#to the people following her not the lunatics

[brunosaderogatory]

Hello.

So... What do you think of Daniela and/or Lorenzo?

Hello, and oh buddy don't get me STARTED /ref

Honestly, I do not know where to begin with these two. I love them. I hate them. I want to keep them in a controlled environment so I could conduct a study of them with a little microscope and also squeeze them until their eyeballs pop out as if they were a pair of Panic Petes. In other words, I like them a lot as characters in a narrative and characters in a world. My opinion of them as people differs from minute to minute, but that is because they reflect the morally ambiguous, and sometimes outright cruel--but equally often loving--world in which they exist.

That being said:

At first, Lorenzo seems to be a very two-dimensional character. He's just a goofy dad who is more concerned with his avocations than he is with his son or wife, a painfully overdone trope in the world of children's cinema, but a few key details (and a bit of useful input from Enrico Casarosa) reveal something more.

For starters, Lorenzo is a lot like Luca. Rather, he is Luca---or who Luca could have very easily become. Lorenzo is meek and lets his wife take the reigns when the situation gets tough. Lorenzo is often off in his own little world, not paying much attention to anything but his own interests and inclinations. Lorenzo is kind-hearted and seems to want change, but is too burdened by his own anxieties or past failures to work up the courage again. And, I do say "again" because the search for his son was not the first time Lorenzo was on the surface.

His older brother (and possibly twin) Ugo was not the only one in their family to have explored the surface world before; Lorenzo was, most likely, right along beside him. Now, we don't know what exactly happened that resulted in Lorenzo's parents sending Ugo to the deep nor Lorenzo to stop trying to get a taste of the human way of life, but Ugo was sent. And Lorenzo did stop. However, it is unlikely that any tragic event took place. Rather, I believe the conclusion to Lorenzo's explorations happened out of conformity to the rules and traditions of his culture because Lorenzo never once spoke ill of humans.

Daniela calls them bloodthirsty lunatics. She insists that Luca has a death wish, and, very explicitly, she insinuates that he will die trying to hang with the humans. On the other hand, Lorenzo only gawks at his son's audacity and tenacity. Lorenzo even tries to reel in Daniela as she threatens Luca with a trip to the deep, but, of course, it is a fruitless attempt because he is meek. He does not have his son's tenacity nor his audacity---those traits were derived from Daniela alone. And this impotence serves as his most abhorrent attribute.

No, he's not doing anything wrong, but he's being a willful bystander. He's compliant with the evils, and, when it gets down to it, he backs them up! He makes no decision for himself, but when he does, he either chickens out of it at the last minute or doesn't know how to bounce back from a failure. Despite being fully aware of what the deep sea can do to a person--despite very likely disagreeing with his wife--he allows her to almost put their son, his son, in a situation that will inevitably, undeniably, deform (translucent skin, eroded teeth, discolored eyes, discolored fins) and disable (cardiovascular issues) him with time.

I'm glad he changed his side for the brighter half in the end, but I didn't see any actual change happen. He's still following his wife around from the looks of it, and that isn't what's needed for him to grow as a person and as a character. Although he's a three-dimensional character that appears to have only two, he's a static character that's been played off as a dynamic for far too long. He was a meek follower in the beginning, and he was a meek follower in the end. The only reason he came onto the good side of things is that the person he was following changed paths, and that isn't enough for me to truly like him (but it sure as hell does give me a lot to work with as a fanfic author, so thank you, Luca crew!).

Now, Daniela. When I think of Daniela, I think of a girl that (for lack of a better metaphor) was raised in a church who could have very well turned out queer, but due to the teachings she was fed---and possibly a very messy lesbian breakup---turned into a very, very hateful woman who, years down the line, rediscovered her bisexuality after the boy she was raising to be a goody-two-shoes, god-fearing, church-going fellow come out to her as vivaciously gay. That is to say, if it wasn't for Massimo, Daniela would be the most dynamic character in the movie. And if it weren't for Alberto, Daniela would be the most complex character in the movie. This is because, like her husband, Daniela tried out the surface life before, but unlike her husband, Daniela is a cruel, unjust force actively working to destroy her son's hopes and happiness at whatever cost necessary--even if it means her son's mental, social, and physical wellbeing. However, the force is derived of only love, fear, and care.

Just as it was in Lorenzo's case, but now far more severe, we lack explicit information about Daniela's past. All we have are the behaviors and beliefs displayed in the movie and information graciously given to us by Enrico Casarosa. These behaviors, beliefs, and Casarosa-given information are: having previously been to the human world; calling humans "bloodthirsty lunatics"; believing humans only go out on the waters for murder; understanding the motions made with a harpoon; attempting to send Luca to the Deep; waiting for Ugo to arrive rather than confronting Luca when she first notices his whereabouts; helicopter-parenting her son; being aware of Luca's interest in the surface/dissatisfaction with the sea; ensuring that Luca stays "safer than safe" while still letting him run off to Genova.

Given these, we can begin to piece together the picture: In her youth, Daniela adventured up to the surface and explored the human way of life, but something went wrong. She was caught in some dangerous situation that likely involved harpoons, or she bore witness to the same thing Luca did as he walked into Portorosso---the statues, the wanted posters, the carvings, the propaganda strewn about, adorning every angle of the town. Regardless, she became terribly fearful of humans and never returned to the surface again.

Unlike Lorenzo, Daniela is not simply abiding by the rules and traditions of their underwater society. Her evasion of humans is born of a completely justifiable fear. Humans hunted sea monsters. Humans put up wanted posters worth $4.5k in today's money for sea monsters captured, dead or alive, and fishermen armed with harpoons lined the waters for a children's race. I feel this is an often forgotten fact when the topic of Daniela's control over Luca comes up: Luca was in real, mortal danger going into Portorosso. Daniela might have been wrong to send Luca to the Deep, but from there, it becomes a discussion of which is worse: possible disability or possible death. Such a discourse grows even more complex when you call to mind that Daniela might not have even been aware of the physical and physiological changes the Deep has on a sea monster before Ugo's arrival.

Daniela's attempted actions are cruel, no doubt, but they are not at all unwarranted. She wants Luca, who she adores and deeply cares for, to be as safe as possible. If she has to be the bad guy to keep her son alive, then she will be the bad guy.

However, Daniela does not stay the bad guy. When she realizes Luca is safe in Portorosso (rather, when Portorosso becomes safe for Luca), she becomes open to the possibility of allowing him to continue living on the surface. She even, after a bit of convincing from Alberto and Libera, allows him to attend school in Genova for nine months out of the school year. At the end of the movie, she is assured of Luca's safety and the humans' ability to change for the better---to stop all the killing, hunting, and fear and begin a peaceful coexistence. This stability allows her to relinquish control over her son and support him in his dreams, even if it means she'll only see him in the summer months.

Daniela is an intensely dynamic and intensely complex character. She's a beautiful foil to her husband, and, quite frankly, I'm obsessed with her and desperately wish to see more of her growth and her past.

Also, Daniela and Lorenzo are peak malewife x girlboss material and I will not be hearing any slander toward their relationship. no idea how Lorenzo managed to bag her, but so glad he did. beautiful. love it. 10/10.

[sweetestpopcorn]

Regardless of me knowing it was what certain people deserved, I should have known better than to engage in a very long and unnecessary drama with those who thrive on any type of attention, positive or negative, and who block people to have the last word and/or play the victim card.

This is not what I want my blog to be about, not at all, and for that I apologise to everyone following me. You deserved better from me, I have known better in the past and unfortunately today I did not do what I knew I should. Sometimes its just too many years, too much sh:t, too many lunatics coming at you and not leaving you alone when you are only always in your space. In this case to have their 5 minutes of fame and some notes as they tried to defend something that they couldn't.

You will see better from me from now on and my blog will go back to focusing and what were are here for and on the positives. I talk the talk so I will walk the walk. I will do better.

Thank you everyone.

XOXO, Popcorn

[dream-with-a-fever]

ron weasley did not

come to privet drive to rescue harry from his abusive home after he hadn’t been replying to any of his letters and he was worried

almost back out of following the spiders bc they’re his biggest fear, but upon seeing hermione’s empty seat at dinner, find the courage to go

defend hermione from any and everyone who called her a mudblood

constantly worry about hermione’s workload (especially in 3rd year) and notice that whenever she disappeared

offer to teach hermione his entire family tree so that she could pretend to be pure blood to keep her safe from death eaters

defend harry to everyone (percy, seamus, half the school) when everyone thought he was lying about voldemort’s return

stand up on his broken leg in front of harry and say that “if you want to kill harry, you’ll have to kill us first!” to what they believed to be a raving lunatic mass murderer

gift dobby his newest weasley jumper and the new socks he got given for christmas

stand up against snape when he was bullying hermione (and got a detention as a result)

beg the deatheaters who were torturing hermione to “leave her alone!! take [him], have [him] instead!”

always check up on his friends when he notices something is up, even if it’s in subtle ways

immediately befriend harry on the train in ps and teach him about the wizarding world

write to charlie immediately so he could help hagrid out of trouble (re the dragon, norbert)

encourage neville to stand up to people, and praise him when he actually does it

help harry put on his pajamas after he broke his arm during quidditch

have to be physically restrained from attacking malfoy after he said he wished hermione had died in cos

worry about harry’s preoccupation with the mirror of erised and how it was affecting him

remind hermione to eat her meals and get a good night’s sleep when she’s studying 24/7 for their owl exams

display acute levels of emotional intelligence in the way he interacts with harry and hermione, essentially being the glue that keeps them all together

get splinched almost in half, lose blood and suffer agonising pain but seem more worried about the cattermoles and whether or not they were okay

realise his mistakes & own up to them, acknowledging his role in certain falling outs (especially in deathly hallows)

be genuinely hilarious and fun, and lighten the load in everyone else’s’ lives with the humour he brings to

write to his mother in ps asking her to give harry presents too because he doesn’t think he’ll received any

go to the department of mysteries to help harry without a second a thought

go on the run with harry to hunt for horcruxes without a second thought

run to hermione’s aid when malfoy hits her with a nasty hex outside snape’s classroom and take her to the hospital wing

help hermione with buckbeak’s appeal, spending hours upon hours reading up on the case

extend the first olive branch after fighting with hermione because of scabber’s “death” and apologising, after which she then apologises too

demand to re-try out for the position of keeper on the quidditch team because he wanted to earn it himself with no favouritism or help

choose to stay on the quidditch team despite the bullying from the slytherin team and his nerves about his flying ability

stand up to malfoy at every opportunity, when he was insulting him, but more importantly, insulting his family & his friends

save harry’s life in dh by pulling him out of the lake, and then kill the horcrux

remember the houseelves during the battle of hogwarts and worry about their safety

continue to admire and adore his older twin brothers despite the fact that they were sometimes cruel to him

become almost annoyingly protective of his little sister (ESPECIALLY after the diary situation)

single-handedly out smart and escape five armed and deadly snatchers

try his best to overcome his insecurities and feelings of being overlooked, in order to support the people around him

sacrifice himself without a second thought during the chess game in ps because he knew harry’s survival was more important than his

for y’all to speak on him the way you do. calling him cruel, evil, selfish etc??? open your fucking eyes

[motthe]

Maybe some Young! Silco fic? (Or anything that you wanna do) I already loved his older version but his Young self in The last episodes got my heart in a grip 😭💖💖 He looks so full of dreams and maybe a little silly. Maybe with a energetic/chaotic significant other!

young!silco also has me in a death grip don't worry. hope you enjoy this!!

warnings: fem!reader, violence, sexual innuendos, secondhand embarrassment for drunk rambling

“It’s doable!”

“Doable and survivable are two very different things.”

Vander knocked his head against the metal backing of his mining gloves repeatedly, aching for the two of you to come to a compromise. The light of the fungi matched the tink tink tink of his patience running thin.

Crunching footsteps had him pausing, one eye opening to find Felicia pushing her helmet up higher on her head as she stared at you and Silco just beyond, still very much squabbling. She leaned on her hip, one hand rising to rest on it as she smiled down at Vander’s hunched form.

“Are they still arguing about the gap?” she whispered.

He groaned quietly instead of answering. It was all she needed.

“I can make it!” you protested, arms gesturing to the other side of the ravine. “I’ve jumped buildings twice the distance.”

“When you’re jumping buildings you can see the ground,” Silco argued, pointing to the darkness below. “We don’t know how long a fall that is, you absolute lunatic.”

“You’ve gotta hand it to her,” Felicia chuckled, taking up camp next to Vander. “No one else would even think of jumping across.”

“She’s an adrenaline junkie,” Vander muttered. “Jumping off shit is all she thinks about.”

“Would you—just let me—damn it, Sil!”

The shuffle of boots and clothes had both of their heads turning, watching with equally amused expressions as Silco passed by with you being half carried half dragged away from the ravine. Silco didn’t pay them a glance as he went. You kept stretching back the way you came, struggling but not truly putting all your energy into it. Felicia could tell. You loved being his center of attention for as long as possible, even if it kept you away from your wild pastimes. 

The sound of a horn echoed through the caves, sending the fungi white with the sound. The work day was finished. 

“Back to the last drop, then?” Felicia hummed, standing and offering a hand to the big man. He accepted it with a soft grin, following her out. The two of them watched Silco far ahead, who was now fully carrying you in your grieved state. You kept muttering you could have made it.

“Think they’ll ever get together?” she hummed, nudging Vander.

“Wish they would,” he sighed. “It was annoying years ago, now its just pitiful.”

She laughed, waving a hand at you when you pulled your head up from Silco’s shoulder to eye them. “Well, she’ll never do it. She’s convinced herself he’s too focused on our cause to ever settle down.”

“Some days I think the same thing,” Vander said, introspective when she glanced up at him, “others, I catch him looking at her. He doesn’t open up, barely does around us, but…”

“Disappears around her, yeah?” She smiled at him and he mirrored her, nodding.

Later that night, the Last Drop was bustling with the newest record added to the box. You’re dancing over chairs, running across the edge of the pool tables as people chant your name. Someone tossed a mug through the air and you caught it, swallowing the contents down and cheering with the rest before continuing on with dancing. 

Silco watched from his bar seat. He had cruel timing, turning his eyes back to his notebook when you pulled yourself away from the crowd to glance at him. To you, he was lost in his own world, but really he fell into yours quite easily. You were distracting. He perked up at the sound of your voice without meaning to, knew the outline of your body in his periphery. Abrasive and chaotic. You’re too much, too loud.

Too perfect for someone as withdrawn and stiff as him.

“Oh, heaven help me,” Vander grumbled, both hands on the bar as he stared at the scene. Silco paused to raise an eyebrow at him. “She just downed three shots in one.”

“How many does that make it now?” he questioned.

“Eight.”

Both of their heads dropped, knowing how the night would be going.

“All right, I give!” Felcia slammed a hand on the bar as she walked up, panting. “I can’t keep up with her. Gods. Where does she get the energy?”

Vander passed her a drink as Silco shrugged, music blaring all around them. Felicia scowled when she noticed his journal. 

“Oh, c’mon, Silco. Let loose for a bit!” she shouted over the din of the bar, clapping a hand on his shoulder. 

“If I did that, nothing would ever get done around here,” he returned, smirking as she rolled her eyes. 

The counter shook under them, the second bang of Vander’s fist sending both of them on high alert. Two meant trouble. 

Felicia spun around, Silco turned in his seat. There by the record player you were backed against the wall by a man, one arm caging you in while his fingers pinched your chin. The cold look in your eyes had a shiver streaking down Silco's spine. You were a storm like this and he’d been lost to it for years. 

The man said something that made you scoff, batting his hand away and sliding to get out from under him. As his hand grabbed your upper arm Silco realized he was no longer sitting. Even across the room he could read your lips.

“Last chance. Beat it,” you warned.

The man laughed and tugged you closer, it sent your knee right between his legs. When he bent over, Silco heard the crack as your fist met the man’s jaw. He hit the ground, dead weight. 

Fuck, he thought, hands curling into fists at his side. You were perfect.

You stumbled back a few steps. It seemed those shots had soaked in. You were cradling your hand as yells broke out, slow to turn as a couple of goons stood from a table nearby.

“Great,” Felicia puffed, pushing off the bar, “he had lackeys.”

Vander shouted as they ran at you, Silco was halfway to you when you dodged the first swing, putting you straight into the path of another. Your back hit the record player, a scratch disrupting the music. The entire bar turned, regulars rushing forward without second thought and jumping the goons. 

Silco went straight to you, mindful of the chair Felicia was brandishing overhead as she flew into the meat of the fight. 

“Let me see,” he said, sliding a hand under your jaw and tilting your head back. You were hunching, still holding that hand of yours to your chest. 

“Hey, Sil,” you slurred, grinning and wincing. Your lower lip was busted, the right side of your face already beginning to swell from the jaw up. “Can you believe that guy? Down in one hit, hah!”

“Still have all your teeth?” he asked, wiping the blood trailing from the corner of your mouth. 

“What? You want me to open wide for you?”

He ticked a brow, scowling through the heat that flashed through his stomach. 

“Come on, let’s get ice on that,” he muttered, wrapping an arm around you. You hummed happily, falling into his side. Even as drunk as you were, your feet barely stumbled as he led you to the basement door. He nodded to Vander who already had the same idea, coming around the back of the bar to pass him an ice pack and a clean rag. He thanked him.

“Take care of her,” Vander said, rubbing a hand over your back. You tossed the big man a smile before he returned to his station.

“Keep that on there,” Silco said to you, heart aching as you hissed at the touch of it. 

