pointbreakvhs - Tumblr blog

pointbreakvhs · 6 days ago

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Blood Looks Good On Him

Pairing: Stalker!Jack Traven x Reader

Warnings: MDNI, NSFW (p in v, m masturbation/coming in pants), character death (minor), murder, blood and gore, stalking, ummm i think that's it but lmk if I missed anything

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Part of @97keanus / @97keanu Keanuverse Summerween Event!

My prompt was: Jack Traven + Summer of '95 + Stalker + Rave in the woods <3 I had so much fun with this

Thank you to @casuallyobssessed for proofreading <3

Requests are OPEN <3 (I'm just a lil slow at the moment)

Jack never meant for it to get this bad. He’s a cop for fuck’s sake, he shouldn’t be like this. It goes against everything he stands for, every moral, every piece of his identity.

But he just can’t help himself with you.

It had started innocently enough, looking back, and that almost made it worse. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time and caught in the crossfire of some lunatic who figured that a bomb was the best way to make some quick cash. He’d heard your voice over the phone as the criminal made you list his demands, shaky and choked with tears as the bomber held a gun to your head. It reminded him of the woman on the bus a year ago, how broken her voice had been as she rambled about not being able to stay on there anymore… just before she went under the tires. Jack could still remember the brush of his hand against her arm as she fell, like a brand under his skin. He could still see her, some nights. Always out of reach, always falling. He’d wake up screaming. Captain McMahon had looked at him then, like he could see the memories playing like a movie behind Jack’s eyes. He knew it was too much, too fast to ask Jack to be here. But Jack’s the best he’s got.

The distance between the police barricade and the doors of the building where you’re being held hostage feel like a chasm. It’s only 20 feet or so across the street, but to Jack it’s a distance that aches. Bile rose in his throat as he remembered the helplessness of hearing about Harry, the frustration returning with a vengeance as he heard mutterings about how the hostages were a lost cause at this point. He couldn’t save that woman. He couldn’t save Harry. He wouldn’t let that happen to you.

It had all worked out in the end, though. You were okay, the bomb turned out to be a dud (fucking amateurs), and the idiot who started it all was under arrest. The moment you threw yourself into his arms, something quiet in his chest snapped. He’d protected you from harm, kept you safe. You’re shaking against him, trembling from fear and adrenaline, and all he can think about is how good your body feels pressed to his and how amazing you smell. He pets your hair and murmurs soft comforts in your ear, wishing he wasn’t wearing gloves so he could memorize the feel of your skin and hair under his touch. Some small part of him heals in your embrace… and that’s when the darkness he didn't know he had takes hold.

Jack doesn’t know what possessed him to give you his number that day. Maybe it was the way you looked up at him with those shining eyes and breathed ”Thank you, Jack” like it was a prayer. Maybe it was how you fit with him like a puzzle piece, gentle curves to his hard muscle. Maybe it was because Annie had left him when the risk he faced every day became too much for her to deal with and he was just lonely. Maybe it was because you made him believe that he was a hero again.

Whatever the reason, Jack clung to it like a lifeline. Even weeks after the investigation was over, he still called you to ask the same questions he’d already asked a thousand times before. ”What was the suspect wearing?” “What did he say to you?” “What were his demands?”. All things that were definitely in an official report that he could’ve easily looked at. It was all under the pretense of the case, making sure that the prosecution was airtight so that the perp couldn’t slip through the cracks.

Until it wasn’t. Until he was checking in with you to ask about your day, make sure that accident on the freeway wasn’t you, asking if you’ve had dinner yet because he’s in the area on patrol and there’s a nice diner a few streets down-

You don’t question it when there are new cameras on your block. In fact, you’re happy! Jack told you that there had been an increase in crime when he brought you home after dinner. He didn't tell you that he fabricated the report so the city would install more cameras. This just means that you don’t have to worry as much anymore, right? He can always watch over you.

Jack tells himself that he won’t look at the one that is conveniently pointed at your bedroom window. Just the other ten that surround your house from the street. He tells himself that he saw suspicious movement on that camera when his eyes inevitably are drawn there, he’s just checking in. But then you take off your shirt and his tongue turns to lead in his mouth. Your pants follow and Jack’s hold on the arms of his chair turns to white knuckles. It’s not even that you’re being erotic on purpose. He's an attractive man, he's had plenty of women come on to him with low cut shirts and tiny skirts.

You’re just changing into your pajamas, a simple loose shirt and shorts, but it makes his cock throb to see you looking so comfortable and quietly confident in your space. The longing that squeezes his heart is almost painful, the desire to be in that space with you almost overwhelming. He could almost imagine it; you welcoming him home after a long day, looking so soft and perfect as you guide him to the kitchen for a homemade meal. There'd be a warm bath for you two to enjoy together to wash the stress of the day away. Then you'd take his hand and lead him to the bedroom and let him lose himself in your skin and breath and taste- Jack groans as he looks down at his pants, wincing in discomfort at the dark patch soaking through the material. Fuck, he’s in trouble.

But the tipping point? The summer rave in the woods.

