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icarusignite · 5 months

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the ships have come to carry you home (Kim Hongjoong)

Pairing: Captain Hongjoong x Runaway Princess Reader Summary: Desperate to escape a horrifying marriage to the man who murdered your family and stole your father's crown, you escape your opulent life, only to realize that your longing for freedom has landed you in the clutches of ruthless pirates who are willing to trade your life for one of their own. Determined to prove your worth, you must persuade the enigmatic captain that you are indeed worth keeping after all.

Word Count: 5.7k

Genre/warnings: Hurt/comfort, angst to fluff, captain is kind of a jerk in the beginning

PIRATE! ATEEZ MASTERLIST

The damp, dark underbelly of the ship seemed to swallow you whole as you pressed yourself into the corner, drawing your knees up to your chest in a desperate attempt to make yourself as inconspicuous as possible. Above you, the reverberating boom of an explosion echoed through the wooden planks, sending shivers down your spine.

Your heart pounded in your chest like a war drum as you prayed fervently that whoever was raiding the ship above had no interest in you, that they would simply pass by without a second glance. But fate seemed determined to thwart your hopes as heavy footsteps clambered down the rickety wooden steps, each one resonating ominously in the darkness.

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to disappear into the shadows as the sound drew nearer. When the figure finally emerged into the dim light, you felt your stomach lurch in dread. He was a muscular man with sharp eyes that seemed to pierce through the darkness, searching every nook and cranny for any sign of life.

"Found her, Captain!" the man called out to someone above deck and your blood ran cold.

Panic surged through your veins, but you remained frozen in place, hoping against hope that somehow, by some miracle, you might escape notice.

But the man's sharp gaze landed on you immediately, you knew your hopes were in vain. He approached with purposeful strides, his every movement calculated and precise. When he reached your hiding spot, he crouched down beside you, his expression almost apologetic.

"Come on, then,” he said, his voice surprisingly gentle despite the urgency in his tone. "There’s no use hiding. You'll only make things harder for yourself."

You shook your head frantically, your breath coming in shallow gasps. You knew you had to fight, to resist with every ounce of strength you possessed, so when the man reached out to grab your shoulder, you recoiled instinctively, fear overwhelming your senses.

He sighed heavily, a sound laden with weariness and regret. "I'm sorry, truly I am," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the din of the ship. "But orders are orders.”

With that, he seized your arms firmly, his grip still gentle despite the urgency of his actions. You struggled against him, your muscles tensing with the effort, but it was futile. The man's strength far surpassed your own, and with a determined grunt, he began to drag you towards the stairs leading back up to the surface. You kicked and screamed with all your might, and in a desperate attempt to break free, you lashed out, your elbow connecting with the man's nose with a sickening crunch.

A string of curses erupted from his lips as he stumbled back, clutching his bleeding nose. "Careful, Captain," he growled, glaring at you with annoyance. "She's a feisty one."

“Thank you, San,” the captain presumably, responded with a sigh as you were unceremoniously dumped at his feet.

He stood before you, a tired expression etched features, shadows lurking beneath his weary eyes. He ran a hand through his dishevelled hair, muttering something under his breath as he regarded you with a mixture of exasperation and resignation.

"You're more trouble than you're worth.”

“That’s right,” you nodded frantically. “I’m nobody. I’m irrelevant, and of no use to you, so please…please let me go.”

The captain scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "You? Unimportant?" he retorted, shaking his head in disbelief. "Sorry, Princess, but I find that hard to believe. You are our most important cargo, and we've been tasked with returning you home."

Home.

That wasn’t even the word you’d call it anymore. Bile rose in your throat once again. You couldn’t return, especially not after what had happened to your family. Not after what they would do to you.

You had hoped against hope that you could somehow escape that nightmare, that you could slip through the cracks unnoticed and reclaim your freedom, but now, faced with the harsh reality of your situation, you wondered if your fate was sealed.

"Please don't make me go back,” you tried again. “I was going to leave. I promise I'd be no trouble at all. I was going to go away and never come back."

The captain's expression hardened at your words, his frustration evident in the furrow of his brow. He knelt before you, his grip firm as he grasped your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes bore into yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Are you really that hopelessly naive to think that these people would have simply dropped you off at the next harbour?" he spat, his voice laced with bitterness.

Your heart sank as you glanced around at the crew of the ship, your stomach churning with dread. They had been subdued and tied up by this new captain’s crew, their faces grim and resigned to their fate.

"No, they were going to sell you out just the same," the captain continued, his voice low and menacing. "At least this way, you’ll be helping to save someone’s life.”

He seemed to seethe with anger, his fist clenched at his side as he struggled to contain his emotions. But then, a hand rested gently on his shoulder, and he glanced up to see another man standing beside him, his expression calm and reassuring.

"Ease up, Hongjoong," the man said softly, “you’re scaring her.”

“I don’t care, Seonghwa. Can you imagine how Jongho must be feeling right now? And to think we’ve sailed halfway across the continent for this pathetic creature, in exchange for his life. It’s ridiculous!”

“I know you’re worried about him…we all are, but this is no way to act.”

Hongjoong sighed, his bruising grip on your jaw easing before letting go completely as if deciding that you simply weren’t worth his energy. He felt the smallest stab of guilt at his behaviour, particularly when he caught the flash of hurt that crossed your wide eyes. It wasn’t your fault that the new king had decided to capture their youngest crew member, holding him ransom until you were returned to your kingdom. By the looks of it, you didn’t seem too fond of the new sovereign either, but he did wonder what it was that you were so desperate to escape from back home.

He jerked his head to the rest of his crew, “Take what you can of value, and prepare to return to our ship.”

Back on the captain's ship, the crew was abuzz with activity as they prepared to set sail. Your captor, San, seemed distracted as well, and you took this moment of distraction to break free from his hold again and do the only thing you can think of, throwing yourself overboard.

Just as you can though, strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you back with a force that knocks the breath from your lungs. You gasp in shock, the world spinning around you as you find yourself ensnared in another's grasp.

"By God, are you insane?" a voice exclaims, the words ringing in your ears. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

It's Hongjoong, his voice filled with disbelief and concern. You thrash against him, your body writhing with the desperate need to break free, but he holds you tight against him, his arms like steel bands around your trembling form. Upon further struggle, he bends to place his arms beneath your knees and sweeps you clean off your feet, and despite your protests, he carries you effortlessly, his stride purposeful and determined.

If you weren’t quite so hysterical, you might have been comforted by the warmth of his frame against your frigid one, but there is no comfort to be found. When he finally places you on your feet again, you are in what you assume to be his personal quarters.

“Do not even think of doing what you just did again!” he snarls. “You are of no worth if you’re dead.”

“I shall do just as I please,” you return with just as heatedly.

“If you’re going to cause trouble, I’ll put you in the brig. See how long your act lasts in the company of the rats.”

With that, he stormed out, slamming the door to his chambers behind him, and even as you rushed toward it, you heard the resounding click of a lock being turned, effectively making you his prisoner.

You spent the next few hours pacing the room, rummaging through his belongings in an attempt to find something, anything, that might aid in your escape. There was a large table strewn about with maps, and he owned an absurd amount of books, which was a little surprising as you didn't think pirates read. Still, when you realized your search was futile, you slumped to the floor in the corner, picking up one of the books to thumb through.

Eventually, a soft knock on the door came, followed by a familiar click as it opened slowly with a creak. It was San, his frame filling the doorway for a few moments as he hesitated at the threshold. He held a tray of food in his hands, and behind him, darkness swallowed the rest of the ship, by which you assumed night had fallen.

“Captain says you have to eat,” San mutters, setting the tray down in front of you, but you turn up your head.

Almost as if he was inside your head, Hongjoong’s voice echoed from outside.

“Tell the snobbish princess that if she doesn’t fancy starving, she had better eat what she’s given.”

Your lip curled in disgust, and you turned away from the tray with an even more aggressive shake of your head. San sighed softly, before settling himself on the captain’s bed to simply watch you. You noticed that he had cleaned up his nose and you felt a stab of guilt. After all, he was simply following orders too, and you had decided that if anyone was to be the target of all your ire and hatred, it would be Hongjoong.

“I…” you began hesitantly. “I’m sorry about your nose. I didn’t mean to…”

San chuckled, “Yes you did.”

“I…I mean I did but I didn’t—”

“It’s okay,” he shrugged. “Hazards of the job, I suppose.”

“Still. I am sorry.”

When Hongjoong finally returned to his chambers, his weariness was palpable, etched into the lines of his face and the slump of his shoulders. But as his eyes fell upon you, curled up in the corner of his room, a pang of guilt tugged at his heart. You were a sorry sight, alone and vulnerable in the darkness, and he knew he could not put you in the brig. A person of your station must have always enjoyed the finest things in life, so being here must be quite an adjustment, and despite his earlier animosity, he did not wish to cause you greater discomfort.

He approached you slowly, his footsteps echoing softly against the wooden floorboards. The sight of the untouched food on the table made him sigh in resignation. With a weary yawn, he ran a hand through his tousled hair, his exhaustion evident in every movement.

"Hey," he said gently. "You can take the bed. I'll sleep on the floor or something."

You shook your head stubbornly, your lips pressed into a thin line of defiance, but Hongjoong could see your weariness and it mirrored his own. He sighed, realizing that arguing with you would be futile.

"It'll be uncomfortable for you on the floor," he tried again.

Still, you remained silent, your gaze fixed on some distant point in the darkness. Hongjoong rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"Suit yourself.”

As he began to undress and prepare for bed, peeling off his shirt with practiced ease, you couldn't help but let out a squeak of surprise, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. You turned your head away so fast it was almost comical, your heart racing in your chest.

Hongjoong chuckled at your reaction. "Relax," he said with a teasing grin. "It's not like you haven't seen a shirtless man before."

You hadn’t, and it made your face redden even more. You huffed indignantly, refusing to meet his gaze. When he realized, he cleared his throat awkwardly, hurrying to put on something, internally berating himself for such a comment. You were a princess, brought up in refinery, so he should refrain from making such crass comments around you.

When he settled down for the night, you remained in your place on the floor, eyes wide open in an attempt to evade sleep. However, unfortunately for you, it proved a fruitless endeavour, and eventually, the subtle shifting of the ship on the calm ocean waves lulled you into a restless slumber.

You dreamt of fire and bloodshed, and the violence that seemed to haunt your every waking moment, following you even to the realm of Morpheus. You had to watch your family be slaughtered in front of you all over again, their blood seeping into the cracks of the pristine marble of your castle’s floors. The new self-proclaimed king, the usurper, grinned manically while the gore dried in the creases of his palms, his sword held aloft as he prepared to deal the final blow. You wished he would kill you, end your suffering once and for all and send you to be with the rest of your family, but he had much crueller plans for you.

Hongjoong’s sleep was just as fitful as yours as he tossed and turned, and it was only made worse when he heard the quiet sounds of your sniffles. It made him bolt upright, gaze falling to your frame, curled up in a fetal position in the dark. Cautiously he approached you, only to see that your eyes were still screwed shut tightly, but a steady stream of tears flowed from behind your eyelids, and a pained whimper escaped your lips every now and then.

The captain shook your shoulder gently in an attempt to wake you, but whatever dream you found yourself trapped in seemed to have its claws embedded too deeply and you only flinched at his touch. He sighed, mumbling a brief apology before lifting you from the floor.

Almost instinctively, you curled into him, tucking your face into his chest, still in the throes of sleep, and Hongjoong froze. With a great sigh, he placed you on his bed, smoothing back the matted tangles of your hair away from your face. Your features were troubled, and he pressed his index finger against the wrinkle between your brows, easing your frown a little. It seemed to help a little, at least to the extent of halting your tears, but your face retained its characteristic pinched expression.

Hongjoong watched you with fascination. He would not be cruel, he reminded himself. He would be kind to you and hope that wherever Jongho was, he was being treated with kindness in return. He doubted the new king’s ability to be kind, but there was little else he could do besides hope for the best. He was no stranger to the new king’s capability for cruelty, so it made him wonder just what had driven you from home, so desperate not to return.

The next morning, you woke up with damp cheeks, and a throbbing headache, but much to your surprise, you had been covered by a threadbare blanket, and you were no longer on the cold, damp wooden floorboards. A tray of breakfast had been left out for you, but despite your rumbling stomach, you pointedly ignored it.

That is how you spent the next few days. Hongjoong no longer returned at night, leaving you the sole occupant of his room, and when eventually your curiosity got the better of you, you decided to settle down with some of his books, biding your time.

The opportunity presented itself one night when San arrived to bring you your evening meal, and when he left, you noticed that there was no telltale sound of the lock clicking. You crept up to the door and it swung open without much protest.

The ship was bathed in darkness, and you could hear the distant sounds of the crew members, but they were muffled. Slowly you inched up the steps to the main deck, arms outstretched as you felt your way, holding your breath in anticipation. You hoped that everyone would be too busy with their own endeavours to pay you any mind.

The surface was bathed in silver moonlight and it was almost ethereal, the way it reflected off the softly lapping waves. The sea was calm, but as you made your way to the edge, you were almost taken aback by its vastness. The murky depths stretched out as far as the eye could see, almost too infinite to fathom, and with a grim sort of resignation you realized that there was nowhere for you to go. No escaping your fate.

You slumped against the wooden railing, almost listless, as you turned your attention to the stars above, charting the constellations that you could make out in the clear night sky as your father had taught you. You missed him terribly, and the prospect of having to marry the man who killed him made you want to pitch yourself overboard.

Still, you had some sense of self-preservation because you remained with your feet firmly planted on the wooden deck. There were other ways, perhaps, for you to prove that you were worth more, that you could be of use to these pirates who were determined to return you to a monster.

“Good to see you aren’t as determined to escape us,” came a voice, startling you.

You felt a frown pull at your lips when you saw Captain Hongjoong standing right behind you, arms crossed over his chest, a satisfied smirk on his face.

“What do you want?” you muttered sullenly.

“Just testing out a theory.”

“I’m not your guinea pig!”

“No, you’re not, but you’re also not as determined to die as I had previously thought.”

“No one really wants to die,” you pointed out somberly. “It is our circumstances that drive the urge.”

Hongjoong hummed thoughtfully, coming over to lean against the railing beside you, and that is how you remained for several long moments, each one of you lost in thought. It was a comfortable sort of silence, one you didn't think was possible between the two of you, but you supposed he wasn’t entirely unpleasant to be around, provided he kept his mouth shut.

“I am sorry, you know,” he spoke first. “I may have been…”

“I believe asshole is the word you’re looking for?”

“...excessively harsh,” Hongjoong finished sheepishly, still staring straight ahead. “Nonetheless, I apologize. I should have minded my manners, and that was no way to treat a princess.”

“That was no way to treat a person,” you corrected immediately.

“Yes, you’re right. I was terrible. I’m truly sorry.”

You watched him from the corner of your eye, not missing the way the moonlight highlighted his sharp profile. You found it difficult to resist his apology, particularly due to the sincerity that was so evident in his tone, but you didn’t say anything in return. Perhaps, you’d let him ramble on, giving you the opportunity to figure him out, and see if there was any way to convince him not to take you back.

“It’s not about the money, you know,” the captain continued, running a hand through his hair, dishevelling it even further, and you resisted the urge to brush a wayward lock away from his face. “It’s been a terribly worrisome few weeks…and it’s all my fault. I should have been more cautious, less naive. Jongho was taken because of me. He’s imprisoned, out there all alone because of me. Who knows what they’re doing to him, and there is nothing at all that I can do.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, although you didn’t know what you were apologizing for. Somehow it felt like it was your fault.

“It’s not your fault,” Hongjoong suddenly turned to you, his eyes heartbreakingly earnest, and you swore you could see the glint of tears in the moonlight before he blinked them away. “But, you understand why we have to take you back now, don’t you?”

You were taken aback by the intensity of his words, the desperation of a madman almost.

“I’m not sure I—”

“The king…he said he’d return Jongho to us, if we found you and returned you to your kingdom. It’s the only way we’ll get him back.

“The new king is a cruel man,” you spat bitterly. “There is no telling he’ll keep his word.”

“But I have to try,” Hongjoong continued desperately. “I owe it to Jongho to try. His life is worth at least that much.”

And what of my life? What is my life worth?

You closed your eyes, trying to block out his words, guilt and bitterness warring inside of you. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. You didn’t ask to be a pawn in this terrible game of chess. You didn’t ask to be born into such a family. You just wanted to be happy, to be free. Were your dreams worth so little, were you that insignificant to the fates?

Hongjoong pulled away, composing himself and clearing his throat, “It seems I have upset you again. I am sorry.”

“Another apology?” you scoffed.

“It seems I have many things to apologize for,” he laughed self-depreciatingly. “I am a man of many flaws, and these days there is little I can do right.”

“It wasn’t your fault either,” you blurted, feeling the sudden urge to comfort him. It was strange, you should have despised him, but you felt that you understood him in some way. And besides, it had always been in your nature to be the peacemaker, to always out the feelings of others before your own.

“Of course it was. I was there. I watched them take him away and could do nothing about it.”

“The…your crew member’s captor. He is a cruel man. I am certain there was nothing you could have done to save him.”

It was Hongjoong who watched you carefully now, “Is that why you do not wish to return?”

You found yourself unable to answer him. There were no words to describe it. No way to speak the terrible things you had witnessed out loud, and if you did, you would only cause the captain further worry, as his crew member was still in the king’s possession.

