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a very fond hobi clicking his jiminie’s pictures 🥺

Dating Tyler Durden Would Include....

Requested by the very lovely @hyuugasmary

Part two!!

⚠️ Warnings: sexual innuendos, mentions of blood I think? ⚠️

So, you've found a way to get the most wanted man in the world to be your boyfriend. Him being wanted because of how gorgeous he is, but also wanted for the crimes he's committed. This should be fun.

Tyler has the largest infatuation with you. With the way your hair falls over your eyes or how your skin glows when you're out in the sun working in the garden- that type of stuff. He swears that your eyes were more gorgeous than any bar of soap he's blown something up with, even though he most likely wouldn't admit that to anyone but himself. Again, he knows where his priorities lie, but he's one to care more for the intimacy of language.

Many would say this is Tyler's "first life" meaning that he was not an old soul. This would make him overenthusiastic about everything and someone who contains a lot of excitement. This carried over to you, of course whom he finds to be the most exciting thing of all.

When Tyler walked downstairs from his room in the Paper Street house, all eyes fell on him to see what their leader would say. With his oddly printed shirts and wacky pairs of pants, he seemed almost out of place with how grimy and cluttered the rest of the house was. However, there was also a part of him that looked too perfect in this setting. The first time he walked downstairs and heard you yelling insults at his Space Monkeys, he felt his heart beat faster with the admiration he felt towards you.

Your boyfriend is very committed to his cause, as you probably know already. He's willing to do the most ridiculous acts just to show his contribution to the chaos and that's just what he decides to. So when he was in the bathroom ready to shave all the hair off his head, you joined him instead of being surprised he was going for the change. You helped him shave his head and then you asked him to shave yours. Tyler thought it was very badass of you to do that for him and Project Mayhem and he likes to remind you of how sexy it was on the daily.

If you rub Tyler the right way by doing everything in your power to love and care for him and to keep him happy throughout his sadistic tendencies, he might just appoint you to the leader of the Demolitions Committee. If this happens, Tyler trusts you more than anyone else- including himself.

He struggles with insomnia. As the stories go, he was raised in a mental institution and doesn't sleep for weeks on end. Only a part of this is true as you know your boyfriend can go a day or two without any shut-eye. Most of the time the only way he'll truly fall asleep is when he has you in his arms or by his side; listening to your breathing and feeling your fingertips graze the soft but calloused skin on his palms. He wants to know that you're safe at all times.

Tyler doesn't usually talk about his emotions when it comes to his insecurities. Insecurities that you might leave him after finding out about everything he's done or insecurities about not being good enough for you. Mind you, Tyler's confidence is very high but he wants to make sure that your relationship is a two-way street. You do so much for him and he wants to make sure you know he'll reciprocate that. You're usually able to pry these negative thoughts out of him once you're alone together up in his room or cleaning up after a fight in the basement of Lou's Tavern.

This can lead to some minor issues between the two of you if he plays off his insecurities. It can become small arguments but everything is usually fixed after make-up sex.

Sometimes, you have a habit of picking up each other's movements and catchphrases. You tend to find yourself leaning confidently against doorframes or with your hands up above your head, holding onto a part of the ceiling. You also picked up some of his phrases such as "The things you own end up owning you," or, "After a long enough timeline the survival rate for everyone drops to zero."

He picks up your favorite sayings and even starts to smile more since that's a very you thing. Being around someone who appreciates him and his psyche means the world to him and allows him to start showing more fondness for life.

It takes you a while to get used to your new place when living with Tyler, since the water wasn't always clean or the electricity didn't always work. You usually make the best of it but sometimes it's frustrating when your hair (or what's left of it) becomes really greasy. Tyler kinda picks on you for not adapting right away but hey, you did lose a lot of versatile solutions to modern living.

Tyler enjoys date nights. He won't do anything crazy, so don't expect extravagant restaurants or shiny new jewelry. Instead, be excited over a late night drive to look at the stars or listening to records you stole. You know how he has his whole "down with capitalism" rant so usually you two stick to something that doesn't require contributing to that.

Bonus!

Exchanging glances with Tyler while he's giving his speeches on total destruction and absolute chaos. He'll even wink at you in front of the other Space Monkeys.

Trying to fix some of the pipes in the basement with him. His shirt is off and he's sweating everywhere while he duct tapes the openings closed and oh god do I need to continue?

Tyler allows you to hang up the licenses you collect from people like Raymond K. Hessel. You like to put them in the door to your bedroom in a decorative way, all of their names and faces on display.

Going on flights with Tyler to set up new clubs. He's usually the one by the window seat and you're the one flipping through the manual, drawing flames and terrified faces on the diagrams with the paint markers you keep handy.

Wearing your boyfriend's infamous red sunglasses?!

If you're a non-smoker Tyler would do his best not to smoke in front of you due to your distaste for the drug. However, if you do smoke- expect sharing cigarettes. He'll light one and walk around the house with it dangling between his lips, only for you to take a long drag from it when he's least expectant of it.

A/N: I hope this is okay! Thank you for requesting<3

💛🦐

♡Dating with txt♡

TXT X Reader

⚠️ Warnings: Swearing, slight mention of blood, do not read if you have emetophobia, mentions of laser tag guns, mentions of the ER and hospitals, everyone's kinda a crackhead in this one, overall extreme fluff. ⚠️

♡ Soobin ♡

You had decided that your first date with Soobin should be in an aquarium setting, since blue was his favorite color and fish were your favorite animal. It would be cute to see him dress up and to watch the fish from all angles in a calm and serene way.

You had worn your favorite sweater and shirt which read "D.I.L.F 'Damn, I Love Fishing," which you thought was appropriate for the occasion.

"Hey (Y/N)!" Soobin said front where you were standing at the entrance holding a map in his hands, "They have a shark exhibit because of that new 'Killer Titanium War Sharks' movie!"

"Oh that's so cool! I hope we get to see some of them!"

Walking around the venue, you notice a couple fish that catch your eye, they're green with bright orange bellies and mean faces.

"Oooh Soobin! Soobin! These ones are so pretty!" You exclaim and Soobin's heart just melts because of how excited you got.

"(Y/N), those are piranhas. 🥹"

Soobin then grabs your hand and heads for the stingrays, which you would be able to pet according to the tour guide lady.

Anxiously waiting your turn, you finally step up to the open area and pet the stingray closest to you, while Soobin messes with a starfish on the opposite side. He looked so cute like that, his hair in his eyes and an adoring smile on his face. You were so entranced by his features that you weren't paying attention to the dangerous animal in the water and something very peculiar happened. You got stung.

You immediately felt a sharp jolt run through your entire body and noticed the welt on your wrist starting to form as the pain increased. You sent Soobin a look that told him everything and he was rushing to your side to see what had happened the moment a tear slipped down your cheek. "Ow." Was all you said before you blacked out in Soobin's arms.

"Hey, How are you feeling?" Soobin asked you from the chair on the right side of your bed. You had groggily opened up your eyes and noticed you were in a white room which was quite the contrast from the blue of the aquarium. You were still wearing your clothes from earlier, but now you had a cast as an added accessory.

"What happened?"

"You got stung by a stingray and instead of screaming like a normal person you just passed out instead." Soobin filled you in with a pained smile.

"I'm not a lil bitch. I wouldn't cry about it." You said, shrugging and turning on the ER TV. Soobin moved up on the bed with you and told you to scootch over so that he could snuggle you.

The rest of your date was spent in the hospital bed, but it was still fun nonetheless. And you got free snacks!

♡ Yeonjun ♡

He had absolutely no plan in mind when he had asked you out on a date; the only thing he knew was that he wanted to see you somewhere outside of the workplace so he could try and romance you like he wanted.

This boy had been head over heels for you for months. Slipping notes into your cubicle, talking to you from his desk on the other side, offering to carry your things, and holding the elevator door for you whenever he rode.

It was just another day when all of a sudden the cheesy love notes turned into an actual plan: "Pick you up later tonight?"

Which you had agreed to, of course.

This is how you found yourself waiting outside on the boardwalk, wondering what exactly your co-worker had in mind. You were wearing your favorite outfit and the new Versace perfume you had picked up earlier that week. You were worried that Yeonjun might've thought it was too casual until you saw him walking towards you.

You thought your eyes had deceived you into thinking the angel before you was Yeonjun. His hair was wind blown and messy but in the cute boyish way and his perfect lips were wearing a light gloss. His bright yellow button up had been opened revealing a Kate Bush t-shirt. His denim jeans and converse added to the comfortable yet outrageous gorgeousness of the man before you.

"Hey, you look nice." He said, and you felt your heart flutter in your chest. "Thanks, you too."

Walking further along the boardwalk, Yeonjun slips his left hand in yours and makes his way towards the carnival games. Noticing how your eyes glance over at a large puppy stuffed animal for a fraction of a second longer than the rest of them, he insists he plays the water gun game to win it for you.