You told him about it during one of your daily conversations, inviting him because ”you make me feel so safe”. He almost swooned, chest ready to crack open and pour out his soul into your palms. You feel safe with him. That sentiment somehow manages to fix him and break him all at the same time, warm yet overwhelming. He dressed casually but nice; a clean white shirt under a flannel and some dark pants. This wasn't about looking like Jack Traven, officer of the law. This was just Jack, a guy who cares for you a lot more than he should.

Jack made a promise to himself as he parked his Bronco along the edge of the gravel path that led into the woods. Tonight, he’d tell you how he felt. Not everything, obviously, you’d hate him and call him a pervert. Just the nice things, the things you would expect from a man like him. Things like how you made his day better just by talking to him, how your laugh played on repeat in his head, how much he wanted to kiss you and hold you and fuck you until you screamed-

Okay, maybe not that last part.

His plan flew out the window along with his reason when he saw you in the firelight. You looked ethereal, oranges and reds playing along your face like a caress and suddenly Jack has never wanted to burn so much in his life. He’d hand you the match and gasoline as long as he could see the fire in your eyes just like this. The wistful yearning in his chest tightened as you waved at him and smiled, hand in hand with another man.

Ex-fucking-scuse you? Jack’s smile freezes, looking a little too still on his face as you pull the random guy into the forest with you, giggling the whole time. Oh, hell no. He follows, muttering curses under his breath as he tries to not trip over roots and sticks. Did you not realize how dangerous it was for you to be alone in the woods with a man who wasn’t him? You could be hurt, or that guy could be too pushy, or you might forget about him. Jack keeps stumbling through until he gets to a clearing, seeing the man standing alone. For a moment, his blood freezes. You’re not anywhere in sight and he can’t hear you giggling. What did this bastard do to you? He bends down and grabs a sizable rock from the forest floor at his feet, regretting that he didn’t bring his gun with him.

“Hey!” He calls out cheerfully, hiding the rock behind his back as he strides over to the stranger. “I was lookin’ for the lady you were with. Do you know where she went?”

The man turns and grins and something slimy trickles down Jack’s spine. “Yeah, she went to get us some beers so we could get cozy.”

“I’m Donnie.” The bastard says, holding his hand out. His hair is longer and he’s sporting a beard. Jack shakes his hand, noting with distaste that Donnie was wearing a jacket without a shirt underneath. God, how hillbilly can you get?

“Jack.” He replies, releasing his hand and fighting the urge to wipe it clean on his shirt or pants. “You, uh, you’ve known her for a while?”

Donnie laughs and shakes his head. “Fuck nah. Just met ‘er tonight. She said she wanted a lil’ fun in the moonlight and I’m nothin’ if not obligin’.”

“Oh.” Jack says in a choked tone, his jaw clenching so hard he thinks he might crack a molar. You'd brought this guy out here to fuck you? No, that's Jack’s job. “That’s… great.”

“Yeah.” Donnie nods, kicking the toe of his boots in the dirt and sniffing awkwardly. “You mind leavin’ when she comes back? No offense, but I’m not into the whole “two guys and a lady” situation when it comes to fuckin’.”

”Oh, of course.” Jack chuckles, dripping with fake masculine commissary. The edges of the rock dig into his palm and the darkness that’s been growing inside him since this fucker introduced himself sings in his blood. “It’s really quiet out here, huh? Won’t even be able to hear any screams-”

The rock is already swinging and makes contact with a sickening crack. Donnie falls and Jack goes with him, straddling him as he brings the rock down again and again, blood beginning to stain the surface of the stone. There are screams echoing in the glade and he doesn’t know if they belong to him or the man-shaped thing writhing on the ground under him. He doesn't stop, can't. There's an awareness of what he's doing, the violation of the law he swore to protect. But he's answering to something deeper now, a law of nature that screams ”She's mine and you can't have her!”

Jack’s blood roars in his ears as his strikes slow to a stop, breathing hard in exertion. Donnie isn’t moving anymore, eyes open and unseeing, chest still. Dark blood and shiny bits of brain matter and fractured skull decorate the grass, the rock falling from Jack’s shaking hands with a soft thud. His hands are dripping with blood and shaking like an addict going through withdrawals. There’s the snap of a branch underfoot behind him and Jack wheels around with wide eyes, the adrenaline kicking in full force once again. Fuck, you can’t see him like this, no one can see him like this!

“Jack?” You breathe, carrying two beers in your hands as you emerge from the shade of the trees. “Wh-What…”

Jack scrambles to his feet, blood and dirt on his clothes. He reaches for you, palms up in surrender, supplication, offering. “Sweetheart, I-I’m sorry, I didn't mean…” Liar.

“Is that Donnie?” You ask, breathless as you see the mess behind him. “Did you do that?”

“I…” Jack swallows hard. He’s trapped. There’s no way to explain this away, no way to make it look like he didn’t just kill a man in cold blood. He can’t look in your eyes, can’t bear to see the fear and disgust on your features. “Yes.”

