The following list reveals a man whose life, from the time he began killing, significantly revolved around thinking about, planning and executing murder, then engaging in necrophilia and covering up the evidence of his crimes:
He constantly played “mind chess” with people, wherein he prepared dialogue in advance of a social situation so that he would feel in control
He compulsively lied
He bit his nails to the quick
He voraciously consumed detective magazines depicting eroticized females bound, gagged,strangled, and molested by sexual perverts
He was a big fan of junior-ed magazines (showing scanty clad teenage female cheerleaders)
He compulsively stole all manner of items from shops and people
He had a sock obsession; he uncontrollably purchased more socks than needed
He compulsively followed women around at night without their knowledge
He prowled neighborhoods and peered into windows, masturbating as he watched young females undress and go to bed
He sometimes raped women without murdering them
He prepared elaborate ruses using plaster casts, fake crutches, fake mustaches, different hair styles, fake identities, and changed license tags
He carried a murder kit with him in his VW (handcuffs, binding, gloves, masks, ice-pick, flashlight and crowbar)
He removed the passenger seat so he could carry his “cargo” on the floor next to him where he could control it
He drove many miles for long hours in search of prey
He staked out abduction sites and body locations in advance of his murders
He collected flyers and pamphlets containing information about prospective abduction sites
He followed the police reports of his murders in the newspapers and on TV
He took several women on driving dates close to the areas where he discarded the bodies of his murder victims
He constantly topped up the petrol tank of his car to ensure that he would never run out of gas in case he had a victim with him at the time
He was fastidious cleaner (in order to conceal his crimes)
He returned to the locations where he left the corpses of his victims, often interfering with them
He took polaroids of his victims and kept them in a shoebox so he could masturbate to them afterwards
He decapitated at least five heads of his victims post-mortem, transported them to a new location where he discarded them
In Utah he appeared to change his M.O. insinuating himself into the life of at least one victim before abducting, raping, and murdering her
From “Ted Bundy: A Visual Timeline” by Rob Dielenberg pg. 28-29
Prompt: Tony has made a bet to see who could end up with the most fans, out of the Avengers, by the end of the month. Bucky takes it just to piss Sam off and Reader really wants to prove that she isn’t the least popular. Bucky and Reader team up to be a fake couple in order to beat the other Avengers, agreeing to split the prize at the end. Will it all work out?
A/N: The second part out in probably record time! I’m very thankful for the positive reception so far so hopefully, I don’t let you guys down. Thank you all again so much for reading.
Warnings: Not approved by Captain Rogers’ Potty Mouth Prevention Unit
“When was the last time you went on a date, Barnes?” You hissed. You and Bucky walked down the sidewalk, hand in hand. When Bucky told you his great idea for a first ‘date’, you were convinced he had it down to the very last detail. Dates, wardrobe, lines. Like it was some sort of reality TV show.
Right now, he was nervous. He tried to keep a cool face, but he was holding onto your hand a bit too tightly.
“A successful date or just date in general?” Bucky asked. You wanted to facepalm so badly, but you didn’t want to make him feel worse. Pretending was fun as children, but now it just felt like work. Fake smiling for this long already had your cheeks starting to hurt. It didn’t help that every time Bucky whispered in your ear, you had to force out an appropriate giggle. Half the stuff he said were bad jokes that made you want to groan, and the other half was trying to stay sane while proceeding with the mission.
As fake as you felt, the plan was clearly working. You knew that more than just a few people have taken snapshots of you two strolling down the busy boulevards of Manhattan all cute and couple-like. Not to mention the whispers on the street. The city’s street lamps weren’t the best lighting, but you were certain that the city lights reflecting on your long dress would be a great cover for US Weekly.
Your date didn’t look bad either. He was less Bucky and more James Buchanan Barnes. His hair was neatly tied and combed back, with a full tux and everything. “It’s gonna be okay.” You go to wrap your arm around his and lean in closer.
You cup your hands around Bucky’s ear. “I bet by this time tomorrow we’ll be on the front page of every tabloid.”
He let out a small rumble of laughter. Sometime about the sound made you want to smile as well. It was strange seeing him so happy, even if it wasn’t really genuine. You felt the tension leave his arm and the stiffness disappears from his walk.
“I know being carefree isn’t exactly your thing, but if it makes it easier just think about how great it’ll feel to win the contest,” you suggest. Bucky looks over to you with a smile and a sly twinkle in his eye. You were starting to see what all the ladies in the forties must have been chattering about. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“For one, gotta give the people some good angles,” Bucky said. You rolled your eyes and playfully slapped his chest. “Two, you have a leaf in your hair.”
Your hands dropped his, flying to your hair to comb it through. Lo and behold, a single ivy green leaf got caught by your fingers. “You didn’t think to tell me this before the lenses started clicking?” Your face blossomed in pink.
Bucky chuckled again, only to take you by the shoulders and turn you around. “We’re here.” This must have been the playful side of Bucky you always heard Steve reminiscing about. You stared at the name of the restaurant Bucky brought you to. “Bucky, this is like a three star Michelin restaurant. How did you-”
Before you could finish your sentence, Bucky held your hand and led you in. “I have my ways, doll, but I think you’re blocking the entrance.” You turned behind to see a small line of people all dressed in silks and formal wear impatiently tapping their leather shoes. “I may have done a lot of research on the computer. Having a billionaire’s worth of knowledge and stuff doesn’t hurt either.”
“Why did you pick this place anyway? Not that it isn’t amazing, but I think this venue is a bit upscale and stuffy for both our liking,” you said.