Laughing along with him, you join a group of two other people as the operator readies your water guns. Winking at you, Yeonjun holds his gun with two hands and aims it at the target.

"Hey, did you see the massive churro that the guy behind us has?" You ask, grinning.

"What? Where?" Yeonjun swivels around in his seat just as the bells go off signaling the beginning of the game.

Maniacally laughing, you aim your gun at the target and watch as the water moves the bar up towards the top of the booth, meaning that you were winning. Yeonjun finally came to his senses and tried to beat you but to no avail. You had gotten the big prize: the giant puppy stuffed animal.

Handing it to your date, you give him a kiss on the cheek and say "better luck next time."

"You cheated!" He said, but smiled as he buried his face into the soft fur.

Needless to say, the rest of the night was spent on the ferris wheel in a heated makeout session while the puppy waited at the tables below.

♡ Beomgyu ♡

"This movie is supposedly so scary that the first people to watch it died after throwing up when the gore scenes came on!" You said excitedly as you held your boyfriend's hand leading him in the direction of the cinema. You had been talking about the new movie, "Killer Titanium War Sharks" for weeks in anticipation for it to finally hit the theaters. Your calendar in your shared apartment with Beomgyu held the official date in which you would be taking him to see it; something Beomgyu had been secretly hoping you would forget about. Truth be told: he had been terrified of it ever since he saw the trailer on YouTube.

"Wow.... Great....." He mumbled as you sat down in the velvet upholstered seats of the theater. The only reason he had agreed to come see it with you as a date was because you had agreed to purchase him the Sno-Caps chocolate bites and the pineapple gummi bears that he liked to combine into mini sandwiches.

You moved a strand of his long hair behind his ear and stared at him in the eyes. "Beomgyu," you started, making sure that you had his full attention, "If you get scared you had to suck it up and deal with it. No bathroom breaks. We're watching it all the way through." Gulping, he nods his head and trembles in his seat as you watch the beginning credits roll onto the screen.

"(Y/N)."

It had been a little ways past the middle of the movie and Beomgyu had his hand on yours, gripping it as though it would fall off. He had been eating a crap ton of gummi bears and Sno-Caps and for a moment you thought he was going to offer you one. In a way, he did.

"What's up?" You ask.

"I don't feel so good-"

Barfing all over you, Beomgyu manages not to get any on himself as he watches the sugary sweets end up on your favorite cardigan. When he was done, he delicately patted his lips and smiled anxiously as he watched you take in what just happened.

Instead of yelling at him like he had thought, you laughed. "Beomgyu, that's so gross!" You said in between hearty chuckles. Laughing along with you, you both leave the theater hand in hand, not finishing the movie you had been so excited about.

"I'm sorry I made it so that we couldn't finish the movie." Your boyfriend said with genuine concern.

"Are you kidding?! That was 100 times better than any ending I could've gotten from "Killer Titanium War Sharks!"

♡ Taehyun ♡

You had first noticed him in the library, drinking a splendid Arabic blend of coffee with Kafka open in his lap, twiddling with his hoodie strings with a contemplative stare. You were sure that cupid had struck you with his arrow just then; he looked up at you from what he was reading upon hearing your entrance with the bell atop the book shoppe door.

This had been a habit of his, to show up at the same shoppe as you so that he could see what it was you were reading that week. Today, you had another Junji Ito manga stashed away in your arms and an excited smile on your face. He didn't understand what was happening until you had made your way to his usual spot.

"H-h-hello." He said, trying not to sound awkward but failing tremendously.

"Hey," you said, moving to sit down next to him, "I see you here often?"

It was an observation you made yet you still phrased it as a question, unsure if you were bothering the beautiful boy in front of you. To your surprise, he seemed ecstatic.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" He asked very chipper.

"I was just wondering....would you maybe.....it's totally okay if you don't want to....go out for coffee sometime?" You squinted your eyes in a slight grimace at how awkward your questions sounded and to make matters worse, you threw up finger guns.

Taehyun practically giggled and moved a chair closer to his so that you had the opportunity to sit down and talk to him. "Why, I would love that." He said, or at least he thought so. It came out more like "y-y-yes please yeah that sounds wonderful."

You inch closer to his spot and look at his book title. "Metamorphosis? Nice." You throw up another finger gun and you wanted to dissolve into the linoleum tiles right then and there.

"And I see you're reading my favorite Ito! No Longer Human!" He smiles and sends you the same hand gesture back.

Eventually, you guys pack up your things and head to the nearest coffee place in town: "The Mind Grind." This was where Taehyun had gotten his coffee earlier

He orders a vanilla latte and you order a black iced coffee with two espresso shots. Needless to say, he looked at you as though you were crazy but was most definitely intrigued by your order.

After a long conversation about reading material, you hand him your number scribbled on a napkin and offer the idea of "we should do this again sometime."

Taehyun thought about you the entire time he drove home.

♡ Hueningkai ♡

If this boy agreed to go on a date with you, you knew you had to make it an activity of sorts so that he wouldn't fall asleep or complain about the boringness of art museums or how lame the documentary you went to see was.

Your last date being roller skating, you knew that you were never going to put Kai in skates again as he had run into the wall numerous times and had fallen on top of you when leaning for support. You both ended up in so many unwanted bruises and cuts that you spent the entire next day in bed; an ice pack on Kai's neck and one on your knee.

This time you figured you would be able to find some form of interest in laser tag.

And oh boy was that an idea.

Hueningkai was so chipper and excited about it that he blasted ATEEZ in the car all the way there and talked about how fun it would be to shoot the other players with you by his side as his right hand man. However, when you arrived at the arena, it became very clear that you both were on opposing sides.

"(Y/N).... What'll I do over there without you? 🥲" *Pure fear*

"Fucking suffer under the wrath of my laser tag skills 😈" *Pure adrenaline*

Hiding behind one of the safety zones, you push forward towards the enemy base, keeping a watchful eye out for your 6'1 boyfriend. He would have a hard time hiding you would think since he was so tall, but something told you he'd be just fine.

Shooting a couple other players, you run towards the base and ready yourself to grab the flag. The concept of the game was basically capture the flag but with cool guns that went pew pew. You saw someone guarding it and shot them from afar, closing in on the target. The flag was in your hands and you were about to make a break for it when-

Two arms wrap around your chest, causing you to drop your winnings. You were then shoved into a wall and Kai held you there in place as he looked you up and down. "Trying to win, I see?" He asked, keeping in character of the game. It was both cute and annoying because you were both so competitive.

"Accept defeat." You said, trying to twist out of his grasp and make your way to the flag on the floor. Tacking you, the two of you fight each other for it and crash into a couple walls in the process. Lifting the flag above your head, you grin in triumph, flexing over the fact that you had beat Kai in a fist fight.

"(Y/N). Uh. Are you okay?"

"Huh?"

"Your nose is bleeding everywhere."

Low and behold, there was a steady trickle of red dropping from your nose all over your shirt and shorts. Sighing, you stick the flag in your pocket and Kai takes it from you while you're preoccupied with the blood.

"KAI YOU MOTHER FUCKER."

He leans in for a kiss and ends up getting blood smeared on his face. "I win."

He shot you in the chest and the lights turned on, meaning that the game was over and he had, in fact, won.

Goddamn Namjoon 💍🦆

wow he’s so fine [cr. dwellingsouls]

I’m going to cry my eyes out after seeing this, this is so sweet

💛🦐

I was planning to take a small social media break but I saw the amazing headcanon that Argyle and Billy might have been friends in California! It such a sweet idea that I just had to draw something with that :) There’s something so special about childhood friendships and having seen someone through everything including growth spurts and the preteen awkward phase! And in a scenario where Billy lived, seeing that pizza van would be like some sort of miracle after everything he’s endured.

through gritted teeth

pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Reader

reader's race & gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used.

summary:

The man says he’s your husband.  He’s polite, charming, intelligent. He seems a little pretentious, but he appears to know you rather well and the thinly-veiled devotion in his eyes dispels most of your remaining doubts.  It certainly helps that the man is rather well-dressed—and attractive, a traitorous voice in the back of your mind whispers.  Unfortunately, you have no idea who he is. 

word count: 3.8k | ao3 version

You wake up to fluorescent lighting burning into your eyes, pulling tears down your cheeks as you blink stars from your vision. Your entire body aches with exhaustion and you can feel a headache brewing already. Groaning, you try to push yourself up to a sitting position. There’s an IV attached to your arm and, upon closer inspection, you seem to be in some sort of hospital room. White walls line the space, and there’s nothing much of note in your immediate vicinity. You blink a few more times past your absurdly dry eyes and continue inspecting the room, until your eyes catch on the chair to the right side of your bed. 