His eyes close tightly as the beer bottles fall, waiting for the scream to rip from your throat. If he was a smart criminal, he would end you, too. It would be so easy to wrap his hands around your throat and squeeze. But he couldn’t touch you, not like that. Even at the cost of himself, he could never hurt you. Not when you’ve brought the light back into his life after so much darkness and pain. He’ll take the punishment, serve his time. Maybe you’ll be willing to wait for him once he confesses everything.

His train of thought goes off the tracks as he feels your warm hands on his cheeks and your soft lips on his.

Maybe this is a fever dream, a hallucination brought on by a snap in his mental faculties. So he gives in. One hand flies to the nape of your neck, tangling in your hair as his other arm locks around your waist. Jack melts into the kiss, lips hot and searching against yours. It doesn’t matter that he’s getting blood on you or that anyone could stumble across the macabre scene at any moment. All that matters is that you taste like marshmallows from the bonfire and the little moan you let out into his mouth when his tongue meets yours. Reason returns with the need to breathe and Jack pulls away, panting against your mouth.

“You didn’t scream…” He sighs, a small, hopeful smile on his face. You smile back, blood on your neck from his hands.

“You did this for me. I knew you’d learn to love me the way I love you.” You whisper, radiating happiness like the sun in the middle of the gore.

“Learn to…” Jack echoes in confusion, pulling back more but refusing to let go as he looks down at you. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I love you, Jack.” You coo, arms around his neck as you sway like this is completely normal. Jack frowns as something cold and hard settles in his gut. You weren't reacting the way you should be. His glee had blinded him for a moment, but clarity came back with a vengeance.

“You didn't scream.” Jack repeats himself, looking at you carefully for every facial tic and micro expression that flashes across your features. “Help me out here, honey.”

You giggle, the sound almost too high, too free. “Oh, I'm just so happy! I've been planning this for a year, ever since I saw you on the TV!”

“I saw how brave you were, how strong, and I knew that you were the one for me.” You say, not noticing the dawning look of horror on Jack’s face.

“All I had to do was meet you! So I moved here, found a place where I could be exactly what you needed…” You pause and stroke his cheek tenderly, a lovesick smile on your face still. “I made myself into a princess for you to save.”

Jack's mind is spinning, trying to keep up with your confession. You planned it all? You put yourself in danger just to meet him? There were alarm bells going off in his head, screaming for him to run, to get away from this cloying sweetness before it rotted him from the inside out. But there was another part of him, sick and twisted, that preened at the thought that you were willing to go to such extreme lengths.

“I was hoping you were far enough along that all you needed was a little push to show your love. A little jealousy works wonders.” You continue proudly. “I mean, how many times do I need to change in front of my window to make you want me?”

“Wait, you…” Jack stutters, still confused and not knowing if he should feel manipulated or flattered. His mind is pulled back to the body cooling on the grass. “But what about-”

“Donnie? Oh, trust me, you did the world a favor.” Your nose wrinkles in hatred and some of the tightness in Jack’s chest loosens despite himself. You pull away from Jack and he tries to fight down the coldness he feels at the distance as you look behind a tree for something hidden. He catches the shovel as you toss it to him, a grim understanding washing over him as you hop back over like a chipper bunny.

“C'mon, let's put him to use. Hopefully, he helps some wildflowers grow.”

Digging a grave was a lot less work than Jack thought it would be. Before long, the corpse was in the ground and you were tossing the shovels aside.

“Sit with me.” You smile, patting the freshly disturbed soil like it was a picnic blanket. Jack awkwardly lowers himself, finally taking a breath to come to terms with the situation that he's in. You're crazy, no doubt about it. You planned this moment for a year. Every interaction, every special moment, even this murder was part of your grand scheme to get Jack Traven in your clutches.

You straddle Jack’s lap with intention, kissing him deeply. He hesitates for only a second before once again surrendering to your passion. Should he be scared? Probably. But you did this all for him, didn't you? Because you love him. No one's ever shown him love in such a visceral way and he chooses to embrace it wholeheartedly. Your hand reaches for his belt and he can't help the moan that leaves his lips. He's already hard and aching, desperate to finally be united with you the way he's dreamed of for so long.

“You're mine now.” You whisper against his lips as you stroke his cock, the tip flushed and leaking against your palm. Jack nods dumbly, glazed brown eyes locked with your feverish ones. He's completely captivated by you and this fun house mirror version of love that sinks its barbs into his heart and mind, rocking into your hand because, yes, it's fucked up and wrong but you touch him like he's a god.

“Fuck, ‘m yours-” Jack groans, squeezing your hips as you tug your panties to the side under your skirt and sink down onto him. You take a moment to let yourself adjust to the stretch of him inside you, sharing heated kisses. Jack is lost in you, in the way you fit with him just like he knew you would, how tight and wet you are around his dick, like you never want him to pull out. You clench around him as his teeth tug at your bottom lip and he whimpers, already approaching his climax embarrassingly fast just from being inside you.

And then you start fucking him.

In all the times Jack fucked his fist thinking of your first time together, he always pictured it as being soft. Music, candles, learning each other's bodies in a tender experience of love and gentleness.

This?