A single glance around the place and you already felt like a fake. Giant crystal chandeliers hung over each table, which itself was decorated in gleaming white cloth and golden embellishments. Each chair sat someone who looked of high society and money. “And now I feel ever faker than before,” you mutter.
Bucky didn’t seem phased, instead putting his arm around you and giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Following the waiter, you were escorted to a semi-private table for two.
“Did I pick the perfect spot or what?” Bucky gloated.
“I’ll say, it’s going to be so easy to spy on us. Even more so than whenever Steve tries to leave with just a baseball hat on,” you observe.
“That hat trick worked more than a few times, I’ll have you know,” Bucky informed you as-a-matter-of-fact-ly. “But that’s not why this spot is so great. Look over there.” He tilted his head toward another table. There sat a bunch of people in white shirts, ties, and some sort of ID hanging from their necks. Cameras and similar equipment were scattered on chairs and the tables around the area as well.
“Journalists?” You gasp.
“Not just any old journalists. Rumor has it that every year the best of the news world meet here to plan out their award ceremonies and whatnot.” Bucky said. “And what a coincidence that we’re right in their field of view.”
You look away to gape at Bucky. He wore a proud smirk on his lips. “Bucky Barnes, you are a genius.”
“Nah,” he reaches across the table for your hand. You gladly take it. “Just what any old guy who wants to win a bet would do.”
“Trust me, you may be old but you’re not just any guy,” you muse. He looked up at you in surprise and a few mixed emotions, but you were already flipping through the menu and gawking at the kinds of food and their prices. “Jeez Bucky, I hope you managed to find the end of a rainbow in time because I can’t pay for this with my salary.”
“I feel like you’re starting to doubt my abilities to pull this off,” Bucky said. The two of you continued to laugh and joke around until the waiter came by again.
He looked up from his notepad, eyes widened. For a few seconds, his eyes went from Bucky to you to him again. You and Bucky shared a knowing look. “P-pardon me Madame, what would you like to order?”
Bucky gave you a final nod, signaling for you to get the snowball rolling. “It looks like you caught us!” You held your hands up jokingly. “Yes, it is I, H/N with Bucky Barnes. Don’t worry, we’re not here on a mission,” you say loudly. Already, a few people turned to look, including the table of journalists.
“What an honor, Miss H/N, m-might I offer you a list of our specials?” The waiter started to stammer.
As the wait staff walked away, you and Bucky couldn’t help but burst into small fits of laughter. “My goodness, do you think the entire restaurant heard?” You ask between breaths.
“I’m almost positive they did. You seem to have a natural talent for ruining the classy ambiance with your loud voice. Not that it isn’t charming,” Bucky winked.
You two continued the conversation, ever so slowly inching towards one another. It wasn’t long before your face was right in front of his. You stared into his blue eyes, as mischievous as ever. Bucky glanced to the left once. Tucking a stray hair behind your ear, he came even closer. “Are they watching?”
You try to sneakily glance at the reporters’ table as well. “Almost for certain, yeah,” you said. In an instant, he pressed into you lips first. You sucked in a breath, nearly forgetting to kiss back. It was quick, sweet, and eye-catching. You hoped you were correct in hearing a camera shutter go off. Pulling away, Bucky seemed breathless. He continued to look at you in that strange way. Not exactly romantic or infatuated. More like…genuine amusement.
“Well, Mr. Barnes?” You raise your eyebrows at him. He looked confused. “How would you say our first kiss went?”
He groaned, making you laugh. “Don’t get cocky on me now.”
“No promises,” you shrug. “Don’t look now, but I think our plan is being executed quite smoothly. Journalist coming in on your left.”
You both turned and saw a woman in a red skirt with a pen and paper in her hands. She stopped right in front of your table with an excited smile. “How are you? Janet Howards, Entertainment Weekly. It is such an honor to meet you both.” She shook both of your hands firmly. “My colleagues and I couldn’t help but notice you guys. Mind if we ask some questions?”
Without even looking, you knew that Bucky was beaming. “Of course not, although we’d like to keep it low-profile,” you lied. You and Janet Howards both knew that this was going to blow up by the end of the day.
The quickfire questions came a bit faster than you had thought they would, although you and Bucky still answered like you practiced. Were you really dating? Any plans for the future? What warranted such a special night out? Do any of the other Avengers know about your romance? The questions were handled like clockwork. You remembered to look at Bucky with a fond gaze every now and then, which he gladly returned.
The answers were simple. After a lot of reality-tv binge watching with Bucky and YouTube searches about celebrity couple interviews, the whole media industry became as predictable as snow in the mountains. You gave every ounce of juicy ‘gossip’ over, from a secret romance to helping each other heal to hiding it all away from the public eye until now.
Janet bit her lip, trying to contain the excitement as she furiously scribbled down every last detail you and Bucky fed to her. There were a lot of “you guys are so great together"s and “sorry if this is too personal, but"s. The entire act felt just like that. An act. A beautifully rehearsed, made-to-sell act.
As Janet finally left you two alone, you let out a deep breath. "So, how do you think it went?”
“You were perfect, doll,” Bucky complimented.
“Not so bad yourself, Buck,” you smile back. As the two of you finished your meals and walked back to the car, still holding hands, you couldn’t help but marvel and how smoothly tonight went. “You know, tonight was a lot easier than I thought it would be, thanks to you.”
“What do you mean?” Bucky asked. He opened the car door for you.