There’s a man sitting at your bedside with his eyes closed. He stirs within a few moments, as if he can sense you staring at him. Relief is written all over his face as he leans forward and clasps your hand with a small smile on his face. You can’t stop yourself from instinctively flinching at the contact and he notices, removing his hand at once. 

“Do you remember who I am?” He asks. His words are carefully constructed, strung together with eloquence and remnants of what sounds like an accent from a European country. You blink at him once, twice. It takes a moment for you to process the question, and another to contemplate the answer. The man doesn’t look familiar. Indeed, he looks like a stranger. 

When you tell him as much, a sad smile works its way onto his face. It seems he expected your answer. He begins to explain the circumstances surrounding your visit here, which you are immensely grateful for. You know next to nothing as you sit in this hospital bed, and, try as you might, you can’t remember anything save for your name. 

Apparently, you’ve suffered a serious head injury that left you with a spontaneous case of amnesia. Fortunately, your memories will likely return to you in due time. Somehow, these two revelations aren’t the most shocking of statements from the stranger. What the man reveals next shakes you to your core: he’s your husband. 

Upon closer examination, you find that the man is charming, polite… He’s rather attractive, too, with fine-combed hair and sparkling brown eyes with flecks of amber. His face looks as if it was sculpted by Michelangelo himself—sweeping lines, sharp edges, soft curves. The man is intelligent and [perhaps as a result] a little pretentious. From his attire, you can only assume that he makes a lot of money and has rather particular tastes. You could see someone like this going to the opera regularly. 

But there’s something else about this man—something lurking beneath the surface. You can’t puzzle out what it is. There’s something sinister concealed in those reddish-brown eyes, an unspoken violence in the man’s careful poise. And you think you catch him intently scrutinizing you—as if you’re under a microscope.  

You soon learn that the man’s name is Hannibal Lecter. He’s a psychiatrist who used to be a surgeon. He’s in his 40s. He has refined tastes—and even goes to the opera on occasion, yes. He is fascinating, intriguing beyond measure. He discusses heavily philosophical topics with ease. He is slippery, only giving you the information he wants to give you. He has a very controlled image. The dishes he cooks you are extravagant and lavish, with ingredients you’ve never even heard of. (The meat in them is always some sort of organ, and it turns your stomach every time.)

In the wake of your injury, you’re unsure of almost everything. But you know one thing for certain: Hannibal is not your husband. And you’re convinced that he’s dangerous. You don’t trust him—can’t trust his carefully crafted words, his home-cooked meals, his polite smiles. It’s all a farce. 

It would be all too easy to ask your next visitor about this well-dressed, enigmatic man. Unfortunately, you don’t get any other visitors. In fact, your next visitor is Hannibal again… And again. And again. It gets to the point where your nurse gives up on having him sign in when he visits. At first, she had been rather strict in enforcing the rules; she seems to have caught onto something that you still haven’t grasped, because she now collects herself with an entirely different—almost heightened—awareness. 

You’re having increasingly conflicting feelings, especially when you consider the fact that Hannibal hasn’t actually exhibited any behavior that justifies your wariness and suspicion. If anything, he’s been the perfect supporter—the perfect husband—throughout your recovery. You want to believe your gut sense, want to believe the whispers in the back of your mind that tell you to exercise caution. But, at the same time, who’s to say they can be believed? You still have almost no recollection of who you are. Why are you questioning the only person who has bothered to show up for you throughout your recovery? 

Days pass in the blink of an eye; before you know it, Hannibal is walking in one morning with the declaration that you’ve been officially discharged from the hospital. Despite your misgivings, you head to the bathroom to change into some normal clothes before putting on the pair of shoes near the door. Your heart is racing as Hannibal’s gaze refuses to leave your form. Why can’t your mind rest? Why can’t your thoughts be silent, for once? Why are you so damn suspicious of every minute kindness? 

The walk out of the hospital and through the parking lot is painfully silent. You can’t resist sneaking glances at Hannibal, waiting for his mask to crack and fall. It never does. He catches you looking and sends you a smile, which discourages you from looking again. You let your eyes roam about the shiny cars in the parking lot as the warm afternoon sunlight greets your skin. You missed the fresh air. 

“Where are you taking me?” You finally ask, as you continue to follow behind the man.

“Home,” Hannibal remarks. He pointedly does not say your home or even our home. Your heart is racing in your chest. His back is turned, leaving you to imagine the expression on his face.  

It isn’t until you’re secured in the front seat and Hannibal’s driving out of the parking lot that you summon the courage to utter the question that has been plaguing your mind. “Are you really my husband?”

“Hm?” It’s clear he heard you; he’s giving you a chance to retract the remark. You know you should take it, but… you want to know what’s going on. You need to find an answer for the seemingly irrational fear drumming in your chest and rushing in your ears. 

“You say you’re my husband,” You repeat yourself, gaining a bit more confidence. “But I don’t think you are.” For an awful moment, there’s nothing but silence. The car zips along the road. You feel your hand trembling at your side—hopefully the only visible sign of your distress. You clench your shaking hand into a fist and try to remain calm. Panicking won’t do you any good. 

“Do you remember how we first met?” Hannibal asks instead. You stare at him in disbelief, surprised by how he completely ignores your accusation. There is an utter lack of emotion on his face. Seconds later, you remember his question and shake your head. “You’re an FBI agent,” Hannibal reveals. “I was called in to perform your psychiatric evaluation.”

Great. Just great. Out of all things, you had to be an FBI agent. The thought of forgetting your work—forgetting all the victims left to die in muddied puddles of crimson, forgetting all the killers with mocking smiles and cruelty written in the lines of their faces—is sincerely troubling.  

And Hannibal is a psychiatrist. That seems to fit—you can see him in a needlessly extravagant office, surrounded by books and expensive elegancies. You have to shake your head to get rid of the weirdly vivid imagery that your thoughts produce. “Are you… my psychiatrist, then?” You ask. 

“If you wish,” he replies with a mirthful smile. That answer doesn’t satisfy your curiosity—not in the slightest. 

“Were you my psychiatrist?” You press. You get the feeling that you need to be asking the right questions in order to get the answers you want. The man across from you is adept at picking apart people’s words, flipping them around and twisting their intended meaning. Your wording will be immensely important. 

“I was your psychiatrist, for a time,” Hannibal acquiesces. From that statement, you get the sense that he really was your psychiatrist, until something evidently happened. You ask him as much, but you seem to go too far, because he regards you with an amused glance. “You’re asking a lot of questions.”

“And you’re not giving me any answers,” you feel the need to respond. You have simultaneous suspicions that honesty is dangerous in front of Hannibal, and that he values honesty above sugar-coated words. Your eyebrows furrow. “You haven’t exactly been forthcoming with information.”

“Is that so?” Hannibal is providing more questions in lieu of answers. He’s definitely hiding something. Sensing that you won’t get anything more from him, you fall silent and settle for staring at him out of the corner of your eye. His gaze is locked on the road ahead.  Despite the time you’ve spent together, talking about your past, you still aren’t totally convinced that you’re married to Hannibal. Is there a way you could test him—test his knowledge of you? Surely there’s something you can ask him to determine if he truly knows you or not. 

It comes to you a moment later. “What’s my favorite color?” You ask, before you can think better of it. The man doesn’t react at first, instead staring straight ahead. Just before you can repeat the question, he answers. 

“I can’t imagine you have a favorite color,” Hannibal responds. “You once told me the very notion was foolish.”

Okay, he’s sort of correct there. But that was an easy question. You sort through the few memories you have, looking for something you can ask him. “What’s my middle name?” That’s an answer that you just barely know yourself—a memory came back to you a mere few minutes ago, of you and your childhood friend talking about middle names and nicknames and other unimportant things. 

Hannibal answers the question correctly again. The two of you must’ve been friends, at the very least. You continue to search your mind for something you can ask him. 

Five minutes and several questions later, you’re starting to doubt your own conviction. Hannibal answers every single question correctly, providing you with information you don’t remember but know deep-down to be true. It’s unnerving and disturbing to think that you could’ve forgotten this man so easily. He seems… utterly unforgettable, in every sense of the word. Furthermore, he’s your husband—perhaps you shouldn’t be doubting him so easily. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, before you can quite contemplate your next words. Hannibal’s eyes are locked on the road, but you know he’s listening. “I don’t mean to doubt you, I just- I don’t know what to do. I don’t remember anything, obviously, and… I feel so lost.” You choke out, your throat burning. You bury your head in your hands for a selfish moment, hoping for some solace and clarity. 

“Don’t apologize, dear,” Hannibal says. You hate how the remark sends a shiver down your spine. Damn it, why can’t you just be comfortable? This man is practically a dream, so why are you trying to ruin it? Can’t you just accept that, sometimes, you deserve to have nice things?! Hannibal continues, unknowing of your internal dilemma. “You’re going through a lot right now. I’m just happy to be here with you.” 