This was primal, an animal claiming her mate over the dead body of a rival. There's some sick satisfaction that sends a shiver through Jack at the thought. Poor bastard assumed he was going to get some pussy tonight and now he's six feet under while the two of you fuck while covered in his blood because he couldn't keep his fucking mouth shut. Serves him right for trying to take Jack’s place. Jack is the only one who belongs under you with your tight little cunt strangling his cock and your mouth moaning his name and desperate confessions of love and obsession into the night air.

“Please, baby, shit, slow down, I'm gonna come-” Jack moans, mouthing at your collarbone to fight back the warmth pooling at the base of his spine. He wanted to draw this out, make it last, make it good for you so you'd love him forever, but you feel too good and he knows he won't last.

“Fuck yes! Oh my god, Jack!” You mewl, bouncing on his cock faster and harder. The wet sound of your pussy around him makes his breath catch in his throat, so dirty and perfect. You're insane and wild and everything Jack’s ever dreamed of. His fingers push under your skirt and find your clit, rubbing in harsh circles to try to push you over the edge. He wants to feel you coming on his cock, squeezing him just like he knows you will because you're his and he's yours.

“C'mon, baby, come f’me.” Jack grunts, jerking his hips up and making you squeal as he drills into your sweet spot. “You can do it, I know you can. Love you so much, sweet girl, c'mon, give it to me-”

You come with a scream, wordless and feral as you dig your nails into his shoulders and bite his neck hard enough to break the skin. Jack moans as he feels you clamp down around him, milking his cock. A few erratic thrusts of his hips later and he spills into you with a broken shout of your name. You hold each other tightly in the afterglow, absorbed in each other and oblivious to the depravity of the scene you just created. He can feel the mixture of your come and his leaking out of your hole around his softening cock and smirks against your shoulder as it drips onto the hidden grave.

Serves him right.

A/N: *slides under the deadline like indiana fucking jones* Sorry to my people waiting on requests, I will be returning to those but I wanted to get this one done before the event ended <3

I love stalker/dark Jack so much!!! We need more stuff of him like this fr

Tags: @casuallyobssessed @scarlettspectra @discoscoob @johnwickb1tsch @devilsadvocatevhs @97keanus @lilithlinen @blackcoffeeblackeyes @sweetwolfcupcake @pointbreakvhs @arabellascented @barnabae-brooks-jr @treedaddymcpuffpuff @jaebyrd96 @fernpetals @luxeydior @cuddleyhoney @nixotinee

#tbr

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pointbreakvhs · 8 days ago

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⋆⭒˚.⋆ MADE FOR LOVIN’ ME

˙ ✩°˖🧬⋆｡˚ David Allen Griffin x Reader x Dr. Julian Mercer

CW: fem!reader, yander!reader, nsfw, unrequited love, angst?, graphic violence, character deaths, murder, unreliable narrator, period-typical sexism.

Synopsis: How far would you go for love? 4.6k.

Preface: @97keanu’s Summerween Event: David Allen Griffin / builld-a-boyfriend (Lisa Frankenstein AU) / summer ‘69 / roller skating. I have taken some creative liberties with the prompts, such as adding Julian. The year ‘69 is mentioned in the fic, however I envision the actual story taking place in the 70s or 80s.

People say loneliness can kill.

Unfortunately, you learned the hard way that this is, in fact, true.

Tears roll down your cheeks, carving clear valleys through the blood clinging to your face. That metallic scent, like the one that sinks into your palm after holding copper change for too long, is embedded deep into every inch of your skin. It’s matted into your hair, staining your clothes, painted across your face, buried deep into your cuticles. It will take forever to scrub away every trace and watch the blood-tainted pink water swirl down the shower drain.

God knows when you’ll be allowed to shower.

You shift your weight on the uncomfortable metal chair, trying to relieve the pressure digging into your hips and spine. Shivering, you pull the itchy blanket some kind stranger draped around you tighter over your shoulders, shielding yourself from the AC blasting too cold overhead.

On top of the metal table in front of you sits a small plastic cup of black coffee you don’t even remember being offered. Judging by the lack of steam, you reckon it’s long since gone cold.

Across the table, two nearly identical detectives puff away like a pair of chimneys, filling the small, windowless interrogation room with a thick nicotine smog that irritates your glassy, bloodshot eyes.

How do you even begin to explain how you ended up here?

You suppose it all started with your job.

You worked as a lab assistant for the world-renowned neuroscientist, Dr. Julian Mercer. He devoted his career to studying the preserved brains of serial killers, despite the numerous ethics committees who campaigned tirelessly to shut down his research and strip him of his doctorate, deeming his work barbaric and immoral.

They called him a mad scientist and he wore it like a badge of honour. “No one sane was ever worth remembering,” he always told you, while you looked up at him with starry eyes, hanging on his every word.

The committees didn’t understand. Dr. Julian Mercer was a genius. A pioneer. One day, his name would be spoken in the same breath as Einstein, Darwin, and Newton, for his groundbreaking discoveries about the human mind and behaviour.