You sat inside and finally let yourself relax into the chair. “Well, I guess this fake dating thing couldn’t have possibly worked out well with just anyone. I guess I’m trying to say that I’m glad you’re my fake boyfriend.”
Bucky laughed again. Unlike on the streets or in the restaurant, this felt real. “And you’re the best fake girlfriend I could have asked for.” A bit hesitantly, he kissed you on the forehead. You smiled and stared out the passenger window. Even though the entire night felt plastic, the wind in your hair and Bucky’s lingering kiss made you feel a little more alright.
Stop blaming Ron for leaving; there was a greater and more complex plot in there!!!
I have been wondering about this for ages. I mean seriously, was there less (unreasonable)Ron bashing in the internet for JKR to have provided fodder for the bad-mouthers, really? Was he really so very insecure that he could not take the life of a runaway as easily as Harry or Hermione did? Was Ron really weaker than the two?
Being an ardent Ron lover, I absolutely refuse to believe any of those and the hundred other foul things people spew about him. But there had to be a justification, right? After all, JKR has literally filled the books with secret clues that still keep cropping up. So was there something that was missing, an underlying clue, a hint perhaps?
Being an author really makes you think of a variety of scenarios, and while I understood that to break the monotony of three teenagers out on the run and completely cut-off from the world, something huge was needed– there seemed to be more to it.
Look at it this way, the taboo on Voldemort’s name had to be introduced(although Ron had guessed it way earlier), the radio had to be brought into the scene, extra wands were required because Harry’s faithful wand needed to be broken for him to get more curious about the Elder Wand if nothing else.
And one of the three had to go out into the world and come back. Neither Harry nor Hermione had a place they could go to- it left only Ron to help their creator with the plot lines of the story, not to forget, dooming him to years of bashing for that act.
But that is not all. There is a reason and a pattern- a pattern that links each and every Horcrux with the one destined to destroy it.
The story always maintained that Horcruxes were the most evil of all evil objects. And seen with Tom Riddle’s Diary, the soul inside a Horcrux has the power to think, decide and execute plans by clever manipulations. And, by every means, it tries to save itself. How else can one explain why the piece of soul inside the diary suddenly changed its goal from killing Muggleborns to targeting Harry specifically?
My theory is that each Horcrux pulled the person who posed the greatest threat to its existence and tried to kill or dangerously maim him(or her).
Sounds far fetched? Read on for the pointers that support the idea.
First Tom Riddle’s Diary- destroyed by Harry- Effects Ginny the most who is going to be Harry’s better half. The 16-year-old Tom Riddles accepts that he was targeting Harry through Ginny. Strange isn’t it? Salazar Slytherin is so adamant about ridding the school of muggleborns that he creates a monster to get his dream fulfilled, Voldemort leaves behind his sixteen-year-old self to finish his noble ancestor’s dream and the soul simply changes the centuries old plan? No, it guides Harry to, what it hoped, was Harry’s death. Because Harry posed the greatest threat to its existence. And it would have been successful if not for Fawkes.
Marvolo Gaunt’s Ring- destroyed by Dumbledore- Voldemort places the Horcrux with the one Hallow, the Resurrection Stone, that appeals the most to Dumbledore. Had it been the locket that Dumbledore found in the Gaunt house, it would not have endangered his life or affected him like that at all. He would not have been poisoned and would have lived. Dumbledore tries but fails to retrieve any other Horcrux except the one he was destined to destroy, except the one that had the capacity to lure him to his death.
Slytherin’s Locket- destroyed by Ron- Here comes the main part. Although all the three wear it, it affects Ron the most, drives his insecurities to such heights that he leave the hunt, abandons his friends. That in itself is a pointer of what the Locket was doing to him. Ron was the one who was the rock solid backbone of the trio, the Locket makes him behave like someone else altogether. Will it be too far fetched to assume that the locket knew that Ron was the one who had the power to finish it and so tortured him the most to send him away? What if sending Ron away and breaking him from the trio was the sole target of the Locket? From the moment they possess it, Ron’s problems begin, he gets splinched and we know from the book that it was bad. And when they finally get the weapon to finish it, Harry is unable to retrieve the sword. I think, Harry was not destined to finish the locket at all. Otherwise, how was it that Snape found out about their location, not during those five weeks when Ron was away, but precisely after Ron had returned?
Hufflepuff’s cup- destroyed by Hermione- All the clues are right in front of us. Where was it hidden? In Bellatrix’s vault, the one witch who tortured Hermione and almost got her killed. She chose not Harry neither Ron but Hermione. Still a coincidence?
Nagini- destroyed by Neville (okay this one is a little symbolic but still ) - Neville’s greatest fear was Snape, the Head of the House of Snakes(Slytherin). He literally gets most of his injuries the year Snape is the Headmaster, the year the school is under a snake (Voldemort).
Ravenclaw's Diadem- destroyed by Crabbe(Malfoy n Goyle)- They had been literally outside this very room the whole of their sixth year. This room gets the Death Eaters into the school and sets the ball rolling. During the Battle of Hogwarts, they confront Harry here, although it could have been any place in the castle or the grounds. It could have happened when Harry was alone, but no. They wait till he enters the room where the Horcrux is hidden? It is as if the Diadem literally pulls Crabbe to a place where he meets his death.