“I’ve got it,” you muttered, hand brushing his. He made sure you kept it pressed to your cheek before opening the door and helping you in first, careful of the stairs as he closed it behind him. The sounds of fighting and the skipping music was muffled as he led you into the bowels of the Last Drop, setting you down gently on the couch.

He reached for your hand, frowning when you turned away from him. 

“Let me see,” he said.

“It’s fine,” you grumbled, curling into the couch.

“I’d like to see that for myself,” he pushed, fingers gentle as they smoothed over your wrist. Your furrowed brow relaxed a bit, watery eyes trailing to him. “Let me see,” he asked again, softer.

You sighed, the weight of your arm settling into his palm as he moved to sit next to you. You hand shook in both of his, the skin of your knuckles ripped open and gushing red. When he attempted to move your pointer and middle fingers you whimpered, head falling into his shoulder.

He apologized, pulling one hand away to reach into his jacket. “It’s sprained. I’ll need to wrap it.”

“Sweet Sil,” you sighed, your good cheek rubbing against his shoulder as you brought your knees up, “always prepared for the worst.”

“I wouldn’t have to be if you weren’t constantly getting into trouble,” he hummed, pulling out a roll of bandages and beginning his work. You curled into him as he cleaned you up, tensing when he secured your bruised digits. As he tied the bandages off around your wrist, he sighed, holding your hand in his, thumb running over your skin. 

“M’sorry,” you sniffed.

He turned his head, a breath punched from his lungs as he saw tears slipping down your cheeks. The ice pack laid abandoned in your lap. 

“What are you apologizing for?” he murmured, brushing your hair out of your face. 

“I always make a mess,” you whispered, little gasps slipping. Each one was a bullet to his chest. He couldn’t stand seeing you cry. “I always annoy you.”

“No,” he murmured, arms stretching over you to pull you into his lap, “no, you don’t annoy me, pet.”

“Yes, I do,” you sobbed. “I get into t-trouble when I-when I just want you to look at me.”

Oh, Gods help him. He knew this was the alcohol talking but the hopeful flame in his heart was burning into a torch. He needed to calm you down and get you to bed. 

“I’m looking,” he said, lips grazing your forehead as he rubbed your back. “You don’t have to try so hard. I’m always looking.”

You sniffed and he grabbed the bloody rag, nudging the cleanest corner towards you to blow your nose. He chuckled when you groaned, curling deeper into his chest.

“Too drunk for this,” you mumbled. “Stupid shots.”

“Stupid shots, indeed,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Let's get you some water and go to bed.”

You whined, hiding your face in his neck. “Wanna stay here. M’warm.”

He sighed, settling into the couch. Eventually you would nod off. He’d carry you into bed, then.

“Hair’s nice.”

“What?” he chuckled, trying to look down at you, but it was impossible with you smushed up against him.

“Your hair,” you said, lips moving against his neck. “I like it when it’s bun. Hair frames your face nice. S’handsome.”

You’re going to hate yourself in the morning, he thought, holding back his laughter. You were never going to live this down and he wasn’t nearly nice enough to not tease you about this for the rest of your life. 

“Face hurts,” you sighed. He rubbed your calf, shushing you.

“Sleep, pet,” he murmured against your forehead. 

“You’ll stay?” you asked.

“I’ll stay,” he promised.

[pucksandpower]

Couples Therapy

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: let’s go to couples therapy and see how long it takes the therapist to realize we don’t know each other

You fidget nervously in the waiting room chair, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. This has to be the most ridiculous first date idea ever …but then again, Lando was never one for convention.

The office door swings open and a smiling middle-aged woman in a cardigan beckons you both inside. “Y/N? Lando? I’m Dr. Ramanujan, please come in.”

Lando shoots you a mischievous grin and you can’t help but return it as you follow the therapist into her office. This is already off to a delightfully silly start.

“So,” Dr. Ramanujan settles into her chair, notepad at the ready. “What brings you two in today?”

You open your mouth but Lando beats you to it. “Well doc, it’s like this — Y/N and I have been together for five years now but things have gotten … sticky, you might say.”

You fight back a surprised laugh at his casual lie. Five years? You met this lunatic ten days ago.

Nodding solemnly, you play along. “Yes, unfortunately some issues have arisen that we haven’t been able to resolve on our own.”

“I see,” the therapist jots something down. “And what would you say is the primary issue troubling your relationship?”

Lando strokes his chin in mock contemplation. “You know, now that I think about it, we really struggle with intimacy.”

You splutter, cheeks flushing red. He did not just go there on a first date!

“We’re very passionate people,” he continues effortlessly. “But I think we both have some hang-ups that stop us from really connecting, you know?”

Clearing your throat, you decide to steer into the skid. “Yes, you could say Lando is quite … insatiable in that area.”

Dr. Ramanujan’s eyebrows shoot up but she simply nods. “I see, I see. And how does that make you feel, Y/N?”

“Honestly?” You shrug helplessly. “Exhausted. The man is completely relentless — it’s like he’s an animal sometimes!”

Lando clutches his chest in feigned offense. “An animal? That’s a bit much, don’t you think darling?”

“Don’t you ‘darling’ me,” you snap, pushing aside your amusement at the increasingly absurd situation. “I’m just calling it like I see it. We’re here for honesty, right?”

“Touché,” Lando turns back to the therapist. “Doc, maybe you could help us find … a compromise of sorts? Because my needs are evidently not being met.”

You scoff loudly. “Not being met? Lando, I let you do that thing with the-”

Mercifully, Dr. Ramanujan interjects before you can continue that train of thought. “Perhaps we could steer our discussion in a more productive direction? Intimacy issues often stem from deeper underlying problems within a relationship. Is there anything else concerning you both?”

Lando ponders this for a moment before snapping his fingers. “You know what? I think a big part of it is that Y/N doesn’t trust me.”

“I don’t trust you?” You echo incredulously. “That’s rich coming from you, Mr. I Flirt With My Teammate Constantly!“

His jaw drops perfectly. “You’re bringing Oscar into this? That’s a low blow, babe.”

“I’m not blind!” You shoot back, doing your best to ignore how silly you both must look. “I see how cozy you two get. Tell me there’s nothing there and I’m a fool!”

“Woah, woah!” Lando holds up his hands defensively. “Oscar and I are just good friends and teammates. Nothing more.”

You cross your arms stubbornly. “If you say so.”

An uncomfortable silence falls over the room. Dr. Ramanujan seems perplexed by your crazy banter.

Finally, she clears her throat. “Right. Well, it sounds like there are some potential trust issues at play here that we should unpack-”

“Oh I’ll unpack it for you, doc!” Lando interjects, real passion entering his voice now. “Y/N is massively, astronomically insecure about our relationship. She questions my faithfulness at every turn!”

You swivel to face him fully, eyes wide. “And why, pray tell, would I possibly be insecure about that?”

“I don’t know!” He throws his hands up in exasperation. “I’ve never given you a single real reason to doubt me!”

“Except for all the pet names and inappropriate touching with Oscar!”

“Those are just friendly gestures!”

“Keep telling yourself that, buddy!”

The two of you are practically shouting at each other now, completely absorbed in your make-believe argument. Somewhere in the back of your mind you feel a bit bad for putting the poor therapist through this, but you’re having far too much fun to stop.

Dr. Ramanujan finally cuts in, raising her palms. “Okay! Okay, let’s all just take a breath, shall we?”

You and Lando freeze mid-rant, remembering where you are. He shoots you a conspiratorial wink and you have to bite your lip to suppress a smile.

“Now,” the therapist continues once the tension has diffused slightly. “Clearly there are some deep-seated resentments and triggers being hit here that we need to unravel. But I think a lot of it comes back to the intimacy and trust issues we were discussing earlier. Y/N, would you say you feel emotionally fulfilled by Lando?”

You ponder this for a moment, drawing out the suspense. Lando watches you with bated breath.

Finally, you sigh deeply. “No doc, I can’t say that I do. And maybe that’s why I’ve been so tempted to stray myself ...”

Lando’s jaw drops perfectly again. “You’ve been tempted to cheat? With who?”

Holding his gaze boldly, you declare: “My yoga instructor, actually.”

“Shane?” He looks like you just slapped him. “But he’s so … so bland!”

You shrug nonchalantly. “What can I say? Opposites attract sometimes.”

Dr. Ramanujan looks like she’s watching a tennis match, unable to get a word in edgewise.

Lando points an accusatory finger at you. “This is unbelievable! You had the audacity to blame me for the intimacy issues earlier when all this time you’ve been lusting after another man?”

“I’m a woman of insatiable needs!” You cry, borrowing his phrasing from earlier. “You said it yourself!”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” He turns desperately back to the therapist. “Please doc, you have to help us!”

She blinks owlishly a few times before finding her voice. “I … I’m not sure I can be of much assistance here.”

Lando clutches at his chest dramatically. “No, don’t say that! Our relationship is hanging by a thread as it is.”

“If it’s even still a relationship,” you mumble darkly, inspecting your nails with affected nonchalance.

“You see?” Lando pleads with the doctor. “This is what I’m dealing with every day! The constant barbs and lack of trust! I’m at my wit’s end.”

Dr. Ramanujan’s eyes dart between the two of you, seeming to deflate a little more after each deranged declaration. She sets her notepad aside with a resigned sigh.

“Listen, you two ...” she begins carefully. “While I appreciate you being upfront about your ...” she pauses, clearly searching for the right word, “unique situation, I’m afraid it goes well beyond my abilities as a therapist.”

You simply blink at her innocently while Lando dissolves into feigned hysterics beside you.

“But you have to help us!” He cries, flinging himself backwards dramatically. “Our relationship is the only thing I have left!”

You can’t help but let out a small giggle at his antics, quickly disguising it as a cough when the therapist shoots you a look. Dr. Ramanujan just shakes her head slowly.

“I’m sorry, but I clearly don’t have the tools or expertise to assist with … whatever this is.” She gestures vaguely between the two of you. “My advice would be to seek a different form of counseling. Or perhaps … separate for a while until you both figure out what you want.”

Lando clutches at his chest, feigning heartbreak. “Separate? Doc, you can’t be serious!”

“I’m afraid I am,” Dr. Ramanujan states firmly, rising from her chair. “This session has become … unproductive, to put it mildly. I think we should call it a day.”

You open your mouth to protest staying in character, but the defeated look on the poor therapist’s face gives you pause. With a sidelong glance at Lando, you decide to put her out of her misery.

Rising from your own seat, you loop your arm through Lando’s and favor the bewildered doctor with your most winning smile.

“You’re probably right, doc. We’ll, uh, take some time and really think things over. Thanks for your … insight today.”

Dr. Ramanujan simply nods, seemingly too drained to even reply as she opens the door and gestures you both through.

The second you’re out in the hallway, you can’t contain your laughter anymore. You dissolve into a fit of giggles, doubling over and clutching at Lando’s arm for support. He joins in instantly, that mischievous grin stretched wide across his face.

“Oh my god,” you gasp between peals of laughter. “Did you see her face when I brought Oscar into it?”

“I thought she was going to kick us out then and there!” Lando howls, wiping away a mirthful tear. “The things we put that poor woman through ...”

You finally manage to regain your composure, still grinning madly at the ridiculousness of it all. Leave it to Lando to come up with a first date idea as wonderfully insane as fake couples therapy.

“We should do something normal for our next date,” you quip, shooting him a sly look. “Like go skydiving or swimming with sharks.”

Lando matches your playful tone, draping an arm around your shoulders as you meander away from the office. “Whatever you say, darling. Just promise me you won’t leave me for one of the skydiving instructors, yeah?”

You pull him closer with a laugh. “No promises, babe.”

[jubshead]

𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐃𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐎'𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮

Paring: Detective O’Connor (hallucinating Agatha) x Reader

Summary: When your mother gets out of town, you grudgingly accept to take care of the town’s lunatic.

A/N: So this is dedicated to this anon, it’s VERY different from what I have written for Agatha so far, but I hope you like anyway!

This isn’t beta read and english isn’t my native language, so bear with me.

Warnings: Mental instability, face slapping, bondage, dubious consent, dildo, teasing/edging

Word count: 3k

Date: Nov 25, 2024

Comments are always welcome and if you don’t wish to be identified, my ask is open!

Masterlist

Tag list: @yourbasicqueerie @harknessshi @hannah-0730 @diorrxckstar @lady-darkswan3 @neverfindmegone @imorynn @its-chickenwing-450 @seaoflittlefires @anyasivy

─────── ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ───────

Wanda’s spell had changed Westview. 

Aside from the obvious altered psychological state of the citizens, the town's sense of community had blossomed and the shared trauma had brought them together. The witch's magic had left a lasting scar and people were empathetic for anyone affected by it. 

Agnes O’Connor, or whatever her name was. 

She’s been a good neighbor for the past three years, slightly nosy, but clearly under some sort of mental control. Lately, though, she’s been acting differently. Your mother is one of the people who’s been lending a helping hand. Buying her groceries, visiting to make sure she is eating and bathing, and despite the odd conversation, she has been fine on her own.

Not that your mother would listen. She is invested in being some sort of babysitter and drag you along. You’ve managed to stray from the role, but, when your mother left town for business, you had promised to take care of the town's loony. 

The day's warmth gives way to a chilly breeze, the settling sun makes an orange hue in the sky and you try to balance the grocery bag while opening the wood door. Unfortunately for you, the neighborhood has a barter system and today is your family's turn to make sure everything is in order. 

Walking in, you take a minute to look around, the place is beautiful and dark, everything matches and you wonder what is Agatha’s doing and what is somebody else’s. You had never stepped foot in the house and it impressed you. 

Locking the door behind you and navigating to the kitchen, you set the bag down on the counter and call out. 

“Agnes? My mother asked me to bring you some groceries.” 

Silence follows your statement.  

“Hello?” You say louder.

Fuck. What if she had run away? 

Taking a deep breath, you decide to inspect the house before freaking out. Walking back to the entryway, you glance up the stairs and back into the living room. The place appears to be empty and you strain your ears in an attempt to hear any kind of noise. The house seems uninhabited and you conclude that upstairs is the next place to look for her.

“Hello? Anyone home?” You shout uncertainty, taking a step.

Your head is full of worry as you walk up the stairs. You’ve never seen Agnes after her psychotic breakdown, you don’t know what to expect. People from the neighborhood had said she was harmless, but you had no way of knowing. Either way, even if that were the case, it wouldn’t look good for you if you somehow lost her. 

The wooden floor creaks beneath your feet and darkness engulfs the hallway. Taking a quick peek at the open doors, you face up the end of the corridor, the place you assume it's the bedroom. Guiding yourself with the moonlight streaming in through the open window, you carefully enter the space. The curtain moves with the wind and you relax a friction, there is clearly no one here. 

As scared as you are, you barely have time to process the thought of Agnes' disappearance before feeling an impact against your back. Falling into the bed, you try calming your racing heart and, scared, you quickly turn around to see the back of a figure as it walks and settles into an armchair, turning on the lampshade beside her. 

Squinting your eyes against the yellow light that consumes the room, you take her in. Her legs are spread open, she wears a long sleeved shirt with a boner joke saying: “Bohoner family reunion. Pitch a tent.”, black sweatpants finish the look while her hair is pulled down in a ponytail. Her face is stern and she looks like a complete lunatic. 

“Sit up.” She commands. 

Afraid of an unpredictable reaction, you do as she says. 

The cushion feels soft under your thighs as you settle in the mattress. She ranks her eyes over your figure before leaning back, arms crossed over her chest. There’s some kind of hose head in her hip. 

“I’m curious. What compelled you to break into the home of a decorated detective?”

“What?” You blurt out immediately.

“I’m not playing games, little girl. You better answer me.” 

You fridge under her gaze, trying to understand the mental episode she’s having. Your mother mentioned that Agnes was having some sort of hallucination, but you never guessed this. Does she think she is some kind of cop?

She places her elbows on her knees and leans forward, waiting for your response.

“I- My mother asked me to bring you some groceries.” You explain carefully.

“Don't lie to me.” Narrowing her eyes, she stands up and searches for something in her drawer. “You won’t like the results.”

You glance at the door and prepare to make an escape. Barely having time to place your foot down and run, you feel a hand on your shoulder pushing you down and making you freeze when you sense her breath ghosting against your temples. 

“You better not try that. I’m assuming you don’t want to spend the night in the tank.” A glimpse of her hands makes you shake your head, she’s carrying a rope and a silver tape. 

“Good.” She stands in front of you and grabs your chin to look up at her. “Now, what were you after?”

You look around for something that might help you in this situation. “I was just bringing you groceries…” You whisper. 

“Don’t play dumb.” Her hands squeeze your cheeks harshly. 

God, this is the craziest talk you’ve ever had. 

“Look Agnes, you might be a little confused. How about I put you to bed and let you get some sleep?” You grab her wrist, trying to loosen her grip. 

She slaps you across the face, hard enough to leave a sting behind. 

She leans in close and says. “Do you think you have the right to touch me?”

The hit leaves you angry enough to turn and shout. “YOU ARE NOT A DETECTIVE.” 

Maybe it’s time to put her in a mental institution. 

She scoffs and grabs the rope at her side. “Do you know what we used to do to mouthy things like you back at the academy?” 

Your eyes widen and you stay rooted in place, running crosses your mind once again, but you push it aside, it would be worse if she tackled you to the ground. They do say crazy people have more strength than usual. 

She stretches the cord out in front of you and smirks, seizing your arms and tying them in front of you. Maybe it would be better if you played into her fantasy. 

“I’m sorry, Detective O’Conner.” Your entire demeanor changes and you beg. “Please, it was just a prank, my friends put me to it.” 

She has a side smile and doesn't look into your face, completely focused on her task. 

“Oh, now you are being cooperative. Scared?” 