“You do not have to tell me, of course,” he amended quickly, finally stepping back to take his leave. “I shall let you get your rest, princess. I do hope you’re finding my bed to be far more comfortable than the floor.”

And then with a polite bow that seemed much too formal on one such as him, he was gone, leaving you to contemplate your pitiful existence. Unbeknownst to you, Hongjoong felt your burdens deeply as well. His brief conversation with you made him feel even more guilty, but there was nothing to be done. He had a duty to his crew, to protect them and do whatever it took to ensure their life and safety. His crew had to come before some foreign princess. Jongho had to come before you. There was nothing else to do about it.

The next morning you were pleasantly surprised to see that the door to Hongjoong’s chambers had been left unlocked again, and when you made your way to the deck early in the morning, no one stopped you. A few of the crew members nodded politely at you as you wandered the ship, and San even granted you a smile. Hongjoong, as usual, was nowhere to be seen, and briefly, you did wonder where he had managed to hole up when you had taken over his quarters.

Over the next few days, you put your only plan into motion. You learned the names of every member of the crew, attentive in your endeavours. After your conversation with the captain, you realized that he wasn’t entirely cruel and that perhaps there was still hope. If you proved yourself to be a useful enough member of the crew, perhaps he’d let you stay. They were pirates after all, and surely, if they liked you enough, they’d manage to come up with a way to keep you as well as rescue their youngest crew member from the cruel king’s clutches.

You helped Wooyoung in the galley, and Mingi with polishing the canons. You even offered to mop the decks; anything at all to remain useful. You had been schooled in the arts of diplomacy as a princess, but you found that you did not have to make a great effort to pretend to be interested in their tasks. You genuinely enjoyed hearing their stories as they amicably conversed, and watching them during the night, when despite the subdued air about them due to their missing member, there was a sense of camaraderie to them that you desperately yearned for. The way each of them cared and valued one another was truly astonishing, particularly to someone like you who had never before seen such friendships.

Hongjoong’s relationship with them in particular awed you. You imagined a captain to be harsh and commanding with his crew, but Hongjoong was anything but. They obeyed him because they genuinely respected him, and valued what he had to say, and in return, he treated every single member aboard the ship with that same courtesy, everyone including you. Sometimes he’d flash you one of his charming smiles, as he’d go about his day, and you found yourself wishing to stay even more desperately. It felt almost pathetic, caring this much about a group of people who surely did not care for you.

However, what you didn’t realize is that your desperate efforts had indeed endeared you to the crew, the captain most of all, and when the day arrived for the ship to dock at the harbour, the sky seemed overcast in shadow.

It could be put off no longer. You had to be returned, and they would be reunited with their brother. You supposed you could beg, plead for them to let you stay, but if you were to bear what was to come, and their inevitable denial, you needed to hold on to whatever shred of dignity you had remaining. You would not cry, you would not say a word. With grace, you bid your goodbyes and hoped that you weren’t imagining it when the crew seemed almost sad to let you go.

Perhaps they might remember you as they set sail on their next adventure. Perhaps your memory would receive the freedom your physical form could not.

It was Hongjoong who led you to your castle, its towering spires no longer comforting. You held your head high, as the guards led you to the throne room where the usurper sat upon your father’s throne, wearing your father’s crown. To the side stood another three guards who held down a chained young man between them, beaten and bruised. Hongjoong’s fists clenched at the sight of him, so you imagined that this must be the infamous Jongho.

“You have returned,” the king drawled, slowly descending the dais. “I did not think a pirate capable of it.”

“I am a man of my word,” Hongjoong stated through gritted teeth.

“As am I,” the king gestured toward his guards who promptly let go of Jongho’s chains. “You may take your scoundrel and be gone.”

Before the king could reach you, and before Hongjoong could move toward Jongho, your hand shot out to grab his wrist. It was an unconscious movement, your body moving against your will. You had promised yourself to show dignity, you had promised that you would not beg, but you could not deny yourself this small act at least.

Hongjoong looked at you in surprise, his heart hiccupping in his chest when he saw the tears pooling in your eyes.

“Please,” you mumbled, fingers squeezing around his. “Please, don’t leave me.”

“I’m sorry.”

With great difficulty, he wrenched your hand away from his, lowering his gaze so that he did not have to watch as your expression plummeted at the act. He took measured steps toward Jongho, kneeling to help his crewmate stand, providing much-needed support to the injured man.

You, on the other hand, swallowed bile as the king approached you slowly. When he was before you, he trailed a single finger down your cheek and you flinched, feeling sick.

“I did miss you, you know,” he lamented. “You had to know, I’d do anything to have you back.”

Then he struck you.

The blow was sharp, sending you sprawling to the floor with the force of it, but you pressed your lips together defiantly. You would not cry out. He would not get the satisfaction of watching you come undone.

“Did you really think you could run away?” he snarled, grabbing you by the shoulder to haul you up. “There is nowhere that you could go to escape me. I would drag you back from the underworld if I had to, and if you are to meet death, it would only be by my hand.”

“You cannot command death,” you spat, despite the blood dripping from your lip. “Not even you are that powerful.”

“I commanded it just fine when I ended your family, and I can do the same to you if you do not silence yourself. We are to be married tomorrow, so I suggest you make your peace with it. There is nowhere to run anymore.”

Before you closed your eyes, your melancholy eyes met Hongjoong’s one last time as he strode out of the throne room, Jongho in tow. Despite everything, you could not bring yourself to hate him, and you hoped that perhaps he did not despise you that much after all.

It was well past midnight when you heard the knock on your door. You had been moved to one of the towers, a prisoner within the stone walls until your impending nuptials, so you most certainly were not expecting visitors. It could only be one person and your blood ran cold. Having to marry him tomorrow was one thing, but if you had to see him tonight, you would fling yourself out of the balcony that very instant.

The knock came again, urgent and sharp.

“Go away,” you whispered. “Please, please, please, go away. I’ll marry you, so please, just go away.”

Another knock and rage bubbled in your chest. How dare he impose himself on you like this. How dare he take and take from you until you had nothing more left to give. No, you would not stand for it, but before you could make a move, the door wrenched open and there stood the last person you expected to see again.

“Hongjoong?”

The captain was out of breath, and there was a nasty cut on his forehead that bled into his eyes, but he seemed otherwise unharmed. He did not let you utter a word before grabbing your wrist and dragging you down the isolated hallway. A quick glance backward revealed the incapacitated guards that lay slumped at the threshold of your door and your brow furrowed in confusion.

“Hongjoong, what are you—”

“I couldn’t leave you!” he blurted, still dragging you along, pausing every now and then to duck into a different alcove, or through some hidden passageway. “I couldn't bear to leave you behind.”

And it was true. The sight of you, teary eyes pleading with him as he walked away was the final straw. He would not have been able to live with himself if he had left you to the vile creature you were to marry, especially after seeing how he treated you.

The two of you emerged into the dark night panting, the cool air soothing against the sting of tears in your eyes.

“You came back for me?” you could hardly speak the words, lest they turned out not to be true.

“Of course, I came back for you. I had to!”

“But—”

“We still have to hurry. They might not have noticed you are missing just yet, but they soon will, and when they do, we need to have set sail far away from here.”

Only when you had reached the docks did he let you pause, ducking into an abandoned alleyway to catch your breath.

“But, the others…”

Hongjoong laughed, “In case you hadn’t noticed, they adore you. They may even like you more than me if I’m being entirely honest. No doubt, they’d have threatened mutiny if I did not bring you back.”

Your shoulders slumped, “So…you came back because of them?”

It was pathetic. You should have been grateful regardless, but you couldn’t help the stab of disappointment you felt.

“No!” the captain frantically shook his head, taking your face in his hands ever so gently. “I came back because of you…because of me…because I could not bear not having you around. I came back because I had to.”

“Oh.”

“And I am sorry I have been such a fool. I should have done something different, planned it so that you did not have to spend even a moment with that wretch of a man who does not deserve one such as you.”

He brushed away your tears, his thumb pausing at your split lip.

“I’m alright,” you tried to put on a brave smile, but it came out more of a grimace, and he chuckled.

“No, you are not. And you do not have to pretend to be. Not here, not with me, not ever again.”

And then he was kissing you. It was just a mere brush of his lips against yours as if he was afraid of hurting you further, but he tasted of freedom and possibility and something so distinctly right with the world, that it stole the very breath from your lungs.

It was over all too soon, and then he was pulling you forward again, eager to return to his crew and to the net adventure that now awaited the both of you.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this one. Comment to be added to the taglist. Comments/reblogs are highly appreciated, as I'd love to hear what yall think <3

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morbific-or-felicific · 8 months

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-AGNOSTHESIA PART 3 Featuring Scaramouche’s

Part 1 Part2

Meaning: The state of not knowing how you really feel about something, which forces you to sift through clues hidden in your behaviour, as if you were some other person

Word Count: 2.6k~

Description: After you almost fail your midterm Scaramouche decides to punish you

Edited By: @pretty-princess-peach

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You were in the library, sitting across the table from your boyfriend. You could feel his eyes on you while you read through the notes he had helped you make. The two of you had a midterm in half an hour, and you were hoping to at least get a seventy five…however out of reach that may be.

“You know, if you don’t know the material by now, you aren’t going to magically learn it in the next thirty minutes.”

You let out a sigh and met your boyfriend's gaze.

“Are you going to let me stop studying then?”

“Do you really think you can afford to stop? You do know how stupid you are, right?”

You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes and returned your focus to your notes.

As you studied, Scaramouche lazily scrolled through his phone, texting and watching videos. It frustrated you to no end to know that, despite his lack of effort, he would no doubt earn the highest mark in the class. Meanwhile, you* were working as hard as you possibly could while still running the risk of failing, with Scaramouche’s ominous threat of ‘punishment’ hanging over your head.

You barely noticed when Scaramouche started gathering his things to head to class, having to have him snap his fingers in front of your face to break your focus. Finally, you gathered your notes, and the two of you made your way to class.

~ ♡ ~

Although you swore you had only spent twenty minutes writing the test, you supposed the full hour and a half must have passed since everyone who was still writing was instructed to hand in their tests. You had managed to finish just in time, but you weren’t feeling very good about how you had done.

You made your way out of the classroom to where your boyfriend had been waiting for you, laying across a few chairs he had somehow come into possession of. As you got closer to him, he looked up from his phone and stood up. He was happy to see you but also rather concerned about how upset you looked.

“How did it go?”

He spoke with uncharacteristic softness and concern.

“I don’t think it went very well…”

You felt rather hopeless about the whole situation and had already resigned yourself to failure.

“Come on, with how hard you’ve worked? I’m sure that you did just fine.”

You didn’t respond, choosing to instead stare dejectedly at the floor. Scaramouche offered a soft smile.

“Come on, let’s get out of here. We can go get food and watch a movie.”

You stayed silent for a moment, thinking over the proposal.

“That actually sounds really nice.”

“Come on then.”

He grabbed your hand and dragged you to his car.

~ ♡ ~

It had been exactly nineteen days since you had taken your midterm, and you had finally been emailed the results. You sat at your computer staring at the unopened email. You knew that you had probably failed, but you didn’t want to know that you had actually failed. You took a deep breath, did your best to relax your body, and opened the email. You scanned through the words and eventually found your results. You had passed. You swore you had never felt so relieved in your life. Granted, you had only gotten a 58, but that was more than enough for you. You wiped away a few tears of relief and flopped back in your chair. You took out your phone and called your boyfriend.

“Hello-”

“I passed.”

“Seriously?!”

“Yes!”

“Well that’s no surprise. You have me as your tutor, afterall.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that made its way onto your face. Although he was clearly trying to hide it, pride was evident in his voice.

“Thank you, baby.”

You heard Scaramouche let out a little puff of air from his nose.

“Wanna come over so we can celebrate?”

“I guess I can.”

“Did you pass?”

“Is that even a question?”

“Well congratulations, you are the reason everyone hates being marked on a curve.”

You actually heard your boyfriend laugh at that.

“It’s not my fault you’re all inept.”

“Are you coming or not?”

There was a brief silence.

“I’ll bring food.”

“See you at 5:00?”

“Alright, love you.”

And with that, he hung up. You sighed and sent an “I love you too” text.

You spent the rest of your day doing some chores and some reading, and eventually, Scaramouche was knocking on your door. He brought an obscene amount of sushi, and somehow, the two of you managed to eat all of it.

It was a nice evening. Scaramouche was in a surprisingly good mood(he wouldn’t admit it, but he was quite pleased that you had managed to pass your midterm), and there wasn’t anything left to stress about.

The two of you sat on your couch, scrolling through streaming services. You were nestled under your boyfriend’s arm as he navigated to netflix and started scrolling through movies.

“So what movie do you want to watch?”

“Pride and-”

“No.”

“But you said I could pick!��

“Only if you pick a good movie.”

“You haven’t even seen it!”

“Too bad. I’m picking now.”

You sighed but didn’t really protest. You usually ended up liking whatever movies he chose anyway. This time, however, you had gotten somewhat bored about halfway through “Inception” and decided to grab your phone to scroll through whatever app seemed interesting.

“You know, if you’re bored, we can do something else.”

The prospect of doing something different admittedly interested you, so you decided to go along with it.

“Sure. What did you have in mind?”

A small smile made its way onto Scaramouche’s face as he stood up, turning off the tv and reaching out his hand to you. You took it and followed him to your bedroom. You certainly weren’t going to complain if he wanted to reward you for passing. As you stood at the end of your bed, he stood away from you, leaning against the now closed door.

“Take off your clothes.”

You blushed, slightly embarrassed by how blunt he was but did as you were told anyway. You began to pull your shirt over your head when he stopped you.

“No. Slowly.”

You looked away from him, even more embarrassed now, and started slowly sliding your hands up your sides, bunching up your shirt as you brought it farther up your body. You pulled it over your head and tossed it onto the ground beside you. Next, you undid the button on your pants and slid the zipper down, but before you could begin to slide them down your legs, you were stopped once again by yet another command.

“Turn around.”

You silently obeyed and turned to face away from him as you slid your pants off, bending at the waist, knowing exactly what your boyfriend wanted from you. When you finally kicked off your pants, you turned back around to face Scaramouche. He had a little smirk resting on his face, and you could now see a bulge beginning to make itself known in his pants. Despite the number of times the two of you had fucked, you were still embarrassed to be almost naked in front of him.

“Why are you stopping?”

Your blush darkened as you reached behind you to undo your bra, letting it fall to the ground and then turning around once again to slide off your panties. Scaramouche bit his lip as he watched you. Fuck, you were so good for him. It’s too bad he had to punish you for almost failing your midterm, not that you were aware of that yet.

You turned around once again to face your boyfriend, and he began to move towards your closet, where he kept a few things for situations such as these. You were a little confused as to why he would want to use any of those things when he was rewarding you, but you didn’t question him. You fully trusted Scaramouche and knew he would never hurt you… well, unless you wanted him to. You continued not to question him when he brought out a coil of rope and told you to get on your hands and knees on the bed.

Although, you were still confused. He knows that you like being able to touch him, so why would he be using rope? You finally decided to question his actions when he had finished tying you up, a bad choice on your part. He had just finished the last knot when you piped up.

“Uh, why are you tying me up?”

“Because stupid little whores don’t get to touch me.”

Okay, now you were very confused.

“But I thought-”

“Dumb girls who almost fail their exams don’t get rewarded.”

His words would hurt if you didn’t know how proud of you he was.

“But-”

You felt his hand land hard and heavy on your ass, and your words morphed into a little shout of pain. You tried to wiggle away from him, but with your calves tied to your thighs and your hands tied behind your back, you couldn’t move an inch. You felt his hand land again on the other side of your ass as he reiterated his point.

“Don’t you think brainless sluts should get punished? I’m sure it’ll help get some sense into that empty head of yours.”

You could hear the smile in his voice. You heard him step away, and with you unable to move, you had no idea what was coming next. As his footsteps came closer again, you felt a finger run along your slit.

“You’re so wet already, pathetic.”

Your cheeks were burning. As he began to play with your clit, you started to let out little moans and whines. Fuck, he was good at that. You could hear how wet you were, his fingers starting to push in and out of you rhythmically. If he kept going, you were going to cum. Fuck, fuck, fuck. It felt so good. It felt like he was turning off your brain. All you wanted was for him to make you cum, and maybe for his cock to be inside of you. That would be nice too.

“Fuck, master, I’m going to cum!”

As soon as those words left your mouth, his fingers had been removed from you.

“No! Please! I need it! Please, let me cum!”

You were so close. You needed it so bad. Scaramouche knew that, and frankly, he couldn’t care less. Stupid girls don’t get to cum.

He teased you like this for at least half an hour, although it felt like an eternity. He kept bringing you to the edge just to steal away your end with a derisive laugh.

“Do you have any idea how pathetic you sound?”

You let out a particularly pathetic whine.

“‘Oh, master, please let me cum! I’ll be a good girl, please!’. You’d be worthless if you didn’t feel so good on my cock.”

Warm tears slid down your face, but you could feel yourself get wetter at his words. Scaramouche walked around the bed so he could take your face in his hands.

“Fuck, you look pretty when you cry.”

More tears ran down your face, despite the warmth you felt from his words.

“I should just keep you tied up so you can cry for me and be a good little fleshlight. That sounds nice, right, slut?”