And last but not the least- part inside Harry- destroyed by Voldemort- No questions here that Harry was the biggest trouble Voldemort ever had. Had he not been so paranoid about finishing Harry he might have actually lived because no one would find out about his Horcruxes in the first place! Harry is literally like a magnet pulling Voldemort to himself. In all the years since his first defeat, Voldemort manages to find a supporter in Quirrell but as his rotten luck would have it, it's the time Harry starts school. Had it been before, he might have actually managed to get a hand on the stone. The part inside Harry was literally pulling him to itself to finish him.
Ron does not leave because he is weak, he leaves because that is how the Horcrux can hurt him most, taking him away from his best friend, away from the girl he loves.
The Mastermind: Frank, calculating, meticulous and analytical, Ciel Phantomhive goes through his life being vengeful and always planning for what unknown perpetrators did to his family, forming a contract with a demon in the process to help him achieve his deadly goal.
Ni (Introverted Intuition): Introverted intuition sees the forefront. They can read people’s motives and actions and predicting the future comes naturally to them. Ni helps them stay focus with a singular goal, sometimes few more, but they are never overwhelmed or out of focus.
Ciel’s family was killed in a brutal fire, he was tortured and possibly raped by unknown people. His (spoiler) twin brother is likely involved and everything else is still a mystery. So what’s his plan? Summon a demon to help him get his revenge on his family’s murderer. Not once has he swayed from that goal. Mature and extremely cunning for his age, it is easy for Ciel to read his enemies’ motives and to discern what they are really after. He uses his Ni to manipulate those around him.
“I am not so noble that I would stake my life for someone else. Nor am I so forgiving that I would sit by and allow someone to trample me.”
Te (Extraverted Thinking): Extraverted thinking executes plans and motives in direct and precise manners. There is no more prodding or questioning that need be. With all the evidence and proof that is given, everything else is irrelevant. There is only convenience left.
For Ciel, the most efficient thing for a child and Queen’s watchdog to get revenge is to summon an inhumane thing who can easily take out measly humans. So what if he has to surrender his soul after his quest is done? His goal is finished and he can finally rest in peace. Ciel does not take much time to decipher this and that like a Ti would. He is too practical, but in a quick way to get obstacles in front of him out of the way. He is fond of chess because it gives him the impression of taking down his opponents mercilessly. Instead of killing Snake, Ciel saw use of him so he manipulated the man into accepting Ciel and the Phantomhive servant’s friendship and have Snake serve him. He likes rules, but only if he can twist it whenever it suits him. Ciel enjoys ordering Sebastian around and running a household he can control and operate which can be turned against him by a more manipulate Sebastian at times.
”If you are crying, fight against it! If you’re regretting, walk forward! Only complaining on your misfortune, you’re nothing but a common pig!“
Fi (Introverted Feeling): Introverted feelers take everything inside and process them ultra privately. It is difficult for them to speak up about it, but underneath, it’s a storm. They get hurt easily, but never voice it due to fear, apprehension and or pride. They do not care for outside audience and prefer to do as they wish or be who they want to be.
Ciel may be arrogant, selfish, murderous and vengeful, but for those who he lets under his skin, he cares for deeply such as his fiancee, Elizabeth Midford. She has shown to be one of the few who can truly make him smile and happy. Fi can turn Ciel impulsive even at times that take many readers by surprise. In the Campania arc, when Lizzy was in danger of getting wounded or even killed by zombies and a lawnmower, Ciel was about to throw the contract all away unconsciously, by risking his life to save her had Sebastian not intervened.
In the Blue Cult arc, Ciel visibly showed how pissed off he really is that Lizzy is captured, but only in the privacy of him and his butler.
”It’s okay. I’ll definitely protect you at least! No matter what happens!“ ~Too Elizabeth
Se (Extraverted Sensing): Sensing the physical world in all its glory. Extraverted sensing is spontaneous and practical. They live in the moment and are quick to act towards anything coming at them. They enjoy earthly pursuits and luxury.
This is Ciel’s inferior function and he is still developing it. He is used to the aristocratic and loaded life; loving his flashy mansion and likes to dress to impress. Being an ill and weak child, he is not afraid to take on dangerous missions as the queen’s watchdog albeit with Sebastian’s help. He likes indulging in sweets.
Cicadas hummed monotonously throughout dawn. It was the fifth morning you spent watching the sun welcome you to a new day. Each time, you captured a bit more of the picture as if someone challenged you to complete a puzzle. And with each piece, you felt the tension in your leg begin to loosen up.
Your sleeping schedule allowed you to busy yourself as you longed for Sehun’s arrival. When he arrived, he donned on a black sweater and jacket, his hair appeared dyed a darker brunette, the side of his head shortened to a buzz cut, while his bangs swept across his forehead, covering his eyebrows. With a calm smile, he helped you pack your belongings.
“You are free to go,” the doctor had said earlier, reasoning that your wounds healed up and you were good as new. Though you still felt a slight dullness running through your abdomen. But you brushed the feeling aside, not wanting to stay imprisoned by the four walls of the hospital chamber.
After Sehun finished packing, he cleared his throat and said, “Let’s go”.
With a nod, your legs swung over and dangled from the side of the bed. They touched the icy marbled floors, sending shivers through your body. To your surprise, Sehun knelt down, slipping a pair of flats onto your bare feet.
Perhaps Cinderella will find her Prince.
He carried your bags of belongings as you walked beside him to the elevators. You took note of how much taller than you he appeared – it must have been at least a foot in difference. Every time you stole a glance at his eyes, your neck strained and your feet stood on its tippy toes.