Indeed, you are.

She crouches and levels her eyes with yours, searching your face for something that she doesn’t seem to find. 

“I don’t believe you and I’m not letting you go until I’ve got a satisfying answer.” 

She harshly pulls the knot in your wrists and looks pleased when it doesn’t come loose. Pacing around the room and looking at your bound form, you see the engines turning in her head as you feel trapped in a lion’s cage. 

Suddenly, she grabs you by the shoulder and pushes you backwards. You crash into the mattress and panic, you definitely shouldn’t have played into her delusion, the thoughts of escaping brushes your mind and you curse yourself for not doing it sooner. 

She takes hold of your binded arms and places them over your head as she climbs on top of you. Her knee is placed between your legs and you put your heels on the edge of the bed, pushing yourself up in a vain attempt to avoid the pressure. 

“This is what happens when you poke the bear, little girl.” She breathes in your face.

“Agnes, look-”

“IT’S DETECTIVE O’CONNOR TO YOU.” You wince at her scream. 

“Detective O’connor…” You try out and continue when she doesn’t react. “There’s no need for violence, we are both adults, I’m sure we can settle this.” You attempt to reason with her. 

She laughs at your statement, one of her hands grabs your neck and lightly squeezes. 

“I won’t accept any form of disrespect. You’ll be an example for your friends.” 

Yeah, okay. Maybe that was a bad excuse.  

Her eyes focus on something behind you and she reaches for it. You completely freeze when the corner of your eye catches the sight of a purple dildo held by her. Something inside you stirs.

“You better lick it up, little girl. This is going inside you.” 

“WHA-” Your scream is cut off when she shoves the hard object down your throat.

The stiffness settles uncomfortably on your windpipe, making you gag and cough against it, only stopping when she takes pity on you and draws it out of your mouth. 

“Do you want me to shove it in right now?” She’s a jerk and lets out a smug grin when you shake your head.

“No, no, no!” You say hastily. “I can do it.” 

Seeing your willingness, she places the sex toy against your lips, letting you set the pace for yourself. You take a tentative lick and she raises an eyebrow at you. 

This whole situation makes you dizzy. Agnes’s weight is on top of you and you slowly engulf the dildo, licking and coaxing in your saliva. She looks deep into your eyes and holds your tied hands firmly, pushing your propped heels with her feet and making you moan around the object when her thigh presses harder against your core.

Your body is reacting in the opposite direction, the panic settled into a trembelling flutter in your abdomen, the idea of being fucked by her seems more appelling as the time goes by and you wonder how much you really need to lube the dildo with your arousal pooling in your undearwear. 

“Yes, that’s it.” She says encouragingly. 

She sets a rhythm, leisurely pulling in and out as her lips form a sadistic smile, seemingly taking joy in your predicament as you slowly relax into the mattress, accepting your fate. Her blown pupils draw a groan out of your mouth and you feel drool dripping down your chin. 

She leans down and nuzzles your neck, before popping the dildo out of your mouth and eyeing it. 

“Good girl.” She praises and you grind against her thigh. 

Smiling, she takes away your only form of relief, straddling your waist and placing the purple object sideways in her mouth. The image distracts you enough and gives her time ,with her newly free hands, to grab the remains of the rope and tie your bound hands against the headboard. 

She eyes your pitiful position and lets out a breathy laugh, before grabbing your shirt and ripping it in half. Your eyes widen at the action and you suddenly remember that despite the pleasure running through you, you’re still very much in danger.

Ranking her eyes down your figure, she slides the wet dildo down your collarbones and over your covered breast, before reaching your navel. You look up at her with a pleading face, you could no longer tell if it was whether for her to continue or let you go.

“Ag-Detective, please.” You beg and the nickname brings a smirk to her face.

Thrusting your hips up, you try in a vague attempt to smooth your aching core, she grabs your waist and presses her body weight harder against you. Getting close to your face, she ‘tsks’.

“Nah, nah. This is supposed to be a lesson.” Her hand moves up and painfully gropes your breast, pinching your nipple and making you let out a groan. 

She rolls off of you and for a second, you think she’s going to leave you there, bound and unsatisfied, completely lost in the situation. That is, until you feel her harshly pull your pants out, along with your panties, humming as she looks down at your barely covered self.  

Spreading your legs, she settles between them and grabs the back of your things, pushing them up until your knees meet your front. Your open position gives her access to your core and she looks at it, grinning and running her finger through your wetness. 

“It appears someone has a cop kink.” Even in your condition, you have to hold in your laugh. 

She’s still talking nonsense. 

The discarded dildo appears in her hand once more and you bite your bottom lip in anticipation, she looks into your eyes as she slowly drags it between your folds and circles your clit, teasing you. Torture seems to be part of her enjoyment, you trash and buck into her hand, but the only thing she does is grip your hips to prevent your movement. 

She runs the object down your thigh and you feel how wet it is, mixing with the previous stickiness in there and driving you mad as it gets further away from your entrance. Stopping your needy motions, you let out a whine from the provocation before suddenly throwing your head back as she slams into you. 

It stretches you and she doesn’t give you time to process the intrusions before she starts to move. She pounds hard, seemingly trying to draw out your pleasure as fast as she can and by the amount of arousal you feel bubbling under your skin, she’s succeeding. 

You moan loudly, your shoulders ache from the uncomfortable position and your wrist burns from the material of the rope. Your body shakes with the force of her thrusting and your breasts bounce inside your bra. 

“Ag- Please… I can’t.” Meaningless words spill out of your mouth. 

She laughs and places one of your legs on her shoulder, going deeper and hitting a spot that makes your vision go white. 

“Tell me what you were looking for.” Her face closes off and somehow she becomes more aggressive with her movement. 

“Wha-” There isn’t a single thought crossing your mind. 

“Why did you come into my house? Tell me right now or I’ll stop.” 

“NO.” You shout and throw your head back at the frustration. “I already told you.”

“I don’t want to hear any bullshit excuse.” Her movement slows down and you circle your legs around her to prevent her detachment.

“I don’t know what you want me to say!” You tell her, your mind is muffled with arousal and you feel your climax getting away from you.

“‘Tell me the truth.” She almost screams and stops completely. 

“Fuck!” You exclaim, unfulfilled . 

Your thoughts can barely connect, your head is spinning and you try to find a justification that will satisfy her enough.

“I WANTED YOU.” You shout out. “I wanted to get your attention.” 

You finally settle into an excuse and it seems to please her when she gives you a shit-eating grin, thrusting back into you.

The fading orgasm returns with vengeance, your back arches away from the bed and your entire body tenses up. The purple object pounds harder and harder into you, hitting the right spot every time and making you sob. Your legs tighten around her and your heel digs into her back. The headboard hits the wall and you faintly hear the sound as your mind is overrun with pleasure. 

“Detective- I need…” You blur out, the statement being cut off by a groan.

“I know what you need, baby.” Her voice is hoarse, you open your eyes to look down and are greeted by ragged breathing, hair out of place and an open mouth as she takes in your pleasure. 

Her free hand comes up to circle your outer lips and you groan, frustrated by the endless teasing. Her finger meets your clit and her other hand adjusts the dildo to keep up the pace with the new attachment. 

You close your hands around the rope holding them, throwing your head back as your body meets her thrusts and you grind up against her finger, searching for the edge. All the breath in your body rushes out at once when you reach it, stiffening and trembling against her body. Your hard nipples brush against the material of your bra and your nails dig into the skin of your palm. You go completely rigid and mute before slumping down onto the bed. 

Your fingers teak at the aftershocks, you feel Agatha slipping the dildo out of you and her face enters your blurred vision. 

“Did you learn your lesson?” She asks seriously, her face closed off again. 

You nod vigorously, still bound and helpless, you couldn’t tell what she would do next. 

“Good.”  She says and reaches up, untying the thick rope from your wrists and adding. “Stay where you are, I’m going to get a wipe.” 

Puzzlement fills your mind and you rub your red skin, maybe this would be the perfect time to run, even with your shirt torn and naked half self, but you doubted your jelly legs would take you far. Besides, her mood had changed, she seemed softer and you weren't sure if the change of temperament was her mental health acting up or if she was calmer because of your early answer. 

There’s not a lot of time to think when you hear her coming back from the bathroom, towel in hand. Your breath is caught in your throat and you watch her every move, paralyzed. She settles herself on the bed, in front of you, before looking into your eyes and asking. 

“May I?”

You open yourself for her once more, she’s already fucked you stupid, there’s no need to be ashamed. 

Her knuckles run up your calf and stop in your knee, her other hand placing the white wet material against your thigh and wiping the stickiness in it. You shudder when she brushes your core and wonder if you are catching her insanity by thinking of doing this again. 

“I’m glad I didn’t have to use my gun on you.” She lets out a relieved laugh and points with her head at the nightstand behind you.

You turn around and are greeted by a hose head.  

[wilwheaton]

The Republicans, curiously, find themselves in the same position the Democrats were in following the last debate. Trump is seen as old, out of touch and delusional. When Harris mentioned that Trump was still having “a hard time processing” the fact that he lost the last election, to many people she was speaking directly to a loss of mental capacity. “World leaders are laughing at you,” she said to his face. Dictators, “would eat you for lunch,” she chided. And then, she used his own catchphrase against him when she said “81 million people fired you.” He was a crushed lunatic. A cornered sewer rat. She reminded everyone that 200 former Republicans, including some of the highest members of the former Trump administration had endorsed her. He could only lamely say they were all bad people.

“We did not do well”: MAGA admits Kamala Harris broke Donald Trump

[chancloud8]

CHAPTER 2

series masterlist

Pairing: OT8 x reader

Word Count: 4,8k

Tags: bodyguard!ot8, idol!reader, banter

Summary: you're still resisting your new bodyguards and while there seems to be a brat war going on between minho, seungmin and you, you slowly warm up to some of the others. a/n: I nearly deleted the whole chapter and started over like six times while writing this lmao. I hope you like it <3

With Chan and Minho on your heels you storm into Yoona’s office without knocking. Luckily for you she’s not in a meeting nor is she on the phone or she would have probably fired your ass on the spot. Your manager looks up from her computer and frowns at you.

‘Where’s the fire, Nabi?’ 

‘Don’t Nabi me,’ you hiss, balling your fist to stop yourself from angrily pointing at her. You might be angry, but you still respect the woman. 

‘Ah, so you’re that mad at me,’ Yoona sighs, crossing her arms as she leans back in her chair. ‘Go on then, give me your worst.’ 

You grit your teeth and look over your shoulder at your two future bodyguards, pondering if you should really give Yoona a piece of your mind with them present. Chan looks worried, but when you meet Minho’s gaze he just raises his eyebrows at you, fueling your anger. 

‘They are not moving in with me,’ you growl, taking a step forward to create distance between you and the two men. ‘You can’t force this on me.’ 

Yoona stays silent, knowing you well enough that this won’t be all. 

‘You want them to follow me around all day, fine, but I’m not being watched twenty four seven, Yoon. Even Faris isn’t with me at night now, so why should they?’ 

‘Yeah and look what happened, some lunatic tried to break into your house,’ Minho mumbles. 

‘I moved!’ you yell, turning around to glare at him. 

Minho isn’t impressed and once again raises his eyebrows at you. ‘And you think that no one will find out your new address? I’m sorry to break your bubble, Princess, but stalkers are named just that for a reason and you have some real messed up fans.’ 

‘I also bought a new fancy security system,’ you cross your arms, not breaking your eye contact with him. 

‘Even those can fail, Y/N,’ Chan says, stepping forward with his hands raised as if he’s trying to show you he means no harm. ‘If something really happens it still takes a few minutes for someone to reach you.’ 

He has a point, but you’re not going to give up this easily. 

‘I’ll get a guard dog then,’ you shrug, only partly bluffing. 

Minho snorts and shakes his head. ‘You’re impossible you know, you should be grateful.’ 

‘Grateful?’ you laugh humorlessly. ‘Sure buddy, I’m oh so grateful that I’ll lose even more of my privacy.’ 

They really don’t get it, do they? As an idol you already have little to no privacy, your life being led by your manager and the company you signed under while the media and your fans watch your every move. You love the life, your fans and even the hard work you have to put in, but sometimes the sacrifices still hurt. Sometimes you wish you could experience normal life again, like going to the grocery store or the mall without security or people following you around. 

Minho glares at you and opens his mouth to say something else, but Chan steps in front of him. ‘And we understand,’ he says softly, smiling kindly at you. 

‘Well, I don’t,’ Minho grumbles. 

‘We do,’ Chan keeps his eyes on you as he speaks. ‘I know it will be a sacrifice to share your home with us, but Faris and Yoona picked this house for a reason.’ 

You glance at Yoona and she nods. 

‘It might be a big house, but I’ll still know you’re there. I’ll never be home alone. I won’t be able to walk around in my underwear in my own fucking home or dance on the table while eating ice cream straight out of the carton.’ 

‘You still can if you want to,’ Chan grins. ‘But I get your point and I promise you that we’ll try to be as invisible as possible.’ 

‘There must be another way? Can’t you take turns guarding my door or something?’ you try again. 

‘Selfish much,’ Minho says under his breath and this time Chan also glares at him. 

Anger starts to bubble up in your belly again, but before you can even think about yelling some more, Yoona appears next to you. She wraps her arms around you and presses a kiss against your temple.

'Just get over it, darling, this is happening.’ she says. ‘Now go home and enjoy the peace and quiet while you still can. Tomorrow Minho, Felix and Hyunjin will join you for training and by this weekend they will all move in.’ 

You open your mouth to protest some more, but Yoona is already walking back to her desk, letting you know that this conversation is over. You know her well enough to know that no matter what you say or how much you beg, she won’t change her mind on this. When you risk to glance at the men, Minho grins at you and Chan smiles. 

‘Fuck my life,’ you mutter. 

****

You don't talk to any of the men again and just ask Faris to take you home so you can spend the rest of the day mopping in your room filled with unpacked boxes while Faris sits downstairs doing god knows what.

The next day you feel a little better and when you eat your breakfast you text Jisung.

You: Sorry about storming out yesterday.

Jisung:You’re already forgiven (by me at least)

You: Tell Minho to leave his judgement at home

Jisung:How did you know I was with him?

You:Lucky guess. Will you be at the company today?

Jisung:Yes, I'm already on my way. Chan is picking you up.

You frown at your phone and look at Faris who's reading the paper across from you while sipping his tea.

'You’re not coming with me today?' You ask him, pushing away your half eaten bowl of porridge.

Faris looks up with a smile. 'Ji-a has an appointment I'd like to be at, so I asked Chan to be with you until I'm back.'

'Oh, of course,' you give him a small smile in return. 'You should definitely be with Ji-a.'

Faris folds up the paper. 'It will be good for you to spend some time with him, Nabi, just give him a chance.'

'Yeah, okay,' you nod. 'I'll try.'

‘Good,’ Faris smiles. ‘I’m sure you’ll grow to love them.’

‘We’ll see,’ you smile back. ‘Chan and Jisung seem really nice at least.’ 

When the man beams at you, you promise yourself you’ll try to be a bit easier on the whole situation, if only to make Faris happy. 

Chan arrives shortly after you clean up your breakfast and you quickly grab your bag and trusty water bottle, trying very hard not to stare at how good he looks in his dark blue suit. It's a crime really and you already know that one of these days he’s going to catch you staring. 

‘You ready?’ Chan asks.

You nod and wave at Faris. ‘Give Ji-a my love.’ 

‘Will do, Nabi. Try and not piss off too many people today, yeah?’ 

You laugh. ‘Can’t make any promises, but I’ll try.’

Chan chuckles as he holds open the front door for you. ‘Should I warn the others?’ 

You shrug as you follow him to the car, already taking out your phone to text Jisung you’re on your way. He quickly replies with a thumbs up. 

‘Why don’t you sit next to me?’ Chan asks when you reach the car. ‘I’d like to talk a bit if that’s alright.’ 

‘Oh, sure,’ you nod before walking around the car to get to the other side. 

The smell of coffee and sandalwood hits your nose as you get into the passenger seat and you smile in surprise. There’s two to go cups on the dashboard and the sandalwood must either be Chan’s cologne or some sort of car perfume. It smells nice. 

Chan sits down behind the wheel and when you’re buckled up he reaches for one of the coffee cups and hands it to you. ‘Faris said you like cappuccino.’ 

Your mouth forms a surprised ‘oh’ and you happily wrap your fingers around the cup. ‘Thank you,’ you smile genuinely at him. ‘Caffeine is the way to my heart.’ 

Chan chuckles and starts the car. ‘I’ll remember that.’ 

You take a sip of your coffee and close your eyes when the creamy taste of a perfect cappuccino hits your tongue. 

‘Where did you get this?’ you ask Chan, twisting the cup in your hand to look for a logo or anything that will tell you where it’s from. 

‘It’s self made,’ Chan says, his eyes on the road. ‘Do you like it?’ 

Your eyes widen in surprise and you take another sip, nodding happily. ‘You made it? It's delicious.’ 

‘No, I don’t like coffee, but we have a fancy coffee machine at our dorm. The guys are very particular about their coffee and prefer to make their own.’

‘I guess that will be one pro about you moving in,’ you sigh. ‘So who made it then?’ 

‘If I tell you, will you tell them thank you?’ 

You look at Chan with narrowed eyes, taking notice of the grin on his face. 

‘It’s Minho isn’t it?’ 

‘Yes, he’s the coffee king in our dorm.’ 

‘Damnit,’ you mutter. 

Chan laughs and you can’t help but smile. His laugh is adorable and you notice he giggles a lot too. It doesn’t fit his bad boy image, but you like it. 