You nodded, not quite sure how to respond. He laughed and walked back behind you. You tried to wiggle away, but you were still helplessly at his mercy.

You heard the clicking sounds of him taking off his belt, and you felt adrenaline shoot through your body. Finally, you were going to feel his cock inside of you.

However, your hopes were quickly dashed when you felt the harsh sting of a belt hit your ass. You screamed. Scaramouche laughed.

“You like that, don’t you, princess?”

You cried louder now, the sound only serving to make your boyfriend more turned on. Once again, you felt his belt come into harsh contact with your ass.

“Count.”

You let out a little shout of pain as another hit came.

“One!”

Your counting was followed by a whimper of pain and a light laugh from Scaramouche. Then the belt came down again.

“Two!”

You whimpered in pain, and your fists clenched behind your back, your nails digging into your palms. You didn’t know how long this would continue for, but you were ready to take whatever he chose to give you, as you always did.

Three more hits came from his belt, each one followed by a shot of pain and a number.

“Five!”

You readied yourself for another hit, but it never came. You jumped when you felt him gently rest his hand between your shoulders, slowly tracing his way down to your waist. Suddenly, he removed his hand, and you could hear him stepping away. He came to sit on the bed in front of you. He rested a hand on your cheek once again and leaned into you.

“Do you want to cum? Hmm?”

He smiled at you mockingly. You nodded emphatically.

“Please! I need to cum, master! Need it so bad!”

He couldn’t help but snicker at how pathetic you sounded.

“Well, if you want it so bad, then okay. I’ll make you cum, sweetheart.”

Fuck. If he’s saying yes, there has to be a catch… unless… was he done punishing you? You quickly got your answer when your boyfriend stood and walked back to where you couldn’t see him.

You heard him fiddling with something, and after a few moments, you felt something cold and plastic run up your slit a few times, collecting your wetness before finally pushing inside of you.

You knew what was coming, but you couldn’t stop the whine that you let out when the dildo started vibrating intensely. You started whining and moaning, not being prepared for the pleasure. Scaramouche walked in front of you once again, this time with a ballgag in hand. He pushed it inside of your mouth and tied it behind your head.

“I’ll be back soon. Don’t worry.”

And with that, you could hear your boyfriend walk out of the room and close the door, his light laughter trailing behind him. You tried to call out to your boyfriend, but everything came out garbled between broken moans. He wouldn’t leave you tied up for too long… right?

~ ♡ ~

You had no idea how long you had been left tied up like this, and you had lost count of how many times you had come. All that you knew was that you were exhausted. Finally, you heard footsteps approaching, and the door clicked open. He was back. Without saying a word, he turned off the vibrations and gently pulled out the toy. He walked around to sit in front of you and untied the gag, removing it from your mouth.

“Did you learn your lesson, princess?”

He smiled as if he were talking to a child. You nodded your head.

“Mhm!”

“Good girl.”

He stroked his thumb on your cheek, and you leaned into his touch. He started to untie you, going through all the knots until you were finally free. You stretched your sore limbs as Scaramouche left the room in search of a warm cloth.

Eventually, he reappeared with a warm cloth and an extra blanket. He cleaned you up and wrapped you in the soft blanket before carrying you back to the couch so the two of you could finish the movie.

Tag List: @lilia-sspouse @but-a-peach @stannazuna @izzalovesdilfs @lordbugs @randomlycockroach @licensedsimp @leena-shi @cesimaaa @welpthisisfine @dainself-when-playable @fic-rebloga @bubblyxdolly @wanderin-stories @iwysbellez @k4ze3e @kenmabfasf @vvyeislazzy @nerdiel-has-no-braincells @hopeless-smvt @bloomingheartz @crazydreamcat @kazumiku @str4wb3rizz @kyon-cherri @ravereina @ashrodisiac

morbific-or-felicific.

#mae’s daily paper☕️*•̊ⴰ✧#scaramouche.❣︎•*✧ ̊ⴰ #mae.melts🧊*•̊ⴰ✧#personally i think this is fantastic but that’s just me #i hope you all like the food i’m sorry it took me so long #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche smut #genshin smut #genshin x y/n #genshin x reader #genshin x you #afab reader #female reader

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elikajinnie · 10 months

Text

You Know You Should Not Have Survived That, Right? | Ghostface!Heeseung x fem!reader PART 1

PART 1 OF PART 4

Pairing: Ghostface!Heeseung x fem!reader

Warnings: Blood/injury. Violence, murder, panic attacks, stalking, obsessive behaviour/ possessive behavior.

Genre: Eventual romance, Horror/Thriller

Wordcount: 13k

Sum:

"Well, I'm not laughing," You said, your voice shaky as you moved through the house, checking every nook and cranny.

"I'm not laughing either, princess," he remarked, a term that sent a chill down your spine.

"Don't call me that," you snapped, feeling a growing sense of unease.

"Well, you never gave me your name," he said, his voice taking on a sinister edge.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅──╮

“Pretty girls covered in blood. As such, we were each in turn treated like something rare and exotic. A beautiful bird that spreads its bright wings only once a decade. Or that flower that stinks like rotting meat whenever it decides to bloom.”

You lounged on the luxurious, long white couch, surrounded by the opulence of the spacious living room. The soft glow of the TV illuminated the room, its screen broadcasting the ominous news of a series of murders gripping the city. Intrigued, you set aside your magazine, your eyes fixed on the news anchor detailing the gruesome events.

As the reporter delved into the chilling details of the latest murder, your curiosity deepened. The atmosphere in the room seemed to thicken with tension as you absorbed the unsettling information. Just as you reached for the remote to increase the volume, your mother's departure interrupted the quietude.

"I'm leaving now. You be good and stay home, alright?" Your mother's voice echoed through the room as she fumbled through her purse. You assured your mother of your compliance, bidding her farewell and locking the door behind her.

Returning to the comfort of the couch, you crawled over the backrest, disregarding the conventional way around. The remote found its way back into your hands, and you switched through channels in search of something more captivating. Finding nothing of interest, you stood and strolled to the imposing shelf beside the TV, adorned with an array of movies and decorations.

Among the diverse collection, your hand settled on a horror movie: "Your Next." It promised a refreshing twist with a resourceful final girl, a detail that appealed to your taste. Ignoring the collateral damage of two neighboring DVDs collapsing, you retrieved the movie and inserted the disc into the TV slot.

Plopping back onto the couch, you pressed play, but the movie's ominous beginning prompted you to hit pause. Rising up you headed to the kitchen in pursuit of the perfect movie snack—popcorn. The cupboard held the desired item, but with your stature, reaching proved impossible. Unfazed, you fetched a little wooden stool, conquering the height disparity.

With the popcorn secured, you turned your attention to the microwave. Engrossed in the popping symphony, you momentarily forgot about the stool now awkwardly placed in your path. As you rounded the kitchen island, your phone's ring pierced the air, and your friend Yeji's name flashed on the screen.

Answering the call, you engaged in a conversation about the latest murder, Yeji's voice laden with concern. Popcorn still in hand, you dismissed Yeji's fears, attributing the killings to a random act of violence. Unbeknownst to you, a subtle unease settled in the air.

Returning to the kitchen, you fidgeted with the knives on the island, your gaze wandering as if searching for an unseen presence. A sudden feeling of being watched sent shivers down your spine. Instinctively, you closed the balcony doors, shutters, and curtains, dispelling the eerie sensation.

With the unsettling moment behind, you resumed your movie night preparations. You bid Yeji farewell as the microwave signaled the completion of your popcorn. Snacks in hand, you adjusted the living room's lighting to a dim, cozy ambiance, casting a warm glow over the elegant surroundings.

Sinking back into the couch, you kicked your feet up on the forbidden glass table, relishing the rebellious act in your mother's absence. You popped open an energy drink, took a sip, and draped a blanket over yourrself to ward off the slight chill. In your minimalistic attire of sweatpants and a tank top, you settled into the cocoon of comfort, ready for a night of horror and suspense.

The plush, velvety blanket cocooned you on the couch as you layed sprawled. The dim lighting accentuated the opulence of the living room, and the remnants of your movie night – an empty drink and a half-eaten bowl of popcorn – scattered around you. The film's climax was unfolding on the screen as the final girl realized the treacherous intentions of those around her. You, however, had succumbed to the captivating scenes, soft snores blending seamlessly with the movie's eerie soundtrack.

A faint buzzing noise pulled you back from the realm of dreams. You hummed, your eyes fluttering open as you surveyed the living room, the movie still playing out the tense chase scene. You yawned and stretched languidly, causing the blanket to slip off your shoulders. With a groan, you paused the movie, your gaze directed towards the empty drink can on the table. Realizing your phone was missing, you decided to investigate the source of the interruption.

In the kitchen, you retrieved your misplaced phone, its screen revealing an unknown caller. The call had ended before you could answer. Intrigued, you scrolled through your recent calls, curiosity piqued by the mysterious contact. Just as you was about to turn off your phone, the device lit up again, displaying "unknown caller."

Swiping to accept the call, you greeted the unknown voice with a simple, "Hello?"

"Hello, who is this?" The voice, smoky and melodic like honey, echoed through the phone.

"Well, who are you trying to reach?" You responded, settling back onto the couch.

"What number is this?" The voice continued, a hint of uncertainty in its tone.

"Well, what number are you trying to reach?" You countered, a playful smile touching your lips.

"I don't know," the voice admitted.

"Try the number again and see if you typed it correctly," You suggested, a playful smirk dancing on your face as you hung up. However, the persistent caller dialed again, and you felt a mix of annoyance and intrigue, answering once more.

"Hellooo?" You drawled out.

"I'm sorry; I guess I dialed the wrong number," the voice apologized.

"Then why did you dial it again?" You questioned.

"I just wanted to apologize," the man explained.

"Well, you are forgiven," You replied nonchalantly, popping a few more popcorn kernels into your mouth.

"Good to know," the man said. "Do you like scary movies?" he asked eventually, his voice oddly comforting.

You nodded, forgetting momentarily that the man couldn't see you. "Yes," you affirmed.

"What's your favorite scary movie?" he teased.

"Hmm," You tapped your chin in mock contemplation before answering. "American Psycho."

"Is that the one with Christian Bale?" the man inquired.

"Yeah," You confirmed.

"So, you got a boyfriend?" he continued, the conversation taking an unexpected turn.

"No," You huffed, the atmosphere shifting as the questions delved into personal territory.

"And why is that?" the man probed, his tone becoming more unsettling.

"Well, there isn't really anyone out there that has my attention," You replied, fidgeting with a loose thread on your pants.

"Really? Well, that's too bad," the man remarked, the conversation taking on a darker undertone.

"I knooow," You sighed, growing uneasy.

"What's your name?" he pressed further.

"Why do you want to know my name?" You questioned, sensing a growing discomfort in the exchange.

"Because I want to know who I am looking at," he said, sending a shiver down your spine.

"What did you say?" you asked, your voice tense.

"What did I say?" he feigned innocence.

"That's not funny," You replied, suddenly aware of your vulnerability. You began double-checking the security of your home, peeking through blinds and ensuring all doors were locked.

"Was it supposed to be?" he continued, the unsettling tone persisting.

"Well, I'm not laughing," You said, your voice shaky as you moved through the house, checking every nook and cranny.

"I'm not laughing either, princess," he remarked, a term that sent a chill down your spine.

"Don't call me that," you snapped, feeling a growing sense of unease.

"Well, you never gave me your name," he said, his voice taking on a sinister edge.

Your world seemed to freeze at the ominous tone. "I`m sorry, i have to go" you spat out, surveying your surroundings.

"Wait!" he urgently said.

Ignoring his plea, you hung up before swiftly ascended the stairs, your desire to secure your safety intensifying. You checked each locked door in your path, a heightened sense of urgency guiding your actions. When your phone rang again, you hesitated before answering.

"Hello?" you said, a tinge of anxiety in your voice.

"Why did you hang up? We were having a talk," the same voice echoed, sending shivers down your spine.

"Because the conversation was over on my end," you stated firmly.

"Hmm, harsh," he commented.

"Yeah, sure," you retorted, hanging up without further notice. You continued your security check, ensuring every door was securely locked. The phone continued to ring, but you silenced it, a growing sense of dread settling over you. The inability to block the unknown number only heightened your unease, and you couldn't shake the feeling that you was being watched, the shadows of your home concealing potential threats.

The unsettling tension gripped you as you navigated your home, checking each locked room, and securing your sanctuary against potential threats. The rhythmic ticking of the clock in the hallway mirrored the heavy beats of your anxious heart. You peeked into the bathroom, finding it locked, the silence within unnerving.

Advancing to your mother's bedroom, you discovered it similarly secured. The atmosphere grew thicker with each locked door, and your mind raced as you approached your own bedroom, finding it too impassable. The cold hallway seemed to close in on you, echoing your trepidation.

Your hesitant gaze fell to the phone you clutched in your hand, its screen illuminating with the persistent unknown caller.

At the fifth intrusive call, your patience snapped. Gritting your teeth, you accepted the call with a sharp, "What!?"

The man's threat reverberated through the line, his words laced with malice. "Listen here! If you hang up on me one more time, I will gut you like a fish! You hear me?!" his voice, now a raw growl, threatened violence.

"Oh yeah? Try me!" you retorted defiantly, hanging up once more. Determination flickered in your eyes as you steeled herself for whatever came next.

Just as you disconnected, a sudden, loud noise echoed from your mother's sewing room, freezing you in your tracks. Your phone, now silenced and nestled in your pocket, became an afterthought as your instincts screamed at you to tread carefully.

With deliberate steps, you tiptoed backward, avoiding the sewing room as if it held the secrets of your deepest fears. The muffled sounds behind the door only intensified your unease. You hesitated, your gaze darting around the hallway for any signs of intrusion.

Taking a calculated risk, you silently opened the nearest door, revealing your little brother's room. A wave of relief washed over you, grateful that he was away at a sleepover, shielded from the ominous events unfolding. With measured breaths, you surveyed the room, your eyes landing on a baseball bat tucked in a corner.

Your fingers closed around the familiar grip, and with resolute determination, you climbed into the closet. Leaving the shutters slightly ajar, you positioned yourself with a limited view outside. A hand pressed against your mouth, slowing your breaths as you braced for whatever loomed beyond your shelter.

The shadows played tricks in the dim light, and the palpable silence heightened your senses. Your mind raced with the possibility of an intruder in your home, the unsettling unknown leaving you shrouded in suspense. The baseball bat in your grasp became both a shield and a weapon, as you huddled in the closet, waiting, watching, and wondering about the source of the disturbance in your once-secure sanctuary.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly as you crouched in the closet, hidden behind boxes. The silence surrounding you was oppressive, punctuated only by the rhythmic cadence of your own heartbeat. The baseball bat felt strangely weightless in your grasp as you stayed huddled, each passing minute amplifying the weight of the unknown.

Pulling your phone from your pocket, you noted the multiple missed calls from the mysterious man. The last futile attempt had been minutes ago, marking your solitary confinement within the closet for a staggering 15 minutes. The unnerving quiet had become a torment, a slow and relentless assailant on your sanity.

When the urge to escape finally beckoned, you hesitated. A distinct sound cut through the stillness — the bedroom door opening. Your pulse quickened, and you peeked out from the shutters, your eyes widening at the ominous figure that materialized. Towering, clad in a long black cloak with the hood obscuring any defining features, the intruder's presence exuded menace. Black combat boots and gloves, the latter gripping a gleaming hunting knife, completed the haunting ensemble. A white mask adorned the figure's face, an unsettling visage with a contorted expression that seemed to mock the gravity of the situation.

A cold shiver raced down your spine as the realization hit — this could be the killer responsible for the recent spree of murders. Was he truly after you?

You pressed a hand over your mouth, muffling your breaths, watching the masked assailant enter the room with predatory grace. His calculated steps conveyed a chilling confidence, the aura of a remorseless murderer.

You observed as the figure methodically searched the bedroom, scanning under the bed before approaching the closet. A curse echoed in your mind as the man neared your hiding place. With a mixture of fear and determination, you stood up and swung the baseball bat with all your might. A triumphant smile curled on your lips as the bat connected, eliciting a grunt of pain from the intruder who stumbled and fell to the ground.

Seizing the opportunity, you swiftly darted out of the bedroom and descended the stairs, your footsteps hurried but quiet. As you passed the living room, the horror movie still paused on the screen, another set of footsteps echoed behind you. The chase was on.

You raced around the kitchen island, leaping over the forgotten stool. Glancing back, you saw the masked figure closing the open cupboard door, only to trip over the stool, emitting a yelp and groan. It provided a brief respite for you to grab a knife from the table, your grip tightening around the handle.

The assailant rose, towering over you, his masked face betraying no emotions. Slowly, he circled the kitchen island, and you mirrored his movements, keeping a cautious distance. The gleaming hunting knife in his hand reflected danger, the blade promising pain.

"Stay away! Don't come any closer!" You shouted, but your warning fell on deaf ears. Suddenly, he lunged, grabbing your arm, the force causing you to drop the baseball bat. A sharp pain seared trough your arm as his knife sliced your forearm. A scream tore from your lips, and in desperation, you kicked the guy in the shin, gaining a momentary freedom.

With a quick slash, you retaliated, your knife finding its mark on the guy's arm and chest. A growl escaped the masked assailant as he twirled his knife, retaliating with slashes on your shoulder and arm. The pain intensified, and you cried in agony.