Outside, the wind blew you conscious from your trance. You let out a meager sneeze but it alerted Sehun’s attention. Without much thought, he separated himself from his jacket and placed it over your shoulders. He buttoned the jacket onto your body and you helplessly looked down at your shoes so that he does not notice your red-flushed cheeks.
“All good,” he said cheerfully as he finished.
His hand appeared in front of you and though you knew that this happiness did not belong to you, you took it greedily. Mentally, you bargained to God that you would repay Him for this blessing with your life.
His hand was soft and protective, making you feel like the luckiest girl alive. Hand in hand, you two walked to the parking lot.
Moving out of your mother’s house was inevitable. It wasn’t that you thought she’d be disappointed – no, you didn’t care about that anymore. It was more that you didn’t want to present your mother the satisfaction of saying, “I told you so”.
So you moved into a small studio apartment, despite Sehun’s request to move in with him.
“Why are woman so stubborn?” he complained while helping you lugged a big table up a ramp.
A little amused, you trotted beside him and rolled your sleeves up to aid his struggles. But Sehun abruptly scooped you off your feet and placed you on the kitchen counter.
“Behave and stay still,” he ordered and kissed you on top of your head, before disappearing off to finish moving the furniture.
Your little heart skipped a beat while your legs swung playfully on the kitchen counter. He can be so sweet and manly at times.
But that only made your internal conflicts heighten. For the more he spoiled you, the more difficult it would be when you finally had to let go.
You plopped down on the sofa that Sehun had just positioned into the living room. Stretching your arms out, you yawned in boredom. Gradually, you drifted of to dreamland.
In the dream, you see the same little girl. She’s crying alone with her arms around a giant teddy bear. Cuts and bruises covered her tiny body. And then suddenly, a sharp metal rod comes down and she selfishly sacrifices her animal friend. The rod penetrates through the plush, ripping it into pieces. Cotton flies everywhere and all you could hear are the high-pitched wails of the little girl’s pleas for mercy.
Your eyes flung open and immediately, you grabbed your leg. Your chest heaved up and down, trying to catch some air.
Sehun slumped down dramatically beside you and pouted childishly.
“If you would have just listened to me and moved into my house, we could have bypassed all of this,” he whined, pointing at the truckload of furniture he hauled in.
His innocent demeanor calmed you down from your nightmare and you raised your eyebrow amusingly at him.
In return, he grinned sheepishly and requested, “Do I at least get an award for my hard work?”
You hit his head with a rolled up magazine and giggled, “Do you want some ramen?”
His eyes sparkled in delight as he foolishly nodded.
A month passed by in a flash. Your baby bump started to show, so you opted to wearing looser clothing. On a regular day, you would work on your freelance drafts at home until Sehun dropped by during the evening hours after he completed his schedules.
For the first two weeks, at the studio apartment, Sehun would ring the doorbell to announce his arrival, but you swore lately he’d started to just show up out of nowhere. What? Did he climb in through the window or something?
Today, you were going to find out.
Taking your drawing tablet and drafting equipment, you situated yourself right in front of the door to wait for Sehun. When the clock stuck 5:15pm, footsteps sounded by the door, followed by some jingling noise. Then, the door magically opened. You stood up with a hand on your hip and the other rubbing your belly. An unimpressed expression covered your face.
“Oh hey. Fancy working in the living room today. Did you miss me?” Sehun teased as he took off his shoes to enter your apartment.
You extended your arm out to block the doorway.
With narrowed eyes, you interrogated, “Oh Sehun. Care to explain how you got your own set of keys to my apartment?”
He chuckled, gave you a quick peck on your nose, and limboed under your makeshift arm-gate. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach for a brief moment but you shook yourself awake. Frowning, you crossed your arms over your chest.
Sehun bounced onto the sofa with his arms folded behind to support his neck and his long legs extended beyond the ends of the sofa. He closed his eyes and smiled as if entertained by your little tantrum.
“Oh Sehun!” you called for his attention.
“I’m really tired. Can you give me a massage?”
At first you pouted at the fact that he ignored your question but seeing his fatigued physique, you gave in and dropped the case. With a sigh, you walked over to him and lightly massaged his tensed arms and legs. He groaned in satisfaction, which made you blush a bit.
His breathing evened and you slowly let go when he fell asleep. Unconsciously, your head rested on his arm as you quietly admired his angelic features. Sometimes Sehun appeared so manly but in his sleeping form, he looked like a little kid.
“You must be really tired,” you whispered with a frown.
Soundlessly, you got up to cook him dinner.
He ended up sleeping for a solid three hours. You were a little upset that the food turned cold but seeing his refreshed appearance made everything worth it. With a smile, you threw the dishes into the microwave.
Sehun chowed down his meal as if he starved for an entire week. You inwardly gave yourself a pat on the shoulder for feeding this hungry monster.
“Slow down,” your voice hummed.
He licked the bottom of the dish, patted his stomach, and sighed with contentment. You offered him seconds but he declined, reasoning that it was getting late. Your heart dropped when he got up to leave.
Silently, you hugged yourself with your arms. As he threw on his jacket, you clenched your fists and tugged on his sleeve.
“Do you…do you want to stay for the night?” you almost whispered.
Initially, he looked at you surprised but then nodded. You were a little disappointed when he situated himself back on the sofa instead of the bed, but you were in no place to offer something like that, so you suppressed your feelings and turned off the lights.
When you woke up in the morning, he was already gone. Of course he left you a post-it note but the emptiness within you does not fade. You realized you’ve been super greedy.