You feel ashamed, knowing that you’ve been holding yourself back despite the fact that Hannibal has shown you nothing but compassion and affection. “I’m… happy you’re here, too,” you say. Guilt prickling in your chest, you impulsively reach out and clasp his free hand resting on the console. Somehow, this surprises your husband, because he stiffens for a second before reciprocating, gripping your hand reassuringly. 

“We will get through this,” he promises. You push aside your doubts and decide to believe him.

Maybe things really will be alright. Maybe, you’ll get your memories back sooner rather than later, and you’ll be able to look back on these moments—riddled with doubt, insecurity, wariness—and laugh. You take a deep breath and look out the window, watching the passing trees blur together. 

Your hand slips from Hannibal’s and you look at your nails, picking at your cuticles. Your hands are somewhat indicative of the life you led—the one you don’t remember living—with a few scars stretching down your wrist and climbing up your forearm. You look down at the healed wound and frown, trying to remember how you got the scar. 

Suddenly, you get a flicker of a memory. It’s faint and fast, but it’s a reminder of the past nonetheless. You squint ahead, trying to focus on keeping the flashback in your mind for long enough to dissect it. You remember… blood. A corpse, perhaps? Yes, a corpse. A woman’s corpse, hoisted and impaled on antlers. You remember… staring at that corpse for so long that you had to be physically led away from the scene, albeit with a gnawing feeling in your gut that something just wasn’t right. You remember… walking into an office, only to be met with Hannibal’s curious gaze. That must’ve been the first time you met the psychiatrist. You put a hand to your temple and try desperately to concentrate. 

“You look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” Hannibal says, effectively throwing your focus. You blink and chance a glance at him. He’s still looking at the road, yet you can’t shake the perplexing conviction that he’s been watching you. What’s more, you can’t shake the feeling that his interjection was purposeful—that he meant to throw you off and break your concentration. 

“I- just remembered something,” you choke out, feeling a bolt of pain slide down your scalp to the back of your neck. You bring a hand to the nape of your neck and press, hissing as your fingers glide over sore muscles. “Something important.”

“Congratulations,” Hannibal hums, immune to your internal panic. You don’t know exactly what this man did, but he must’ve done something. Your subconscious is convinced that he is incredibly dangerous, and you feel inclined to trust your gut. 

Another flashback arrives, apropos of nothing. You remember sitting across from Hannibal in a finely-decorated room, lined with bookshelves and artifacts. You remember averting your eyes as you speak, desperate to avoid the roaring flames racing up your skin with every additional moment of prolonged eye contact. You remember… a twisted grin on Hannibal’s face. You remember… the intensity to his gaze as he studied you when he thought you weren’t looking. 

Unsettled, you shake your head and try to refocus on the passing scenery again. To your surprise, you think you recognize where you are. Hannibal must be taking you home. You take a deep breath. You just have to survive this car ride—then you can figure things out from there. You have all the time in the world to muse on the nature of your injury and the nature of your “husband,” once you’re safely contained within four walls. Right now, though, you need to be wary. You need to have your wits about you, you need to watch for any sudden movements, you need to be ready-

“We’re here,” Hannibal announces, promptly throwing your thought process to a halt. You blink and look ahead, only to find a nondescript home with beige siding and a somewhat weathered front door. Vaguely, you remember pulling your car into this driveway, remember unpacking boxes from your trunk. Yes, this is your house. Hannibal is much quicker on the uptake, as he gets out of the car and walks around the vehicle. You don’t realize that he’s opening the passenger door for you until you feel him staring at you expectantly. You thank him and get to your feet, a sudden bout of dizziness sending you wobbling. Hannibal is there in a moment, steadying you with a hand on your forearm. You pretend not to notice his hand on the small of your back as you walk up the path to the front porch. When you’re finally situated in front of the entrance, you realize that you have no idea where your keys could be. 

“Left pocket of your jacket,” Hannibal murmurs, as if reading your mind. You nearly choke on a breath. 

“Thanks,” you respond a bit breathlessly. When you finally manage to unlock the front door and swing it open, you turn back to face him. “Well, thank you for the ride.”

“Of course,” Hannibal responds easily. There’s a regretful smile rising on his face. Everything around you fades to obscurity. “I’m afraid this is goodbye.” That remark sounds strangely ominous. Your heart is in your throat. 

“Thank you for keeping me company,” you feel the need to say, regardless of your suspicions about the man. He was the only one to visit you. You don’t want to think about how you would feel if you spent your entire hospital visit without a single familiar face. “...Bye.” Suddenly, there’s a hand on your cheek. Hannibal’s hand cradles your jaw, his thumb gently roving along your skin. He regards you for a moment, his eyes sparkling, before kissing you on the cheek and leaving. You watch him return to his car and drive away, apprehension and adrenaline coursing through you. Somehow, you get the feeling that you’ll never see Hannibal again. 

Your doorbell rings about an hour later. You look through your peephole, only to find a somewhat intimidating man with his hands shoved in his pockets. You have to focus on quelling the foolish spike of hope that had risen in your chest when the doorbell rang, and the subsequent disappointment at the unfamiliar figure you found. You take a second glance at the stranger, only to find that he looks somewhat familiar. This vague familiarity convinces you to crack your front door open slightly and ask him, “Who are you?”

The man pulls something out of his pocket. “Jack Crawford, FBI,” he answers, showing you his identification card. You stare at him for another moment. “Your boss.” Crawford supplies, when you can’t seem to get the words out. After a few seconds of awkward silence, you decide to invite him inside. 

Before long, the two of you are settled in your living room. The tension that first appeared when you opened your front door has yet to fade. You’re not sure why this man has yet to crop up in your memories—he has a rather powerful aura of authority, not to mention the fact that he’s apparently your superior. You decide not to beat yourself up about it. Your memories will come back in due time; until then, you’ll make do with what little you have.

Crawford—Jack, he tells you to call him—clasps his hands over his knees and levels you with an unreadable gaze. “I need to ask you something,” Jack says, rifling through his other pocket and pulling out a folded piece of paper. He unfolds it slowly, before revealing it to you. “Do you remember this man? Hannibal Lecter?” Jack explains, immune to your growing dread. You feel sick to your stomach as your eyes flit across the black-and-white photograph of the same man who watched over you vigilantly as you recovered, who claimed to be your husband and kissed you on the cheek mere moments ago. “He’s the Chesapeake Ripper—the serial killer who has been evading capture.” 

“I-” You stammer, bringing a hand to your temple. Your headache from earlier is returning and your head is spinning from this sudden disclosure. You almost don’t want to believe Jack, but you get the feeling that he’d have no reason to lie to you. If anything, lying would just make his job harder. You take a shuddering breath in, trying to come to terms with the fact that you just narrowly escaped a serial killer’s grasp. 

“It’s alright,” Jack tries to reassure you, evidently sensing that you’re growing a bit panicked. 

“No, I-” You’re choking on the words. Recent memories are mixing with old, creating a convoluted and murky timeline of events. It’s hard to sort through everything, to find the truths hidden amongst the lies. You’re not sure how long it takes for you to collect your composure and organize your thoughts into a relatively coherent statement. “I saw him. He… visited me in the hospital. He drove me home.” 

“What?” Jack asks, utter disbelief written all over his face. You don’t remember your boss very well, but you get the feeling he isn’t usually so expressive. The look on his face would be comical, in a different situation. “What did he say to you?” He implores.

“He said a lot of things… Nothing very important.” You try to recall what you can, but your memories are quickly slipping through your fingertips in granules of sparkling sand. You press a hand to your temple, your headache growing worse as you try to recall what happened. “I tried asking him questions about me, to throw him off, but he knew all the answers.” 

Somehow, Jack doesn’t seem surprised by the notion. “You two were… close, before,” your boss evidently settles for saying. There’s a certain suspicion in his voice, as if he suspects you may have been more than “close” with Hannibal. You’re feeling too discombobulated to rise to the bait or bother calling him out on the obvious verbal trap. 

“He said ‘goodbye,’” you continue, eyebrows furrowing. Somehow, you get the sense that Hannibal isn’t the type to utter goodbyes. Moreover, a goodbye ushers in a sense of finality, as if you will truly never see him again. You pinch the bridge of your nose, pretending that your exchange with him on your doorstep isn’t replaying in your mind. He kissed me on the cheek, you don’t say to Jack. He said he was my husband. He watched over me in the hospital when no one else did. And it may have been fake, all of it… But that gleam of affection in his eyes didn’t look manufactured—it looked genuine.  

Jack looks troubled and somewhat restless. “You’re lucky you made it out alive.” He states. You don’t think you can quite believe his words. For whatever reason, Hannibal Lecter—the Chesapeake Ripper—is interested in you. Whether sick fascination or cloying obsession, you have to face the facts:  luck had nothing to do with it. The Ripper kept you alive because, inexplicably, he wants you alive. 