Undeterred, you sprinted into the living room, leaping over the backrest of the couch. Falling between the couch and the glass table, you grabbed a heavy ceramic decoration, regretting the inevitable damage to your mother's prized possession. With a forceful throw, the ornament hurtled towards the killer, shattering into a million pieces as he fell backward by the force of the throw.

"Shit!" You gasped as the guy uttered his first words. The voice was the same one from the phone, only in a clearer and younger tone now. A realization dawned on you– the killer was someone close to your age, likely another student. The revelation only intensified the horror of the situation as you braced yourself for the dangerous dance that continued to unfold in the dimly lit living room.

The living room became an arena of survival, the air heavy with tension as you and the hooded killer engaged in a deadly dance of cat and mouse. You clutched the kitchen knife tightly in your right hand, the blade gleaming ominously in the dim light. The masked assailant, armed with his hunting knife, circled you with predatory intent, the white mask revealing nothing of his emotions or identity, leaving you to wonder about the identity of the person beneath the facade.

Your eyes remained fixed on your adversary as you edged around the room, your movements cautious yet calculated. Every instinct screamed for you to stay on guard, to be ready for any sudden strike. The sound of your footsteps on the hardwood floor was drowned out by the echo of the silent confrontation.

The tension reached its peak when the hooded killer lunged forward, slashing his knife at you with swift precision. You deftly sidestepped the attack, the blade missing you by inches. Seizing the opportunity, you swung your own knife in a retaliatory strike, aiming for his side. The hooded figure skillfully evaded the blow, showcasing a deadly proficiency in the macabre dance.

You, fueled by a desperate determination to survive, utilized every inch of the living room to your advantage. You maneuvered around furniture, using the space to your benefit, constantly seeking openings to strike.

As the chase raged on, you spotted an opportunity. A discarded stool lay nearby. With a swift kick, you sent the stool sliding toward the hooded killer's feet, hoping to trip him up. The assailant stumbled, momentarily thrown off balance. It was your chance.

Your heart raced as you sprinted down to the basement, seeking refuge in the bunker your father had installed before his departure from the family. The cool metal door creaked open, and you rushed inside, pulling it shut behind your. The air in the bunker felt heavy with tension as you fumbled for your phone, your trembling fingers dialing the emergency number. You explained the chilling situation to the police dispatcher, your voice a mixture of fear and urgency.

As you waited on the line, the minutes stretched into an eternity. The cold silence of the bunker echoed the torment in your mind. Finally, you heard the distant knocking on the bunker door. The voice on the phone instructed you to open up, assuring you that it was a police officer. You cautiously checked the security camera feed on the bunker, confirming the presence of the officer. You ended the call, entered the code, and slowly opened the door.

"Hello, officer," You greeted, your voice strained. The female officer's eyes widened in shock as she took in your disheveled appearance. "Oh, you are in rough shape, young lady," she expressed, offering assistance. Together, you ascended the stairs to a scene of organized chaos – a swarm of police officers meticulously searching every inch of the house.

"He's not here. When we arrived, the house was empty. Looks like he ran when you went in the basement," the officer informed you, providing a small sense of relief. You nodded silently as you exited through the busted open door, a visual testament to the recent struggle of the police. The flashing lights of police cars painted the scene in red and blue hues.

Paramedics approached, tending to your wounds. Your attention, however, remained fixed on the commotion surrounding your home. Your mother's voice reached your ears as she ran towards you, worry etched across her face. "Y/n!" she exclaimed, embracing her daughter and checking you over. Your response was subdued, your thoughts still lingering on the harrowing encounter.

Kyungmin, your younger brother, approached with concern in his eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked, the innocence of his question contrasting sharply with the night's events. You gazed at him, exhausted and in pain as you shook your head. Kyungmin climbed onto the gurney beside you, and you pulled him into the safety of the blanket provided by the paramedics.

A familiar face interrupted the solemn moment – the news reporter from the TV. Microphone in hand, she approached, seeking an interview. Kyungmin, ever protective, spoke up on your behalf, sternly refusing the intrusion. A police officer intervened, guiding the persistent reporter away, sparing you from further distress.

As the news crew retreated, you closed your eyes, attempting to shut out the chaos around you. However, the haunting image of the hooded killer's mask flashed in your mind, a reminder that the scars of this night would linger in your nightmares. The weight of the encounter settled on your shoulders, leaving you to grapple with the trauma that now defined your reality.

The next morning, you awoke to the persistent beeping of the alarm clock, signaling the start of a day that you wished you could forget. As you sat up in the unfamiliar guest room at Yeji's house, you took a moment to absorb your surroundings. The room, while neatly arranged, felt foreign, lacking the familiarity of your own space.

Yeji and her family had generously offered shelter to you and your family after the horrifying visit from the hooded killer. The police had taken over your home for investigation, fearing the possibility of the assailant returning. You, plagued by nightmares, had spent a sleepless night, haunted by the haunting image of the white mask and the towering figure.

Rolling out of bed, you made a feeble attempt to make it, your mind still clouded with the remnants of your unsettling dreams. You changed into a simple white blouse, ripped jeans, and sneakers, the routine serving as a small distraction from the lingering fear. Descending the stairs, you found Yeji in the kitchen, flipping pancakes.

"Good morning, Y/n! How did you sleep?" Yeji greeted, her smile an attempt to bring warmth to the gloomy atmosphere.

"Terrible," you replied bluntly, your appetite diminished. You mechanically grabbed a pancake from the plate and nibbled on it, more out of habit than hunger.

Yeji, ever considerate, suggested, "You can try to sleep during lunch. I'll cover for you."

You shrugged in response. "Are we the only ones here?" you asked, scanning the empty kitchen.

"Uh-huh! My parents and your mother left for work, and your brother also left for school. So, we should head to school as well," Yeji explained, turning off the oven and slinging her bag over her shoulder.

You wrapped the remaining pancakes in a foil wrapper, slinging your own bag over your shoulder as you made your way out to Yeji's car. The warm sunlight kissed your skin as they parked at school. However, your day took an unexpected turn as you approached the entrance and found a throng of newscasters eagerly waiting.

You and Yeji exchanged a worried look before approaching the spectacle. One of the popular girls, pointing towards you, caught the attention of the reporters. Cameras surged towards you, creating a chaotic scene that overwhelmed you. Yeji quickly pulled you away from the crowd, guiding you inside the school where the cool breeze of the air conditioning offered some relief.

"Thank you, Yeji," You muttered, still trying to steady your racing heart.

"You're welcome," Yeji replied, and the two of you walked to your lockers, ignoring the stares from other students, their whispers echoing in the hallway. The day had just begun, and you knew you would need to navigate the challenges that lay ahead, both inside the school and within yourself.

You and Yeji stood by the lockers, engrossed in a conversation when you felt an odd sensation, as if someone's eyes were burning into the back of your head. Turning slightly, you noticed Lee Heeseung, a fellow student from your biology class, standing against the lockers on the opposite side of the hallway.

Heeseung was dressed entirely in black, a black mask covering most of his face, leaving only his enigmatic eyes visible. His dark hair added an extra layer of mystery to his already imposing presence. Despite sharing the same class for two years, you and Heeseung had never exchanged a single word. His lack of communication with anyone outside his circle of friends made him an enigma. You had observed him talking only with his buddies, never participating in class discussions, and always presenting alone to the teacher`s during evaluations. It wasn't that he was mute; he simply chose not to talk.

Intrigued by this peculiar behavior, you couldn't help but find him captivating. You had noticed his striking features and the air of menace that surrounded him. Yet, no one dared to pick on him, possibly due to his good looks and the intimidating aura he exuded. A crush had developed, but you kept it to yourself, fearing rejection.

As you met Heeseung's penetrating gaze, you found yourself unable to look away. It was as if he could see through you, and you couldn't break free until Yeji's intervention snapped you back to reality.

"Y/n? You okay?" Yeji's concerned voice reached your ears.

"Huh? Yeah, yeah, I'm okay. Just a little tired, that's all," You replied, closing your locker. You walked with Yeji to the next class, but out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Heeseung's continued stare, unyielding even when his friend, Jake, tried to engage him in conversation.

The day passed swiftly until lunchtime, where you and Yeji found solace on a secluded bench at the end of a quiet hallway. You rested your head on Yeji's lap while attempting to catch up on much-needed sleep. Thirty minutes later, you headed to the last class of the day – biology.

Taking your usual seats by the window, Yeji braided your hair while you absentmindedly doodled on your worksheet. The teacher droned on about anatomy and nerves, but most students were more interested in their own activities. Heeseung, occupied himself with a game on his computer, occasionally glancing at the teacher.

You, also slightly distracted, glanced at Heeseung through your computer screen. You snapped out of your daze when Yeji tugged on your braid a little too hard.

"Oops, sorry," Yeji whispered as she finished the braid.

You subconsciously touched the braid and looked down at your worksheet. Glancing at Heeseung, you noticed he was focused on his computer. The rest of the class passed without further incident, leaving you with a strange mix of curiosity and unease regarding Heeseung's enigmatic gaze.

You and Yeji parted ways at the school gate, each going in your own respective directions. "I'll see you home tonight, alright?" Yeji said, giving you a warm hug. "Yes, see ya," you replied, waving as Yeji disappeared into the crowd of students leaving the school grounds.

As you headed to your after-school activities, the day unfolded with the passage of time. When the clock struck 5 PM, you found yourself finishing up, the last to leave the building. The once bustling halls were now eerily empty as you made your way to the bathroom.

In the solitude of the restroom, you decided to freshen up. You unzipped your bag and applied some lip balm, preparing to accessorize with your favorite scarf. The black and white pattern of the scarf exuded a chic and classic vibe, and as you were about to tie it, a toilet flushed behind you. Your attention shifted to the stall, and a chill ran down your spine when you saw black combat boots beneath the door.

You stiffened, a sense of dread settling in as the stall door swung open. The haunting figure from your nightmares, the same one who had attacked you the day before, emerged. The hunting knife, now clean of your blood, gleamed ominously in his hand.

"You..." you began, but your words morphed into a scream as he lunged at you, pressing you against the cold restroom wall. The impact sent a jolt of pain through your head, but the real terror came when the knife approached your throat. Bracing for the impending pain, you closed your eyes, only to find yourself still intact.

"Open your eyes," the melodic yet sinister voice from the day before demanded. Slowly, you obeyed, meeting the menacing gaze of the white-faced mask. "It's you... you are the hooded killer," you stammered out, surprisingly steady despite the fear coursing through your veins.

"I prefer the name Ghostface, but yes. That's me," he replied coolly. The knife withdrew from your throat, replaced by his hand, the blade pointed dangerously close to your face as he gripped your chin. His hollowed eyes scrutinized you, and he hummed as if evaluating your uniqueness.

"You are different than the others," he muttered cryptically. Confused and afraid, you found yourself pulled closer to him. The proximity was overwhelming, his towering figure covering you completely. Just as the situation took a more threatening turn, you seized the opportunity to elbow him in the same spot you remembered from the previous night's struggle. The move worked, and he groaned, giving you a chance to escape.

Bolting out of the bathroom, you ran out of the school, fueled by adrenaline. Your legs carried you all the way to Yeji's house. Once inside the guestroom, you hid under the safety of the bedsheets, tears streaming down your face. The questions echoed in your mind – who was this Ghostface, and why had he come for you? Only later did you realize that your black and white scarf was missing, a tangible reminder of the encounter.

Ghostface`s POV:

Ghostface observed your movements from the shadows of the bathroom, hidden behind the stall door. He had anticipated your arrival, a sense of obsession driving him to seek you out once more. The thrill of the chase, the anticipation of seeing your face when the mask was revealed – it fueled his every move.

As you entered and began to freshen up, Ghostface couldn't help but revel in the proximity. The rhythmic pulse of his own excitement resonated beneath the pale mask. The mask, a mere facade that concealed the unsettling grin he felt beneath.

The black and white scarf caught his attention – an accessory he associated with you. The pattern, a visual echo of his fixation. A piece of you, he thought. In that moment, he felt a compulsion to possess it, to keep it close as a memento of this encounter.

When you realized his presence and screamed, Ghostface reveled in the fear he induced. The exhilaration surged as he pressed you against the cold wall, the metallic glint of the hunting knife dancing dangerously close to your throat. He watched you close your eyes, surrendering to the terror he wrought.

"Open your eyes," he commanded, wanting to savor the fear reflected in your gaze. The hollow sockets of the mask mirrored his emotions – a twisted dance between malevolence and obsession. He examined you closely, drawn to the nuances of your reaction.

You, surprisingly resilient, managed to escape his grip, Ghostface grunted in pain. The elbow strike had found its mark, the wound from the previous encounter throbbing beneath the black fabric of his costume. Yet, the pain was inconsequential compared to the thrill of the chase.

Impressed by your cunning, Ghostface couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of satisfaction. You had remembered the weakness he exposed the night before. He allowed himself a cold grin beneath the mask, admiring your resilience.

As you fled the scene, Ghostface reached for the scarf you had left behind. It lay on the ground, a symbol of your vulnerability. He picked it up, feeling the soft fabric in his gloved hands. A dark satisfaction enveloped him as he tucked it into his sleeve, a macabre trophy of his obsession with you. Later, as he changed out of the costume, he felt the wound reopen, the blood under the bandage a reminder of the dance between predator and prey. Yet, nothing could overshadow the twisted pleasure he derived from the encounter.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅──╮

The dinner table was a silent gathering, each scrape of utensils against plates echoing through the room. You sat with your family and Yeji's, your appetite lost in the weight of recent events. Pushing your food back and forth, you barely registered the mundane sounds of family dinner.

The doorbell interrupted the uneasy quiet, prompting Yeji's father to rise and welcome two unexpected guests. Police officers, their presence cast a somber mood over the room. "Hello, come in," Yeji's father invited. The officers' gaze turned to you, and with a curt nod from one of them, they addressed you. "Ready to go, Mrs. y/l/n?" You simply nodded, a silent acknowledgment, and followed the officers to their car, waving goodbye to your brother Kyungmin.

Seated in the back of the police car, you stared out of the window, watching the night pass by in a blur. The quiet journey took you to the police station, where the cold, sterile atmosphere greeted you. Zipping up your hoodie for warmth, you sat alone in a stark room, the minutes stretching into an eternity.

The interview was a chilling recount of the horrors you had faced. Finally, the clock on the wall revealed the lateness of the hour, nearing 1 AM. The same police officer who brought you in now drove you back, his partner strangely absent. Suddenly, a jolt rocked the car, prompting the officer to stop. "What was that?" You asked, concern in your voice. "I don't know, stay here," the officer commanded as he exited the vehicle, leaving you locked inside.

Unbeknownst to you, the officer had driven over a gruesome scene—a lifeless, bloodied body. As he knelt down to investigate, a swift strike ended his life. Ghostface emerged from the shadows, the thrill of the kill evident behind his mask. His eyes gleamed with a sinister delight as he looked at the two corpses.

You, oblivious to the horror unfolding outside, remained locked in the car, scrolling on your phone. But when you looked up the sudden appearance of Ghostface in the rearview mirror sent shivers down your spine. Frantically attempting to escape, you found yourself trapped as Ghostface circled the car, his gloved hand pressing the car keys.

With an aggressive pull, the door swung open, and you attempted to flee. Ghostface, however, was faster. He seized your ankle, and the glint of his knife traced a painful path down your calf. Your scream echoed in the night as you kicked free, running into the cold darkness. Ghostface, fueled by sadistic pleasure, pursued you, the chilling words hanging in the air, "Go ahead and run, princess.... It only makes it more fun for me."

You cursed under your breath as you realized the police car had stopped in the midst of a dense forest. Shadows loomed ominously, and the flickering moonlight cast an eerie glow through the twisted branches. The forest, a labyrinth of darkness, was the worst place to be pursued by a relentless killer. You ran past trees, stumbling over uneven ground, twigs slapping against your face as if nature itself conspired to impede your escape. Yet, you pressed on, ignoring the obstacles that sought to detain you, focusing solely on surviving the chilling pursuit.

In your frantic flight, you tripped over something soft, and you grunted as your palms scraped against the unforgiving ground. Turning around, you let out a horrified scream— you had stumbled upon a lifeless body. Ghostface emerged from the shadows, his ominous figure contrasting with the darkness of the forest. "Don't feel bad," he taunted. You snapped your gaze up at him, the fear in your eyes palpable. "Did..you kill them?" you stammered.

"Who else would?" Ghostface retorted with a chilling sarcasm that sent shivers down your spine. "But why?" You questioned, desperation etched in your voice. Ghostface, advancing closer, seemed almost amused. "Oh! You want to know my motive?" he mocked. "You know, I really don't know. Call it impulsivity, call it incidental. But for me?" He waved his knife theatrically. "It's just for fun." His voice dripped with a sinister tone that echoed through the dark expanse.

"You are crazy!" You exclaimed, your defiance cutting through the tension. Ghostface feigned hurt, responding, "Oh, now that's just hurtful, princess." You, angered by the name, insisted, "I said not to call me that!" Ghostface, undeterred, continued his twisted rambling, offering alternatives like "sweetheart," "baby," "sunshine," and "honey." You rejected each one with growing frustration.

