girlfriend.”

“Me too.”

post reading a/n: always like me to insert chan into anything fr. i have no excuses

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @homerunhansol @goblinvern @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @smileysuh (felt fucked up not to tag you bc you’re fucked it just like me 💕)

[takamiwife]

more hawks x elementary teacher?

maybe like.. pre-relationship where he sees the reader with the kids and it pushes him to support the class for the kids and to get closer to you?

your wish is my command 🧞‍♀️✨ this one is in more fanfic-format. i hope this lives up to what you hoped!! if you want, i can totally write more hc’s for it. i just had a fic in mind for this particular request

part two of keigo x elementary teacher y/n <3

(also, part two of first time w keigo coming soon! but i saw this in my inbox and didn’t want to forget about it <3)

keigo never believed in that “love at first sight” bullshit. really, he didn’t believe in love in general. at this point, he had accepted that he was destined to live alone, for better or for worse

on his short break, as he drank his ice cold canned coffee while perched on a rooftop, his eyes drifted to the elementary school across the street

it was a beautiful, warm spring day, the cherry blossoms that lined the streets had just bloomed and it promised a beautiful summer to follow

just as he was about to look away, his eyes landed on a young woman standing on the blacktop, the wind causing her red floral skirt to ruffle and flitter, her top half clad in a white short sleeve shirt with a black corduroy vest over it. her hair sat perfectly, and as she looked at the kids on the playground and smiled, keigo suddenly wondered if he was having a heart attack

his face was flushed and his heart started beating out of his chest he could barely hear his own thoughts over the sound of the blood pumping

shit

shit

shit

she was gorgeous

and just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse for him, a girl fell on the blacktop, scraping her knee. as the girl began to cry, this angel of a woman who he cursed himself for not having the pleasure of laying his eyes on sooner instantly rushed over, sitting on her knees as she scooped the girl into her arms, comforting her and patting her hair

fuck, he had to meet her

would it be creepy to just.. fly over and say hi?

yes? no? maybe?

fuck, he couldn’t think straight, this was driving him insane

luckily for keigo, an answer from the gods was provided. he noticed a little boy began to climb a particularly high tree, reaching for a flower on a branch he could barely reach

as soon as his foot slipped, keigo was already rushing into action, catching the boy mid-air before a single tear could fall

“hey there, you alright buddy?” keigo asked with a charming smile

the young boy immediately nodded, smiling

“you’re the best hawks!” he grinned ear to ear as he brought the both of them to the ground

“sota!” the angel woman called, running over, a few other kids in tow. “what have i told you about climbing that tree? it’s dangerous!” she scolded the young boy, more out of fear than anger

“no, it’s okay miss l/n! mr. hawks was here to catch me!” he pointed to the man that stood behind him, all but dumbstruck at being able to see this woman up close

“well,” she rose up, smiling kindly at keigo (something that almost sent him into cardiac arrest, might i add) “that was very nice of mr. hawks, but he’s not always going to be there to save you, you have to be more careful. did you say thank you?”

keigo was able to snap out of it, keeping his cool demeanor

“ah, there’s no need to thank me,” keigo said nonchalantly. “just doin’ my job is all.”

oh god, he was cute up close

like, really cute

you couldn’t help but fix your hair in some way, clearing your throat

“and i believe this is what he was trying to grab for you.” keigo pulled out the small pink flower he had held behind his back; something he grabbed in a split second whilst grabbing the boy

you reached out, taking the flower from his gloved hand, the both of you leaving your hands out for just a little longer than you should

“well.. thank you, this was very sweet. but sota, you have to know better,” you picked the small boy up, holding him on your hip. “and hawks.. thank you, again. it would’ve been a lot of paperwork.” you joke, squeezing sota’s cheek, still holding the flower in your other hand

keigo, never having been in this situation before, rolled on his heels for a moment. though he didn’t want to leave, he didn’t want to overstay his welcome either, but it’s not like he could just ask you out in front of all these kids-

“mr. hawks?” a girl tugged on his pants. “can you stay and play for a while?”

“yui,” you look down at the girl. “mr. hawks is a busy man, he can’t just-“

“of course i can!” he quickly replied, taking you a bit by surprise

“well.. alright, but don’t make him feel bad if he has to leave! he has lots of other kids to save from falling out of trees.” you joke, glancing at him

and believe me when i say that he played with those kids until they were absolutely tuckered out. like, walking back inside for nap time, they looked like zombies. but it’s not their fault they were going toe to toe with the fastest hero in japan. but despite his competitive nature, he let them win every single game

as your coworker filed them inside, you stood beside him, laughing softly

“thank you for playing with them, really. it meant a lot to them.”