‘So, will you?’ Chan asks, looking at you. 

‘Thank him? Hmm probably not.’ 

‘Why not?’ 

You snort. ‘He’s a brat.’ 

‘He says the same thing about you,’ Chan smiles. 

‘Of course he does,’ you roll your eyes and take another sip of your coffee. ‘He’s lucky he makes good coffee.’ 

‘He’s also a really good dancer.’ 

‘And you’re not just saying this cause you’re biased?’ 

Chan laughs again and damnit you could get used to that sound. ‘I probably am, but both Minho and Hyunjin danced professionally before they joined the program. Minho has even toured before.’ 

You blink at that piece of information and purse your lips. He must be good if he toured with an idol before, they don’t just hire anybody. 

‘What about Felix?’ you ask, steering the conversation away from Minho. 

‘He mostly danced for fun, but took a preference to martial arts. He’s very flexible and I’ve been told he picks up choreography crazy fast.’ 

All of this makes you very curious to see the three of them in action in a bit and a small part of you secretly hopes that they’re not as good as Chan and Yoona say, because if they are, it gives you one less reason to dislike them and you’re not ready to make friends with either of the men that are rooting up your privacy. 

During the rest of the ride you stay silent, looking out of the window and humming along with the music Chan puts on. He doesn’t push you to talk and you’re grateful for that. Chan seems great and you’re sure that in time you’ll get along splendidly, but for now you simply refuse to make too much of an effort and if that makes you the brat Minho thinks you are, so be it. 

The company building looms up before you and you quickly finish up your coffee as Chan maneuvers the car into the parking garage. As soon as the car stands still, you open the door and jump out, not waiting for Chan. 

‘Y/N!’ Chan calls out after you. ‘Wait up!’ 

You ignore him and press the button for the elevator, tapping your foot as you wait for the doors to open. Luck isn’t on your side and it doesn’t take long before footsteps sound behind you. Gritting your teeth in annoyance, you turn around to face Chan while trying to decide if you should apologize for running or not. 

Your eyes widen when you’re not met with Chan’s face. 

‘I knew you’d be a runner,’ Seungmin says, shaking his head like he’s disappointed to be proven right. 

Before you can argue, Chan appears beside him, frowning and holding your water bottle in his hands. Shit. The look on Chan’s face actually makes you feel guilty for running out on him like that.

‘I’m sorry,’ you say. ‘I–’

‘Are you though?’ Seungmin interrupts you, crossing his arms. 

You glare at him. ‘I am actually, stop being a–’ 

‘A little brat like you?’ a new voice pipes up. ‘That’s impossible.’ 

Minho. Of course. 

You roll your eyes at him and turn to face the elevator again. ‘Please, I just walked to the elevator without Chan, if that makes me a brat, it makes you a bit of a drama queen don’t you think.’ 

A hand grabs your wrist and pulls so you have to turn around. 

‘I don’t,’ Minho glowers at you. ‘We are here for a reason and you better start to accept it soon or one of these days something will actually happen.’ 

‘Min,’ Chan puts his hand on Minho’s shoulder. ‘Let’s all calm down here.’ 

The elevator doors finally open and you pull your wrist out of Minho’s grip and get inside, pushing the button for the second floor. 

‘Yes, calm your ass down, nothing happened,’ you mumble in their direction. ‘I was without Chan for about ten seconds.’ 

‘That’s all it can take,’ Seungmin says, standing beside you. 

Chan gives you a pleading look as if to say ‘please don’t fight this.’ 

You hold up your hands in surrender, but you don’t say anything. The tension in the elevator is thick and you're glad it’s only a short ride up. Minho leaves without saying anything else and you’re already dreading dance training later. 

‘Come on,’ Chan says, gently placing his hand on your back and pushing you in the direction of your studio. ‘I think we need to have a proper talk.’ 

Seungmin follows and you can’t help but throw him an annoyed look over your shoulder. He just rolls his eyes at you and you grit your teeth, looking ahead again. You might try with Chan and Jisung, but Seungmin and Minho could bite your ass. 

‘Here,’ Chan says, handing you your water bottle. ‘You left this when you jumped out in a hurry.’ 

You open your mouth to apologize, but Chan shakes his head and gives you a sad smile. ‘No need to apologize when you don’t really mean it. I’ll earn your trust eventually.’ 

God damnit, why does this man need to have such adorable puppy eyes and cute dimples you want to poke with your finger. 

'Good morning!' Jisung greets you with a grin when you step into his office. He’s behind his desk that’s littered with papers, two cups of coffee and an empty bowl that probably held ramen if you guessed the smell that lingers in the room correctly. ‘How are we feeling today?’ 

‘She already ran away from Channie Hyung,’ Seungmin says as he drops down on the couch. 

You groan in annoyance. ‘I don’t think you can count walking ahead to the elevator as running away, but okay.’ 

‘You still should have waited for me,’ Chan says, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. ‘I don’t care that we’re inside your company, you need to stick close to at least one of us at all times.’ 

‘Okay,’ Jisung claps his hands. ‘I see you’re all feeling fine on this beautiful morning, but I haven’t had enough coffee yet for arguing.’ 

‘Preach,’ you mumble, sharing a grin with your new assistant. 

‘You had two coffees already,’ Chan frowns, eying the two cups on the desk. 

‘One actually, the other one was Minho’s,’ Jisung says and he chuckles when you pull a face at his name. ‘How about we all take a little time to wake up some more. Maybe you guys can get us some more coffee while I talk with Y/N here about some of the rules we came up with?’ 

‘Rules? Jisung, come on, I thought you were on my side here,’ you sigh, pouting at him. ‘I’m not a child, you don’t have to give me rules.’ 

‘Apparently we do,’ Seungmin says. 

‘You’re really getting on my nerves here, buddy,’ you glower at him. ‘If anything it’s behaviour like yours and Minho’s that sets me off, so how about I give you some rules of my own huh?’ 

Seungmin snorts and cocks his head. ‘You have no say in this, missy, you’re not our boss.’ 

Jisung quickly grabs your arm when you’re about to jump forward. 

‘Minnie, get the fuck out of here,’ Jisung says, pointing to the door with a serious look on his face. ‘You’re not helping.’ 

‘Yeah, minnie,’ you grin. ‘Don’t let the door hit you on your way out.’ 

Seungmin just laughs and stands up, holding your gaze. ‘Sure thing, but remember that I’ll be watching you closely, little fly.’ 

‘Seungmin,’ Chan’s voice sounds stern and you grin at him, waving sweetly. 

‘Bye now.’ 

‘You know you’re not helping, right?’ Jisung chuckles, letting go of your arm as Seungmin and Chan disappear into the hallway. 

‘I know, he just brings out the worst in me I guess,’ you admit with a grimace. ‘You might have already gathered this, but I don’t really like to be told what to do and I’m very stubborn.’ 

‘You don’t say,’ Jisung gasps, acting like he’s surprised. 

‘Oh shut up,’ you laugh. ‘You would be too when you’re a famous idol with no real say about basically anything you do. I can’t really act out about it, because I chose to be here and I’m grateful about it too, but sometimes it just gets too much you know. I guess you guys are just an easy target for me to lash out at, at the moment.’ You blink when you realize what you just told him and clear your throat. ‘I didn’t mean to drop that on you, sorry.’ 

‘Don’t be,’ Jisung says, grabbing your hand and giving it a little squeeze. ‘I’m glad you did. I can’t even imagine the pressure you must be under constantly and us coming in after what I think is a pretty scary moment in your life, probably doesn’t help.’ 

‘Not really, but maybe Minho was right and I should be a bit more grateful, at least towards my company, that they care enough about me to hire a shit load of bodyguards.’

‘Maybe,’ Jisung smiles. 

‘If you tell Minho I said that, I will kick your ass,’ you threaten. ‘I’m nowhere near ready to be nice to him.’ 

Jisung laughs and holds up his hands. ‘My lips are sealed, I’m just glad you’ve seemed to accept me at least.’ 

‘You’re very easy to like,’ you shrug. ‘And maybe it helps that you also pose as my assistant, so it feels less like you’re watching my every move.’ 

Jisung hums. ‘Maybe, but I’ll be with you just as much, if not more.’ 

For some reason that thought doesn’t bother you as much and you sigh, leaning against the desk. ‘Well, since I like you right now, let me apologize in advance for when I’m in a mood. Caffeine and food usually helps though.’

‘Good to know, are you ready to go over some of our rules now?�� 

‘What if I say no?’ 

Jisung chuckles. ‘I’ll email them to you, print them out and hang them all over your studio and I’ll keep texting you until you read it anyway.’ 

While you only just met him yesterday, you somehow know he would actually do all that. 

‘Fine, tell me.’ 

‘It’s pretty simple actually. You’re not to go anywhere with at least one of us present, even inside the company.’ 

You make a face, but don’t interrupt as Jisung continues. 

‘If you need to go to the bathroom we won’t go in with you obviously, but other than that you shouldn’t be alone unless it’s in the comfort of your own bedroom of course. If you want to go out, just tell us in advance so we can scout the area if needed and make sure there’s enough security. When you want to go somewhere with Felix, Hyunjin or Minho, someone else still needs to go with you so your fans will know you always have a bodyguard.’

‘I’m sorry, I know I’ve asked this a million times already, but is this really necessary? You talk like I’m a fucking royal in line for the throne.’ 

Jisung shrugs. ‘Until Chan and Yoona feel the threats against you are down and there are no more assaults, yes we do think it’s necessary. I know it seems excessive, but trust me that you’re not the only idol who gained a team of bodyguards.’ 

Somehow that thought hasn’t even crossed your mind. It makes sense though, with the increase of accidents and violence against idols, especially the girl groups and solo artists. It’s insane really and it makes you sad to live in a world where people think it’s okay to act like this. 

‘I didn’t know that. I really need more friends in this idol world,’ you mutter, looking down at your hands. 

Sure you met other idols before and while you get along great with a few, they were all in groups and you always feel like the odd one out when you hang out with them. 

Chan comes back inside then, carrying two coffee cups and a brown bag. ‘I come bearing treats.’ 

You share a look with Jisung. ‘Bribing me with caffeine and food, huh I see how it is,’ you joke, remembering what you told Jisung earlier and loving how Chan’s lips immediately turn up in a smile. 

‘Don’t tell me you’re that easy,’ Jisung laughs next to you, poking your side. 

‘Yah!’ you squeak out. 

Jisung’s eyes sparkle. ‘Are you ticklish?’ 

‘No.’ your eyes widen. ‘You just startled me.’ 

No way are you going to let him know this weakness of yours. Besides, you can get crazy violent when someone won’t stop tickling you. You once kicked your uncle in the face when you couldn’t breathe anymore from laughing. 

‘Mhm, sure,’ Jisung grins, but he doesn’t try again and turns to Chan to grab the coffee. ‘Thanks Hyung.’ 

After your second coffee, Chan comes with you to your studio and you spend the rest of the morning working on your new songs with your headphones on. Occasionally you glance up to look at Chan, but never meet his gaze as he quietly works on his laptop. 

At first it goes well, you’re in a nice flow and happy with the results, but then you get to the song you’ve been struggling with for over a month already. There’s something missing, there must be, but you just can’t put your finger on what it is exactly. 

‘Ugghh,’ you let out a frustrated groan when you listen to it again, letting your head drop to the desk with a loud thud. 

There’s a headache developing behind your eyes and you blindly reach for your water bottle. Your fingertips touch the bottle, but it’s too far away to actually reach it. With another groan you lift your head and stretch your arm a little further. 

‘You doing okay over there?’ Chan asks from his spot on the couch, his voice sounding far away thanks to your headphones. 

‘Peachy,’ you reply, pulling the bottle towards you with a victorious smile. 

You pull your headphones down to hang around your neck, chug some water and then turn your chair to look at Chan properly. He’s already looking at you, a frown on his face and you can basically taste his disapproval. 

‘Don’t even try and lecture me on working this long without breaks and for not having proper light, I know this headache is my own fault,’ you say before he can even open his mouth to scold you like Faris usually would. 

He blinks in surprise, but then he lets out a laugh and nods. 

‘Alright, I won’t say anything, but do you want to tell me what’s troubling you?’ 

It’s your turn to blink at him now. ‘Huh?’ you let out dumbly. 

Chan laughs again and gets up from the couch, putting his laptop aside. He pulls out the second chair at your desk and sits down next to you, his head tipping towards your computer. 

‘You’re obviously struggling with something. Is it lyrics? The beat?’ 

Your first instinct is to snap at him, to tell him to mind his own business, but he’s looking at you so sincerely that you can’t help but sag your shoulders and give in. 

‘I’m not sure actually, that’s the problem,’ you admit, debating if you want to play the song for him or not. Faris did tell you that Chan, Jisung and Changbin used to make music. Fuck it. You’re going crazy if you don’t fix this anytime soon. ‘Would you like to hear it?’ 

The surprise is clear on Chan’s face, but he nods immediately and holds out his hands for your headphones. Nervous butterflies twirl in your stomach and with a deep breath you hand them to him before you can change your mind. He puts them on and gives you an encouraging smile. 

Biting your lip you press play and watch as his eyes widen when the music starts. It's a catchy beat and you can’t help but smile when his head starts to bop up and down. His face doesn’t give anything away and you nervously play with the bracelets around your wrist as you wait for him to finish. 

‘Wow,’ Chan says, putting the headphones down. ‘I knew you were good, but this..’ he shakes his head with a smile. ‘It’s really good Y/N, like really really good.’ 

You feel your cheeks heating up at his praise. ‘Thank you.’ 

‘I think I know what you mean though,’ Chan says and he points at your laptop. ‘May I?’ 

You frown and look between him and your precious laptop that holds all your hard work. 

‘I think it’s a very easy fix with the beat in the bridge,’ Chan smiles. ‘You can do it yourself, I just want to point out where I think it is.’ 

It’s clear to you he knows what he’s talking about and you’re curious to find out which part he means. You slowly push your laptop over to him and get rewarded with a wide grin. For the next hour the two of you work on the bridge, editing and adjusting the melody. Your cheeks hurt from smiling when the song keeps sounding better with every adjustment you make. 

‘You could be a producer,’ you tease, when Chan offers another idea to add to the song. 

A knock on the door causes the two of you to look up and you don’t know why, but you feel like a kid getting caught stealing candy. It’s not like Chan isn’t allowed to help you, but it hits you then what you’re doing and your body tenses anyways. 

‘Hyung? Noona?’ a deep voice calls out that you immediately recognize as Felix. 

‘Come in,’ you yell, quickly saving the progress of your song and closing your laptop. 

The door opens and Felix sticks his head inside, grinning when he sees you and Chan huddled together at your desk. You quickly jump up, causing both men to laugh at the panicked look on your face. 

‘No worries, I won’t tell Yoona or Minho you’re warming up to Channie Hyung,’ Felix smiles. 

‘That’s not it,’ you blush, turning around to grab your bag and water bottle. ‘I’m late for practice aren’t I?’ 

Felix nods. ‘Minho sent me to get you.’ 

You growl at the sound of his name and Chan snickers, standing up as well. ‘I’ll walk with you and get you some food seeing as you haven’t eaten anything since this morning.’ 

‘You don’t have to, I don’t think I can eat much before dancing anyways or I’ll feel sick.’ 

‘I have a banana in my bag if you want,’ Felix offers, rummaging around in his bag and holding up the yellow fruit for you. 

‘Perfect, thank you Felix,’ you smile, accepting the banana. You turn to Chan as you start to peel it. ‘I promise I’ll eat a proper meal after practice. You should have lunch, I’ll be fine with Felix here, right?’ 

You bite off the tip of the banana as you look at Felix and the blonde nods, his eyes flicking to your mouth for a moment before he blushes and looks at Chan. 

‘We’ll be fine Channie,’ he agrees with you. ‘It’s one floor down and Minho and Jin are already there warming up with the others.’ 

‘Alright, just keep an eye on Minho. These two are likely to bite each other's heads off,’ Chan sighs, patting Felix’s shoulder. 

You snort and take another bite of your banana. 

‘I’ll bite something else if he isn’t careful.’

a/n: I wanted to add dance practise to this chapter, but it already got way longer than I planned so next chapter it is ;) I really hope you still like it, even if it might move a little slow -i guess thats slow burn and a multi chaptered fic tho- big smooch to you all <3 taglist: @jaeminie-cricket @jeonginsbaee @staylovesmiley @newbbystay @cashtonsbetch @mariahxrrera @kaleigh-2002 @silencionyx @smileykiddie08 @my-neurodivergent-world @yaorzu-blog @yoongiismylove2018 @staytinyluv @bookswillfindyouaway @queen-thiccness @notastraykid @ateez-atiny380 @estella-novella @furfoxsake22 @hyunjinhoexxx @insomnjen @girl-in-love-with-kpop @vivilovesuu @velvetmoonlght @skz8love @corgilover20 @littlelostdemonofthelight @stephanieeeyang @zulie-and-cats @chanshugsaretherapy @pizzalove5000 @dazzlingjade @milie-com @thequibbie @channiesrightasscheek @strawbrriz @eastjonowhere @stellmeiv @bookishcaptain @flylis @deadpool15 @0325ale @thatgirlangelb @iknow-uknow-leeknow @nchhuhi @shycreationdreamland @readr1221 @beewilko

[decentwritings]

Chapter 1

Summary: You’re unable to grasp the luck you have. You were raised to run from danger, to go the opposite direction of bad influences. So when you somehow find yourself right in the center of it, you discover that running wasn’t exactly what you were taught. It only took GhostFace and a pretty girl to remember that.

next part

The game you were playing was beginning to bore you. The music wasn't even all that and your butt feels sore after sitting on these steps for the last three hours. A couple of drunk teenagers stumble by you again and you can't help but scoff in annoyance.