"But that's no fun... Y/n," Ghostface announced, relishing the way your name rolled off his tongue. Clenching your fists, you felt vulnerable and exposed, alone in the heart of the foreboding forest. "This isn't supposed to be fun!" you shouted. Ghostface merely chuckled, declaring, "Well, it's fun for me."

As he lunged to attack, you instinctively ducked and darted past him, tears streaming down your face. His sinister voice echoed in your ears, "Run, run! I will always be right behind you!" Everywhere you looked, you saw him, a phantom in the shadows—behind a tree, perched on a rock. Your mind played tricks on you, every shadow morphing into a potential threat.

Gasping for breath, you collapsed on the asphalt of the road, tears blurring your vision. Gripping your chest, you felt a crushing weight. Your throat tightened, breaths came in ragged gasps, and your old wounds reopened, mingling with the fresh gash on your leg. Overwhelmed, you succumbed to a panic attack. The only illumination came from the vacant police car, casting an isolated glow on you amidst the darkness.

Voices and another set of headlights pierced through the night as another car approached. As the darkness claimed your consciousness, exhaustion took over, and the traumatic ordeal drew to a temporary close.

Heeseung`s POV

Heeseung entered his house, greeted by the sight of his father slouched in the armchair, oblivious to the world, drowned in the stupor of alcohol. The flickering TV cast a pale glow on the worn-out carpet, showcasing some mindless commercial. Heeseung felt a twinge of resentment towards his father, a lingering disdain for the man who had remained after his mother's departure. Yet, beneath the layers of frustration, there lingered a reluctant sense of caring, however faint.

Tired of the oppressive atmosphere, Heeseung ascended the stairs, seeking refuge in the solace of his bedroom. The click of the lock echoed in the silence, shutting out the world beyond. Slinging his bag onto the bed, he removed his hoodie, letting it join the discarded laundry. The red-stained bandages peeked through as he peeled off his t-shirt, revealing evidence of wounds that had reopened that day.

A determined resolve etched on his face, Heeseung stood before the mirror. The vivid red of his bandages against the pale of his skin hinted at the violence he had unleashed. Swift and skilled, he rewrapped the bandages with practiced efficiency, ensuring the wounds were concealed once more. Fresh clothes replaced the discarded ones, and with a meticulous routine, he zipped open his bag.

The ghostface costume emerged, stained with the evidence of his actions. Heeseung soaked it, allowing the water to wash away the blood and sweat, leaving no trace of his grim deeds. The hunting knife, an extension of his malevolence, was cleansed under a resolution that eradicated any lingering residue under the unforgiving UV rays.

Then, he delicately pulled out the scarf, a token of his encounter with you. The soft material caressed by his fingertips, a reminder of a night that had sparked something unfamiliar within him. Collapsing onto his bed, he stared up at the ceiling, the walls adorned with posters from games and horror movies. With a contented sigh, he closed his eyes, allowing thoughts of you to fill his mind.

As slumber claimed him, a subtle smile lingered on his face, an unsettling contrast to the darkness that surrounded him.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅──╮

Your eyes fluttered open, and the harsh hospital lights made you wince. Panic seized you as the memories of the previous night flooded your mind. Before the fear could fully consume you, a calming hand and a familiar voice reached out to you.

"It's okay, it's okay!" Yeji's voice reassured you, and you turned your head to see your friend by your side.

"Yeji? Where am I? What happened?" Your voice was shaky, the events of the night still lingering in your consciousness.

"You're in the hospital. We found you on the ground... was it him again?" Yeji's concern was evident in her eyes as you slowly settled back onto the bed. The sterile scent and the hum of medical equipment around you became more apparent.

"Yeah... it was," you admitted, your gaze falling to the IV in your arm. Vivid images of the killer and the police officer's death replayed in your mind.

"We know, we know. The cops have taken care of everything," Yeji explained, attempting to offer some comfort.

"Yeji... why is he doing this... to me?" your plea held a mix of confusion and desperation as you sought answers from your friend.

"I don't—" Yeji began, but her words were interrupted by another voice entering the room.

"It's because you're a badass!" Kyungmin, your younger brother, announced as he bounded into the room. He climbed onto the chair beside your bed, his eyes filled with admiration.

"What?" you looked at him in surprise.

"Think about it! In every scenario, the victims die, but you have survived every single encounter! You're the final girl, sis! You'll kill him and live on to tell the tale!" Kyungmin explained with unbridled excitement.

"Kyungmin... how do you know so much about horror movies?" Yeji asked, attempting to redirect the conversation.

"Oh... well... we have them, and..." Kyungmin began, but you tuned out their conversation. Your mind was focused on the realization your brother had presented.

When Ghostface had first come after you, he wasn't prepared for your resourcefulness and determination to fight back. Despite multiple encounters, he hadn't succeeded in taking your life. He toyed with you, savoring the chase. You took a deep breath, absorbing the truth. You was the final girl. A surge of determination welled within you, replacing the fear with a fierce resolve to confront the hooded killer once and for all.

Days blurred together for you as you layed in the hospital bed, recovering from the harrowing events that unfolded. Yeji, being the devoted friend she was, visited daily, bringing both updates on school life and a mountain of homework. The constant drone of the television in the corner of the room kept the atmosphere heavy, each news report recounting the horrifying murders that had taken place.

You winced every time the name "Ghostface" echoed through the speakers. The news anchors dramatized your survival story, casting you as a resilient heroine in the face of unspeakable horror. The relentless coverage gnawed at your nerves, replaying the trauma with every broadcast.

One afternoon, as the news segment started, Yeji seized the opportunity to bring some normalcy to the room. With a swift movement, she turned off the TV and turned towards you.

"No TV now, we have a test to study for, and you need to know this when you get released from here," Yeji declared, holding a biology textbook in her hands. "Now eat your pudding while I read chapter 13 to you."

You grumbled, your mood not the brightest, but you obediently took a spoonful of the pudding the nurse had brought in. Yeji, undeterred, began firing questions from the textbook, ensuring you kept up with the coursework despite the challenging circumstances.

As Yeji read, the words of biology mingled with the beeping of machines and the occasional murmur from other patients. The room transformed into a makeshift classroom, a haven from the chaos outside its walls.

Heeseung/Ghostface`s POV:

Heeseung slumped in his biology class, your empty seat serving as a constant reminder of your absence. The room felt colder, the air heavier, and his restlessness intensified with every passing minute. The usual banter and whispers of the students around him seemed distant, drowned out by the void left in your wake.

His internal conflict manifested in a sharp edge to his demeanor. When a girl approached him, attempting to initiate a conversation, he reacted with an uncharacteristic harshness, pushing her away without a second thought. He needed to be alone, away from the prying eyes and casual interactions that only accentuated his yearning for your presence.

Heeseung abruptly left the classroom, making his way to the bathroom. Locking the door behind him, he flung his bag on the cold, tiled floor, the clatter echoing in the small space. With an impatient pull, he yanked off his mask, revealing a face twisted with frustration as he glared at his own reflection in the grimy mirror.

The internal turmoil was eating at him. He missed you more than he had anticipated, and it bothered him on a visceral level. The need to see you, to hear you, to be close to you, clawed at his chest like a relentless beast. It was a sensation he couldn't easily dismiss, a yearning that fueled his restlessness.

With a frustrated groan, Heeseung unleashed his anger on the bathroom stall. A violent kick sent the door crashing into the wall, leaving an unmistakable dent. For a moment, the physical release offered a semblance of satisfaction, but the ache persisted.

Regaining composure, Heeseung gathered his belongings, pulling the mask back into place. He left the bathroom, his tardiness to class a consequence he was willing to accept in exchange for the futile attempt to quell the storm of emotions within him. The hospital, where you resided, loomed in his thoughts like a magnetic force, drawing him closer with each passing second.

Ghostface lingered outside the hospital in the cool night, shadows cloaking his figure as he observed the changing of the nurses. With calculated precision, he navigated the terrain, making his way toward the entrance. A gentle nudge opened the glass door, and he slipped in, avoiding detection as he roamed through the silent hallways.

Peeking through a hand mirror, he strategically eliminated the nurses, each swift kill leaving a trail of lifeless bodies in his wake. The hospital became a dark canvas painted with the aftermath of his murderous spree. A sinister whistle beckoned a lone nurse towards him, her fate sealed with a quick, silent demise.

Ghostface moved with chilling efficiency, silencing doctors and nurses alike, his path leading him to the second floor. In the dimly lit hallway, he encountered a lone doctor, oblivious to the danger closing in. The knife struck, ending the doctor's life, adding one more casualty to the night's symphony of death.

Room 104, the destination imprinted on Ghostface's mind. With stealth and malevolence, he approached the door, a predator seeking its prey. Slowly creaking it open, he peered inside, revealing you asleep on the bed, Yeji on a chair beside you. Ghostface hesitated, his knife poised for the strike, but something in your peaceful slumber gave him pause.

A twisted fascination held Ghostface captive as he studied your sleeping face. Unbeknownst to him, Yeji stirred and gasped, her eyes widening with terror. Swiftly, Ghostface redirected his attention, raising his knife. A sudden movement caught his peripheral vision, and he turned to see you waking up.

"No... please," You whispered, your voice a plea in the night. Ghostface lowered his weapon, momentarily captivated by the desperation in your eyes. It was a fleeting moment before he turned and, with a brutal efficiency, stabbed Yeji, silencing her pleas. The room became a stage for a cruel dance of violence.

As Ghostface tossed Yeji aside, he realized you had vanished from the bed. A thrill coursed through him, and he pursued you down the dimly lit hallway. Your panicked breaths echoed, the chase heightening the tension. You darted into a room, and Ghostface followed.

Closing and locking the door behind him, he taunted, "Come out, come out, wherever you are, princess. I know you are here." You, hidden behind boxes, held your breath, fear etched across your face. Ghostface continued his macabre game, attempting to coax you out with promises of conversation.

When you remained silent, he sighed, "Come on, princess. Come out, and we can talk like adults." As he approached, you lunged, wrapping yourself around his back. A violent struggle ensued, you desperately fighting for your life. Ghostface slammed you against the wall, causing you to release your grip.

Turning to face you, he seized your wrists, pinning them above your head. In the dimly lit supply closet, Ghostface loomed over you, relishing the terror in your eyes. "There you are," he whispered, a sinister grin beneath the mask. You whimpered as he silenced you with a hand over your mouth. "Shhh. We can't have anyone waking up and disturbing our sweet time together now, can we?" he mused, his voice dripping with malevolence. "I just had to see you, princess," he added, a cruel fascination gleaming in his eyes.

Ghostface had been studying you, relishing in the desperation that flickered in your eyes after days of separation. The ache of missing you had grown unbearable. So caught up in his twisted fascination, he didn't notice when you unleashed a swift knee to his groin. The pain jolted through him, and he staggered back, momentarily incapacitated.

Seizing the opportunity, you fled, unlocking the door and making your way down the stairs and out of the hospital. Outside, you paused to catch your breath, relief washing over you. However, your momentary respite was shattered when you looked up and gasped. Ghostface loomed in your hospital room, holding Yeji with a knife to her throat.

Fear gripped you, and you cried out, rushing back inside, disregarding the lifeless bodies scattered around. As you reached your hospital room, you opened the door cautiously. The only sight that greeted you was Yeji on the ground, unconscious but seemingly unharmed. However, your moment of relief was short-lived.

A knife pressed against your back, and an arm coiled around your chest. Ghostface's voice, a sinister whisper, cut through the air. "I knew you'd be back when you saw your precious friend helpless."

Frustration welled within you. "What do you want with me? If you wanted to kill me, you would have done so!"

No answer came from Ghostface, and you strained to catch a glimpse of him through the corner of your eye. The mask revealed nothing, only his steady breaths. A chilling silence lingered before he spoke again, his voice devoid of emotion. "I just wanted to see you."

With an abrupt release, Ghostface pushed you away. You scrambled to the side, your eyes wide as you realized he had disappeared. The unnerving encounter left you perplexed, but your concern shifted back to Yeji. Clambering over, you checked Yeji's pulse and breathed a sigh of relief at the reassuring signs of life. The inexplicable motive of Ghostface remained a haunting mystery.

A full week had passed since Yeji and you were discharged from the hospital, which had been grappling with a significant loss of staff. Unbeknownst to you, surviving encounters with Ghostface had turned the two of you into unwilling celebrities, your stories circulating through hushed whispers and frightened glances.

You, especially, wanted no part of this unwanted popularity. After finishing your school day, you walked to your car and drove to the mall, seeking solace in the mundane routine of shopping. You wandered through the mall, your hood pulled over your head, two shopping bags in hand. Amid the hustle and bustle, a notification chimed on your phone, drawing your attention. Unaware of your surroundings, you collided with someone.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" you exclaimed, stepping back. When you looked up, you realized you had crashed into Heeseung. He stood there, clad in jeans and a black hoodie, his own hood covering most of his face except for his piercing eyes. A black medical mask concealed the lower half of his face.

"No worries!" Jake, who stood beside Heeseung, chimed in. "Hey, you're Y/n!" he added.

"Yeah, that's me," You replied, a hint of confusion in your voice. Heeseung remained silent, his eyes fixed on you. The air thickened with an unspoken tension, leaving you to wonder about the thoughts hidden behind Heeseung's enigmatic gaze.

Jake leaned down with a friendly smile, resembling a puppy eager for attention. "Hey, it's totally cool if you don't wanna, but there's a small party tonight at my house. If it sparks some interest, just hit me up, and I'll text you the address," he said.

You hummed, looking at him. "Eh, sure... I'll think about it. Thanks," you replied.

"Oh, is that Candyman!?" Jake added, peeking into your shopping bag and spotting the horror movie disc. "You like horror movies?" he asked.

You glanced down at your shopping bag and then back up at Jake, nodding. "Have you seen it?" you inquired.

"Sure, I have! The killer and victim falling in love with each other? That's a new one in horror, if you ask me. It was refreshing!" Jake said.

"Sure," You replied. However, your attention shifted when you noticed Heeseung extending his hand, his fingers curled into a fist. Perplexed, you looked at him with confusion. Heeseung then opened his palm, revealing a heart-shaped chocolate, and nudged it toward you.

"That means it's for you," Jake explained.

"Oh, thank you," You said, blushing lightly as you took the chocolate from Heeseung. Your fingers brushed, and you couldn't help but notice the warmth of Heeseung's skin. The size difference between the chocolate in his hand and yours intrigued you. Before you could say more, Jake ushered Heeseung away.

"Well, you think about the party today! It was nice meeting you," Jake called back as he guided Heeseung toward the gaming store.

"Yeah, you too," you muttered to yourself. You looked down at the chocolate, opened the wrapper, and popped it into your mouth, savoring the unexpectedly delicious taste of caramel. With a shrug, you tossed the wrapper into a nearby trash can and continued with your shopping, thoughts of the party lingering in your mind.

Heeseung`s POV:

Heeseung stood near the entrance of the mall, his attention lost in his thoughts as the world passed by. A sudden impact jolted him, and he instinctively prepared to glare at the perpetrator. However, when his eyes met yours all traces of irritation dissipated, replaced by a sense of fascination.

You mumbled an apology, your voice weaving a sense of normalcy into his troubled world. As you engaged in conversation with Jake, Heeseung found himself feeling strangely giddy, observing you act so effortlessly regular. Little did you know that he was the unseen cause of the disturbance in her life, a hidden figure orchestrating chaos from the shadows.

His focus shifted to the interaction between you and Jake, and a subtle warmth filled his chest. He watched as you accepted the heart-shaped chocolate from him, your fingers briefly brushing in the exchange. The touch sent a pleasant tingle down his spine, leaving him with a subtle, lingering joy.

Jake pulled him away toward the gaming store, and Heeseung went willingly, turning his gaze back for a moment to observe you. From afar, he witnessed you unwrap the chocolate and take a bite, his heart lifting with happiness. A smile, hidden beneath the mask, crept onto his face. The only indication of his joy was the gentle crinkle at the corners of his eyes, a silent expression of contentment as he continued to watch from the shadows.

The room Heeseung was in was dimly lit, the atmosphere carrying an air of calculated calmness. He opened the closet, concealing the bag with the Ghostface costume and the hunting knife with meticulous care. As the door closed, the concealed items seemed to vanish into the shadows. Heeseung's focus shifted to the clothes he had recently purchased, the jeans hugging his legs, a black t-shirt embracing his frame, and a leather jacket adding a touch of mystery. A quick slick of his hair back completed the transformation.

He walked out of the room, leaving behind the ghost of his darker intentions. The party preparations were already underway, and Heeseung joined Jake, Jay, Niki, Jungwon, Sunghoon, Sunoo, and their other friends. Working together, they transformed the space into a lively venue, laughter and music echoing through the walls.

Heeseung chose not to return home; there was nothing for him there. His father, a haunting figure from his past, rested in the depths of a secluded forest, far removed from prying eyes. Today marked the culmination of his plans, and your presence at the party was an unexpected yet welcomed development.

As the festivities commenced, people streamed in, each face a blur of insignificance to Heeseung. He maintained his aloof demeanor, detached from the jovial conversations around him. In the midst of the crowd, he waited patiently, his attention fixed on the entrance, anticipating the arrival of the one person who truly mattered to him.

Your POV:

You and Yeji moved with a silent synchronicity, your stealthy escape from the house guided by the allure of the unknown night. Dressed in contrasting styles, Yeji embraced chic elegance, while you opted for black jeans paired with a red off-shoulder top. The two of you ventured into the world outside, leaving behind the constraints of parental knowledge.