A week passed and you felt lonely without Sehun’s presence. During the night, you began seeing the little girl again. Multiple times you discovered yourself on the edge of calling for Sehun to come to your rescue, but you don’t because you wanted to give him some space.
So a month was all it took for him to get tired of you. Toxic thoughts dawdled in your mind. You rubbed your belly for comfort.
One morning, you woke up to Sehun, in a tank top, sleeping on your couch. You stood in front of the sofa and hovered over the latent intruder.
“You’re hallucinating again,” you heard your voice conclude out loud.
Your stomach grumbled so you sauntered over to the kitchen to make breakfast. As soon as the aroma of food spread around the house, a wild Sehun rushed forward to steal from the saucepan.
You smacked his hand with a wooden spatula, “Yah!”
In defense, he surprised you with a peck on the lips and expertly grabbed a piece of bacon off the pan.
You crinkled you nose and examined, “Did you even brush your teeth?”
“Nope,” he grinned.
You threw him a stink face but didn’t complain any further because in truth, you missed him so, so much you could barely contain your excitement.
Finally, you served breakfast at the table. A much cleaner and hygienic Sehun sat across from you with a piece of toast already in his mouth. Midway through the meal, you finally noticed the two suitcases by the sofa.
“What’s up with the suitcases?” you asked.
Sehun finished chewing his food and responded, “Since someone wouldn’t move in with me, I thought I’d move in with her,” he smirked proudly, thinking his plan was executed perfectly.
Maybe it was due to your preggo hormones, but you dropped your chopsticks onto the table and began to cry, stunning Sehun.
“W-why are you crying?” he asked with his body leaning forward against the table.
You don’t reply. Sehun started to panic and suggested, “I’ll take the suitcases back home”.
But you only cry harder. Confused out of his mind, Sehun tried to squeeze your arms and massage your shoulders but you kept on crying like a broken faucet…until he finally came around and suffocated you in a bear hug.
“I guess someone missed me a little too much,” he teased and you lightly elbowed him in the stomach.
He still slept on the couch that night and was unaware to the fact that you woke up multiple times with sweat on your forehead and a petrified heart.
The next morning, you were light-headed and nauseous. You cupped your mouth, sprinted to the bathroom, and threw up. The noise must have awakened Sehun because he rushed in after you. With a worried expression, he patted your back while you continued to empty your stomach. Your throat burned and your head pounded. Completely depleted of energy, you leaned your cheek on the toilet seat to rest.
“No. No. No,” Sehun cooed while moving your head to rest on his shoulder.
For the rest of the day, he babied you. In fact, that night, he hugged you to sleep in bed. (author fangirl feeeelss over the roof xP)
A few days later, you threw one of your random tantrums when Sehun returned with a hot dog bun instead of the pork bun you wanted.
“But hot dog is pork,” he defended, which only made you more angry.
“No it is not. Hot dog is hot dog and pork is pork. That’s like saying a slushie is bubbletea!” you retorted.
He flung his head back in frustration, grunted, and held his arms up as if to surrender, “Fine. I’ll go get you a pork bun then”.
With arms crossed against your chest you countered, “I don’t want it anymore”.
“Oh my God,” Sehun huffed and buried his face in his palms.
“You’re tired of me, aren’t you?” the volume of your voice lowered.
He walked away and you thought that, that meant, “yes” so you began to crawl back into your shell. But as soon as you lifted your head up, Sehun reappeared holding out a small teddy bear.
“For baby,” he purred.
He squeezed the teddy bear’s tummy to demonstrate the softness of the plushie.
“Pinku Pinku,” he tried to say in a high-pitched voice but his voice cracked.
You rolled you eyes and smacked him with a pillow but you’ve already forgotten why you were mad in the first place.
“Suck it in,” a woman’s voice orders.
The little girl is practically out of breath as her mother pulls tightly on the ribbons of the corset. She double knots it for security and lets go.
But the little girl exhales and slowly the loops untie themselves. A hard smack lands on her skull.
“I told you not to breath. Are you stupid?” the mother hollers and the little girl begins to cry.
She sucks all the air in she can while her mother tugs the ribbon once, twice, three, four times until it cuts into her skin.
You jolted upright in bed with a forehead covered in cold sweat. The resonating sound of the little girl’s wails continued to ring in your ears. Unknowingly, you reached to your back for any signs of blood but were relieved to not discover any.
“Just a nightmare,” you told yourself as you ruffled your hair.
But where was Sehun? Your head rotated from left to right but he was not in the room. So you got off the bed to look for him.
Sniffling noises echoed from the bathroom. From the small slit of the door, you discovered Sehun sitting on the tiled floor with the back of his head against the sink.
W-why is he crying?
You held your breath. Your hand rose against the door to knock but you let it drop to your side. A part of you was afraid to find out the source of his agony.
You hauled your body back to bed, hugging the blankets against you to compensate for Sehun’s absence.
In the morning, Sehun acted as if nothing had happened. You wondered if what you saw last night was an illusion.
But it was so real…
Before he left for work, he kissed your tummy goodbye.
As soon as he left, you washed the dishes and wiped down the table. That was when you discovered a leather wallet on the floor. Quickly, you picked it up and ran downstairs, hoping to catch Sehun before he drove off to work. Midway, you clumsily dropped the wallet, sending it rolling down the stairs. When you finally caught up with the escaping case, all its contents were scattered throughout the staircase. With a frown, you squatted down and began to collect the items one by one. A coin, a bill, Sehun’s ID…and then a picture – several pictures…all of Minyoung and him.