The extra battery pack you brought was dead and you had about seventeen percent left on your phone. You knew the idea of bringing a backpack was smart, but what was stupid was not bringing an extra charger.

You're stuck here as designated driver for your roommate and her friends. You got the short end of the stick because Anika claims she wants you to get along with her girlfriend. Something about her girlfriend having trust issues with people she doesn't know.

You can't even recall her name.

Miranda? Martha? Melinda?

It starts with an M.

Also, she kicked your ass in ten games of rock-paper-scissors.

The last hour there have been people coming out, not coming in anymore. The costumes were sad this year, and that's coming from someone who doesn't even celebrate. You think you saw one of Anika's friends as a slutty pirate? Maybe it was just a regular pirate; either way, it was lacking creativity.

She is pretty, though.

“Hey!”

You pick your head up, eyebrows connecting at the random outburst. You look around, suddenly aware no one else is sober enough or free to pay attention. So this woman must be calling you out.

And stupidly, you point at yourself and ask, “Me?”

The woman stalks over, and you stand, ready to fight to defend yourself. You lift your fists up but then they fall to your side at the taser in her hand.

“Where's my sister?” She asks, the taser sparks and you can't seem to find an escape with the house pressing against your back.

“I...I don't know,” you stutter, eyes on the taser and watching it move as she speaks.

“Let me through.”

You jump over the ledge and fall into the bushes, allowing the woman entrance to the home. You fall with a thud and groan, spitting leaves out of your mouth in the process. When you stand, the couple making out by the bushes stare at you with a mix of concern and irritation.

“Joker, Black Widow,” you say, stumbling out of the bush with a grunt. “Nice crossover. As you were,” you brush the remaining leaves off your clothes.

You attempt to enter the home, to warn Anika and her friends of some lunatic with a taser. But that same lunatic comes out with Anika and her friends in tow.

Anika tugs you along with her as they stalk out of the property. You groan at the pull, the grip she has on you is causing a pinching pain.

“My car!” you shout, glancing back at your parked car in the distance.

“We'll get it later,” Anika mutters, releasing you a second later.

The lunatic, who you learned is named Sam, shouts after the sister she was looking for, Tara. You follow behind with your shoulders slumped, solemn at the thought of your car parked in a street you don't know.

You're unaware of the group stopping to watch the sisters argue and you continue sulking past them. Hands tucked in your pockets, you kick a rock gently, turning and stopping in your tracks.

You regret ever allowing Anika to convince you to be designated driver. You're going to ask for a change of roommate when you get back.

But it goes to the back of your mind when you overhear someone behind you say, “is that the murderer?”

You raise a brow and look at the voice, tilting your head when you lock eyes with the stranger. And the stranger is throwing something at Sam before you can even comprehend her words.

“Murderer!”

The liquid hits Sam dead on, angering the older woman and unleashing the built up anger she most likely held back during the argument with her sister. Chad has to grab ahold of Sam then Tara to avoid a bigger fight from occurring.

Something in you shouts to get away from these people. It's a loud voice that you know belongs to your parents, who always told you to stay away from the wrong crowd. And maybe, this is what they meant by wrong crowd.

You stay back as they all walk away, just a few feet away from a sad, soaked and tired Sam. You exhale a breath, waiting for Ethan to walk away from his awkward interaction with the older woman. You take off your backpack and unzip it to grab the towel you packed.

While your parents raised you to run from danger, they also taught you manners. You step up to Sam cautiously, extending the towel towards her slowly.

Sam looks between you and the towel. It takes her a minute to decide if she can trust you, or maybe trust the towel. You aren't sure, but you reassure her. "It's better than whatever was on the napkins Ethan gave you," you shrug.

Sam takes the towel, or rather snatches it. She doesn't say anything, and you take that as her silently telling you to leave her alone. You turn and walk the other direction, away from the group. For once, you're listening to your parents' advice.

You decide it's a good night to be away from your roommate. So you head to your cousin's place, knowing his place was just a few blocks away. That way, you could wake up and pick up your car on your way back to your dorm.

You text your cousin to warn him of your presence at his apartment, to avoid interrupting any activities occurring. He texts back informing you he was on his way there, too, to wait for him by the door.

You hear a chuckle to your left a few minutes after arriving to his apartment building. As he gets closer, he points to the name tag on your shirt.

“Dennis?” He asks, pulling his keys out of his pocket.

You shrug. “The party I was at wouldn't let me stay if I didn't have a costume,” you wait patiently for him to unlock the door.

You follow him in, listening to him as he speaks. “And they allowed the fake name tag as a costume?” He asks, closing the door behind you.

You pause at the entrance, freezing when you see Sam at the bottom of the stairwell. You face your cousin with wide eyes. “I'm being followed,” you whisper, eyes filled with panic.

He looks behind you and locks eyes with Sam. He chuckles and shakes his head. “Head on up, I'll meet you there,” he tells you, handing you his keys.

You pause and stare at him like he's crazy, but don't question it, snatching the keys from his hands. You practically sprint past Sam, but pause at the first step to tell your cousin, “she's got a taser, Danny.” you warn him.

Sam glances back at you with narrowed eyes. You scurry off without another word.

You aren't sure how long you wait for your cousin, hoping he's still alive. All you know is, when he does return, you run up to him and immediately ask questions.

“How do you know taser girl?” You ask first, unaware of his worried state. You follow him into his kitchen, questions still flying out of your mouth. “How long have you known taser girl? Did she always live in this building? Why are people calling her a murderer? Why do you look like you've seen a ghost?” You ask when you finally notice his state.

Danny leans against the counter. “She's leaving,” he mumbles, as if he is just now realizing this.

You raise a brow. “What?”

Danny looks at you, and he thinks about all the possible outcomes of telling you the truth. Sam may have passed over a little of her skepticism to him. He's found himself questioning everyone's intentions at times, even at the smallest things like when his coworker ask him to pass him the salt one day at lunch.

“Sam is the girl I'm seeing,” Danny finally says, a weight falling off his shoulders after the words come out of his mouth. All you do is raise a brow. “We've been keeping it secret from her sister and her friends...”

“And me apparently,” you mutter.

Danny sends you an apologetic look, then he sighs sadly. “She's leaving,” he says again. “There was a murder of some students at Blackmore, your school.”

You frown. “Lucky bastards,” you mutter, crossing your arms over your chest childishly.

Danny's expression goes blank, a deadpan look crossing his face. He runs a hand down his face and shakes his head.

“It was a joke,” you say, eyes casting down to avoid his look. “What's the big deal of the murder anyway? It's New York. People die. We move on. It's the circle of life.”

Danny pinches the bridge of his nose. “God, your parents really did shield you from the world,” he mutters, huffing a breath afterward. “Do you watch the news? Check the internet–do you even know who Sam Carpenter is?” He asks you after a beat.

You shrug. “Relative of Jesus? I don't know, Danny– can't you just tell me instead of having me guess?” You give up, patience gone along with your interest in his love life.

And so Danny begins to explain, about Sam Carpenter's past. He tells you she's not just anyone—and you think he was going drone on about how amazing she is but no, he tells you she's tied to a dark legacy, one that involves a string of murders that happened in Woodsboro. Sam is the daughter of Billy Loomis, one of the original killers from those infamous Ghostface murders.

You don't watch the news, so he has to explain the Woodsboro murders. He tells you there's movies about it and you remind him you don't watch horror movies. It leads to a long argument of what movie genre is the best–man, ADHD is in everyone in the family.

Your head spins as Danny returns to his explanation. And you try to piece it all together, figuring out the whole relative thing, the murders and the murderers. You decide to suck it up and watch the Stab movies when you get the time.

Right now, you have bigger things to think about. “Wait, you're telling me your girlfriend is related to some psychopath who went on a killing spree? And people think she might be involved in this new murder at Blackmore?”

Danny looks exhausted but nods. “That's why they're calling her a murderer. She's been trying to escape all of this, but it's followed her here.”

You scoff. “Man, you know how to pick 'em,” you laugh gently, going back to the living room to sit on the couch.

Danny follows behind you, glaring.

You sink into the couch, hands raised in surrender. “Sorry. Geez,” you mutter. “So you're dating a woman who might be the next Ghostface? Or worse, the target of another psycho?”

Danny shrugs, taking a seat beside you on the couch, shaking his head. “She's not the killer. I know her. She's just... trying to live a normal life. But people won't let her. You saw what happened tonight.”

You groan and lean back. “Great. Now I'm stuck in the middle of some horror movie drama.”

Danny frowns at that, worry lines deepening on his face. “Listen, just stay out of it, okay?”

“Believe me, I'm trying,” you huff.

“Sam's trying to leave all this behind. She's not dangerous. Just... misunderstood,” Danny defends.

You're quiet for a while, processing. “So, what now? She's leaving, but what about you?”

He shrugs, looking defeated. “I don't know. Maybe it's better this way.”

You let out a long sigh, not sure what to think anymore. Everything seems so absurd, like you've just been pulled into some twisted movie plot. “This better not end with me getting stabbed,” you mutter, half-joking but half-serious.

Danny gives you a tired smile. “I'll make sure it doesn't.” But his tone doesn't inspire much confidence, and you're left wondering just how deep this whole thing goes.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket, and you assume it's your mom checking in on you. You had told her of your plans and she was adamant of you not going to the party. You should have listened.

You also shouldn't have picked up the phone.

“Sweet mother,” you answer the phone, grinning at your cousin. He rolls his eyes, but the smile on his lips tells you he found it funny.

You expect an answer but nothing comes. You look at your phone screen and tilt your head at the lack of caller ID on it.

“Hello?” You say, waiting for some kind of response.

“Hello, Dennis,” your eyebrows raise, looking at your cousin. “Welcome to the party. Are you having fun?”

You pause to really think of an honest answer for the question. The voice isn't one you recognize, then again, this person did call you by your fake name; he may not know you either.

“Well, not really,” you reply, shoulders sagging as you continue, “and I'm not Dennis. You either got the wrong number or you assume my name is Dennis 'cause you saw me at the party.”

“Oh but I have the right number,” the voice responds, almost giddily.

“Who is it?” Danny whispers, scooting closer to you.

You wave him off, listening to them continue.

“Your cousin thinks he's so clever, doesn't he?” The voice says, menacingly. “Always two steps ahead. But he'll never see me coming. Neither of you will,” then the line goes dead.

You shake your head when you hear the tone signaling the end of the call. You huff and drop your phone to your lap. Danny waits for you to explain the call.

“Some dude called,” you start, nonchalantly. “Said we're not gonna see him coming.”

Danny's eyes widen, standing to grab his phone in the kitchen. You're lost at his sudden rush and concern, following him slowly. He has his phone pressed to his ear, waiting anxiously for someone to answer.

He slams his phone on the counter a few seconds later. He grabs his keys then turns to you. “Let's go. I need your help.”

He doesn't explain and you stupidly follow him, wondering what exactly he needs help with. When you exit the apartment building, he turns to you, eyes wide, frantic, and filled with worry.

“Can you handle this?”

“Handle what? You haven't explained anything,” you reply, an unsettling feeling growing in your gut. “You're freaking me out, Danny.”

“We have to split up, but don't stop looking over your shoulder,” he grips your shoulders, forcing you to meet his frantic eyes. “These GhostFace fanatics are freaks and you have to watch out for yourself. Can you handle this?”

The look on your cousin's face worries you, but your need to always help him—because he's always helped you, no matter what—makes you decide. You nod, confident and determined. You want your cousin to know he can count on you, just like you can count on him.

Not that you ever expected to chase after a killer to help your girlfriend. You're pretty sure you'd never get in a situation like this. You don't have fight in you; only flight.

But hell, if Danny needs you to search for that inner fight, you'll do it for him.

“You go that way, I'll go this way,” he points to the left then the right. “You knocked me out once when we were younger, think you can do that to a freak in a mask?”

You stare at him blankly. “I was ten and hyped up on sugar,” he sighs, regret crossing his face for bringing you into this. You shake your head, wanting to reassure him. “I got a knife,” you say as you pull out the box cutter your brother gave you for work.

Danny stares at it but doesn't comment. “Be careful,” he says, lifting his phone. “And call when you find them.”

You raise your hand to your forehead, saluting. He sprints off after doing a quick look around your surroundings. You do the same, gripping the box cutter in your hand like a lifeline.

You peek into every alley before passing it, making sure there isn't anyone lurking. You're not exactly sure how far you are from Danny's apartment when you reach the bodega at the corner. You come to a slow stop as several people run screaming out of the store.

“Please be a robbery,” you mutter, summoning the courage to fight instead of run. You bounce on your feet a few times, hyping yourself up before you finally walk up to the bodega's doors.

A bell chimes when you open the door, and the scene before you immediately makes you rethink your bravado.

GhostFace turns with the shotgun pointed at you. You've seen the mask before at stores, and you find it ridiculous that people are using a Halloween costume as a way to kill people.

“Wrong store, I'll come back late—”

You duck just in time to avoid the bullet and crawl toward the closest thing you can find for cover. You've played enough video games to know how to survive someone shooting at you.

You press your back against the shelf, heart pounding as you catch your breath. The bodega aisles stretch out in front of you, offering minimal coverage. You glance at the door–running seems like a bad idea. You could make a run for it, but you know bullets fly faster than you run.

His footsteps echo throughout the bodega, slow and deliberate; like he has all the time in the world. But he can't be stupid, someone must have called 911 by now. Right?

You peek around the shelf, catching a glimpse of the mirror hanging from the ceiling. You watch it to see what direction GhostFace is walking to. You see him step over a body, and you're aware it was cashier who probably tried to play hero.

Then, you see them and you roll your head in annoyance. Danny was not lying. Her past follows her so of course Sam and Tara are here, hiding from the freak in the mask.

“I could be in bed,” you mumble, looking at the shelf you're hiding behind for something to use. “But noooo...the one time you rebel against your parents' wishes, you get stuck in some shitty fanfiction a weirdo is writing,” you grab a can, then a jar of olives.

You glance at the mirror, GhostFace is steps away from discovering Sam and Tara so you don't even acknowledge Sam's attempt to get your attention–you toss the can towards the door. He quickly turns and reacts with shooting a nonexistent figure.

You stand now that his back was turned, lifting your arm to throw the jar at his head. As the jar flies in the air, you whistle to get his attention and timed it well to hit him square in the face. The shotgun falls out of his hands and you shout at the sisters to run.

They don't need to be told twice. Sam grabs Tara's arm, pulling her along as they run out of the store. You can hear sirens in the distance but you keep your eyes on GhostFace, who finally regains his composure. He looks out the bodega's windows and sees the flashing lights, then looks back at you with a look that tells you he is not happy.

He runs away and disappears towards the back, leaving you standing there in disbelief.

Did you just face off with a murderer?

You exit the store with your hands up, not wanting the cops to assume you're a threat. Either way, you're handled roughly by an officer as he grips your hands to cuff.

Sam and Tara appear out of nowhere, pulling you out of the replay of the events that occurred in the store. You blink, feeling the cuffs bite your wrists with a tight pinch.

“Stop, they helped us,” Sam says first, voice firm as she glares at the officer. Tara doesn't wait long to support her statement.

“Helped how?” The officer asks, eyeing you and now them suspiciously. Still, he doesn't even loosen his grip on your wrists.

“New York's finest,” you mumble with a head shake. You grimace when his grips tightens. “Oww,” you drawl out.

“They distracted GhostFace long enough for us to get out,” Tara adds, sending you a warning glare to keep your mouth shut. You duck your head, pursing your lips into a thin line. “If it weren't for them, we wouldn't have gotten out,” she jumps to your defense again.

The officer eyes you all, eyes squinting as he stares. He grunts then, “wait here.”

“Am I under arrest?” You asks as he walks away. You groan at his lack of response.

You tap your foot, aware of the presence of the sisters. You can feel the tension from the Carpenters without even looking at them. The last time you were alone with Sam, you ended up in a bush. Last time you saw Tara, she was wearing a pirate costume and laughing about it. Now, here you are. Life, huh?

“Nice night,” you mumble, because apparently, you never learn when to keep your mouth shut.

Both sisters look at you, deadpan. If looks could slap, you'd be on the ground. You shut up, but only for a second, because now Danny comes running up, and you know this is going to be great.

“Oh god, what did you do?” Danny hisses, eyes darting between you and the sisters.

“Saved your girlfriend,” you snarl, feeling deeply insulted that he automatically assumes you did something stupid. Danny freezes, eyes widening in horror at the worst-kept secret in the room.

You walk up to the officer as makes his way over to you. “Please say I'm under arrest,” you practically plead, wanting to escape from this reality.

The officer shakes his head, signaling for you to turn around. You do as you're told, feeling him unlock the cuffs from around your wrists. The stares from the three of them make you shift uncomfortably, keeping your head down until you're able to feel your wrists, holding them against your chest to soothe the ache.

Tara snaps her neck towards her sister, her gaze sharp. “Girlfriend?” she asks, voice icy.

Sam winces, like she knew this was coming. “Not now, Tara,” she nods in the direction a detective walking over to them.

The man smiles crookedly, stepping up to them almost awkwardly. “Care to explain?” He starts, then looks between you and Danny. “I'm sorry, I don't think we've met. I'm detective Bailey.”

“Danny,” your cousin introduces himself, crossing his arms over his chest. There's a tension between them and he feels it thickening with each second passing.

Bailey turns to you. You tap on the fake name tag still on your shirt. “Dennis,” you lie, earning yourself an elbow to your side. You glare at Danny before returning to look at the detective. “Y/N,” you mumble, huffing.