He was searching for the origins of evil. What made a serial killer’s mind different to the average person’s? He theorised that certain people were predestined for violence and cruelty, believing there were patterns in their neural pathways that meant they were, essentially, wired for evil. It was written into their biology. If he could prove that, he believed he could find a cure for evil itself.

You never doubted him.

Assisting Dr. Julian Mercer became your entire life. You had no “distractions,” as you called them. No boyfriend. No friends. No family. You dedicated yourself to him, sacrificing weekends and holidays because there was nothing you would rather do than spend hours in the lab with the man you admired most.

Dr. Julian Mercer was the only person who ever truly made you feel like you mattered. He gave you purpose, a reason to live. And then, all of that was suddenly and violently stripped away from you.

One tragic accident.

That was all it took to change your life forever.

Julian was rushed into hospital after crashing his motorcycle.

And everything fell apart.

Without Julian, you were nothing. Life had no meaning. You had no purpose. Nothing to live for.

You lied to the nurses, telling them you were his fiancée, just so they would let you see him in the hospital. You visited him everyday as he lay on life support with tubes snaking out of his body, attached to machines keeping him artificially alive.

The doctors told you that he was brain dead.

No other family stepped forward. No one else came to see him. So the doctors waited for your permission to switch off the machines pumping his lungs full of oxygen and driving the rhythm of his heart.

As if you could do that.

As if you could let him go.

Julian was all you had.

How could they expect you to sign a piece of paper that would give them permission to take him away from you?

You wouldn’t just be killing him. You would be killing yourself.

There had to be another way.

And that’s when it hit you.

Dr. Julian Mercer was brain dead and you had access to a lab full of preserved brains.

So what if they belonged to some of the world’s most depraved criminals? Beggars can’t be choosers.

You had to save him.

All you had to do was steal his body. Take him back to the lab. Remove his ruined brain. Swap it with one from his extensive collection and bring him back to life.

How hard could it be?

Once you got him back to the lab, you just had to decide which brain you were going to use.

Of course, none of them could ever compare to the brilliant mind Julian had possessed. He was a genius. A genius who loved his work. His mind was so full with knowledge, theories and discoveries that there was no room for anything else. There was no room for you.

So maybe you didn’t want a genius after all.

Maybe you just wanted someone to love you.

There was one brain in Julian’s collection you thought might be capable of that.

DAVID ALLEN GRIFFIN. EXECUTED BY ELECTROCUTION, 1969.

Julian had told you all about him. He was young, charismatic and magnetic. The kind of man who would charm his victims, make them feel seen in a way they had never been seen before.

He would find women who were used to being overlooked, unnoticed, and invisible. Then he would come along and look at them like they were the only person in the world worth noticing.

He especially loved to dance with his victims. Twirl them around and pull them close into his arms as they would sway to the rhythm of some old record he put on.

Wasn’t that romantic?

Of course, he would eventually slip a piano wire around their throats… but before that, he made them feel special. Like they were someone worthy of being loved.

And that’s all you truly wanted.

In theory, Julian had taught you everything you needed to know in order to switch out the brains. He had extensive notes on the subject.

It had just never been put into practice, for obvious ethical reasons.

As you rolled up the sleeves of your lab coat, part of you wondered if Julian would’ve been proud of you for this. If you pulled this off, you would have accomplished something Julian had theorised about for decades, something which had plagued his mind day and night.

You would have performed the world's first successful brain transplant.

And yet no one could ever know about it.

Well, except, maybe, the man you were about to bring back.

˙ ✩°˖🧬⋆｡˚

You waited anxiously for the first sign of life, and then…

His fingers twitched.

Your breath caught in your throat as you leaned closer and felt a warm, shuddering exhale brush over your cheek.

“Dr. Mercer?” You whispered, your voice trembling.

“Who the hell is Dr. Mercer?” His voice sounded rough, like gravel, as his eyes slowly fluttered open and squinted against the harsh lights of the lab.

“David?” You tried again, leaning over him so the harsh fluorescent glow overhead crested your hairline like a halo.

His gaze finally landed on your face, his dilated pupils adjusted, bringing you into focus.

Slowly, a crooked grin tugged at his lips.

“Are you an angel? Because I’m pretty sure I had a one way ticket straight to hell.”

Hearing those words uttered from the lips of the man you’ve been infatuated with for over a year sent you giddy. Oh boy, you were in trouble.

˙ ✩°˖🧬⋆｡˚

He had spent ages staring into the mirror that first night, familiarising himself with his new face and body. He traced his fingertips over the raised scar running down his torso, left behind by Julian’s motorcycle accident. You told him all about it as he ran his tongue over his new teeth and raked his fingers through his new floppy hair. He seemed quite pleased with his new appearance. If you didn’t know any better, you might’ve suspected he was as in love with Julian as you were. You couldn’t blame him. Julian was beautiful, and now, so was he.

And then he asked about you. About your relationship with Julian. And you lied. Just like you had lied to the doctors and the nurses. You told him Julian was your fiancé … and now, so was he.

You held your breath as you waited for his response.

The last thing David remembered was being fried like a piece of Kentucky chicken. As far as he was concerned, this was the afterlife, and you were the angel who had saved him from the Devil’s clutches.