The party pulsated with life as you arrived, the atmosphere thick with the scent of alcohol, drugs, and the perspiration of dancing bodies. The booming music enveloped you as you navigated through the crowd. Yeji found her boyfriend, disappearing into the sea of people, leaving you to explore the chaotic beauty of the gathering on your own.

With a drink in hand, you claimed a vacant spot on a couch. It was an unconventional choice, sharing the space with a couple too engrossed in each other to notice your presence. As you sipped your drink, you observed the rhythmic movements on the dance floor, losing yourself in the pulsating beats.

Your gaze wandered, and unexpectedly, it met Heeseung's. For the first time, the black mask was absent, revealing the entirety of his face. You found yourself captivated by his handsome features, his sharp lines softened by the absence of the usual disguise. You chewed on your bottom lip, unknowingly drawn into an observation that felt both intrusive and intimate.

Heeseung, engaged in conversation with Sunghoon, eventually turned his head. As his eyes met yours, the intensity in his gaze was palpable. You, caught off guard, quickly averted your eyes, the unexpected connection leaving you both intrigued and uneasy.

Heeseung`s POV:

Heeseung's attention wavered as he conversed with Sunghoon, a subtle force pulling at him, urging him to look elsewhere. And when he did, his eyes found you in the crowd. The chaotic surroundings seemed to fade away, leaving only you in his field of vision.

A strange sensation bloomed in Heeseung's chest, an unfamiliar warmth that spread through him. The sight of you stirred something within him, a desire to sweep you away from the prying eyes of the party and offer you everything he had, the entirety of his world.

A smirk played on Heeseung's lips as he locked eyes with you. He raised his drink to his lips, savoring the liquid as he continued to gaze at you, a silent promise lingering in the air.

Heeseung confidently placed his finished drink on the table and strolled past the dancing floor, heading straight toward you. The glances from his friends, filled with confusion, didn't deter him. A quick glance at his wristwatch made him grin. He had time.

Stopping in front of you, he extended his hand and gestured towards the dancing floor. At your initial hesitation, he raised an eyebrow, silently questioning. You, after putting down your own drink, took his hand. He licked his lips before gently pulling you towards the dancing floor.

As you danced, Heeseung encouraged you with smiles, and to his surprise, you started to move with more confidence. He grinned and, seizing the opportunity, placed his hands on your waist. The synchronization between you two was so natural that you didn't notice a growing circle of people around you, cheering and hyping you up.

The dance reached its climax when Heeseung gripped you, spinning you around before ending with a dramatic pose – him holding you in a dip. The applause and cheers from the crowd engulfed you, but in that moment, Heeseung and you seemed to exist in your own world, your eyes locked, both of you catching your breaths.

Heeseung lifted you up again with a playful grin before backing away. The music abruptly stopped, and everyone turned their attention to Jay, who held the microphone.

"I just got news that the principal is stuck up by the flagpole at school!" Jay announced, and the crowd erupted in excitement, rushing out of the house to witness the unexpected spectacle.

Your POV:

Your surprise flickered across your face when you noticed someone standing in front of you. However, as Heeseung came into view, that initial surprise morphed into a different kind of astonishment. When he extended his hand, asking you to dance, you hesitated for a moment, glancing around at the lively atmosphere. The music pulsed through the air, beckoning you to join in the fun.

Feeling a sudden burst of confidence, you accepted Heeseung's hand and joined him on the dance floor. As the rhythm took over, you grinned, noticing the surprise in Heeseung's expression. The music became a bridge, connecting you in a dance that felt surprisingly natural. You felt good dancing with Heeseung, the movements easy and fluid.

The dance reached its peak, and you ended with a pose that left you mesmerized, locking eyes with Heeseung. It was a moment suspended in time until Jay's announcement shattered the spell. The shocking news about the principal by the flagpole sent a wave of confusion through the crowd, and the house emptied with lightning speed.

You stood there, shocked, watching the sudden exodus. The party had dissipated in an instant, leaving you alone in the now-quiet room. Your gaze searched for Heeseung, only to find that he, too, had vanished along with the rest of the revelers.

The flickering light of the TV cast a surreal glow over the room as the stragglers from the party settled in to watch Train to Busan. You, initially indifferent, sat beside Yeji, who had pleaded with you to stay. The remaining company included Yeji's boyfriend Jiyoo, Doyun, Beomseok, and Byeol—classmates whom you recognized but didn't particularly engage with.

As the movie unfolded on the screen, Beomseok began a vociferous rant, berating the film's intelligence and boastfully claiming he'd easily survive a horror movie. Doyun, unnoticed by the others, vanished in pursuit of a beer, only to meet his demise at Ghostface's hands in the kitchen.

Byeol, prompted by a call from his concerned mother, left the gathering, unknowingly walking towards his fatal encounter with Ghostface, his life brutally ended in his own car.

Feeling the need to escape the awkwardness of the situation, you excused yourself, heading upstairs in search of the bathroom. Locking yourself in, you remained oblivious to the unfolding bloodshed until a piercing scream echoed through the house. Startled, you rushed downstairs, only to be met with a nightmarish scene.

Jiyoo lay lifeless on the floor, Yeji wailing in grief, and Beomseok standing beside her, bloodied and wounded, wielding a pan in defense. Beomseok, acknowledging your presence, blamed you for the chaos, proclaiming that your mere presence had attracted the crazed Ghostface. However, the sudden sound of a gunshot silenced him as he fell backward, shot by an unseen assailant.

Turning towards the kitchen, your eyes widened at the sight of Ghostface—his mask smeared with blood, holding a knife and a gun. The gun was now pointed at you, and you instinctively raised your hands in surrender.

"Please..." Yeji pleaded, fear evident in her tear-filled eyes.

Ghostface disregarded Yeji and turned his masked visage toward you, his eyes hidden behind the haunting expression. "You really are a gem, do you know that, sweetheart?" he remarked, his voice carrying an unsettling calmness. "You know, when I first broke into your house, I wanted to end you," he continued, the weight of his words settling like a suffocating blanket, "but afterwards? I came to the realization that I don't want to kill you."

A mixture of confusion and terror clouded your expression as you ventured, "Then... what do you want to do?"

An airy laugh escaped Ghostface's concealed mouth, sending shivers down your spine. "I want you to be mine forever," he declared, the words hanging in the air like a sinister melody.

"What...?" You uttered, unable to conceal the fear in your voice.

Ghostface chuckled, "So let me make you a deal. If you come with me right now, I will leave your friend alive. Your choice."

The gravity of the decision weighed heavily on your shoulders. Your gaze flickered between Yeji, still engulfed in sorrow, and the masked figure before you. The room seemed to close in, the silence punctuated only by the muffled sobs of Yeji. In that harrowing moment, you grappled with an impossible choice, the consequences echoing through the chilling laughter of the masked assailant.

Before you could comprehend the gravity of his words, a shot rang out, and Ghostface vanished into hiding. A police officer, responding to a noise complaint, entered the scene, providing momentary relief. Another officer appeared in the doorway, and you felt a surge of gratitude.

However, the relief was short-lived. The first officer, in a moment of panic at seeing Ghostface peek out behind the wall, began firing indiscriminately. The room descended into chaos, and your, eyes wide with horror, witnessed the accidental demise of your friend. Yeji's lifeless body lay on the ground, a casualty of the very protectors who were supposed to ensure safety.

In shock, you stumbled down the stairs and out of the house. The cop who inadvertently caused the tragedy looked on in horror, realizing the magnitude of the mistake.

The air crackled with tension, and the scent of blood lingered like an ominous premonition. Your tear-filled eyes remained fixed on Yeji's lifeless form, an overwhelming grief tightening your chest.

In the midst of the disarray, two sudden, deafening gunshots pierced the air. The cops, caught off guard, crumpled to the floor- dead. The room fell into shocked silence, broken only by Ghostface's eerie chuckle. Emerging from the shadows, he stepped over the fallen officers, his dark cloak billowing like a phantom in the night.

Ghostface's masked gaze shifted from the lifeless bodies to you. He shook his head in a feigned disappointment. "See what happens when you don't trust me, princess? Now your friend is dead." The callous words cut through the air, leaving you speechless as fresh tears streamed down your face.

Crouching down beside you, Ghostface tutted disapprovingly. He reached out, his gloved hand cupping your chin, wiping away tears with a scrap of his cloak. "Don't cry, my love," he whispered, his voice a chilling murmur. "I would hate to ruin your pretty mascara."

Your tear-streaked face, illuminated by the flickering lights of police cars in the distance, revealed the toll of the horror you had witnessed. As exhaustion overcame you, your body gave in, and you collapsed against the masked figure, your breaths shallow and ragged. Exhausted and broken, you could only muster silent sobs, as you succumbed to the darkness.

Ghostface's voice, a chilling contrast to the chaos that had unfolded, whispered reassurance to the shattered girl in his arms. "Oh, my poor dear... Don't worry. I will take good care of you, my precious gem." His words, seemingly soothing, echoed with an unsettling promise as he gently lifted you from the blood-stained scene, cradling you like a fragile doll.

Guiding you towards a hidden car, Ghostface laid you down in the backseat with a tenderness that contradicted the violence that had transpired moments ago. The muted glow of the streetlights illuminated his masked visage as he carefully arranged you, the weight of your unconscious form a reminder of the darkness that clung to him.

Returning to the house, Ghostface, a master of deception, meticulously staged the aftermath. Beomseok's lifeless body was draped in the iconic Ghostface costume, a macabre transformation that would divert any lingering suspicions. The scene bore the haunting imprint of a horror movie set, with the pale moonlight casting eerie shadows over the distorted reality he had crafted.

Having completed his sinister tableau, Ghostface returned to the idling car. Opening the door with a sense of purpose, he found you still lost in the refuge of unconsciousness. Ghostface slid into the driver's seat, his gloved hands gripping the steering wheel with a steely resolve.

As the car glided away from the crime-ridden suburban tableau, Ghostface's eyes remained fixed on the road ahead, a sinister smile hidden beneath the mask. The darkened highway stretched out before him, leading to the next town.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅──╮

The groggy haze began to lift from your mind as you slowly awoke in an unfamiliar bed. You winced, feeling a dull ache throughout your body, and a groan escaped your lips as you sat up. The room around you was dimly lit, and the bed you found yourself on was surprisingly comfortable.

Your eyes scanned the surroundings, and a sudden wave of realization hit you. Memories of the horrifying events from the night before flooded back, and your heart sank. Yeji, your friend, was dead, and Ghostface had taken you.

Your hands gripped the edge of the table beside the bed as a heart-wrenching sob threatened to escape. You couldn't comprehend the nightmare you had become a part of.

A note on the table caught your attention, and you read the ominous message. "Fresh clothes in the closet, take a shower princess." The word 'princess' sent shivers down your spine, and your eyes widened with dread. Nevertheless, you gathered yourself and steeled your resolve.

Waddling towards the door, you tried the handle, only to find it locked. Frustration and fear fueled your determination. You gritted your teeth and surveyed the room for another way out. Spotting another door, you cautiously approached and turned the handle, revealing a surprisingly luxurious bathroom.

The sight of the pristine facilities contrasted sharply with the terror of the previous night. Taking a deep breath, you decided to follow the note's instructions. You crumpled the note in your hand, a silent rebellion against the unseen captor, before locking the bathroom door behind you.

The hot water cascaded over you, washing away the physical and emotional stains of the previous night. You lingered, lost in your thoughts, as if the water could cleanse you of the horror you had experienced.

Emerging from the shower, you found the promised clothes in the closet. A pair of pants and a warm sweater offered some comfort in this strange place. You dressed quickly, your mind racing with uncertainty and fear.

Once again facing the locked door, you sighed. The feeling of entrapment settled in your chest, but you pushed it aside, determined to confront whatever awaited you beyond that door. With one last glance around the room, you returned to the bed and sat, bracing yourself for whatever came next.

When the door to the bedroom clicked open, you cautiously pushed it ajar. Peering into the adjacent spaces, you found yourself in a kitchen with a faint aroma of something cooking. To your right, a living room unfolded, and in its midst sat Ghostface, the embodiment of your nightmares. Yet, he appeared different—regular jeans, a black t-shirt, and the ominous Ghostface mask, casually manspreading in a chair, hands resting comfortably on his lap. The mask concealed his expression, leaving you to grapple with the mystery of the man who had brought you here.

"Come on out, princess," his voice rumbled, carrying the roughness of a morning awakening. You hesitated for a moment, your eyes fixed on the mysterious figure. You cautiously stepped forward, closing the bedroom door behind you. The click of the lock echoed in the room, and Ghostface gestured for you to come closer.

With hesitance in your steps, you moved towards him, your eyes flickering between the enigmatic mask and the man beneath it. Ghostface didn't rush you, his posture remaining relaxed as if he had all the time in the world.

But as you approached, his strong hands shot out, gripping your waist, and he effortlessly pulled you onto his lap. "There you are," he said, his voice surprisingly calm, as if this was an ordinary encounter.

You stiffened, gazing into the mask that concealed his identity. The weight of the question lingering in your eyes, you asked, "Who are you? Why did you do this to me?"

"Oh, my love," he replied, his voice softening, "I told you it's because I love you." Before you could react, his hands moved to the secure straps of the mask. Holding your breath, you watched as he unclasped the clasps, removing the Ghostface mask and tossing it aside. A gasp escaped your lips as Heeseung's handsome and sharp face was revealed.

"Heeseung!?" you exclaimed, the shock evident in your voice. The revelation left you speechless. "You're Ghostface?"

"Yes, I am," Heeseung confirmed, his grip on you firm but gentle. "And you are mine." With those words, he pulled you in for a kiss. You gasped at the unexpected intimacy. Conflicting emotions swirled within you—your long-time crush, Heeseung, was kissing you.

You felt an unexpected surge of warmth and a fluttering sensation deep in your stomach. Your heart and brain seemed to engage in a silent battle, each demanding you attention with conflicting emotions.

The warmth of the kiss sent a cascade of conflicting signals through you. On one hand, there was the undeniable thrill of being kissed by someone you had secretly admired for so long. His lips, warm and tender, pressed against yours, creating a sensory overload that your heart eagerly embraced.

But then your brain, the logical part of you, fought back with a barrage of questions and concerns. This was the same person who had, just moments ago, been hidden behind the Ghostface mask, the person who had orchestrated nights of terror that ended in tragedy. The internal struggle intensified, causing a whirlwind of emotions that left you momentarily disoriented.

Yet, despite the internal conflict, the kiss itself was undeniably magnetic. Heeseung's gentle caresses and the way he held you close seemed to overpower the rational part of your mind. The butterflies in your stomach danced, and for that brief moment, the chaos within you was silenced by the intoxicating allure of the kiss.

As Heeseung deepened the kiss, while his hands caressed your waist, your heart won the internal battle, and you reciprocated the kiss with fervor. Your thoughts became a distant murmur, and you surrendered to the swirling emotions, letting the warmth and intimacy of the moment envelop you.

Heeseung smirked in the midst of the passionate embrace, his hands wrapped around you, pulling you even closer until there was no space left between you. Your lips met in a fervent dance, an intimate tango that seemed to defy the boundaries of time and reason. You felt the warmth of his touch, the gentle caress of his fingers on your hips, and the magnetic pull that seemed to bind you two together.

With a newfound boldness, you tightened your grip on Heeseung's shirt, fingers clinging to the fabric as if grounding yourself in the intensity of the moment. The rhythmic dance of your lips became a symphony of shared longing, and you found yourself unable to resist exploring further.

Slipping your hands up from his shirt to his cheeks, you savored the sensation of his skin beneath your fingertips. The kiss grew more passionate, and in an unspoken exchange, you let your fingers trace the contours of his face, memorizing the details that had long been masked by the ominous masks.

Your hands continued their journey, winding through Heeseung's hair. The once neatly styled locks now fell victim to your eager touch, tousled and disheveled by your exploring fingers. His hair, soft and slightly damp from a shower, felt soft beneath your touch.

As you pulled back from the kiss, you found yourself breathless, your chest rising and falling with the intensity of the shared moment. Yet, when you gazed into Heeseung's eyes, you discovered a hunger, an unquenchable longing that mirrored your own conflicted emotions.

Heeseung, with his hair tousled from the passionate exchange, stared at you with a mixture of love and obsession. His puffy, red lips, moistened by the flick of his tongue, spoke volumes of the desire that lingered between you two. The air was charged with tension as he chased after your lips. His eyes, dark with desire, locked onto yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Undeterred by your withdrawal, Heeseung redirected his attention, placing lingering kisses along your jawline and down to your neck. His actions were filled with a possessive urgency, a declaration of the emotions that simmered beneath the surface. However, a low growl escaped him when you, using your grip on his tousled hair, pulled him back.

With a pout that accentuated the desire in his eyes, Heeseung looked up at you. His hands, now caressing up and down your sides, ventured down to your hips, fingers tracing the curves with an almost reverent touch. The room seemed to pulse with the ebb and flow of your desires, a dance of conflicting emotions and unspoken promises.

"Heeseung, wait... what about my mom? And my brother? They are, for sure, worried now," you voiced your concerns, turning away to confront the reality that lingered beyond the stolen moments of passion. Heeseung, undeterred, gently made you face him again with his right hand, the left continuing its tender exploration of your hip.