Bailey nods, then sighs as his gaze returns to the Carpenter sisters. “I think you know what I'm going to say,” he says.

Sam nods, arms crossed over her chest defensively. “Let's go then,” she makes her way to the car the detective came in, her sister following.

Danny does the same but you, however, don't move. You didn't sign up for whatever this is. This is your chance to finally step away from this situation. Then, like they all practiced, they turn back to look at you.

“I'm fine here,” you say dismissively. “I appreciate the invite though–”

“Get in the car,” Danny orders with a glare, pointing to the vehicle.

You didn't plan to, you really didn't. But when you look at Tara–when Tara looks back at you, her expression shifting from anger to something softer—vulnerability, maybe. For a second, she's not the girl who just stared down a serial killer; she's just... someone who doesn't want to be alone.

That gets you. You barely know the girl but those eyes draw you in. Screw you and your inability to walk away from a pretty girl. You shuffle toward the car, muttering under your breath several complaints.

You squish in the back seat, Tara seated between you and Sam. The drive to the police station drives by the house the whole night started at. You frown at the sight of your car, lonesome and abandoned.

You sigh dramatically, your mind suddenly reminding you of the one thing that truly matters. “Ahh, fuck,” you groan, earning immediate side-eyes from everyone in the car. “I've got a paper due at midnight.”

Danny turns, his expression a perfect blend of exhaustion and disbelief. “Stop talking.”

And for once, you do.

As you approach the police station, the lights flickering in the night like a beacon of both hope and uncertainty, you realize that whatever happens next, you're not alone. You might be just a regular person caught in a slasher film, but now you're part of something bigger. You were here for Danny, and were further dragged in by Tara's doe eyes, and maybe—just maybe—this wild ride will lead to something unexpected. Hell, this may turn out for a good final senior thesis.

You take a deep breath, feeling that flicker of determination ignite within you. No matter how this night ends, you won't let fear hold you back. After all, survival is a team sport, and you're ready to play.

The car rolls to a stop, and as you all step out into the bright lights of the police station, you can't shake the feeling that this is just the beginning of a very messy adventure. But at least you'll face it with someone.

[banananutmuffin28]

Hi, I loved your se-mi x reader and was wondering if you could do a no-eul one where the fem reader is a player and she kind of tries to protect them during the games?

Yesss! We NEED more fics about our favorite murderous guard :D

Warnings: Mildly Obsessive No-eul

Guard No-eul x FEM! Player Reader

No-eul has always felt a protective pull towards you. It stemmed from when she saw you in the very first game, a type of feeling that curled around her heart and blazed fiercely in her chest.

After all, you were such a pretty little thing.

She couldn't stand watching you suffer through the games as you fought to survive. Whenever she noticed your shaky legs, or the way your lips twisted as you held back a cry, she would always tighten her fists and snarl into her mask.

You didn't deserve any of this.

 No, no, no, you shouldn't have to fight at all. No-eul should just be allowed to whisk you away to somewhere safe. She didn't give a shit about the prize money; all that mattered was having you sheltered in her arms.

No-eul only wanted what was best for you, after all.

But...that couldn't happen. Aside from the task of rescuing you being infeasible in its own right, she would also have to plan an escape and have some mode of transportation to leave the hidden island and return to the sturdy shore.

And besides, the risk of you getting hurt was all too high. It wasn't worth it.

So, instead, No-eul decided to give you gentle nudges in the games.

They weren't much, usually just stemming from her overlooking a small, crucial error, but it was enough to ensure your survival.

Until she found another plan, that would have to do.

—

You tried not to cry as you stumbled along the steady rhythm of the doll’s voice. The metallic stench of blood invaded your nostrils, and you swore you could even taste it on your lips. 

Even now, you could still remember Mi-na’s lifeless corpse on the floor, and the others that followed.

Gi-hun’s reminder rang clear in your mind, repeating over and over again until you thought your brain would burst. 

“If you move; you die!”

At first, you thought he was just some crazed lunatic too high on some unknown drug. But, even then, the way his eyes glared at everyone told some small part of you that he was being serious.

And then Mi-na died. A crisp, clear gunshot rang right next to you before she folded onto the ground. The noise had shocked you, seeing as you were right next to her and really didn’t fucking expect someonr to actually die in Red Light Green Light of all games. You remember stumbling back—it was just a miniscule amount of movement, but still enough to be noticeable.

The other players stared at you, wide eyed. And, you knew by the way sympathy had sparked in their irises, that you were done for.

You had closed your eyes, chin trembling as the first of tears fell from your face, and waited for a bullet that would shoot through your skull.

 But…it never came. 

A few moments had passed, and you were still unharmed. 

An unsteady gasp fell from your lips as you felt a fragile, flighty sense of hope bloom in your heart. Were you really going to be spared? Did that movement not really count?

The next time the doll sang, it sounded like the heavenly voices of angels.

The next few rounds passed by achingly slowly. By now, you had decided to stop just seconds before the doll would turn its gaze to you, as an extra precautionary measure.

You didn’t want another close call like that again.

All around you, people of all ages fell down like flies. Even the slightest of movements got them shot, and you watched as one by one the life slowly faded from their eyes.

And, all the while, your mind was racing with one singular thought: Why were you spared?

–

As the timer reached zero, No-eul smirked. She squinted into the day scope, fingers dancing along the trigger. 

She couldn’t believe it. Not only had you survived, but she got away with not shooting you too.

“011, what’s gotten you so happy?”

No-eul turned around, startled. Her fingers slipped, accidentally sending a stray bullet whirring past the intended target. The man screamed, tears spilling from his eyes as he begged for mercy.

How annoying.

Another triangle masked guard sat beside her. He chuckled, looking up from his gun lazily as he propped one elbow on his lap. When No-eul didn’t respond, the man made a flicking motion, urging her to speak.

“Come on, 011, whenever you’re on sniping duty for Red Light Green Light you’re always huffing and shit. Always so serious. So, why are you chuckling today?”

No-eul sighed, though she still couldn’t stop the blush that appeared on her cheeks.

“It was nothing, 013. Stop pestering me and go back to work,” She deadpanned at last. Before he could respond and fire back with a creatively stupid insult, No-eul gazed back into the magnifying scope and started shooting.

No-eul didn’t want anyone else focusing on you. You were hers and hers alone.

—

As the games passed by one by one, you grew more and more concerned. Really, you shouldn’t even be alive right now.

You laid in your bed, a frown on your lips. During each and every one of the games, you had done something that should’ve gotten you disqualified. In Gonggi, you had accidentally dropped a Jack at the very last second, but instead of making you start all over again, the guard posted at your side made an O.

Hell, you could’ve sworn the guard’s eyes were on you the entire time. There was no chance they didn’t see your slip up.

So why did they still let you go?

And then, it happened again in Mingle. During the last round, you were unable to find a partner in time on the carousel. In your fit of desperation, you had run into one of the rooms, only to find a very traumatized player already sitting inside. 

And, what was even stranger was that no matter how hard someone pounded at your room, it wouldn’t budge. It was almost as if the door had locked itself before the timer ran out.

What the hell was going on? Do you really have a secret guardian angel protecting you, or were the game creators just that careless?

You paused, then punted the last part of that thought to the stratosphere. 

If that were true, it wouldn’t align with the actions of the soldiers when it came to other players. 

You remembered how stingy they were with the rules, and how a guard even disqualified a team’s toss because one of the men had accidentally stepped a little further than the boundary line.

Maybe your guardian angel would help you with your next game too and just hand your victory to you on a silver platter.

You groaned, covering your face with your hands as a heavy sigh escaped you.

Fuck, all of this thinking was making your head hurt.

In truth, you knew you really shouldn’t be so ungrateful at how you survived for this long. Hell, you were even willing to bet your entire life savings that most of the players would kill to have the luck you possessed now.

 But… the fact that you’re still alive unnerved you. And at times, you even felt like you were being watched.

After a few more minutes of fruitlessly twisting and turning in your bed, you sighed.

You needed to go to the bathroom to freshen up.

Awkwardly, you pulled your blankets aside and climbed down your bunk bed. The room was deathly quiet, and you couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through your body as you stared into the inky abyss surrounding you.

For fuck’s sake, get a grip! You’ve already survived literal death games; a little bit of darkness shouldn’t scare you, You chided yourself.

Shaking your head, you spread your arms out and slowly walked over to the bathroom.

The triangle guard on the other side stared at you blankly when you asked them to open the door. You blushed, running a hand along your neck as you started spouting out some nonsense on how your stomach hurt and you really needed to go.

When you had almost considered giving up, the door slid open.

“A-ah. Thank you!” You squeaked, and hurried in.

The guard froze, their shoulders stilling. Then, they nodded, before turning back to their station.

The second you entered the bathrooms, it almost felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders.

Signing for what felt like the umpteenth time, you walked over to the sink and splashed water onto your face. 

The cold liquid was like a blessing to your sweaty face. 

You smiled into your reflection. 

Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.

And then you heard footsteps approaching.

—

After making sure no one was watching her, No-eul strided into the bathroom, a confident smirk on her face. In the still quiet of the room, she could hear her own heartbeat reverberating around her eardrums.

Finally, she was able to be alone with you.

When she opened the door, it took all her willpower not to pounce at you.

You looked so…adorable in there alone, with water still clinging to your chin. Oh, No-eul just wanted to gobble you up.

You backed away, and No-eul could see the familiar look of fear on your face. You were scared. Of her.

She tsked. She would not let that stand.

“Why are you looking so scared, honey?” No-eul purred. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

 Her hand retrieved a key from her pocket, and she used it to lock the door.

You swallowed, arms instinctively crossed around your chest.

“F-forgive me, miss, but that is a little hard to believe when you just locked the door. So that it’s just us. Alone.” 

That last part was barely audible, even in the quiet night.

No-eul’s smirk grew wider.

“Awwwe, would me taking my mask off help with that, love?” 

Your cheeks turned a dark auburn at the mere suggestion, and you doubled back. As she reached for her mask, you tried to stop her.

“Isn’t that against the rules? Won’t you…get in trouble?” You ask, genuine concern lacing your words.

No-eul laughed softly, shaking her head.

“I’ve already broken the rules by just talking to you, baby,” She tilted her head, closing the distance between you two. “What’s one more?”

Your throat bobbed up and down. You looked like you were about to argue, but didn’t.

“If that’s what you want, miss,” You mumbled at last, gaze turning to the floor.

No-eul laughed again.

 She knew she made the right choice in sparing you.

She unclasped the straps to her mask.

—

Fuck.

Fuck.

The guard in front of you was taking her mask off. And she looked so fucking hot.

She already had a hot enough voice. Her face card was enough to kill you.

You know what, maybe you didn’t mind dying if this was her face. You would be leaving the Earth with your little gay heart doing backflips.

Unconsciously, you took a hesitant step forward.

The woman smiled, and extended her hand.

“Do you like what you see, love?”

You nodded, unable to speak.

She hummed approvingly, reaching to caress your face gently with her hand. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do this, baby. Fuck, you look so precious like this, I could just eat you up.”

The way she enunciated her words made you whimper uncontrollably. This close, you could see every little detail in her face. There was a fresh cut on her cheek, and pretty little dimples littering her mouth. Her lips were plump, but a little chapped.

You wondered how sweet her mouth would taste.

Wait, what?

For fuck’s sake, you literally just met the woman! And she was a guard! You couldn’t possibly be swooning at her already!

But, as you looked at her again, your mind couldn’t help but wander. Would she pin you to the wall and kiss you roughly? Or would she be gentler in her approaches?

“Were you the one who was watching me?” You asked at last, turning to meet her gaze.

Something flashed in her eyes. Something predatory.

“My, my, did you catch on at last?” The guard cooed, hands moving to wrap themselves around your waist. “I supposed the truth would have to get out eventually.”

She pushed you so that your face landed on her chest. Her scent filled your nostrils, comforting you in such a way that made you feel boneless.

Slowly, she leaned in, her breath tickling your ear as she whispered, “Did you realize I was protecting you too?”

As soon as you registered those words, you gasped. 

In your surprise, you broke out of her embrace and gaped at her.

Already, you were beginning to miss her touch.

The guard pouted at you when you left her arms, but made no move to pull you back in.

“It was you?” You blurted out, still in shock.

A Cheshire grin danced on her lips.

“Of course, love. I was the one who didn’t shoot you in Red Light Green Light, I approved of your Gonggi performance, and I jammed that door for you.”

You freeze, not quite sure what to think. On one hand, the idea of a pink soldier protecting a player was so outlandish! A part of you didn’t believe her.

But…on the other hand, what she said lined up with the unusualness following you. It made sense that, if they chose to, a guard sparing you could be the difference between life and death.

All that left you was one, burning question.

“Why?”

The woman’s nostrils flared, and an unreadable expression adorned her face. She stepped towards you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“It’s because I couldn’t let you die, love.”

She paused.

“Do you remember how you looked during the first game? You were so scared, so small. I wanted to protect you.”

Her eyes grew feverish.

“I only want what’s best for you, baby.”

Your heart thundered.

What the hell?

“But, we don’t know each other! I’ve never met you in my life—“

“Oh, but that doesn’t matter, sweetie,” The guard purred, running a finger along your cheek. “We can take our time getting to know each other later. When you’re safe from the games.”

Blood was roaring in your ears. You knew you were supposed to feel scared at her reaction, but something primal inside you relished in it. 

Seemingly noticing your shift in demeanor, the woman leaned in close and kissed you chastely on the forehead.

Obsessively, she hugged you once again, though this time her embrace was tighter. 

“Would you like that baby? Be taken care of by me? You wouldn’t have to ever be worried again.”

She said the word in between kisses, peppering your face but never touching your lips.

“We would be so happy together.”

Her hands wandered, one pressing against the back of your head while the other rested on your waist.

Despite yourself, you leaned into her touch and wrapped your arms around her. You soaked in her attention, in how desperate she seemed to want to protect you.

You liked the feeling of being loved.

The next time she leaned down to kiss you, you purposefully angled your face so that your lips connected.

The guard gasped softly, but didn’t pull away.

In fact, she deepened the kiss.

You moan softly, opening your mouth and letting her tongue explore it. 

Mindlessly, she lifted you up and you wrapped your legs around her waist.

When the two of you parted for air, a string of spit connected your lips.

Mesmerized, you brought a finger to your face. 

“I guess you really are my guardian angel,” You mumbled.

The woman only smiled again, and pinched your cheek.

“The name’s No-eul, by the way.”

A/N: Hahaha I stayed up so late writing this ;__:. There actually will be a part two to this! I was planning on writing it all today but I genuinely don’t think I can get it all out without it being utter trash 😭

Please let me know if you liked it! I live for your comments.

[Im going to collapse onto my bed now]

[thelov3lybookworm]

Pretty, isn't it?

Day 6: Song of the wind.

Summary: He made a fool out of himself, but it seemed worth it.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 1313

Warnings: fluff, azzie being a shy baby 🥹

A/n: hehehe i hope yall like this as much as i do 🥹 this one doesnt have hazel and kaden because its mostly az trying to impress yn with his peacock feathers (that is me trying to be funny, az doesnt have peacock wings 😭)

@azrielappreciationweek

ANYWAY ENJOYYYY 🥳

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

I would be the luckiest male to ever exist if you decided to give me the time of day.

Azriel could not believe it, but that letter had been the one that had convinced Y/n to spend time with him, to get to know him. He had given up after having sent almost fifty letters over the time of two months since he’d seen her first.

He had begun to wonder if he truly was that undesirable that even after those letters and shitty poetry, Y/n did not care.

To her credit, Azriel would have rejected himself too after his pitying attempts at poetry.

In the last letter, he had written everything he could come up with. It had been all over the place, written in the middle of the night after having a dream of Y/n with another male. Maybe Azriel had begun suffocating her, maybe he was pushing her away rather than making her like him. He had told her how the past two months, he had been looking forward to seeing her more than he ever has anyone else in his life. How he cared for her without knowing anything about her, and how he was glad for her existence no matter what.

He had told her that it would be his last letter, and that he would let her be free. He had imposed enough.

But to his surprise, the next morning when he woke up at his desk, back sore and neck bent at an unnatural angle, he was greeted by the sight of a white envelope, sealed with soft pink wax.

The paper inside only consisted of only nine words. Nine words that were able to make the spymaster grin wide, giggle like a schoolgirl and jump around his room, hurrying to get dressed for the day.

Meet me at the bridge over Sidra at noon.

He had only been standing for a few moments before she showed up, in another one of her flowy dresses, small pink flowers printed onto the soft material.

Just the sight of her slightly tilted lips had Azriel’s ears turning red.

She had greeted him normally, like he had not spent the past two months following her around like a lunatic, begging for a moment of her day. And Azriel had been all too happy to go along with it.

Well, he was happily going along with that plan, until he realised the sun was setting and panicked, realising he did not have longer before she decided to go home and he did not yet know whether she liked him enough to decide to bless him by spending another day with him.

So, in his hurry to impress her, he had dragged her to the riverbank.

"I come here when I need to get away from my family. They can be a lot at times."

Y/n smiled, humming. "I hadn’t really thought about them being… I don’t know, like us? I guess I had this image of them being very professional and serious."

Azriel smiled. "They’re the most unhinged people I’ve ever met. Like you know the other day, Cassian jumped on one foot trying to impress his mate, like this-" Azriel did the same thing Cassian had done, hopping around on one leg and spreading his wings to balance himself- "and then he fell into the river."

Y/n chuckled, her eyes sparkling. Seeing the tilt of her lips, Azriel couldn’t help but grin back. The wind picked up, the song he was so familiar with blowing gently around the two of them.