He decided he liked this new life very much.

“Your fiancé, huh?” He spoke at last, his lips quirking into a smile that was nothing but trouble while his gaze leisurely trailed down the length of your body, before slowly climbing its way back up and locking with yours. “Lucky me.”

You swallowed thickly.

God only knows how many times you had fantasised about being pinned beneath the carnal hunger in Julian’s dark eyes. It’s embarrassing to admit, but you had tried so desperately to catch his eye with alluring makeup, voluminous hair, shorter skirts and lower necklines, all the usual tricks you’d expect to catch the attention of any ordinary red-blooded male. But none of it ever worked. At one point, you genuinely started to question if he was even human or rather some cold, abstinent creature sent down from a distant planet to study brains, not the opposite sex.

But you regretted having those thoughts. They weren’t fair. Julian wasn’t cold. He had shown you nothing but kindness, always patient and respectful. Despite his brilliance, he never once made you feel inferior. He actually listened to your ideas; which is more than could be said for most men in the lab, who believed your greatest capabilities didn’t stretch much further than beyond brewing their morning coffee. He believed in you, but that wasn’t enough.

You wanted more.

You wanted him to lift his head and stare at you when you walked into the room, you wanted to feel his hands exploring your flesh, his lips pressed against yours. But most of all, you wanted his heart. And no matter how hard you tried, that was the one part of him you could never reach.

Until now.

You had sacrificed his brilliant, beautiful mind so you could have his heart all to yourself.

And now, he – or rather David – was looking at you with an expression you had once been certain the muscles in Julian’s face weren’t even capable of making. He was looking at you like you were something to be devoured.

Suddenly you didn’t know how to act.

Fortunately, before you could start spiralling into a self-conscious morass, his lips crashed upon yours with all the force of a wave breaking against the rocks and all at once, you were swept up in a lover’s embrace.

Your knees went weak, it was too much, surrounded by the man you had been harbouring a love for, a love you had all but given up hope of ever having returned.

He hoisted your thighs around his hips before your knees had a chance to buckle. There was a dizzying moment of weightlessness, everything a blur, until the cold metal of the lab table nipped at your thighs, offering a sharp shock that reminded you this was real. Not just another one of your fantasies.

David puppeted steady hands that had once belonged to Julian, sliding them beneath your thighs with a grip firm enough to leave bruises as he pulled them apart and slotted himself between them. With a rough tug, he dragged you closer to the edge of the metal table as he rolled his hips, stealing a breathless gasp from your parted lips.

“My pretty little angel,” he murmured, breath hot and wet as his lips trailed a blazing path across your jaw and down the column of your throat, leaving your sensitive skin feverish beneath his mouth. “You brought me back.”

You let out an involuntary whine as he lifted his head from the hollow of your neck. He smirked dangerously at the sound, only adding fuel to the fire burning inside you, as his disarming eyes caught yours, twinkling with mischief.

“You resurrected my forsaken soul,” his hand came up to cradle your delicate jaw. “Trying to bring back your lost love.” He smiled like he knew a secret as he grazed his thumb against your bottom lip. “Romantic tragedies were always my favourite.”

He swooped in and kissed you again before you could speak.

“But you have nothing to fear, my darling angel,” he whispered against your lips. “There’ll be no more tragedies here. I could never take the life of the woman who restored mine. I owe you everything.”

Slowly, he lowered himself to his knees between your parted thighs. You sucked in a shallow breath at the sight, blood rushed to your loins, leaving you lightheaded.

“I’ll never let any harm come to you,” he looked up at you, his words spoken like a sacred oath from a knight to his queen. “Not even from myself.”

He sealed his vow with a kiss to your inner thigh.

Swallowing hard, your heart fluttered wildly against your heaving chest as his lips teased along the sensitive skin of your trembling thighs.

Your fingers found purchase in his thick, floppy hair that felt just as soft and perfect as you imagined. Loose strands always fell forward, framing his handsome face in a way that never failed to steal your breath. Julian would always tilt his head in confusion if he ever caught you staring, like he had no goddamn clue just how fine he was.

And now he was looking up at you, Julian’s eyes, from beneath Julian’s lashes, but they were shining with David’s hunger.

He didn’t hesitate to indulge his appetite. Your sopping panties were pushed aside and his tongue was on you before you could finish unravelling your thoughts. The breath scattered from your lungs like a flock of startled sparrows and your spine arched as heat bloomed through your pelvis.

Oh God.

One of your hands remained tangled in his hair, clutching the strands tightly as though you were afraid he might vanish if you let go. If it hurt, he didn’t complain. Your other hand slammed against the cold edge of the metal table, gripping it until your fingers cramped.

A satisfied moan bubbled up from David’s throat as if he were devouring his favourite meal, the sound vibrated against you in a way that made your thighs tighten against his shoulders.

Your head tipped back, jaw slack as dizzying pleasure surged up from the base of your spine.

“Jul–” You bit your lip. Hard.

But it was too late. He had already heard you.

His movements stopped immediately, like you just slammed the emergency brake.