And that unnerves you. 

hannibal taglist, cause i think y'all would be down with reading this since it's also hannibal: @its-ares @tobbotobbs @xrisdoesntexist @gr1mmac3 @tiredstarcerberuslamb @yourlocalratwriter @kingkoku @kahuunknown @atlas-king1 @pendragon-writes @slipknotcentury @cryinersaved @the-ultimate-librarian @starre-eyes @pendragon-writes @peterparkeeperer @gayschlatt69 @flow33didontsmoke @mrgatotortuga @house-of-1000-corpses-fan

DUNE

Paul Atreides:

Promise: (Part One) You've made a promise to the Harkonnens to end the Atreides bloodline once and for all, working on the inside to take them down. It really sucks that your sworn enemy is hot.

Promise: (Part Two)

(Romance/Slight Angst/Enemies to Lovers)

Promise: (Part Three)

(Romance/Slight Angst/ Enemies to Lovers)

NIGHTCALL

Pairing: Draco Malfoy X Reader

Simple school life with Draco except you both live on the more dangerous side; willing to bend and break school rules for fun.

⚠️ Warnings: swearing, sexual talk, mentions of blood⚠️

Filch had caught you wandering the school corridors alone at night. Great. Although you weren't doing anything wrong and all you wanted to do was walk off a nightmare and stare out at the stars, he had been a stickler for the rules, and thus, you landed in detention.

The corridors were now full of bustling students; a contrast from the dead empty halls when the sun went down as you made your way to Professor Dumbledore's office, waiting to be given your detention assignment. Funny how being a Hufflepuff has only made you hate their usual standard of being a happy-go-lucky and lover of people. You despised basic social interaction, something that had started with anxiety in your youth and had stuck with you until now. You could always put on a brave smile and stick through a conversation, but once that was done they could count on you heading straight back to your dormitory.

You just liked to be alone.

But a particularly asshole-ish blonde boy with a daddy kink ruined that for you.

"Oi, (Y/N), why the fuck are you wearing a skirt?! It's freezing outside!" Draco stated as he ran up to where you were following Filch, most likely coming back from an intense test in potions; you inferred based off of the way he glared at Snape and how his usually gelled hair was now spiking up in odd places. Draco had a horrible habit of ripping out his hair when he was stressed; you wanted nothing more than to put one of those dog cones around his neck when his hair-ripping days got really bad.

"Because it's the fucking school uniform, Malfoy." You stated with a smile on your face. You guys always joke like this and it was very refreshing to poke fun when other students tend to be expectant of the fake nice all the time.

Draco mumbled something about how it was misogynistic to make women wear skirts in the winter for school uniforms (which he's right) as he removed his large green and silver Slytherin Quidditch sweater and forced it over your head.

Oh shit, that's hot as hell. Especially since you're a Hufflepuff.

You tousled his hair and gave him a peck on the cheek. "You'll always be my bitch."

"Mhm. I enjoy it, actually."

He laughed and offered to hold your schoolbooks to which you declined. You had to go to detention which was on the opposite side of the school to where Draco had Herbology next. You memorized his schedule. Mainly because it was the same as your own with the only exception being that he had Defense Against the Dark Arts second period and you had it last.

"Why can't I hold them, where are you going? Or is this another one of your speeches about how you're not reliant on me?" He asked with a puzzling expression on his face. Merlin, he was cute.

"I have detention!" You stated with false enthusiasm, mainly because you knew it was over something stupid. You even threw in some jazz hands in the direction of your boyfriend.

"Oh. Is it because you left my dormitory late last night?" He asked.

Filch, who was standing idly waiting for you to finish your conversation so you could continue your path to Dumbledore's office, overheard this.

"Malfoy, you had a girl in your dorm? That's against school policy and you're going to have to follow me for detention as well." Filch sneered and pet Mrs. Norris who was placed so delicately in his arms. You hated that stupid cat.

"Draco you're a fucking idiot."

"Yeah but I'm your idiot." He smiled and grabbed your hand. "Change of plans, I guess we get to hang out today after all."

***

The walk to Dumbledore's office had been fun, you'd hate to admit it, but wearing Draco's sweater with him holding onto your arm and the stares it got you filled you with an unreasonable amount of pride. Like 'fuck yeah, I'm dating Malfoy, the hot mysterious boy who hates all of you but me.'

As you turned the corner you saw the Golden Trio sitting by the foyer steps and arguing about something stupid, Hermione trying desperately to fix Harry's glasses and Ron fiddling with his robes. You were friends with Harry,much to Draco's dismay, because you had grown up in Little Winging together. You had also been unaware of the magical world so when you two both received your Hogwarts letters looking at each other like a 'what the hell is this?' you had grown a close bond.

"Hey (Y/N)! I need your help picking up a package from Zonko's later if you're not busy." He said, approaching your spot in the hall.

Uh oh.

"What do you want, Potter?" Draco sneered from next to you, looking in the direction of the tan boy with the scar glistening on his forehead.

"What's it to you, Malfoy?" Harry was immediately backed up by his friends as he stared the blonde boy down. You could tell he was a Gryffindor via the aura of unnecessary confidence radiating from him. Bright green eyes and broken glasses, you would've taken him to be the calm and composed type if you hadn't known him.

Draco flicked him in the nose, tightening his grip on your hand. "Absolutely nothing other than the fact that your ugly face disturbed my walk to detention," he gave his infamous sneer.

"Ha! Bleached blonde is going to detention! For what, being an arrogant prick?" Harry chortled with Ron laughing from behind. Hermione looked genuinely bored as she usually did and readied her wand in case this fight got serious. She knew Malfoy played dirty.

"Actually...." Draco began, "It's because I fucked your best friend." At this, he made a dramatic gesture by kissing your face roughly and flipping Harry off.

You, however, were not having it.

"And goodbye." You said as you left the boys to argue, following Filch the rest of the way towards the office.

***

Twenty minutes later, Draco sits next to you sporting a bruised cheek and a bloody lip. He looked really pissed, and now he had to spend his time sorting letters in the Headmaster's office.

"Babe, what happened?" You asked with a voice full of worry as your hand went to glide up to his lip as you assessed the damage. You were gonna yell at Harry for this later.

Draco (who was fine) saw that you were concerned and willing to baby him so he made everything sound worse than it actually was.

"You left and then Potter said something about how I didn't deserve to be with you so I got mad and then he hit me." He quivered his lip for a dramatic effect.

"Awh poor ferret." You smiled a bit and he scowled as he was used to getting called that stupid nickname.

"It was one time."

"Yeah, but that Transfiguration was funny as hell."

"Oh shut it." He said, pretending to be angry as he picked up the neglected letters on the mahogany table. He looked frazzled with his hair all messed up and a bloody lip, but it was a good look on him. Maybe it was hot, even.

***

"Potter you fuckass where are you?" You asked, stepping into the Gryffindor dormitory in response to the fight he had with your boyfriend. You were friends with Harry, sure, but you weren't about to let him mess with Draco's pretty face. Especially since you stared at it all the time.

The boy in question was sitting with his legs crossed by the fireplace, playing with the tassels on one of his House scarves. You sat down next to him and stared at him before laughing. Draco had definitely done more damage to Potter's face.

With a black eye and cut running alongside his nose, Harry looked towards you and smiled. "You're starting to sound a lot like Malfoy with your incessant swearing."

You laughed and moved his curly hair away from his face. "I would like it if you didn't destroy my stuff, Potter. I happen to like Draco's face and I would prefer for it to be intact when I see it."

Harry fake gagged at this as he rolled his eyes. "I'm more hurt than he is, and I've known you for longer." He said with a smile.

"You can handle it, you fought Voldemort once or twice, killed a Basilisk, got crushed by the Whomping Willow, Broke your godfather out of Azkaban, Won the Triwizard Tournament, Exiled Delores Umbridge......do I need to continue?" You situated your head comfortably in his lap looking at the ornate ceiling above you.

"As much as I appreciate you listing my accomplishments, I think I'd prefer a bandaid for my face."

"I'm surrounded by babies." You laughed as you went to grab your wand to conjure up a bandaid.

"Hey (Y/N)," Harry began, watching you get up, "What do you see in him anyways? He's my worst enemy."

"Over the Dark Lord?" You joked.

"Serious."

"Okay, okay," you started, sticking the small bandage onto his cheek. "I guess I like him for things you wouldn't be able to understand. You really don't know him all that well."

Harry looked at the fire tentatively in thought as he pondered over your response. What is it about the bitch that he didn't know already? Other than the fact that his blonde hair wasn't real or that he one time accidentally tripped on the way to Quidditch practice and landed in a mud puddle when he thought no one was watching? What is it about him?

"Eh sure, okay I guess I trust your judgement."