Azriel did not close his wings, too busy staring at the way the wind lifted the edges of Y/n’s hair, the way she closed her eyes for a moment, as if to savour the feeling of it. He didn’t close his wings. He should have. But it was too late.

The membrane of his wings caught the air, sending him stumbling back. His eyes widened, meeting Y/n’s concerned ones before he rushed towards the ground, skiing tingling with the cold river water that enveloped him not moments later.

He sputtered as he resurfaced, frantically searching around for Y/n. He found her bent over herself, eyes closed as laughter erupted from her lips.

His lips twitched in response even as the red of embarrassment took over his features.

At least I could make her laugh. Who cares if she won’t want me after I made a fool of myself?

Azriel struggled to his feet against the strong current, ears filled with the melodious sound of Y/n giggling.

"Are you okay?" She questioned as he finally crawled onto dry land, her eyes sparkling.

Azriel nodded. He did not have words to say. She spared him the struggle.

"It’s getting late. I should go." Perhaps she noticed the way Azriel’s face fell, because she hurried to add. "Do you mind flying me home?"

Instantly, Azriel perked up. "Not at all, I would love to."

Y/n only smiled, stepping closer to him.

Moments later, the two were in the air, despite Azriel’s worries of getting her dress wet. She had assured him that she did not mind.

The instant they were airborne, Azriel realised that Y/n’s eyes were clenched shut, as were her fists against his shoulders. It made him want to giggle in giddiness, but he forced himself to focus on the gentle wind whispering in his ears and not the way she felt in his arms as he squeezed Y/n tight.

She felt like home. She felt like she belonged here, and if she agreed, Azriel would never let go of her, content to spend the rest of eternity holding her.

She opened her eyes, looking at him for a long while before glancing down. A soft gasp of wonder escaped her, and Azriel let himself chuckle.

"It’s pretty, isn’t it?"

She nodded distractedly before glancing at him.

"Does this shock you every time you fly?"

Azriel pondered as her home came into view, a sense of longing beginning to take root in his chest. "I can never get used to the beauty, if that’s what you mean." he paused. "I was not allowed to even spread my wings for the first decade or so of my life, so now every time I take to the skies, I take my time cherishing the sights, the smells and the sounds."

Y/n swallowed as Azriel began descending, her eyes unwavering from his face. She did not avert her eyes, even as he set her down on her porch.

"Thank you for today, Azriel."

Azriel dipped his head, the warmth of his cheeks no longer stemming from embarrassment.

"It was all my pleasure."

Azriel wanted to ask her if she would want to meet with him again, on another outing for just the two of them, but he did not want to force her hand. He already wondered if this one day out was because she pitied him, maybe wanted him to leave her alone. He could not bring himself to ask for more of her precious time. He felt blessed as it was.

But Y/n smiled wide, seeming to have other plans. "Will I see you again?"

Azriel stared back at her, stunned. "I- if you want to see me. I mean I want to see you, but if you don’t want to see me it’s completely fine, I won’t bother you more-"

A soft laugh tickled his ear before he felt her soft lips at his cheek, silencing him effortlessly.

"See you next week then, same day and time. Goodbye Azriel."

She was through her door and into the house before Azriel could recover from the shock.

"Goodbye…" He mumbled, gazing at the painted door.

But no one except his shadows were there to hear his response.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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[tomriddleslove]

Obliviate.

✩ Mattheo Riddle x Reader angst

Summary: The one where tensions are running higher, and everyone has to pick a side. You promised to stick by one another, but a stupid oath you made when you first met threatens to drive that apart. Alternatively: If you love her, then you have to let her go.

A/N: If you don’t listen to the recommended song when reading this i will fight you 🤺🤺

Song: Goodbye - Billie Eilish

The Daily Prophet

Unrest Brews as Dark Forces Loom

By Rita Skeeter

In a disturbing turn of events, Diagon Alley was rocked by an unprecedented attack last night, sending shockwaves throughout the wizarding community. Witnesses reported seeing a group of hooded figures, suspected to be Death Eaters, descending upon the famous magical thoroughfare with malicious intent.

The Flourish and Blotts bookstore bore the brunt of the assault, with its windows shattered and shelves overturned. Several nearby shops, including Ollivanders Wand Shop and Eeylops Owl Emporium, also sustained significant damage.

"I've never seen anything like it," said Horace Slughorn, a retired Potions Master who happened to be in the area during the attack. "It was pure pandemonium. People were running for cover, spells flying everywhere. It was like a scene out of the darkest days of the last wizarding war."

Ministry of Magic officials were quick to respond to the scene, deploying Aurors and members of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol to contain the situation. However, the attackers managed to evade capture, leaving behind a trail of destruction and instilling fear in the hearts of many.

The Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, condemned the attack in the strongest terms, vowing to apprehend those responsible and bring them to justice.

"We will not tolerate such brazen acts of violence in our society," Minister Shacklebolt declared in a statement issued this morning. "The Ministry is fully committed to ensuring the safety and security of all witches and wizards, and we will spare no effort in our pursuit of these criminals."

The attack on Diagon Alley serves as a grim reminder of the growing threat posed by Voldemort's followers, who have been emboldened in recent months by reports of their dark lord's rumoured return. With tensions running high and fear gripping the wizarding world, many are left wondering what the future holds in this time of uncertainty.

You frown as you observe Mattheo, watching as he tosses the paper down onto the table in front of you with a huff. The tension in his face has become increasingly evident over the past few weeks, and you've begun to forget what Mattheo looks like when he isn't frowning.

You wrap your arms around his arm, leaning in close to him as you speak quietly.

“Hey. It’s alright,” You reassure, pressing a light kiss to his shoulder. He doesn’t tear his gaze away from the fireplace, a small huff of both frustration and amusement escaping his lips as he clenches his jaw, nodding.

“It’s alright.” He scoffs, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

It’s alright? No, it wasn’t alright. His father was a murderous lunatic who was about to trigger the second wizarding war. He had to sit back and watch his own friend get tortured for hours for failing to complete a task. He can't close his eyes without seeing Theodore writhing in pain on the floor.

Mattheo was expected to fight with them. The time would come, that was for certain. Mattheo would have to stand there, and raise his wand against the people he's shared a dorm with and sat in class with.

Hell, he would be expected to raise his wand against you.

“They always say this, Mattheo. They’ve been saying it for years, and nothing has happened.” You say, but even you can see how pathetic it sounds. Despite your efforts to comfort him, it's clear that his mind is elsewhere, consumed by the looming threat of war and the impossible choices he may soon be forced to make.

Mattheo finally tears his gaze away from the fireplace, his eyes meeting yours. Your breath hitches, the sheer look of sorrow in his eyes enough to shatter your heart into a million little pieces.

"I don't want to drag you into this," he confesses, his voice raw with emotion. "You deserve better than to be caught up in my mess."

Your heart sinks as you realize where this conversation is headed. "Mattheo, please," you plead, the fear in your voice palpable, "don't do this. Don't shut me out."

But he shakes his head, his expression pained. "I have to," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "Remember our promise?"

Mattheo looks up when he sees you sit next to him, a wide grin on your face as you unpack your bag.

He had seen you here and there in the common room. You always seemed to have an impossibly bright smile, far too lovely for the gloominess of Slytherin.

“Riddle.” You hum with a small grin, and he can't help but let a small smile tug at his lips as he looks over at you.

“What's wrong? You’re looking at me as though I’ve grown another head” You tease as you sit down next to him .

Mattheo blinks in surprise as you address him, the warmth of your smile catching him off guard. He's used to being treated with caution and apprehension, especially given his family's reputation and his own reserved demeanor. But your easy manner and genuine curiosity leave him feeling strangely disarmed.

"Nothing's wrong, just lost in thought, I suppose," he replies, a hint of amusement in his voice as he watches you unpack your bag. Despite himself, he can't help but feel a sense of curiosity about you, wondering what it is that draws you to him when so many others keep their distance.

-•-

“Please-” Mattheo pleads in frustration, slamming the door shut behind him as he storms through the empty common room. You follow after him briskly, slamming the door that separates the common room from the dorms closed with a flick of your wand as you corner him.

“What do you mean, please?” You snap, frowning at him.

“Stop-” He says, his movements exasperated as he motions between the two of you “- this! Stop trying to be friends with me! It’s for your own good.” He says, looking up at you.

You let out a dry laugh, a mix of amusement and frustration as you shove him lightly.

“Oh fuck off. So you can kiss me and spend every evening with me but when it suits you we are just friends. You don't get to decide what’s good for me, Mattheo. I choose what I do and who I associate with, and if that hurts me then so fucking be it.” You retort harshly. Mattheo goes to interject but you cut him off.

“No! You don't get to choose when you want to be with me. I want you, Mattheo. All of you. I couldn’t give two flying shits about who your father is, or who you associate with. I'm capable of making my own decisions.”

He remains silent, his expression torn between turmoil and guilt, as your words hang heavy in the air between you. You feel slightly guilty for your outburst and your expression softens, reaching out to hold his hand gently as you speak.

"You know, if you really think it's that dangerous for me to be around you, you could always just obliviate me. Make me forget about you completely."You quip, trying to lighten the mood

For a moment, Mattheo's shock gives way to a burst of laughter, the tension in the room dissipating as he shakes his head in disbelief. "You're impossible," he says, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "But I wouldn't have it any other way."

-•-

You pull back from Mattheo, shaking your head. “No. No, that was a joke.” You stammer, but he turns to you.

“It wasn’t. We spoke about it afterwards. You promised me.” Mattheo says, sternly.

You know he’s right. You only agreed because the idea seemed so laughable. But now it was a reality, and you could see the hurt and disappointment in Mattheo's eyes.

Tears well up in your eyes as you struggle to find the right words, the weight of everything crashing down on you like a ton of bricks. "I love you, Mattheo," you say, more of a plea than anything else. He draws you into him, a strong arm wrapping around you tightly, as though he is scared to let you go. His hand cups the back of your head, pulling your head down to rest on his shoulder as he kisses the top of your head.

“I know. I love you too. That's why we have to.” He murmurs, trying his hardest to not let his voice break.

-•-

It’s not fair.

It wasn’t fucking fair.

Mattheo had just found it. Found his reason for living. Found his reason to keep going when all the odds were stacked against him. You were the air he breathed, the light that lit his life up and the tender hand that soothed him. You were his everything, and you had to be snatched away from him.

He gently raps on the door to your dorm, just to let you know he was about to enter before cracking the door open. You hastily scramble, shoving the book you were writing with under your pillow as you spot Mattheo.

He notices but he doesn't say a thing, no, he can't. Because in a few minutes, it would be as though he never existed to you. He couldn't tell what would have hurt more, you not being able to see him, or you not even knowing who he was. You’d hold his heart in your hands, unknowingly, and he would be nothing but a stranger.

“Not in here, Please, not in here.” You breathe out, your words hitching in your throat as you fight back tears. He nods wordlessly, taking a step back.

“No one’s in the common room. I’ll uh- go there.” He murmurs, his voice hollow and empty as he turns to leave, unable to bear the thought of facing you for what may be the last time.

As he makes his way down to the common room, every step heavier than the last, he can't shake the feeling of emptiness that gnaws at his insides. It's like a void, swallowing him whole and leaving nothing behind but a hollow shell of the person he used to be.

He finds a seat in the furthermost corner, where you both usually sat, facing the fireplace. He watches the embers crackle and dance, not even noticing your presence till you slide up into the seat next to him. He wants to avert his gaze when he sees the tears in your eyes, but instead, he reaches up.

His hands were shaking. Why were they shaking?

He wipes a stray tear from your cheek.

“My wand. Let me go uh-” He blurts , quickly getting up as he looks away. He blinks back tears as he hurries up the stairs. Instead of going up to his dorm, however, he sneaks into yours.

He walks over to your bed, pulling back your pillow. Sure enough, the small book you were so desperate to conceal from Mattheo was there. He looks around and then with a small huff, tucks it into his back pocket. He hurries back downstairs.

Returning to the common room, he sits back down next to you, his hand reaching out to gently intertwine with yours as you sit together in silence. For a while, you don't say anything. You fear that speaking will break this small bubble, where time has frozen and you can just enjoy your last moments together.

As Mattheo gently cups your face, his touch trembling with the weight of what's to come, he feels the soft dampness of your tears against his fingertips. Your eyes, filled with sorrow and pleading, search his for some semblance of reassurance, some sign that this isn't the end.

"I can't do this," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, his heart breaking with every word. "I can't lose you. You mean everything to me. I’m so scared"

Your sobs fill the air around you, the sound like a knife to Mattheo's heart as he struggles to hold back his own tears. He leans in, pressing his lips against yours in a tender, bittersweet kiss, savouring the taste of your lips one last time before it's all gone.

“I love you.” Is all you can muster. It’s pathetic, but it hurts to even think about anything.

You cling to him desperately, your fingers tangling in his hair as though trying to anchor yourself to the present. Mattheo feels a lump form in his throat, the weight of his decision pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket, but he knows that he has to do this. For your own safety, for your own sake, he has to let you go.

His forehead presses against yours, taking in every last moment of intimacy he’s granted. You don't open your eyes, and he's grateful, for he doesn't think he could bear to look you in the eye.

“Obliviate.”

The second after he murmurs the words he stumbles away from you, reeling backwards as though your touch has burnt him. You wouldn't remember a thing about him, not even his name. He couldn’t be close to you anymore.

Mattheo watches as you blink, confusion clouding your features as you try to make sense of your surroundings. You look around the room, your eyes scanning the familiar surroundings with a sense of bewilderment, and for a moment, Mattheo's heart clenches with the hope that maybe, just maybe, you'll remember him. But deep down, he knows that it's futile, that the spell has already taken effect, erasing every trace of him from your mind.

You shake your head slightly, as if trying to clear the fog from your thoughts, before turning and heading up to your bed. Mattheo watches you go, his heart breaking with every step you take away from him, knowing that he can never follow.

But then, just as you reach the top of the stairs, you pause, your gaze flickering back to where Mattheo stands in the corner of the room. And in that moment, you give him a small, absentminded smile, the kind of smile you might give to a passing stranger.

Mattheo's heart lurches in his chest at the sight of your smile. He wants to call out to you, to tell you who he is, to beg you to remember him, but he knows that it's pointless. You're gone, lost to him forever, and there's nothing he can do to change that.

As you disappear, he collapses down onto the sofa, He wants to sob, and for a second he thinks he is, a horrible restictive choking feeling in his throat as he looks down at the floor. He reaches into his pocket, fingers fumbling with the small black book, perhaps the last piece of you he’d truly have.

He finds the most recent entry and wipes away the tears that blur his vision as he begins to read.

Don't be alarmed when you see this. I want you to read every word of this carefully. This is you, that is writing. It is the 26th of June, 1996. You might have felt like you’ve woken up in the common room, feeling a bit disoriented.

You were obliviated. And it was your idea.

When you were that annoying, pestering little kid, you had taken it upon yourself to befriend a boy called Mattheo Riddle. You’ll see him over the next few days, perhaps. He might look at you as though it hurts him to. It most definitely does. He’s devastatingly handsome, with the softest brown curls and the most expressive eyes. I do believe you won't need me to describe him. Really, my love for him is so strong I doubt any sort of obliviate can erase the idea that Mattheo Riddle lives within the recesses of your heart. Everyone had warned you of how dangerous he was, how his father was rumoured to be the Dark Lord and that he was bound to be no good. But you, in your true Slytherin ambition, set out on a mission to befriend him.

And you fell in love. It was impossible not to, really.

He is everything to me. He was everything to you. He is the most brilliant boy I’ve known. Far too many people gave up on him early. He’s beyond just being incredibly intelligent. He feels. And that’s rarer than you might believe. For someone who was subjected to such horrible things growing up, he is tender. Do not let his bruised knuckles and split lips fool you.

Now, more than ever, he will struggle. He believes you are fully not aware of him. But with this, I hope you are.

Be there for him. Do not tell him about this. You were awfully good at forcing your way into people's lives. Do that for him now. Make him think it was a coincidence. Be there for him, and don’t let his stubbornness fool you. Merlin knows he will be stubborn. He is simply scared, and you mustn’t let that deter you.

People will often compare their lovers to the sun. Bright, warm, near perfect. Mattheo is the moon, casting a gentle glow in the darkness, guiding you through the night. He may not shine as brightly as the sun, but his presence is no less mesmerizing, no less essential.

You had always preferred the moon more, anyway.

Take care of him.

You stupid girl. You stupid, selfish girl.

Mattheo's hands tremble as he reads the letter, his heart constricting with every word, every line. It's like a knife to his heart, the pain of knowing that even in a situation like this, you still found a way to look after him, to care for him, to love him.

Tears blur his vision as he reads on, each word cutting deeper than the last. The book, filled with pages of recollections of the time they spent together, feels like a cruel reminder of everything he's lost, everything he can never get back.You had nearly filled the whole book, addressed to yourself with worries and letters in the hopes of getting your obliviated mind to fall back in love with Mattheo. To remember him, and to negate the whole idea of obliviating yourself by leaving this book for your future self.

And you did all of this just because you wanted to look after him.

It hurts to breathe, to even entertain the idea of going to bed tonight knowing that the love of his life sees him as nothing but a stranger. And in his hands, he holds the thing that could do the impossible, that could somehow reverse it all.

The very selfish part of him wants you to see the book. He wants to slip upstairs, and hide it back under your pillow, and let you find the words you addressed to yourself.