The heat of his mouth vanished, even your grip in his hair couldn’t stop him. You whined, a pathetic, needy sound that sent a spike of humiliation through your gut, at the unpleasant surge of cold air against your aching cunt.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” he said softly, but it wasn’t so much comforting as it was unnerving.

You avoided his gaze. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, couldn’t bear to see what kind of expression David was wearing on Julian’s sweet face.

“I– I didn’t mean–” you stuttered, rushing to defend your misspoken word before you had even gathered a cohesive explanation in your mind.

“I know what you meant,” he cut you off coldly, refusing to listen to your flimsy excuses.

He rose to his feet, his movements slow and steady. Bracing his arms on either side of you atop the metal table, he caged you in. Trapping you.

In the blink of an eye, his hand snatched your jaw, earning a startled gasp. He turned your gaze upward, forcing you to look at him.

His eyes weren’t cold. They weren’t angry. It was something far worse. They were empty. A pair of deep, hollow voids that sent a bolt of ice down your spine.

“I know who you meant,” he said, voice deceptively calm with just the slightest sharp edge that let you know you were teetering on thin ice and uttering Julian’s name had left a crack.

Your stomach twisted.

“But I’m not a substitute, angel. You don’t get to pretend it’s him touching you.”

His hand slid from your jaw to your delicate throat, curling around it with a firm grip. He didn’t squeeze. There was no need, the touch was enough to remind you of the man he had once been.

It was harder to see him as Julian when he held you like this. You suppose that’s what he wanted.

His hips rolled forward, pressing the full weight of his arousal against your bare, swollen clit, making you gasp.

“You gave me this body,” he murmured, voice husky with a possessive growl. “Now I’m going to use it to take yours.”

Your breath caught.

“After this,” he whispered, dragging his lips along your burning cheeks until they brushed against the shell of your ear. “There’ll be no doubt in your mind. You’ll know who you belong to.”

He claimed you with one hard, aggressive thrust, swallowing your cry with his mouth upon yours. He didn’t give you time to adjust. He had a point to prove. Besides, you were already soaking him.

As his thrusts built up to a relentless rhythm, you clawed your fingernails down his bare back, leaving your first marks on his borrowed skin.

You had earned this. You had abandoned your morals, your sanity; sacrificed your career, your integrity, your very life as you knew it.

You made him this way.

You stole the body of the man who couldn’t love you and filled it with the soul of the monster who could.

You let him press you into the table and stake his claim on you, because, at last, he finally wanted you as much as you had always wanted him. And God, you hoped he would never let you go.

˙ ✩°˖🧬⋆｡˚

ONE MONTH LATER

You felt like a newborn fawn on ice, wobbling precariously on your roller skates over the polished floor. Your arms whirled like a pair of propellers trying to lift you to safety, but David’s warm hands closed firmly around your waist, steady and sure. You trusted him completely, letting your propellers settle against his solid forearms as he glided backwards, carefully guiding you around the rink.

Your heart beat as wildly as the bass of the music thumping through your chest, as a kaleidoscope of neon lights twirled overhead, casting shimmery patterns that ripple from the glittering disco ball suspended above the centre of the rink. The polished floor captured all the colours, gleaming like a frozen lake beneath a sunset sky. You couldn’t help but stare with wide-eyed wonder as you teetered past skaters who leapt and spun with the grace of ballerinas.

“Eyes on me, angel,” David chuckled softly, catching your wandering gaze with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Don’t get too distracted now. Wouldn’t want you taking a tumble and bruising that pretty ass of yours.”

Your grip on David’s forearms was just starting to loosen as you gained some confidence in your rhythm, feeling less like a newborn fawn on ice, when a young man, skating backwards, barrelled into you hard enough to knock you off balance. Before David could catch you, your skates shoot out from underneath you, sending you crashing to the polished floor with a sharp yelp. Instant pain exploded up your tailbone and through your elbow as they took the brunt of your fall.

The young man who hit you stumbled forward, barely maintaining his own balance as he crouched beside you.

“Shit– are you okay?” He blurted, breathless and wide-eyed, reaching a hand toward you to help you to your feet.

But before you could even take his hand, David’s foot slammed into the young man’s jaw in one terrifying motion with the velocity of Diego Maradona trying to score a penalty kick.

You recoiled in shock at the sickening crack that knocked the young man straight to the floor. A few teeth flew from his mouth and scattered across the floor beside you as gasps echoed around the rink.

Your palms skidded over the slick surface as you attempted to scramble backwards, but the wheels of your skates spun uselessly beneath you, offering no traction as you tried to push yourself away.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” The man gargled through a mouthful of blood that bubbled from his lips and trickled down his chin and slightly dislodged jaw.

Terror sparked brightly in his eyes as he looked up just in time to see David gripping his right rollerskate by the ankle strap like a weapon. He tried to scramble backward, but David lunged like a wild beast, pinning him to the floor at lightning speed.