"Good." You said, going to lay back down on his lap. "When did you want to head out to Zonko's?"

***

Back at the Hufflepuff dorm, you found yourself making Chamomile tea and filling it up with coffee creamer; a delicious trick you learned from one of your best friends under the Ravenclaw house. You made one for Draco since you knew he would come visit you soon and ask for a cup before you situated yourself at the small table in the lounge area.

The Hufflepuff dorm was nothing short of beautiful. Whereas the other houses prided themselves in their luxurious architecture, the Hufflepuffs had built their home focused more on comfort and tranquility rather than perfection and style. It was a large round building with equally round windows that let in the sunlight, and was covered in plants that were sparadically placed on the ceiling. The big couches were mismatched and comfy and some of them had patches that were fixed up by the more artsy Hufflepuffs within the commons. To describe it as a smell would be to say that it is similar to petrichor- the earthy smell that follows after the rain; and sandalwood incense, courtesy of one of the Scamander children.

"(Y/N)?" You heard your name and mumbled a 'yeah' in response, holding out Draco's mug of tea and waited for him to situate himself beside you on the sofa as he always did.

He took the mug from your left hand and placed it on the side table, also placing yours beside it. Guess he wasn't thirsty.

Instead, he laid down on you in a way similar to how you were with Harry earlier except he had placed your hand on his face. "Do you want to sneak out again tonight?"

"You liked detention that much, huh?" You snarkily responded and kissed him softly on the head.

"Listen. I want to play music and run through the halls. I think it'd be fun, unless you're too much of a pussy to do it." He sneered.

"Why do people use pussy as a word to describe something that is weak and balls to describe strength? Women bleed every month with an excruciating pain equivalent to that of a heart attack, whereas you could flick a man in the penis and he would cry about how much it hurt." You said as you picked up the neglected tea from the table and took a sip.

"That's a good point." He said looking up at you.

"I know." You smiled back down at him, messing with his tie that he never knew how to wear properly so it always hung loose under his collar. He was really pretty. So you decided to vocalize your thoughts.

"You're really pretty." You said looking directly into his eyes.

"Wow, a compliment coming from your lips and not an insult. I'm not used to this side of you." He joked and booped your nose.

"Enjoy it while it lasts."

"And there it is."

And wow, were you in love. His sharp and angular face with piercing grey eyes and a soft smile to match. His hair that framed his face perfectly when it wasn't gelled back (or being pulled out) was shining under the soft glow of the sunset. He looked nothing short of ethereal, laying on your lap like this. If someone had told you in your first year that you'd end up in this position with the Slytherin prince himself, you would've laughed in their face. Now, you couldn't imagine a time where he didn't come to see you on the days you weren't swamped by homework.

"Draco."

"Yuh huh?"

"I think I'm in love with you."

He squinted against the bright light as he looked up at your face. "Well I would hope so."

"Just thought I would remind you."

***

Night fell and when everyone else was supposed to be wearing their pajamas, you were slipping on your jeans and Draco's sweater. You didn't really want to get into trouble again since you wanted to finish your episode of Euphoria after classes tomorrow instead of in a cold room sorting through letters, but you couldn't deny Draco of his idea. You were excited to spend more time with him and you realized that he was one of your favorite priorities.

"Ready to go?" He asked from the end of your bed, still wearing your sweater over his school uniform. "I feel like if we wear our robes it'll be fun since they'll flow when we run."

"How deeply did you think about this, Malfoy?" You asked tauntingly.

"Arguably too much." He stated back, rustling through his satchel.

"Relax, I'm excited too. After you, ferret." You opened up the door and motioned for him to be the first one out after you had put on your Hufflepuff robes.

Draco led you through the Hufflepuff common room being very careful not to wake anyone up. Hand in hand and adrenaline pumping through your veins, you made your way to the entrance of the hallway. Once you were in the clear, you slipped through and followed him into the brightly lit corridor.

"(Y/N)."

"What?" You ruffled up his hair and smiled.

"Tag, you're it." He grinned like a maniac and took off in the opposite direction.

"Oh Malfoy you little shit." You mumbled under your breath, making sure to stay quiet as you guys were still breaking the rules.

I'm giving you a Nightcall to tell you how I feel

He's running extremely fast, left , right, left and then right again as he makes it near impossible for you to catch up. You sprint past the open windows, the blue night sky littered with stars entering your peripherals as you make your way to Draco. The castle was such a wonder at night, it was a shame that most students would go their whole time at the school without seeing it. The candles that lit the gothic hallways were enchanted to never go out, always keeping away the dark; which could possibly be seen as a metaphor for the magic of Hogwarts itself.

One foot after the other, robes flowing around you, (Draco was right about the dramatic effect of the wardrobe change) and the red flush on your cheeks you round the corner before you're abruptly grabbed from behind and hidden behind one of the corners of the pillars by the windows. Confused, you look up to see your boyfriend very much out of breath and very flushed.

"Draco wha-"

"Shhhh. Snape."

You carefully peered out from where the two of you were situated as you caught a glimpse of the greasy-haired man rounding the corner at the end of the hall.

"Coast is clear." You said, withdrawing from Draco's grasp.

"That was a close one. I contemplated letting you get caught." He snickered.

You lightly hit him on the chest and smiled.

"You're it."

I wanna drive you through the night, and down the hills

You ran in the opposite direction of the professor and made your way to Draco's favorite spot in the whole castle: the Astronomy tower. From there, you would be able to watch the stars encircle the balcony which showed the view of the Quidditch Stadium and everything else beyond.

Draco knew where you were heading, of course. It was where you usually ended your nightly encounters and enjoyed the company of one another, laying on each other's stomachs as you pointed out constellations in huffs and puffs.

He can't remember a time where he felt this happy. He used to think his happiness came from letters from his father, or fancy gifts from his mother. He thought the definition of love was how much you were willing to spend on the other person. Now, he realizes that love is defined by the way your eyes looked at him when you shared teas at the Three Broomsticks or the way you held his head in your hands when you kissed him in his room. It was the way you got excited over the smallest things like wearing his clothes or holding his hand. It was things like the way you sneezed or how you tied up your hair when casting spells. It was you.

I'm gonna tell you something you don't want to hear

Heading up the Astronomy tower, you made your way to the top, Draco in tow.

"Got you." He said as he wrapped you in a hug from behind, giggling as you squirmed in his arms.

"Ah you fucker."

"Hey, watch your mouth, bitchass."

The two of you laid down on the cool linoleum and assumed your positions on top of each other, taking in the warm night air. You could hear Draco's heart beating at a very fast rate due to his chaotic running and the sound soothed you. Just knowing that you had him by your side was enough for this moment to be perfect.

I'm gonna show you where it's dark, but have no fear

Tracing your finger over his Dark Mark, you called him beautiful. It was a part of himself that he had concealed from you for a long time and he finally trusted you enough to be open about it.

"How is something so destructive beautiful in your eyes?" He asked with a sad smile.

"Because it's a part of you." You replied and wound your hands through his hair, kissing him and taking in his scent of cigarettes and peppermint.

***

"(Y/N). I thought you got detention for sneaking off to Malfoy's room last week?" Harry asked you in Charms as he fiddled with his quill and ink. "Or did you have doubts about being in Hufflepuff?"

"Huh? What are you talking about?" You asked, giving him a quizzical look.

Harry just laughed and you followed his eyes down to your tie that was placed delicately around your neck. With the bright green and silver stripes, there was no mistaking it for anything other than that of the Slytherin house. You must've mixed up your ties when you decided to end the night in Draco's room.

"Ah shit balls." You said as you fiddled with the knot, trying to take it off.

"(Y/N)." You heard a familiar voice from behind you and Harry slowly approaching where the two of you sat at the table.

Draco looked lovely. His hair was slicked back perfectly, trousers and shirt freshly ironed, and silver rings adorning his fingers. The only thing that seemed out of place was the bright yellow tie that was much too small for him knotted hastily around his neck.

"Draco, I'm so sorry I didn't mean-"

"Wanna switch sweaters again, too?"

His response caught you by surprise as he grinned from ear to ear. He was enjoying this attention from other people as they realized you two were wearing each other's clothes.

"You guys are gonna get detention." Piped Harry from your left which just led to Draco excessively rolling his eyes and placing his hands on his hips.

"Great, we'll just fuck there too."

"Draco!"

You felt your ears get hot but hey, everyone in the whole school had to have known by this point based on your wardrobe since this morning.

You looked towards Harry, expecting some form of shock or disgust to appear on his face, making itself known with the discovery of you and Draco's free time activities. Instead, he was laughing. Really hard.

"I'll hand it to you, Malfoy. I haven't seen her look that horrified since Ron told her in our second year that he had used her toothbrush to give Scabbers a bath."

"Annoying her is my favorite activity." Sighing, your boyfriend sat down next to you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

Did... Did he and Harry just agree on something?