But he couldn’t. He could die far more happily knowing he’s not leaving you behind, no. Really, you were never his, the two of you forcing destiny in the opposite direction, living on borrowed time. Now he has to face the consequences of it all, and if he can stop you bearing the brunt of it, then he’s made no mistake.

He places the book down on the table, and doesn’t think twice about his actions.

“Incendio.”

[svndaysaweek]

Addiction and Poisoning — {Feat. Minnie (& Miyeon)}

1.2k words

A/N: It’s been months since the last time I posted something. This might not be the best I’ve written, but I did write something, nevertheless. I’ve been feeling the need to release something, and @i-am-lifeform24 thankfully gave me a precious opportunity to write something!!! So I’m posting it here too. Check out other fics from the ‘Curated Companions’ also!

*Drug use, choking, bondage, a bit of angst(…?)

******

Once in for all. You head to the bar you’re regular at. Everytime you tip a glass there, you experience a weird dream and when you wake up you’re in your bed, no memories of how you even made it there.

It’s happened several times already. To the point where you start to doubt if it really is a dream.

A charming bartender, nice drinks, and the addictive dream-like scenes you fragmentarily see like a deja-vu. 

There are different versions of it, but all follow the same sequence: sit down, empty a glass or two, a little chirpy chit chat with the bartender and the very next blink she’s riding you in a frantic manner.

What haunts you the most is that you lose old memories too. The damage is disturbing, since even at work you don’t remember major events that happened. You really should stop drinking, and you're aware of it more than anyone. 

You can’t explain, but you feel like you should just go there again. It’s an addiction, maybe. You know you should stop, but you don’t.

******

The door swings open with the little bells on it quirkily ringing. It’s a dim bar, with the calm noise of people talking and laughing with clinking sounds. Over the counter she’s wiping glasses, not in a tuxedo but in a white sleeveless shirt, long blonde hair over a shoulder and a pair of orbs in her eyes with the aura that a quartz gemstone would exude.

Hot, but not red-hot. Erotic, but not foul.

The very eyes in your dreams that you made roll back.

“Hi, long time! The usual?” Minnie’s grin blooms quickly as if she’s been waiting for you. Then she fixes it the next second, recognizing how unusual it is for a bartender to be as turgidly excited as her.

“I’d love to.” With a bite on her lip she turns around, takes a bottle of whiskey. Then enters a room in the back for a glass.

Your hand automatically takes your phone out of the pocket. You see a message from an unknown number saying ‘Hey we need to talk’, but before you can check Minnie returns with the glass and serves it to you.

“Are you shifting soon? Never seen you in that shirt before,” A sip, and another. The latter is because it tastes rather different. “Ah, this? How do I look?”

Gorgeous!

Gorge-

Gor-

…

******

“Yeah, that’s it…” Minnie’s hands are planted on your chest while her hips are senselessly grinding on your cock. The pace skyrockets and her nails dig into you deeper and deeper.

But dangerously you don’t feel the pain. You can only feel how tight she’s squeezing your cock, how sweaty her thighs are, how hot her breath is and how good she’s fucking you.

“Fuck, it gets better everytime… How can I stop fucking you like this…” Her hands are now in her hair, arms open and messing her own hair a bit. 

She squeezes her own breasts before slightly choking you with both hands. You try to reach for her hands, which are cuffed to the bed. Minnie seems to enjoy the surprised look on your face, as her face descends to be just above yours with a pearly giggle.

“Bet Miyeon is all too vanilla to do this stuff to you in bed,” She whispers it right at your left ear before nibbling on it, making you flinch a bit.

“Miyeon? Who is-“

“Never mind, boy. I have only you and you—oh, god I’m close—have only me.” Minnie’s teeth leave a deep mark on your under lip. Her glance is now beyond enrapturing. It’s a poignant hypnosis with a tinge of coercion. 

Only when she cums and squirts on your cock with a rather lunatic moan is the bewitching scrutiny alleviated. The sound of heavy breaths and the tickle of her fingers stroking on your chest is all that you can sense.

And you’re sprawled on the bed, exhausted, with your consciousness fading out. “I have only you, Minnie” is what you lethargically repeat until all becomes dark.

******

You have no idea how you ended up on your bed. Again. The last place you remember you were at last night was the bar. 

Was it the whiskey after all? 

Before you could even get out of your bed a headache swirls inside your head.

I had intense sex with Minnie again in the dream again.

She mentioned someone.

I received a text from someone who wanted to talk with me.

What could all this mean?

All of a sudden, a loud knock on the door shakes you awake from your thoughts. 

“Who’s there?” You shout, and you hear a frustrated, urgent female voice.

“Honey, it’s me! Please open the door and let’s talk!” On the other side of the door there’s a woman standing. Anxious, upset and unfamiliar.

“Do I know you?” It’s a genuine question, because you don’t recognize her at all. “Honey, this is not funny. At all. Why the hell have you been ignoring all my-” The girl tries to grab your hand which you swiftly evade.

“Sorry, but what are you talking about?” 

You’re gazing at her eyes then you’re forced to shut your eyes because of a headache like being shot in the temple.

“Babe!” Down the hallway is Minnie. You are so confused by her calling you that, but it must’ve been the drink. Should’ve drunk less.

“Babe?! Excuse me, but do you know him? Honey, do you know her?” Miyeon looks shocked, terrified, even. “I do. Why are you asking me that? Who are you?”

Disbelief shades her face. “H-honey… What are you talking about? I’m your fiancé! I’m Miyeon, don't you remember?” At the same time there’s a victorious grin on Minnie’s face. 

“Seems the potion worked very well…” Minnie whispers in Miyeon’s ear, quiet enough for it not to make it to your ears.

You’re gazing at her eyes then you’re forced to shut your eyes because of a headache like being shot in the temple. Then all senses fuzz out.

******

“Don’t go too fast, Miyeon! It’s dangerous!” You’re on a bicycle following her, on a riverside road with cherry blossoms fluttering along the breeze. She briefly looks back at you, and the way her hair streams in the wind takes your breath. “You’re saying that because you can’t pass me!” She smiles playfully and speeds up ahead.

“What are you listening to?” She takes one of your earphones after sitting down next to you on the bench. “Just some classics. Autumn is a season of classics for me.” You turn your head in her direction and are stunned at how her look matches the color of the trees and sky ever so perfectly. She can only chuckle at your face.

“Oh my god, sweetheart, yes!” You’re down on one knee, putting a ring on her finger. She’s shedding tears with the happiest smile. “I love you, Miyeon.” You rise and hug her. Your hands are still shaking. Her shoulders shake from her crying.

“I love you too. I have only you. And you have only me.”

******

A/N.2: Check replies!

[ddejavvu]

heyyyy! i’m literally in love with you and ur writing. i had a fun idea for aaron hotchner and knew no one could execute it like you! imagine this- aaron and f!reader meet and fall in love but aaron keeps it secret due to not wanting another haley. he likes all of her insta posts and follows her, and reader has a pic with him in it. garcia finds it and goes crazy and looks up reader only to find she has a criminal record for like the stupidest reason- cutting of a cop while driving or smtg! 🫶❤

Aaron isn't often summoned into the lair of the great Penelope Garcia, but he is today. Typically, he walks in himself to talk to her, but at her very stern, 'See me in my office now', he's knocking gently on the door.

"Come in." She calls from inside, voice miles away from its usually bubbly nature.

He feels like their roles have been reversed, the strange urge to keep his gaze guiltily on the ground surfacing in his chest as he opens the door to her office. He shuts the door behind him on reflex, and he's glad he did when she whirls on him, no longer facing her multiple computer monitors.

"You're dating a criminal," She accuses, eyes narrowed. Then, far louder, "You're dating a criminal!"

Aaron winces, peering behind her at the screens. One has your instagram profile pulled up, and another, your mugshot.

"I cannot believe you, Hotch," She berates, "Have you forgotten that you work as a criminal-catcher? I know you work to help the government get these people off of the streets, but that doesn't mean you get to put them in the sheets, you lunatic!"

"Penelope," His voice is stern, and he motions to your mugshot, "Check her charge."

"What?"

"Open her file. Look at what she was arrested for." Hotch instructs, slightly unnerved by the fact that Penelope had correctly assumed he was sleeping with you. Was he too obvious about it? He hadn't been going suspiciously easy on them, he doesn't think, but perhaps he'd been too smiley. Or checked his phone too much. Or clocked a suspiciously low amount of overtime hours this week. Or-

"Oh." Penelope's voice breaks him out of his spiral, and he doesn't need to look at the screen to know what it says: Reckless Driving.

There's a note beneath it though, a subheading: Merged carelessly close in front of a police vehicle.

"She cut them off, it was an accident," Aaron explains, and he watches Penelope's unusually tense shoulder slowly loosen, "I'm not dating a serial killer, Garcia."

"Oh." She repeats, blinking back at your instagram profile, "And- but you are-? You're seeing her?"

Hotch heaves a heavy sigh, knowing the news will spread around the entire office by lunch, "Yes. I am seeing her."

Her lips quirk up in a grin and she watches him with soft eyes, "Good. You should bring her to dinner at Rossi's this Sunday, y'know. I'm sure everyone would love to meet her."

"I might," Aaron's been toying with the idea for a few nights now, but perhaps Penelope will give him the courage he needs to go through with it. He glances up at her from where he'd been scrutinizing the leg of her desk, a barely-there smile curved upon his lips, "But- uh, if I do bring her, I'll drive."

[p0orbaby]

Slow Motion Mountain Climber

summary: leah signs up for pilates, what could go wrong?

warnings: none

a/n: based on this request !

word count: 981

-

Leah texts you on a Tuesday morning, right before your alarm, like she does whenever something has gone terribly wrong in her life. Like when she found out gluten was in soy sauce, or when she discovered she might have to use that godforsaken 6 train in New York. This time, it's a message that reads: Just signed up for Pilates. You may never see me again.

You roll your eyes, groaning at the incoming rant that's sure to follow. Leah's the kind of person who only does new things for one of two reasons: someone dared her, or she's trying to prove to herself that she is still young and can get away with eating three chocolate croissants in a single sitting. You suspect it’s a combination of both. She’s mentioned something about trying to build a "strong core," which you assume is code for "I'm slowly being bullied into this by the fact that all my teammates have six-packs and I have a soft spot for bread."

At 7:45 AM, just as you’re pouring coffee, Leah calls. You pick up on the third ring because you’re not a monster.

“I’m going to die,” she says, without so much as a hello

“Bold start to the day,” you reply. “Anything specific, or is it just a general feeling?”

“Pilates,” she says, and it sounds like a curse word. “Do you know what that is?”

You almost spit out your coffee because, yes, you know what Pilates is. You’re not sure what’s more shocking: that Leah doesn’t know or that she actually followed through on signing up.

“Yeah, Leah, I know what Pilates is”

“Well, it’s hell. No one told me it was this hard. And the instructor—she’s, like, smiling at me while she’s killing me. How are you supposed to trust someone who's trying to make you do something called a 'teaser' while she grins like a lunatic?”

You can picture it now. Leah, in the middle of a room full of people who've been doing this since their nannies signed them up for ballet at age three, contorting herself on a reformer like it’s some kind of medieval torture device. Meanwhile, the instructor—probably named something like Tiffani with an 'i'—is telling her to “engage her core,” as if Leah didn’t already have a job that required her to do that for 90 minutes straight, several times a week.

“Did you die, though?”

“Almost. My legs were shaking. My abs—I didn’t even know I had abs. Why does anyone do this willingly? I’ve literally been fouled by Fran Kirby, and that was less painful”

“Maybe you should stick to yoga”

“Yoga!” Leah scoffs. “I can do yoga. That’s just stretching and pretending you’re one with the universe or whatever”

You let her have that one because there’s no use arguing with someone who once mistook a meditation class for an excuse to nap in public.

Leah continues, “This class, though—it's not natural. They make you put your legs in straps. Straps! Like a harness, but for your feet. And then they expect you to lift them while you're suspended in the air like some sort of flying squirrel”

You’ve taken Pilates before, so you know exactly what she’s talking about, but you can’t help but laugh. Leah, in her infinite wisdom, probably signed up for the most advanced class because, as she said once, “Go big or go home.” Now, she’s paying for it.

“Maybe you should ask to start in a beginner class,” you suggest, knowing full well she won’t.

“Yeah, no. I already told them I’m an athlete. Can’t back down now. But I swear, if one more person tells me to ‘breathe through it,’ I’m going to punch them in the face”

You imagine the looks on the faces of her Pilates classmates as she throws a fit in the middle of a serene, candle-lit studio. You’ve seen Leah frustrated before, but this is a new level of agitation, and it’s all directed at something she willingly signed up for.

“Maybe it’s good for you,” you offer, “builds character”

“Yeah, and scars. On my pride”

You laugh again because you can see where this is going. Leah, who tackles challenges like they’re personal vendettas, is going to keep going back to that class until she can hold a plank longer than anyone else, even if it kills her. Or, more likely, until she finds something else to distract her, like knitting or extreme ironing.

"I’m just saying," she adds, after a pause, "if I end up with a six-pack, it’s because I earned it. None of this ‘strong core’ bullshit. I want abs of steel. Like, I want to be able to crack a walnut between my ribs”

You’re crying with laughter now, imagining Leah doing sit-ups in front of a mirror at home, testing her progress with various hard-shelled nuts.

“Don’t worry, babe,” you say, trying to calm yourself down. “If you do get abs of steel, I’ll make sure to bring walnuts everywhere we go”

“Good,” she replies, and you can hear her finally start to laugh along with you. “You’re on walnut duty. And if this all goes horribly wrong and I never make it out of Pilates alive, just know it was the straps that did me in”

You shake your head, still smiling. “You’ll be fine. But maybe next time, start with a class that doesn’t sound like it was designed by someone who secretly hates people”

Leah sighs dramatically. “Noted. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to spend the rest of the day lying flat on the floor and cursing Joseph Pilates”

“You do that, babe,” you say, hanging up as you imagine her sprawled out on the carpet, texting you updates about how her muscles are rebelling against her. And you can’t wait to read every single one.

[crusty-chronicles]

is there any chance you could add killua for the airheaded but strong s/o headcanons? If not, then no worries, I just love how you write them!

Yeah, I don't mind but it's gonna be platonic because I'm a little iffy about writing for him romantically. He's just a boy 🥺🥺🥺 This is mostly a crack fic.

BONUS AIRHEADED S/O HEADCANNONS: Killua (HxH)

Honestly tried to kill you at one point

Oh you're strong huh?

Then proceeds to hit you with everything he's got, only to see that it hardly affected you. (Kinda like the way he first treated Zushi)

After that he's petty, but impressed.

Congratulations 🎉🎉🎉 You've earned his respect 🥳🥳🥳

You're basically Gon 2.0

And he hates it

Cannot take you two anywhere

"We should break the lock to get in." Gon suggested.

"Are you stupid?" You scoffed.

"What's the point of having a door if you're just gonna break it?"

And Killua is momentarily at peace that at least one of you has some sense. Until you open your mouth again.

"Obviously we should smash open a window."

And Gon is nodding along enthusiastically

"You're right! What would we do without you 🤩"

And Killua is just 😮‍💨.

He is the parent of the group and I will die on this hill

If Gon's the sun, you're a nuke

He's constantly dragging you away from Hisoka

Nope. Not today

Why do you insist on talking to strangers.

No scratch that.

Why do you insist on talking to creepy strangers????

It gives him a massive headache everytime you almost get abducted.

Honestly thought about putting a tracker on you to avoid this happening.

But then he remembers you're practically indestructible so he drops it.

Is afraid Illumi will come for you and hurt you.

He was never allowed to have friends, and after Illumi threatened you and Gon at the Hunter Exam, he's very protective.

But then he remembers something you said after Greed Island.

"The three of us are all gonna become the best of the best. We're gonna get all wrinkly and old together and still kick butt!!! We're gonna stick together no matter what!"

And it temporarily quells the fear of his brother.

It makes him look forward to that outcome and gives him something to fight a little harder for.

When it comes to fighting, he does get a little envious of how you and Gon just rush in without thinking.

And how you always manage to win despite the circumstance.

But he never feels left behind because of it.

Like with Gon, he won't baby you, just call you an idiot and move on.

You fell?

Get up loser.

You can't read?

Find somebody else to translate. Or he'll make you do it and be laughing nonstop while you struggle to pronounce the word "Apple"

"Gon what color's an orange?"

"An orange is the same color as it's name. Just like a lemon."

Please somebody take you two back to first grade.

Killua is begging.

Even though he won't baby you, he'll rush as fast as he can if you're in actual danger.

You got caught by the phantom troupe?

"Are you completely brain dead!?!!? Where are you!?!?"

Now he regrets not putting a tracker on you.

"This nice clown man gave me candy and told me to follow him." You tell him over CALL.

"HISOOKAAAAA!!!!"

He is screaming and panicking.

You trespassed into the mountains his family lives to see him.

"WHY???? DON'T YOU KNOW ABOUT MIKE!?!?"

And when he gets there he sees you rubbing the monstrous canine's tummy. Petting him and calling him a "Good Boy."

Names he has called you out of spite: Idiot, Moron, Dummy, Psycho, Airhead, Ditz, and probably Pea Brain

On the bright side, you are Alluka's favorite person.

"Give me your ribs."

"Oh, are you hungry? Let's see if we can't find you a smokehouse for those ribs."

And it baffles both souls so much that Nanika accepts that as fulfilling her command.

Plus you have endless amounts of energy that works to drain both girls out. Even when they've both already swapped twice.

Killua designates you her official babysitter when he's busy.

You are a complete lunatic and moron, but you're one of the people he trusts the most.

Even if he does complain about you a lot.

MASTERLIST