You watched, frozen in fear, as David raised the skate high above his head and slammed it down with brutal force onto the man’s skull.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

You flinched as warm flecks of blood splattered across your face and dripped onto your clothes, startling you to take action. By the time you staggered to your feet and threw your arms around David’s shoulders, the young man’s eye socket had already caved inward with sharp shards of pure white bone jutting through his blood drenched skin.

“David! Stop!” You screamed, clawing desperately at his shoulders, using all your strength to try and drag him off, but he was too strong, too lost in his vengeful blood lust.

He kept swinging and swinging until there was nothing left but a spreading puddle of blood, shattered shards of skull and smashed brains oozing across the floor.

You were far from squeamish. You had never fainted at the sight of blood. You had cradled human brains in your palm like you were sizing up melons in the produce aisle and sawed open skulls like it was nothing more than a bit of DIY. But this was different. This was raw, savage violence and rage that turned blood and bone into pulp. It churned your stomach, drained the colour from your cheeks, and left you trembling like a leaf.

David’s chest heaved, his breath ragged. He finally stilled. Damp strands of hair fell into his eyes, clinging to his glistening forehead, streaked with sweat and blood. Crimson freckles stained his cheeks. Slowly, he let the bloody rollerskate slip from his equally blood-soaked hand. You flinched at the loud clatter as it hit the floor.

When his gaze found yours, his pupils were so blown that his eyes looked almost black.

“Angel,” he murmured, “you’re shaking.”

You recoiled as he reached for you, but he just gently cradled your face, undeterred by the fear shimmering in your glassy eyes. His thumb, slick with blood, stroked across your cheekbone, leaving behind a crimson blush. Then he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, matting it into sticky clumps.

“It’s okay,” He whispered, as the warmth returned to his tender gaze.

He’s not an idiot; he could see how terror-stricken you were. He blamed that imbecile, of course, for daring to barrel into you. He didn’t even entertain the idea that you might’ve been afraid of him. Why would you be scared of him? You knew full well he’d never dream of hurting a single hair on your head.

He told himself you were just shaken by the whole ordeal, that’s all. That everything was going to be okay because he took care of it. That scumbag would never have an opportunity to touch you ever again.

“It’s okay, angel” he repeated as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore. You’re safe now. I promise.”

Sirens wailed in the distance. David’s eyes snapped towards the sound, a flicker of panic flashing across his face. He released you and backed away, dripping blood onto the glossy floor.

“I have to go now, angel,” he said softly, “I’m not going to let them take me away from you.”

And just like that, he was gone. He vanished into the shadows, leaving you knelt beside the mangled remains of a young man who didn’t deserve to die. A crimson pool crept across the floor, crawling toward your knees.

This was all your fault.

The moment you let your loneliness outweigh your reason, you sealed that poor man’s fate. You brought back a cold-blooded killer in someone else’s skin and deluded yourself into believing that no one would get hurt.

But a man died because you were so desperate to be wanted.

That’s how the cops found you.

A guilt-ridden mess, kneeling in a pool of blood beside the man whose life might as well have been taken by your own hands.

Which is why you’re here, sitting on an uncomfortable metal chair that digs into all your pressure points, shivering under a cheap blanket.

You told them everything.

About Julian’s accident.

About stealing his body.

About switching the brains.

About David Allen Griffin’s resurrection.

You confessed your guilt, fully prepared to face the consequences for your actions.

But they didn’t believe a single word.

They told you your story was too outlandish.

‘You’re in shock,’ they said, in soft, condescending voices, like you were a child insisting there were monsters under your bed.

Apparently, due to your trauma, your poor, fragile little mind had fractured its grip on reality because women ‘get easily confused’ in the aftermath of such violence.

And so they sent you home with the assurance they would be in touch within the next few days to take a formal statement from you when you’re feeling less… ‘hysterical,’ as one of them so eloquently put it.

˙ ✩°˖🧬⋆｡˚

You were weary beyond belief by the time you made it back to your apartment. The temptation to crawl straight into bed and pretend this was all just a nightmare tugged at you, but you were still covered in that man’s blood, so rest would have to wait.

You moved on autopilot, kicking off your shoes and peeling off your blood-stained clothes, dumping them in a heap on the bathroom tiles; a problem for future you to handle, and begrudge you for.

Under the spray of the shower, you watched the tainted water spiral down the drain beneath your feet.

You felt numb.

The water could’ve been scalding or ice-cold, you wouldn’t have known the difference.

You only stepped out when your eyelids grew too heavy to hold open. Exhausted, you blindly reached for the fluffy white towel, wrapping it around your dripping body as you staggered toward the mirror. It was completely fogged up with condensation from the steam, but you had to be sure you had washed away every last trace of blood from your skin and hair.

You swiped a hand across the glass, leaving a clear streak straight through the middle. Just wide enough to see your reflection.

And a dark figure standing behind you.

Before you could scream, a gloved hand clamped over your mouth, dragging you back against a firm chest you recognised instantly.

“Shhh, angel. You’re okay. It’s just me.” David’s warm breath brushed against your damp hair, his voice as soft as a lullaby. “You’re not alone anymore. You’ll never be alone again. I promise.”

#good food! 🩶#loved this 🙂‍↕️

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