"Don't worry, Princess. It's all taken care of," Heeseung reassured, his voice a soothing melody that wrapped around you. Before you could decipher the cryptic assurance, Heeseung seized the moment, pulling you down for another kiss. The words that lingered on the tip of your tongue dissolved into the sweet oblivion of the kiss. Heeseung's actions spoke louder than any explanation he could provide, and you found yourself willingly surrendering to the enchantment of the moment.

Lost in the depths of the kiss, Heeseung tilted his head, deepening the connection between you. The world outside faded away, leaving only the echo of their entwined breaths and the lingering taste of a love that defied logic and reason. As the seconds slipped away, your concerns were momentarily silenced, replaced by the intoxicating allure of a passion that seemed to have been waiting for this moment to ignite.

As Heeseung held you in his lap, a surge of gratitude and contentment washed over him. He couldn't help but feel fortunate to have you, the only woman he had ever wanted, nestled in the cocoon of his arms. Your warmth against him felt like a cherished promise of a future you would share together.

The room around you seemed to fade away as Heeseung reveled in the moment. The soft rhythm of your breathing created a gentle melody, an unspoken connection that echoed the depth of your growing bond. He gently traced patterns on your back, savoring the feeling of your closeness, as if committing every nuance of the experience to memory.

In that intimate embrace, Heeseung couldn't imagine anything more perfect. You was his, and he was yours—bound together by an unbreakable thread that wove through the fabric of the shared existence. As he pressed a tender kiss to the crown of your head, he whispered words that echoed the sincerity of his heart, "Forever and ever, my love."

END OF PART 1

Masterlist:

Part 2

#heeseung x reader #heeseung fanfic #heesung enhypen #lee heeseung #heeseung #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #enhypen fic #enhypen #ghostface #heeseung x you #heeseung enhypen #heeseung x yn #enhypen fanfiction #writers on tumblr

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uniquevoidflowers · 10 months

Text

"What's that noise?" Wild asked.

"Oh...I think...a portal?" Four stood up and listened.

Legend also listened for the noise and soon found it, repeating in his ear. An eerie, ominous noise. "Let's go then." Time demanded and everyone began packing the camp up.

Once everything was ready to go, the cook led them towards a swirly black and purple triangle. The veteran hero remembered going through the portal the first time and ending up in the clearing where all the Links had met. Warriors smirked as Legend inched closer to the portal. "Well, going first again, vet?"

"Who do you take me for?" Legend rolled his eyes and stepped through the portal, chuckles slowly distorting and fading until disappearing completely.

The vet looked around to see he was in his era, and a smile crept across his face. He might get to see Zelda again. "Hey, we're in my era." Legend called and turned around only to see no portal there, and no sign of anyone but himself.

The blood drained from his face.

"H-Hello?" He yelled and then ran around, looking through bushes and behind trees, everywhere he could.

No one.

Legend took a deep breath and waited. He could wait for the portal to appear again, or for his brothers to find him. If...If nothing happened he could go to the castle, or his house, look for the chain. Maybe the portal took them somewhere else? Silence filled the air as the skies became cloudy. Legend waited but no one arrived so he started on his way to his house. Ravio would be there, awaiting him. Eventually, he spotted his house on the orchard and sprinted towards the door, hand gripping the doorknob and pushing the door open. "Rav? I'm home!" He called.

Nothing.

"This isn't funny!" Legend huffed and began searching the house.

Instead of two beds, he found one. Instead of finding Ravio's stuff and numerous hoods he found a green tunic and some of his own stuff. Legend searched everywhere but it was like Ravio had never even existed in the first place. "Maybe he went to go sleepover somewhere." Legend said to himself and walked out of the empty house.

"I'll kill that idiot for leaving my house unattended." Legend muttered, no real anger in his tone.

He travelled to the castle. The villages bustled with villagers who didn't seem to notice the hero walking around. Legend tried walking past a knight who did nothing but blink at him and then look over at someone else. Huh. Weird.

The veteran made it to the castle and tried to walk in, but the guards didn't let him. "State your business." They ordered.

"I want to see Zelda." Legend demanded, irritated.

The guards looked at him with confusion. "Zelda? I ain't heard of a Zelda."

"Stop playing with me, this is serious. I'll let the princess know how you're acting. She won't be happy." Legend snapped, irritation flickering through his eyes.

"Hm?"

Legend looked to see a girl he didn't recognize with a crown and a white dress. "This boy has been requesting to see you." The guards bowed.

The girl's eyes flickered with suspicion. "Who are you and why are you here?" She asked the vet.

"I--I don't...I'm Link! The Hero of Legend? I saved Hyrule from Ganon...I want to see princess Zelda!" He insisted, voice cracking at the end.

"Who's Zelda?" She asked.

"The princess of Hyrule?!" Legend tried.

"I'm the princess of Hyrule." The girl replied, eyeing the vet with concern.

This wasn't a new Hyrule. Legend recognized everything, even some of the villagers were familiar faces. So why...? "I-This doesn't make any sense!" Legend cried out.

"Have you hit your head? Is there some spell affecting you?" The girl questioned.

She thought he was insane. "No...No..I...Sorry, I'll be out of your hair now." Legend ran out of the castle and ran until he bumped into someone.

It looked like Impa. "Oh, Impa, thank the goddesses." He breathed.

The lady paid him no mind. "Impa!" He hissed.

No one answered him. The lady brushed past him and walked to a stall. Legend ran back to her. "Excuse me?"

The lady finally turned around. "Yes?"

"Are you...Impa by chance?" He asked.

"Uh, no, sorry." The lady shook her head and went back to buying whatever she was buying.

Legend saw Gulley, standing around. "Gulley!" He called.

Gulley turned around. "Who are you?" He asked, face twisted in confusion.

"Link...." Legend tried.

"Doesn't ring a bell." Gulley shrugged and started walking away.

Tears pricked at his eyes as he broke into a sprint into the forest. He made it to his house. He opened the door and practically sunk in a chair. He pulled out a journal and began sketching everybody he remembered. Zelda...Ravio...Ralph...

He moved onto the chain and tried to do the old man first but he couldn't...he couldn't remember what his face looked like. All he could remember of the face was that the old man only had one eye. Legend tried to sketch the smith, but....what....what did he look like again?

He knew the smith was short for his age....but how old was he? After a few failed attempts at sketching the smith he moved on to the traveller. But...he couldn't do it.

Link fell apart and started sobbing, paper and pencil falling to the ground.

They all weren't real. Link was dreaming the entire time. Link screamed and started throwing things across the room, pots smashing against walls and items cracking and shattering on the ground. Link sobbed and sobbed. He couldn't take another dream. He thought Marin had been real, then she was a dream. He thought the chain was real. He believed his friends were real. But they weren't.

Link remained like that for a couple of hours before there were no tears left. He sat against the wall, taking a few deep breaths. Then...he felt...hollow. His thoughts swirled until they became gibberish. All he recognized was that he was

A L O N E

___________

Ravio was delighted to hear a knock on the door. He opened it wide to see Link's friends there, panicked expressions on their faces. Ravio's smile fell. "Everything alright?"

"We went through a portal. We were separated from Le-er Link. Is he here?" Mr. Captain Hero Sir asked.

Ravio shook his head. Link's friends exchanged worried glances. "I-I'm sure everything's okay! He probably is just making his way here, or he's with Zelda." Ravio insisted.

"Or he got lost in another era." Captain Hero Sir Jr. mused.

"Could that even happen?!" Tune gasped, eyes wide.

"It's a possibility but very unlikely." Mr. Captain Hero Sir sighed.

Ravio takes a deep breath. "Well, I'm going to check in with Zelda and if Link's not there...I'll have to contact everyone."

"We'll come with." Captain Hero Sir Jr. rumbled.

Ravio nodded and set out with the heroes. After a long while they all arrived at the castle. Zelda informed them that she hadn't seen Link in forever. She had only gotten letters. Ravio asked her to contact people and Mr. Ralph Sir had promised to check in with Labyrnnia and Holodrum to see if Link had gotten there. After a few days of searching, no one could find Link. Mr. Champion Hero Sir tried to use the slate thingy of his but it was no use. Mr. Chosen Hero tried using the Master Sword but it didn't work.

"Where could he be?!" Mr. Traveller Hero cried out.

"A different era." Captain Hero Sir Jr. sighed, face stoic.

"We need to find a portal then." Mr Captain Hero Sir demanded.

"By--"

"No. I'm coming with." Ravio huffed and stuffed a few of his weapons in a bag.

The heroes nodded, surprised and Ravio set out with them once more.

"Mr. Hero? Link?" Ravio whispered.

Link looked up at him. His eyes shone no light, his eyes red and the house he was sitting him an absolute disaster. Pots had been smashed, glass was sitting on the ground next to him. "Mr. Hero...what happened?" He asked.

"Not...real." Link mumbled.

"What?"

"You're not real." Link hissed and grabbed a jar from a table and threw it across the room, the glass flying on the floor.

"Mr. Hero, don't do that! I'm real, I promise." Ravio panicked and wrapped his arms around Link.

"You can't be..." Link growled and shoved the merchant off of him.

"Link. You disappeared on your companions, and myself, because you were whisked away somewhere else by the portal. None of us know where we are, but this is not the Hyrule we live in." Ravio explained.

"Not real!" Link grabbed another jar and threw it at Ravio, barely missing.

"It is!" Ravio promised, weakly.

Oh Lolia, how does he convince Link he's real? "Ravio? Ra-Woah what happened?" Mr. Chosen Hero gasped.

"He doesn't think I'm real." Ravio informed him, softly.

Link curled up on himself, shoulders shaking. Ravio hesitated but hugged Mr. Hero again. "I'm real. I promise. I'm staying right here with you Mr. Hero. We're both real."

Mr. Chosen Hero wrapped his white cape around Link, a sadness in his eyes. "What's happening right now, is we're in some sort of twisted version of your era. Warriors is finding out as much as he can, but we know that this is not your Hyrule."

Link looked up, tears streaming down his cheeks and he nodded. He didn't looked convinced but he still listened. Ravio would have to find a way to help him later. For now they needed to get back to Hyrule.

#linked universe #lu legend #lu warriors #lu wild #lu four #lu ravio #lu time #lu sky #lu wind #lu hyrule #im supposed to be doing other wips but this idea came to me and i couldnt stop myself so you get this #sorry legend #unique writes

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akairawrites · 10 months

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Born for conflict | Jason Todd mini series

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@ella-fella-bo-bella @ayoitsurfavdesigurl @luvvvjada @harleycao @aiq39 @420sprite @stvrfir3 @instabull @lumineliax @rukia-uchiha-98 @1lellykins @skyesayshi @imarimone12 @mysticalhills @deliciousfatblackcat @4arancia @bat-h-tic @luvelyxp @urmomsbananabread @strawberrycreamb @dollceesstuff @just-reading-dany @godknows-shetried @that-levi-kenma-kinnie @cascadingbliss @solaris-love @bbiaa420 @roxanne-loves-Luffy @mess-in-side @jasontoddsthickthigh @lilupie @Crystals-faith

"Again!" The instructor's command echoed through the training room, prompting Y/n to forcefully strike the punching bag.

"Again!" he repeated, and she delivered another powerful blow.

"Again!" This time, her hit caused the punching bag to nearly fly off the hook, ripping open as sand spilled out. Stepping back, she released an exhausted huff, her eyes seeking the instructor for further guidance.

His usual expressionless glare met hers. "Get cleaned up. There's someone I want you to meet over dinner." Nodding in acknowledgment, she watched as he exited the room, leaving her to tend to her bruised and bloody hands on a nearby bench.

Seated, she unwrapped her hands, clenching her fists as she observed the bruising forming over her knuckles. Not wanting to keep her Instructor waiting, she stood and headed for the door, determined to clean up and face whatever awaited her.

After a soothing shower to ease her sore muscles, she dressed and made her way to the dining hall. It exuded an unusual elegance, hinting at the significance of the impending meeting. The dimly lit room, adorned with candles, filled with the aroma of cooking food. Taking a seat at the far end of the table, she prepared for the encounter, usually beside her instructor, who occupied the end of the table.

Mere seconds after settling into her seat, the instructor entered, flanked by three men—one adorned with a black mask, presumably his two bodyguards. Y/n refrained from lifting her gaze from her plate, avoiding eye contact with the skull-like masked man who took a place at the far end, while her instructor occupied the other end beside her. The remaining two men positioned themselves behind the Black Mask.

A silence enveloped the room until the instructor finally spoke.

"Y/n, meet The Black Mask."

Huh.

"This is the sweet girl I’ve heard so much about."

His words sent a shiver down her spine; there was an ominous undertone, a hint of death in his voice that resonated clearly in the quiet dining hall.

Turning to meet The Black Mask's gaze sent shivers down Y/n's spine; his intense stare already fixed upon her.

"Y/n," her instructor's voice broke the unsettling eye contact. The look in his eyes tried to conceal an emotion.

"The Black Mask will be taking you. He has offered a great deal of money because you are one of the best."

A lump formed in her throat. While she anticipated this eventuality, the abruptness caught her off guard. At fourteen, she still had much training ahead.

"As of tomorrow, you will be working for him," he declared. She looked down at her untouched food, her voice steady. "I understand."

"Pack your things. You leave in an hour."

Without hesitation, she rose from her seat and swiftly exited the dimly lit dining hall, leaving behind the weight of an unforeseen destiny.

Exactly an hour later, Y/n stood before the place she once called home. The memories flooded back – the awe of arriving, the enormity of the building, the initial sense of feeling like a princess for a moment.

Handing her bags to a guard from before, she observed as they were tossed into the trunk of a black limousine. Just as she was about to follow, a familiar hand rested on her shoulder. Looking up, her instructor met her gaze.

"Be safe," he advised. "Remember, leaving home opens a new journey for you. Each step is a new chapter in your own story."

Nodding in acknowledgment, Y/n proceeded toward the waiting limo, where The Black Mask awaited. Through the window, she watched her instructor disappear from sight. Once he was entirely gone, she sank back into the seat, exhaling a sigh, unprepared for the long journey ahead.

5 years later

Black Mask seethed with rage at his desk. “Are you telling me the scumbag stole my guns? Again?” he bellowed, surrounded by his assistant and four henchmen.

“No, sir. He destroyed them. Blew up the truck and the drivers,” his assistant calmly explained. “He was enlisting anyone under our province, now he's just killing them,”

Black Mask slammed his hands on the desk, frustrated by his inability to stop the mysterious Red Hood. "So what is he, Batman?"

“No, sir. He's not Batman,” she replied, maintaining a calm expression. “He’s still taking cuts off the streets but eliminating the competition. He's targeting you.”

Fuming, Black Mask growled and flipping his desk over. “You wanna tell me why this guy isn't dead?” he demanded, he walked up to his henchmen and punched each one in the face out of anger.

“We're trying. We sent the Fearsome Hand of Four,” she stated, though she knew it wouldn't be enough.

Looking out at Gotham, Black Mask turned to his assistant. “You don't know Batman. He won't let this lunatic run wild. He can't catch him, or it's something else.”

“Can't you feel it?” he asked, but before she could respond, a red dot appeared on his neck. Panicking, he saw Red Hood on the building, holding a rocket launcher.

“Oh, hell,” he muttered, before turning around and bolting out of his office his assistant followed right behind him. Mere seconds later he pulled the trigger and sent an explosion through the building causing the fire exit to fly off the hinges and crash into the wall. Black Mask ducked just in time.

He stood up and held his neck which would have been taken off by the door if he hadn't moved in time “Okay time to change up the ground war.”

“How so, sir?” his assistant inquired.

“I’m being forced into negotiating with a psychotic,” he admitted. “And there's one person in mind who I think can take on this Red Hood. Bring me Y/n.”

Add yourself to my taglist here

↳ Reblogging also helps!

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blankwashed · 5 months

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“Master, I want to be slapped,”

Frowning, Naoya sat up straight from the chair in his office, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What did you say?" he asked sharply, not quite comprehending your request. "Why would you want me to slap you?"

You whimpered softly, your head turning away from him. "Please, Master," you pleaded, voice barely above a whisper. "I need it. I crave the pain."

Sighing heavily, Naoya stood from his chair and approached you slowly. He ran a gentle hand through his messy hair, trying to calm himself down before replying. "First things first," he muttered reluctantly.

Kneeling beside the chair, Naoya gripped your chin firmly between his fingers, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Look at me," he growled, his eyes flashing dangerously. "This is your punishment for wanting such things. Understand?"

You could feel the shorts you wore getting wetter from the thought of getting smacked in the face by the Zenin’s clan leader. You’re already lucky that he chose you to be his clan matriarch. All you had to do to gain his attention was to be a good girl for your family, by doing most of the chores with the occasion of wearing a too low-cut top and dresses that hugged your figure. Naoya didn’t want a woman who would want things her way; he wanted someone to fuck and show off when he visits other clans. You were just all that. He didn’t care when people criticised him or you, saying that he’s not treating you well. Was he not? He would pamper you by buying all the latest outfits, skincare, makeup and has doctors ready to serve you in need at any time. Princess treatment, he would call it. Only for the sexiest.