✧✧Wandering Eyes✧✧

MIN YOONGI X READER

A night at the frat house leaves you wanting more from the mysterious man who somehow has a way with words. From tequila shooters to shooting stars, Min Yoongi has all the knowledge... and the charm.

⚠️ Warnings: swearing, mentions of drugs and alcohol, sexual innuendos, basically anything that you would see at a college frat party ⚠️

The speakers were blaring that all too familiar but never comforting music that you'd grown so used to being in and out of frat parties. Knowing the guys came with its perks; occasional free alcohol and admittance to private parties. However, this Euphoria themed event was not sitting right with you. Sure, you had dressed up with your blue lace romper and glitter under the eyes to match, but you still felt solemn inside. Unfulfilled. Taking another shooter off the counter, you hurriedly downed the taste of tequila and prepared to lose yourself in the music that you didn't listen to.

Reaching the middle of the floor, you bump into someone who had been dancing with their friends. Tall, honey-skinned, and dark hair, his look was complete with his taste of fashion. The shirt he chose to leave whichever dorm he was staying in was very mesh and very see through. His chest has been glitterfied just as everything else at the party and his eyeliner perfectly shaped his almond eyes.

"Hey," he said, voice deep and concerned, "You okay?"

However, the music was still too loud to make out anything this man before you was saying. Everything was starting to become a blur you realized as the alcohol finally hit and made its way through your system, intoxicating your body and your mind. This wasn’t your first drink of the night, that was for sure as you were trying your hardest not to pay attention to the wandering thoughts in the back of your mind. Trauma from your past had started to resurface and it felt as though the night sky fell on your chest, collapsing your lungs between the Earth and infinity. It was all too much for you to handle, a song timed just perfectly in the shower to make you remember those nights spent alone in your room and the smell of your blankets bringing back the nostalgia of it all. Being a freshman was still new and the invigorating feeling of being on your own was something you had grown to love. However, you couldn’t stop your mind from wandering back down the path to the way things used to be and the troubles you had. 

It wasn’t something that could fully be expressed which was the worst part. It was those little things that led to a 10:00pm breakdown, sure, but it would sound unimportant if phrased to someone as you dopped all your feelings. They would see it as nothing more than on overreaction on your part and would shame you for not being stronger in their heads even if they weren’t brave enough to say it out loud. So, the solution to everyone’s problem was for you to leave the uncomfortable dorm you resided in and do what you do best. Cope.

“I’m fine.” You slurred out, still aware of your surroundings although they had taken on a hazier feel. Your limbs started to feel heavy but you continued to lose yourself in the beat of what you assumed was The Spins by Mac Miller. Frat Boy Favorite. 

“Are you sure? You look a little tired.” The guy said, voice laced with concern. It was almost aggravating how eager he was to seem like your Prince Charming.

“I don’t want to sleep with you.” You said bluntly, as you moved away from him, taking another swig of a beer you don’t remember paying for at the bar table. You don’t even like beer. 

The lights started to change color and you assumed that meant Jungkook was messing with the remote again. A tall and somewhat lanky guy, he was one that you didn’t expect to join the frat as quickly as he did. He seemed more like the nerdy gamer type and that’s exactly what he was until he had worn a sweatshirt which read “Take Yo’ Panties Off” and the guys asked him to join the next day. His story of pledging was the funniest to you out of the rest of the guys and he was the newest recruit as well as one other whom you had yet to meet.

The other guys within the frat, Namjoon and Seokjin were the oldest. They were both seniors and had a very particular way of doing things. Namjoon was tough on the other guys as he wanted them to embrace traditional procedures and to respect one another. Seokjin was less traditional and more modern. He knew people didn’t join frats for the brotherhood, they joined to drink and he made sure that fun was always #1 priority of the guys. As one could see, they butted heads quite often but everyone had fun in the end. 

Jimin and Taehyung were Juniors. Jimin was the absolute fuckboy and he prided himself on that fact. Bright pink hair and studded jackets, he drove the girls (and the guys) absolutely wild, each one of their crushes on him somehow continuing to exist knowing they were only a one-night stand. He was seductive with his entrancing eyes and he could persuade any random person off the street into bed with him if he so desired. 

Taehyung wasn’t as crazy as his counterpart, but he was also on the fuckboy scale. Big puppy dog eyes and the sluttiest outfits a man could wear (and he wore them to class, they were not exclusive to parties) he also knew how to use his good looks to his advantage. He and Jimin would write lists for the week to see how many notches they could get under their belt and would compete against each other for the highest. It disgusted you, yes, but they were your friends. 

Hoseok was the happy drunk. The brother that was always at parties to drink and to have the best time imaginable. He was usually the one that worked the DJ and would play his favorite tunes as he stood atop one of the chairs in the corner of the room and pointed at the mob of dancing people below, trying to encourage them to sing along with him. Hobi was your favorite. Definitely. He also gave the best hugs. 

Sitting at the minibar, you toy around with your red solo cup, dragging your finger along the indentations and counting the individual dots. When you lost count, you would start from one again and would quietly scold yourself for not remembering if you were on twenty-eight or twenty-nine. You were thankful that the Euphoria party allowed for you to cry and it would be on theme and not an actual issue. The glitter tears were complimented by wandering eyes and not addressed as a problem to the people who approached you about it.

“I love your makeup.’” Great, another guy who can’t take the hint. The seat next to you filled with an average sized male in a blue button-up and platinum blonde hair. It was definitely dyed but it was a good look for him, you thought. His smile was gummy and sweet and had a summery vibe to it, like it was a smile only few people got to witness at a time and he was sharing it with you, a stranger who was unbeknownst to anything of his lifestyle. His eyes crinkled at the corners and you could see his attempt at guyliner and a little glitter; he was definitely not the experienced with makeup type. He held a Vodka Cranberry in his left hand and a phone in his right with black nails painted so perfectly you could see your reflection in them. Something about him struck you as the type of person who was actually quite interested in what it was you had to say, and not someone who was desperate to get laid this October evening. 

“Thanks, I’m glad I could show off my skills with the same makeup everyone else is wearing.” You said sarcastically, hoping he was the joking type so this upcoming conversation wouldn’t be too painful to have. 

“It definitely looks better on you than it does on me, I think.” He said, asking one of the guys for another beer. Namjoon was on bar duty tonight and he gave you a knowing glance as if to say, “I know this guy is your type, but if something happens let me know.” 

“Nonsense. I like it.” You said, sending Namjoon the “I’m okay” eyes. 

After a couple of moments, it seemed as though your compliment would be the end of the conversation. Blondie had his drink and the music started playing another upbeat tune from Hobi’s interesting collection of songs. The bass could be felt through the floorboards as you stood up to go to dance again. But, as you were about to head out, you were tapped on the shoulder by the boy from before who was now standing up and motioning towards the speakers. 

“My name is Yoongi, by the way. I would love to dance with you if that’s okay?” He phrased it as a question so as not to make you feel cornered into a decision you didn’t want to make. This one was definitely a keeper. 

“(Y/N). Try to keep up.” 

The lights then changed to red and the song’s pace quickened. The dance floor became rabid with Hobi’s choice of playlist and as the tempo became faster, the drinks were downed in the same manner. You were feeling really good now as you let the blackness swallow you whole and allow you to feel free. No worries. No assignments. No drama. Nothing. 

Nothing but you and Yoongi. 

It was almost astonishing how terrible he was at dancing. You weren’t too great yourself, but you were able to sway to some rhythm whereas Yoongi looked like a baby deer caught in the headlights. He gave it his all though and that’s what counted in your mind. Besides, it was kinda cute. 

Your eyes flitted to every area of the room, making sure you were aware of your surroundings in case this conversation went south. Jimin was body rolling next to the same guy who you’d talk to earlier and you figured it would be the better choice for him since you weren’t really interested in one-night stands. Hobi was still dancing and upon noticing your gaze starts to point at you and drunkenly mouth the lyrics to Midnight City by M83. He sent you a smile and crouched down to the table below him, reaching for the infamous Pickle Borg (a pickle jar filled with vodka). Jungkook was over by the beer pong table playing flipcup and trying not to let his bucket hat fall off while he took shot after shot with Seokjin. Namjoon was still at the bar watching over everything but side eyeing the drinks he wasn’t allowed to have being the bartender. Taehyung was probably in the smoke room. 

Just then, Jungkook walked over to the two of you in his drunken state with that stupidly overpriced pink sweatshirt with the panties saying. He had spilled beer all down the front of it and his shoes were sticky with the residue of whatever concoction he had out of the funnel the guys bring out for the newcomers. Seokjin was bringing out said funnel once more which conveniently was a traffic cone they stole off the side of the street. Grimacing, you wondered what the inside of it looked like considering the boys hardly ever cleaned the Frat House. 