“well, i couldn’t say no to those little faces. you’ve got some good kids. what’s your secret? most kids their age i see don’t listen to anyone.”

he looked at you as you tilted your head, thinking about it for a moment, biting your bottom lip in thought

“you have to listen to them first. they’re a lot smarter than we think, y’know? you have to give them as much care and understanding as you would an adult.”

as you explained, keigo began to wonder if this whole “love at first sight” thing really wasn’t a scam after all. well, okay, it wasn’t necessarily at “first sight” anymore, but he had known you for less than an hour, so it had to have counted

“yea, i understand,” keigo breathed out. “…the world needs more people like you.” truth be told, he wished that he had known you when you two were kids. you must have always been this kind.

“no, the world needs more people like you,” you corrected him. “not enough people are willing to just… let themselves be kids again and have fun for a while. i think there’d be a lot less problems in the world if that were true.”

before keigo could speak, he realized that his phone was buzzing in his pocket, and as he answered, he got an earful about how he didn’t answer his phone and missed someone getting robbed. he of course had to lie and say he was caught up with another problem, but he was needed back at the agency immediately. so you two bid goodbye, and you expected never to see him again

keigo, on the other hand, wouldn’t let that happen. part of him expected his feelings to be a fluke or to go away, but it was quite the opposite. they only grew stronger everyday. and so he kept coming back day after day, playing with the kids during recess, and while he did enjoy playing with them, he always looked forward to talking to you. it was his favorite part of the day, but it made him dread the weekends since he wouldn’t get to see you. as spring moved on, the two of you grew closer, just as keigo had done with your whole class

“look what mio made during art today,” you pull out a picture from your pocket, a crude crayon drawing of the two of you holding hands with a heart above your heads. “isn’t it adorable?”

you two couldn’t help but laugh, because honestly, it looked just like you guys.

“that’s so adorable.” keigo said as he took a picture on his phone. “i’ve never had fanart this flattering.”

“they ask about you everyday, to make sure you’re coming to recess,” you say as you fold the picture back up. “why do you care about them so much anyways?” as soon as the words come out of your mouth, you immediately backtrack. “shit, that came out so, so wrong,” you can’t help but laugh. “i didn’t mean it like that, just-“

“no, no, i completely get it,” keigo assures you. “truth be told, it’s just.. nice. i see things that most people wouldn’t be able to handle on the daily, and everyone’s always talking my ear off about how i should do something better or faster, so it’s just nice to get a break, see the world through a different lens,” the words caught in keigos throat, and as he debated if he should say it, they just spilled out. “and i like talking to you.”

“i like talking to you too, hawks.” you tried to keep your usual demeanor, but on the inside, you swore your brain and heart just simultaneously exploded. what, did you think this was some one sided thing? i hate to break this to you, but you had fallen for him just as hard as he did for you. admittedly you stepped up your outfit game, always making sure your hair was done in the morning now. you loved the way he was with the kids, but you loved the talks the two of you shared even more

keigo had been thinking about how he would ask you out for- well, since the day he first saw you, but he could never find the proper time or the courage to do it. yea, yea, make fun of him all you want. the man has no game with women, despite what every piece of media has you believe. but he couldn’t handle it anymore. gazing at you from across the playground, seeing you in every beautiful thing he found, thinking of you at night so he couldn’t fall asleep or thinking of you to fall asleep, it was driving him insane

at least if you rejected him now he could learn to get over it, one way or another

“could we… talk more over.. over dinner, or something? anything, anything at all.” he sputtered out. ouch, rough one buddy.

“hawks?” you asked, leaning toward him. “are you asking me on a date?” you tried to keep your smile at a normal level, but it was admittedly hard.

“yes, i am. if you’d like to, of course.”

“yes! yes, i-i would,” you let your excitement get the better of you for a moment as you tried to regain your composure. ah, nothing better than two idiots in love. “can i um- get your phone so i can-“

“phone.. phone! yes, phone, right, i have one of those,” he fished into his pocket, grabbing his phone to unlock it and hand it to you to put your number in. you handed it back to him, this time the both of you letting your hands linger longer than they should without worry. “well, i should get going. might be missing another robbery. i’ll call you- text you, i’ll text you, and we’ll um, we’ll figure something out, okay?”

“uh-huh..” you nodded, watching breathlessly as always as his wings spread and he gave them a few beats as he rose into the air. “see you soon, hawks.”

“see you soon, y/n.”

as you watched him fly away, you couldn’t help but have a good feeling about your upcoming date. it would be different than all of the others, you could feel it. but when you turned to go back into the school, you saw your entire class with their tiny faces pressed against the windows, assumingely having watched the entire exchange. even knowing that now it would be impossible to get them to nap or really do anything for the rest of the day, you couldn’t help but feel like you were on cloud nine