So this was why he was crying…
You rapidly stuffed the things back into the wallet, ran back to your apartment, and slammed the down shut, before you slid down the wall and bawled. You should have known. It wasn’t like a new discovery. You didn’t understand why you were so upset.
“But I can’t,” you answered your subconscious.
But you have to.
For the remainder of the day, your mind refused to concentrate. Whether you were drawing drafts, cooking lunch, or cleaning out the apartment, you kept making mistakes.
When Sehun returned home that night, he tried to greet you with a peck on the lips but you turned away. He looked at you questionably but you walked passed him and said, “I’ll cook dinner. Go shower first”.
He gave you a confused expression but let it slide.
You knew he could tell something was wrong by the way he snuggled his body tightly against yours with his chin on top of your head.
Wake up, ________ah. He’s doing it because he is a responsible, kind-hearted man. Not because he loves you.
“I know,” you whispered and fought back tears.
As soon as he fell asleep, you quietly unraveled yourself from his embrace. Your bare feet touched the ice-cold floors but you don’t wince. With a glass of warm tea, you treaded to the balcony and sat down on the chaise lounge. The winter breeze chilled you to the bone so you sipped on the tea greedily.
You don’t remember when you drifted off to sleep but when you woke up, a comforter shielded your body from the cold.
The water boiler shrieked and you crawled back under the covers. However, the chair proved to not be suitable for a pregnant woman because your back turned extremely stiff from laying on it the entire night. You patted your spine a bit to loosen the tension but the pain was great enough to hinder any thoughts of going back to sleep.
In what you thought to be around twenty minutes, you heard cautious footsteps walk closer to you. The owner shook you a few times and you snarled in displeasure.
“Hey Sleepyhead, time for breakfast. The baby’s hungry,” Sehun hummed and started to uncover you from your blanket fort.
You groaned but admitted defeat when your stomach growled. Sehun chuckled and your cheeks blushed a little. Hesitantly, you got up and walked to the bathroom to get washed up.
At the table, you dug into the full course meal Sehun prepared. Yep, the baby was definitely hungry. You stopped stuffing your face, a little uncomfortable with the way Sehun watched you intently.
“Is it some kind of holiday that I’m forgetting?” you questioned.
He shook his head and started eating as well.
“Then why did you make so much food?” you persistently asked.
He beamed at you eating so well.
“Are you feeling better?” he asked, instead of answering your questions.
With chopsticks still in your mouth, you looked up at him confused.
He shrugged his shoulders and frowned, “You seemed unhappy last night”.
You stopped eating. The pictures of Minyoung flashbacked from your memory.
You feigned a smile and lied, “Oh, just my pregnant hormones going haywire”.
Sehun exaggerated a sigh of relief and exclaimed, “Thank goodness. I thought I did something wrong”.
You looked down at your bowl of food and whispered, “No, you did nothing wrong. You never do anything wrong”.
Sehun pouted teasingly and cutely informed you, “It was so cold sleeping alone last night”.
He took your hand and placed it against his lips. You flinched a bit but relaxed under his touch.
Happy that he solved the mystery, Sehun planted a quick kiss on top of your head before heading off to work.
“Oh wait,” you said, stopping him in his tracks, “You…uh…you left your wallet by accident yesterday”.
He took the wallet out of your hands, waved, and then left.
That night, as Sehun hugged you to sleep, you buried your head into his chest. The thumping of his heart calmed you down. When he fell asleep, you grazed your hand against his face lovingly and whispered, “Don’t worry. Just endure five more months and everything will go back to normal”.
You ignored the rippling ache in your chest, the numbness of your leg, and the splitting sting of your back.
The little girl cries throughout the night.
a/n: Yayayay! Fluffy chapters beginnnnn finally after all those sad, angsty chapters. :3 Next chapter is super cute too!! -inner fangirl dying-
Relationship headcanons for Shuu, Yomo ,Uta and Tatara :)
My first HC response,
here goes~ ))
doesn’t have at least one flower for his S/O every day, he’s got a beautifully
arranged bouquet arranged to go to their house that weekend.
isn’t something new but he’ll say the sweetest things to his S/O and then
repeat what his said, just translated.
has something that belongs to his S/O whether it is a bracelet or some particle
of clothing. Their scent usually calms him down…of course, it depends on the
item of choice he’s got on him.
to cuddle and would lovingly squeeze his S/O, occasionally trembling because he
can’t express the happiness and love he has for them enough.
type to smile gently and stare at his S/O while they go about their day. He
loves watching them have fun and just be themselves.
cuddling, he likes to have his S/O’s head over his heart and likes to ghost his
fingers along their arm and occasionally down to their waist.
up for just about anything his S/O wants to do because he loves to see them
happy and will jump at every opportunity. Yes, even if it means dressing up in
a floofy (yes I said floofy) and sparkly dress while balancing their birthday
cake on his head.
quiet and pretty reserved so Yomo saying ‘I love you’ doesn’t happen often.
However, when it does happen, he seriously
means it with all his heart.
what, he is always teasing his S/O one way or another whether it is adorable
PDA or something more private and far spicier.
S/O has long hair, he likes to play with it and run his hands through the
pretty tresses. There are times where he gets carried away and gives his S/O
it when his S/O comes to him for problems because they spend time together
thinking, planning, and executing ideas to fix the situation.
when his S/O watches him work on masks and will even ask for opinions on some
of the designs.