Jungkook put his arm around Yoongi and laughed as he stumbled towards the wall, leaning on the platinum-haired boy for support. “You drinking from the funnel, man?” He asked.

“Jungkook,” you said, curious as to why he would offer since you both know the rules, “that’s exclusive to frat members?”

“It is,” Seokjin piped in with the funnel in hand and a bottle of Cracken stuffed in his back jeans pocket, “Yoongi is one of the new recruits.”

And then it hit you as to why he was so nice. Why he hadn’t tried to make a move on you when you were in front of Namjoon. He was friends with the guys. Or would be, anyways.

“Oh.” Was all you said before the funnel was placed above Yoongi’s head while he crouched down to his knees to make it easier for Seokjin to hold it. Jungkook was tasked with pouring since he was too drunk to hold anything and he took the Cracken out from his friend’s back pocket and unscrewed the top off, taking a swig himself before he poured it. He held the side of it with his pinky finger and balanced the glass on his arm as he drank the proper way before he took the rest of it and dumped in into the cone.

Yoongi’s mouth wrapped around the bottom part of the funnel as his adam’s apple bobbed up and down with every swig he took. Even while drinking he looked beautiful and you didn’t know if you thought that because you had a genuine interest in the guy or if it was because you hung out at the frat every night. He didn’t spill a drop as the funnel slowly emptied and before any time had passed, he was up in the air back on his feet with arms outstretched in victory, Jungkook hugging him at his side and laughing with him.

Yoongi stumbled a bit over to you as he leaned and whispered in your ear; alcohol coating his breath and making his words sound sickly sweet. 

“That skill of mine carries over to the bedroom, you know.”

Your knees felt weak as you took in the weight of his words. He winked before turning back to Jungkook who was offering him another shooter. You told yourself that the kind of forgetting you needed to do tonight would be fixed by the alcohol and nothing more; you would not allow yourself to sleep with any guy no matter how drunk you were. But he was really pretty. And he did insinuate romantic attraction first. 

You were eighteen. Who gives a shit anyways?

“Prove it.” You said as you watched him smile, grabbing his wrist and leading him up the dark stairs towards an unoccupied bedroom. 

Terry + dino nuggies + horror movies = perfection

-🦤

"Can We Enjoy Our Nuggets Without the Threat of Death in the Background?"

Kang Taehyun X Reader

⚠️ Warnings: swearing, mentions of gore, play fighting, death of chicken dinosaurs ⚠️

Hope you enjoy this babe, I made it with love 💛

The dino nuggets in the back of the freezer taunted you from afar. The familiar green and yellow colors of the rectangular box called out to you in a way that was reminiscent of a child wanting formula. This was a need, not a want. This wasn't just a desire, it was addiction.

Pushing aside the other contents of the chilled box, you reach and reach and reach in an attempt to grab the delicious looking dinosaurs with their faces graphically printed on their nugget bodies. Your fingers just barely graze the box when suddenly you are violently shoved aside and your body makes contact with the tile of the kitchen.

"Taehyun, what the literal fuck." You exclaim, more pissed off than anything else. You were so close you could taste the wonderful exquisiteness of the ketchup colliding with the Jurassic treats.

"I saw you." He says, sauntering over to you wearing nothing but galaxy printed boxers and a Ramones T-shirt that was too big for his midsection. "You were trying to cook the nuggets without me."

The statement was true. They had been Taehyun's treats that he picked up from the grocery store the night before; his eyes bright and wild and hair wet from running in the rain, all in an attempt to buy a bottle of champagne but instead found the dinosaurs. He planted them directly on the kitchen counter and looked you dead in the eyes. "If you touch these," he said, waving the box of goodies in the air, "I will jump off the roof faster than the pig with wings in the baked beans commercial."

Cut to him finding you guilty, caught red-handed.

"I would never do such a thing." You looked back at the counter and he stepped in front of the box, concealing the happy little dinosaurs from your view. This made you angry and you prepared yourself for a fist fight. This was the modern day Hunger Games and you would be Katniss Everdeen shooting Taehyun with your arrows, watching as he cried while you ate them. This was your world and he was just living in it. He had to be reminded.

Lunging for his side of the counter, you wrap your arms around his torso and squeeze as hard as you can while reaching for the dinos. Stepping on both of his feet, you feel the coolness of the box graze your fingertips once more before you're thrown back onto the floor with him on top of you, wrestling you down so that you can't have them. "I told you, they're mine!" He says, tickling your sides until you "give up" and call a truce. Getting off of you, he makes his way back to his spot but you manage to jump and tackle him from behind, grabbing the box out of his hands and triumphantly holding them above your head. He sinks to his knees.

"(Y/N). Please please please let me have them. I need them. I really truly do."

You thought for a moment before a lightbulb turned on in your head. "Alright," you said, teasing him with the dinos, "I'll allow you to share them with me on one condition."

Perking up, Taehyun wipes his fake tears with his hands and looks up at you will wide eyes. "What?! I'll do anything!"

You smiled. "You have to watch a scary movie with me."

Taehyun screams and jumps up off the floor and onto the counter on all fours, staring at you as though you just shot a puppy. Pulling on his hair with his hands, he looks like a maniac. "No no no no no you know I hate scary movies." He says in between harsh gasps and fake sobs.

You pull out a plate with a duck on it and start to evenly space the frozen foods, putting them into the microwave and letting them cook. Taehyun is still on the counter and eyeing you as though you're a supervillain. Watching him to make sure he doesn't try anything funny, you wait until you hear the beep of the machine signalling that your food was done. Taking it out and watching the nuggets steam was like watching the most beautiful waterfall. Dino nuggets most definitely had to be one of the seven wonders of the world, you were sure.

Handing Taehyun one nugget, you watch him scarf the entire thing down hot without ketchup. "I want more." He says, holding out his hand expecting you to place another nugget in his palm.

"Ah ah ah," you say, guarding the unsuspecting dinos with your life, "Scary movie. Remember?"

....

Looking through your collection of horror movies in your fancy glass cabinet, you search for one that Tae would never agree to watching unless it was for food. You had the basics, The Conjuring, The Shining, Sinister, but nothing was standing out to you in particular. Your boyfriend would find every single one of them absolutely terrifying, but you wanted to find one that would really get under his skin.

And what better movie to get under the skin than Saw?

Taehyun slowly walked into the living room, blanket already wrapped around his entire body and head. Only his eyes were seen through the heavy duty sheets and they looked horrified. A singular lock of hair peeked out from said blanket and swayed with the wind when your boyfriend sat down on the soft cushions of the couch. His eyebrows were furrowed as he pouted, probably due to the fact that you had forced him into this if he wanted to savor his dino nuggets.

"Okay Tae Tae," you said, placing the disc into the DVD player and watching it load on the screen, "You're gonna hate this." Smiling, you plop down on the couch next to him and move in so that you share the warmth of his blanket. He wraps it around you and huddles against you in fear as he prepared himself for the movie you put on.

"Saw? Really?"

"Shhh just enjoy it."

A couple of moments pass before you decide to look up at Taehyun who was staring at the screen with the same intensity as when you had first stolen his nuggets. His mouth was slightly agape and his lips were turned downwards in pure horror. However, the only part of the movie that he had seen so far was the opening credits.

"Tae?" You ask, trying to get his attention. "Tae?"

His head turns to meet your gaze and his expression of pure terror never leaves his face. "What?"

"Are you okay?"

He gulps and watches the opening of the first scene before he passes out. His head hits the back of the couch and on impact, a burst of red flies from his head behind him onto the wall. Screaming, you throw back the blanket and watch in horror as your boyfriend's blood dripped from the wall where it had hit.

"Taehyun!" You screamed again, not knowing what to do. Just then, he lifted his head up with a grin on his face. He no longer seemed scared but instead triumphant as he reached for a dino nugget and dipped it in the blood by his head.

"It's ketchup. Payback from earlier." He says, lifting up his nugget like a chalice of the finest wine as if to propose a toast to your losing and eats it. Meanwhile, you were still freaking out in the corner.

"You are such an asshole." You glare at him with the most hateful expression you could muster.

He shrugged his shoulders and took another nugget off the plate, dipping it into the ketchup once more, only this time he used what had spurt out onto the wall. "You may have won the battle but you didn't win the war, (Y/N)."

Sighing, you go to sit back next to him on the couch. "Touche." You snuggle back up into him and the two of you continue to watch the movie in peace. Taehyun leans in for a kiss and smiles at you.

"I'm sorry, that was mean." He looks at you with all the love in his heart and you instantly forgive him. You just want to put him in his place again.

"Yeah almost as mean as this." You say, popping the last flavorful dinosaur into your mouth and swallowing it.

"NOOOOOOOO!"

"You may have won the battle, but you didn't win the war Taehyun." You say, laughing at his outburst.