If he is
to ever give his S/O a gift, it had to be absolutely
perfect in his eyes. The reason being is his taste for precision. If he
doesn’t like it, he feels as though his S/O won’t like it either.
it when his S/O is by his side or at least in his line of sight. It’s not because
he doesn’t trust them. He’s just low key worried about them and wants to
protect them Ghoul or Human, he will protect his lovely S/O proudly.
a very strange thing to do for him. He’s very stiff but he tries his best for
his S/O. However, to make up for the awkwardness, Tatara tends to be very warm.
Yomo, Tatara doesn’t really say the magically three words very often at all. In
fact, he says it less than Yomo. So when this albino ghoul tells his S/O “I
love you”, they better damn believe it and relish the time he says it because
it comes out of his mouth once in a blue moon!
hope these are to your liking! I had fun making this c: ))
Honestly I’m starting to feel like Ichabbie has 1000% been the plan all along and that Tom and Nicole are both in on it and the producers were like “okay Nicole you be the naysayer cause you actually have a poker face (and also because of The Other Reasons). Tom, you and your absolute zero chill - just … try not to giggle knowingly every time Ichabbie is brought up? Seriously dude just … try to be cool.” and now they’re just like dang this worked a little too well, how are we gonna drag this out for 5 seasons now? And also why did we think it was a good idea to tell Tom this was happening?
And like at least 40% of all the Miharie stuff is Nicole just pinching/discreetly kicking Tom or signaling him to stop being obvious, while also being all heee we know something you don’t in that way you just can’t help but be when you have a secret and someone else talks about it.
Then again, probably not. But it amuses me to think so, and so I will.
There is a certain level of decorum and thought that should accompany every instance of life. While it certainly isn’t akin to the pomp and circumstance of trying or celebratory events, the course of your life is dictated by how well you encounter, adapt and execute in everyday interactions. Think of it as social respiration; an evolutionary response concocted through generations of half-apes fumbling through life.
You open doors for people. You say “Bless you” after someone sneezes. You decide when to text your crush back, or what questions you should ask in an interview. It’s all mundane and it’s all very reactionary; the sum of everything that has led up to that point.
But what do you wear to a gangbang?
The dynamic of a gangbang is somewhat odd. Here you have a group of (more than three, presumably) men standing shoulder-to-shoulder, awaiting the exact same fate. In terms of output, each man is expected to bring the same return on investment. And while a slower climb to maturation is generally appreciated, one falling stock will immediately be replaced by another on the rise. In short, each man is a commodity, cog in an assembly line.
So what does one do to stand out from that kind of marginalization? How does one move to the front of the line? After all, in times of all-else-equal, it pays to be the pace car.
A gangbang really starts in the closet. Because the woman of the evening is bound to be unimpressed by anything other than measurables, the only people left in the room to affect are other dudes. To stand out you must be equal parts confident and informed, while also appealing to some primal instinct of domination.
Let’s face it, only Patrick Bateman would wear a tie to an organized sex party. The amount of time and effort required to hone a polished, affluent look will certainly be greeted with grunts of disapproval. Best case scenario you’re a coked-out banker ready to disappoint. Worst case scenario you’re a confused dandy bound for a late boxcar in this train of masculinity. Ties are for weddings, funerals and hostile takeovers, not for flesh Jenga.
So it’s open-necked to be sure. Excellent. Progress. Button-down or spread collar is taster’s choice, but no collar-stays (there will be enough hard things in the room already). And don’t iron your shirt. You have better things to do than to worry about what dudes in this room think of your uptown drycleaner. Plus, these clothes are all a formality anyway. It’s who you are and what you can do that will snag you the first at-bat.
But should you wear a jacket? Ideally. A jacket shows some outward respect for the event, if not towards the young lady conductor. A standalone, wrinkly button-down is the mark of a slob. However, a wrinkly button-down paired with a lived-in sport coat? That’s what Berlusconi would wear. That’s where polish and comfort meet; an apex of confidence.
It should have texture and depth, a sample of what’s to come, without being too formal or imposing. No brass and navy at this shin-dig. You need a professorial tweed or slept-in linen blend, its soft silhouette, round edges and airy sensibility a beacon of aplomb. Perhaps you came from a lecture? Perhaps you fell asleep in your jacket during a late flight from Mykonos, half-drunk and borderline harassing the cute flight attendant on your private jet. The mystery is really the key here – even if you know nothing more than anyone else in the room, they have to all think you do.
Cotton is made for gangbangs. Machine washable, clingy and prone to exaggeration, it was no doubt Caligula’s toga material of choice. A pair of well-worn jeans would be nice. Perhaps some too-shabby-to-wear-to-the-office chinos? It doesn’t matter, really. You’re too comfortable in your own skin to be bothered with details in all of this. Just walking in your attire already has the edge on the rest of the room. All to do now is speak softly and carry a big stick.
But wait, one last crucial element – the shoes. All this thinking, planning and execution means nothing if you show up in a pair of Aldos. Act like you’ve been there before. These other assholes all showed up with square toes and cemented soles. But not you. You’re wearing shoes best-classified as art, yet treated like a three week-old edition of The Times. Worn suede and marred stacked leather completing the look of a man whose experience is only bested by his ability.
You’ll make small talk, your charm and assured superiority framed perfectly by a wardrobe acquired or commissioned with care, and maintained with a stifling sense of indifference. You have a few beers, each drink stoking the flames of a fire on the brink of slopover. Your dash and demeanor a siren song for the Madame of the evening. And then when the curtain drops you’re front-and-center. Head of the pack. Man of the hour.
If we’re all getting fucked, why not be the best-dressed one in the room?