Naoya then narrowed his eyes in anger as he heard your pathetic attempt at self-deprecation. You weren’t worthless to him—far from it—but seeing you sell yourself short only fueled his desire to dominate further. With a snarl, he grabbed you by the hair and yanked your head back forcefully. "Don't you ever speak ill of yourself in front of me!" he growled, spittle flying from his mouth.

In one swift motion, he slammed his open palm against her other cheek, leaving a bright red mark in its wake. You cried out in pain, biting down on your lower lip to keep from screaming. Blood trickled from the corner of your mouth, adding another layer of humiliation to your already battered appearance.

"Begging for more, aren't you?" Naoya taunted, his voice dripping with venom. Without waiting for an answer, he delivered another harsh smack across both cheeks, this time causing your vision to blur from the agony. Tears streamed down your face unchecked as you struggled not to collapse under the weight of his wrath.

There was a perverse pleasure coursing through your veins. This was what you needed—this raw, primal submission that left you aching for more. You had been right all along; only someone like Naoya could give you what you deserve.

“Master Naoya,” you tried to continue, despite the ache in your face. “The reason why I deserve to be punished is because I need to be taught a lesson. I’ve thought about your other generals in a sexual way and I think it is not right, please master…any punishment is suited for me,”

Enraged by her confession, Naoya grabbed Desiree by the shoulders. His grip was like steel, digging into her tender flesh until she winced in pain. "You little slut," he hissed, spit flying from his mouth onto her. "After everything I've done for you, how dare you think about anyone else? You are mine, do you understand?"

Without waiting for an answer, he dragged her across the floor towards their bathroom. Once inside, he shoved her roughly against the cold tile wall and reached for something hidden beneath the sink. In moments, he emerged holding a leather belt, its buckle glinting ominously in the dim light. A special belt, only used for special and naughty moments like this. The belt was thick genuine leather, not one to wear around a waist but it was in your favourite colour. Naoya chose it because he knew that there was no way you could stay perfect in his books for long. He was waiting for this, then smirked as he’s never been able to use it before since you were such a good and lawful wife.

"You are going to like this," he warned darkly, raising the belt high overhead. Before you could react, he brought it crashing down upon your exposed thigh, right beside your pussy. A searing pain shot through her body as the thick leather made contact with her sensitive skin. She cried out loudly, arching her back involuntarily as waves of agony washed over her.

He bit your lip, hard enough to almost draw blood. It was a horrifying view to others, but it made you feel so empowered. Empowered that Naoya Zenin, head of the Zenin clan would care so much about you till he would do such unexplainable things. Naoya then started to suck hungrily on your nipples, biting and licking at the bruised tips. Your moans were fuel for him to go on with the horrid assault, already imagining what other things he would do.

“This, is what only I can do to your body, you cock hungry worthless bitch. No other man, will be able to touch you. To see how much of a slut I allow you to be around me, or for them for that matter,” he reached down to grasp his leaking cock and positioned it right at your entrance. He scoffed at how wet you have become, just listening to his dirty talk.

Your cries of pain went to deaf ears while you had arched your back. He was too big and fast for any human to fathom. Naoya ignored your protests and continued to relentlessly assault his pussy, the pussy that he claims as his. A cruel grin shed on his face as he could feel you clamping down on his unorthodox actions.

His actions became erratic, each powerful thrust sending shockwaves of sensation to your entire body. Your moans grew erratic and louder, desperate for release. Desperate for his sweet cum in you. Looking at Naoya in his eyes only gave him a sick idea, you wish you didn’t. He wanted to crush whatever spirit and attack all your weaknesses in one go.

As he reached the peak of his orgasm, Naoya let out a primal roar that shook the very foundations of their shared existence. Quickly, he drew out from you and came on the floor. The cold, shining, bathroom floor. Thick, hot semen erupted from his throbbing member.

“Lick the floor clean, you slut. Thirsty for some cum huh? This is punishment for looking at others. And don’t even think of calling our maids to clean it up for you. You are always on my eye, bitch,” Naoya sneered at you, zipped up his pants and left.

the only men i would let degrade me to this point are from jjk #nocap

#naoya #naoya zenin #toji #toji zenin #gojo #gojo satoru #jjk smut #abuse smut #fics #naoya smut

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deviltakesthewaltz · 1 month

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“I’m glad to see young love is as sweet for you as it was for me.”

Clarke’s grip tightens so abruptly, the glass in her hand cracks ominously. Shit. Loosening it carefully, Clarke swallows around the obstruction in her throat and levels a forced smile she’s sure is far too sharp at the corners on the woman. The old lady stares back, eyes twinkling.

“I wouldn’t say it’s at that stage,” Clarke says; she’s trying so hard to keep her bite out of her voice that it careens the other way instead, airy and breathless. Revolting. It makes her sound exactly like the woman is implying.

The woman chuckles, bringing her glass to her lips and taking a measured sip before lowering it and suggesting, “It will be soon, then. I’m familiar with these things. Lots of grandkids, you know.”

“We’ve only been dating for a few months,” Clarke says dismissively. The liquor burns its way down her throat.

“The older you get, the more you realize time doesn’t matter much.”

Clarke blinks. She looks at the woman, and decides to take a moment to indulge herself.

She imagines how those fragile old bones would snap and splinter under her fists. It would certainly wipe that knowing smile off that withered face.

Clarke has never envisioned herself living particularly long. For most of her life now, when she imagines the future, there’s nothing but blood and ash. Vengeance; anything that comes after is irrelevant, a blurry gray that doesn’t matter. She can’t even imagine herself as an old woman.

It’s something she’s long known isn’t meant for her. A special handful of Others left a lasting impact on the world. Her father was one of them. Going on two decades since his death, Arkadia was remembered fondly, worshiped by the people, plastic stars still strewn through the city, plastered on windows in remembrance. Even Spacewalker was remembered, despite how brief Finn’s run had been; he was still celebrated every year.

For the rest of the Others, they appeared like shooting stars; here to momentarily burn their way through the atmosphere, and then disappear forever, leaving nothing behind but an empty black void.

It takes her a moment to return from her reverie. When she does, she registers the smile on the woman’s wrinkled face, watching her as if Clarke was lost in thought over her supposed love for Alexandria Woodward, Polis’ darling, the most coveted woman among Polis’ top ten bachelorettes, the charity princess who donated so much she single-handedly brought Polis’ homelessness down to zero.

Clarke hates her. And this ancient cunt who thinks she knows everything.

She’s just started to consider all the ways she could kill her and make it look like an accident when a soft hand lands on the small of her back and makes her jump; another hand gently encircles her wrist to keep the wine from sloshing over the rim of her glass. Before Clarke can process anything else, warm, full lips press against her own. Her eyes shut and she leans into it automatically, all the air leaving her lungs.

“I wondered where you disappeared to,” Lexa murmurs as she draws back. Clarke finds herself leaning forward to chase her lips, and the moment she realizes, she blinks and pulls back. Lexa has that typical expression she wears sometimes, both as Alexandria Woodward and the Commander. An face that could almost be considered blank, were it not for the amusement dancing in her grey eyes and hidden in the slightest uptick to one corner of her full lips. She inclines her head toward the old woman in lieu of a glance. “Mind if I steal her away?”

She doesn’t wait for a response, smoothly pulling Clarke towards the dance floor, but the old woman still calls to them, “Enjoy your evening, girls.”

Clarke can tell, by the way Lexa ducks her head, that she’s hiding a smirk. Clarke rolls her eyes as she turns to face her when they reach the center of the dance floor.

“Shut up,” Clarke grumbles, even as she languidly leans into Lexa’s body, stretching her arms around her neck and drawing close enough their chests press together. She can tell by the way Lexa’s tongue darts out to wet her lips that it hasn’t gone unappreciated.

“For the record, I’m definitely not in love with you,” Lexa drawls, staring apathetically at the couple dancing next to them. Of course she’d heard their conversation. Probably from across the room. “I’ve only just approached the threshold of being able to tolerate your presence without trying to kill you.”

Despite herself, Clarke’s lips curl up on one side. “The feeling is mutual, though I’m sure my tolerance isn’t nearly as generous as yours.”

“I surmised as much after you stabbed me.”

Clarke rolls her eyes again, as Lexa spins her. “But did you die? Get over it.”

“I said I’ve managed to stop trying to kill you. I said nothing about not wanting to.”

“Neither did I. I don’t know if I’ve ever spent a moment around you not wanting to kill you.”

Lexa’s next spin curls Clarke into her arms, back pressed to front, where Lexa can murmur into her ear, “Or wanting me in some other capacity.”

Clarke scoffs. “Now who’s the pot calling the kettle black?”

#dttw #clexa #clexa fic #Clarke x Lexa #clexa snippet #enemies to lovers #femslash

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emeritusemeritus · 7 months

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Can i request a soft dom Fred and mean Dom George (george is the rougher twin you cant change my mind on that 😂)brat taming their wife and it ending in fluff when they find out the reason shes been so cranky with them is cause they’re expecting.

Please 🙏🏽 if not i understand 😊

Okay this was right up my alley and I could not leave this alone! I personally think George would definitely be the meaner Dom without doubt. I hope it’s okay that I switched the ending around a little with them finding out she was pregnant rather than knowing all along 🖤

Warnings: Brat!Wife x Dom!Twins, George is kinda mean, Fred is the soft!dom. Punishments, spanking, pussy spanking, sex, piv sex, aftercare, swearing. Graphic smut, pregnancy, minor vomiting. Polyamory, two husbands. Fluff and playful banter.

Words: 3.2k

Use your words.

"Say that again," George says lowly, a harsh look in his eyes. His tone is clipped and steady and though his words implore you to repeat yourself, there's no semblance of him asking for you to repeat yourself.

"I. don't. want. it," you reply, eyes filled with mischief as you bite back, though your face is blank and goading.

"Let me get this straight," he says, pinching the little bumped bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "The food you wanted, the meal you requested this morning, you don't want it now? That's what you're telling me?"

Playing this game with George is like winding up a child's toy. You consider your answer very briefly before deciding to keep playing with him. What had been a seemingly normal conversation had quickly turned into a little power play that you we revelling in.

You nod, offering no verbal reply, knowing what it would do to George.

"Use your words Angel," he says, eyes darkening as he threatens you. You simply smile and shrug, eyes fixed upon his as the look on his face turns thunderous.

"That's it," he says, moving to stand and walking over to you menacingly, reaching out to grab the side of your neck with his large hand, gently turning your head upwards until you were forced to look at him. "You want to tell Freddie what a naughty girl you're being or shall I?"

"Fred doesn't scare me," you bite back, the defiant look returning to your eyes.

"I'll be the judge of that princess," a second voice says from behind you, his tone lighter than George's but still menacingly dominating.

You feel him move to stand behind you, hands instantly reaching out for your hips to thrust you backwards until you were pressed against him. His touch is softer than George's but still as deliciously dominant.

"I'd say that calls for at least 5, don't you think Georgie?" He says from behind you, his lips tracing your hair, nuzzling gently until he's ghosting his perfect lips across your ear and don't the side of your neck that George isn't holding.

"I'd say 10, at least mate."

It's almost embarrassing how wet this makes you, the banter between them as they speak about you, as if you're not currently trapped between them. It was no use denying that you'd been slightly... off for the past few days, more than a little cranky and quite honestly rather bratty. Initially they'd let it slide but you could tell you'd really started pushing some buttons now.

"Think this perfect little ass can take it sweetheart?" Fred says quietly, teasingly, his hand moving from your hip towards your clothes bottom that he caresses, getting a handful of the supple flesh.

Your mouth falls open as Fred grips your ass hard and you strain not to make a noise, already enchanted by the game play.

When George's hand moves slightly to gently grip your throat, your eyes fly open until you're staring up at his piercing, ominous eyes.

"Your husband asked you a question Angel," he says with the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Want," you manage to get out, voice meek and quiet as your thoughts race, no longer able to hide your desperation for them to touch you. You were so wet, so aroused, you needed relief- you needed the punishment. You squirm against their holds, first pushing your hips back to run against Fred's growing bulge, knowing better than to try that with George and then by giving him a devastatingly innocent look as you bite your lip, pleading with Georgie to give you what you wanted.

"What was that Angel?" He sneers, grubbing your throat a little harder. "Couldn't hear you over the desperation."

"Please Georgie, need you," you manage to choke out. Truthfully his hand wasn't gripping you that tightly, merely holding you, but the sheer desperation and arousal was making it hard for me you to communicate, your thoughts cloudy. All you could think of was getting off, of their cocks, their fingers, anything that would take away the burning desire you felt.

"Good girl," Fred says from behind you, his crotch making contact with your ass, his obvious erection pressed between your cheeks as he rolls his hips making you gasp.

George lets go of your throat but keeps his hand hovering nearby until he leans down and presses a kiss right to the column of your throat, your head leaning so far back from looking up at him that you were close to resting on Fred's shoulders. The kiss makes your skin burn, electrifying you inside and out.

"Get on the bed, I want you completely naked and bent over for us, think you can do that Angel?" George says in a menacing tone. You go to nod but stop yourself, no longer wanting to prolong the dance.

"Yes Georgie," you say, though it comes out breathless as Fred's hands begin to wander across your body, his hands reaching up to squeeze your braless tits making you release a breathy moan.

"And?" George adds, one eyebrow raised.

"Yes Freddie."

"Bed," Fred says in your ear, dropping his hands from your breasts until he pulls away, patting your bum to move you, ushering you forward.

You don't hesitate and immediately walk to your shared bedroom where you begin peeling off your clothes frantically. Once you're naked, you climb on the bed and get on your hands and knees, ass up in the air just like they like it, just as instructed. You're so wet that you can feel the dampness extending onto your thighs, the exposed skin of your pussy being nipped at by the cold air.

It feels like an eternity waiting for them, naked and splayed out ready for them to take you.

"Fuck, well if this isn't the prettiest sight," Fred says from the doorway and for a second you hesitate moving to look but you decide fuck it, you were being punished anyway. You'll be eternally grateful for what you see when you turn your head, seeing both of your husbands completely naked and waiting for you, cocks hard and their bodies in complete display for your viewing pleasure. You have to bite your lip at the sight, cunt weeping as you fight to stop the little dribble from running down your leg.

George is leaner, slightly thinner and his cock had the most delicious curve that hits every single spot inside you just right. His arms are folded as he stands upright in the doorway, observing you carefully with a resolute expression.

Fred is wider, in every sense. He's bulkier than George and carries the tiniest bit more weight which is an absolutely delicious contrast. He's thicker and perhaps a tiny bit longer than his counterpart and you can't help the strand of drool that falls from your mouth as you look at him, leaning casually against the doorframe.

"Still think she needs punishing mate?" Fred asks George playfully as his eyes wander over your form, focusing between your breasts and your cunt, all exposed to his gaze.

George doesn't reply, at least not verbally as he slowly stalks over to you on the bed. His hand rises and reaches for your chin before smirking at you and turning your head forcefully until you were looking away, back down to the bed, just as he wanted.

You cry out at the sensation when you feel a single finger stroking along your dripping cunt, a featherlight touch that fuels the fire more than provides any relief.

"So wet," George says in a mildly adoring tone, perhaps the nicest compliment you were going to get tonight. His thumb begins stroking lightly over your swollen clit and you cry out, his thumb precisely catching the little hood of your clit- just the spot that drove you insane.

"Ready for your punishment little brat?" George asks, pulling his hand away.

You can't help but whine at the loss of sensation, hips flouncing as you fight to keep his fingers exactly where you needed. Suddenly, you cry out again, this time much louder as his palm lands a smack on your ass for the whine.

"That one was a tester," he warns, rubbing his palm across the newly hit skin. "Five from me, five from Freddie, sound fair little brat?"

"Please, please," you beg, no longer able to think clearly, hardly listening as you fight to keep your gaze fixed to the bed.

"Good girl," Fred cooes, moving to stand to your side. His cock is right there, inches away from your face just begging to be sucked and your mouth waters at the thought.

"Freddie goes first," George explains, moving away until he squats down in front of you, allowing you to look up at him. He places a kiss on your lips, dangerously slow and teasing, as if he's tempting you, spurring you on. He pulls away with a slightly pleased look and smirks. "I want you to count." He then looks up towards Fred and nods, making your cunt throb.

The first strike lands perfectly on your ass cheek, making you cry out. You count, just as George demanded, readying yourself for Fred's next spank. Fred's spanks are always softer than George's, with tender rubs in between. You count to five and breathe a sigh of relief, pleased with yourself that you'd made it through. George kisses your head as he moves to stand, cock bobbing as he switches places with his twin.

"You did so well sweetheart, so well," Fred says, leaning down to press a seductively sweet kiss on your lips that you never want to pull away from. "Just a little more and you can have my cock, okay sweet girl?"

The cry you give out when George's hand makes contact is louder than any you'd ever done, even though his spa king was much, much softer than normal. Most notably because instead of his hand making contact with your ass cheek as expected, it lands straight on your pussy.

You hear a dark chuckle from behind you as he watches you squirm as the impact.

"Thought I was going to make this easy Angel?" He says darkly. "Spread 'em wide."

The next one has you crying out again in sheer ecstasy, the tip of his fingers slightly catching your clit. You look into Fred's eyes as the hit lands and watch as he bites him own lip at the arousal of seeing you in ecstasy.

"Two," you stutter, losing yourself in the sensation.

The next one lands back on your tender ass cheek, the same one Fred had abused only moments before.

"Th-three," you splutter.

"So perfect," Fred coos next to you, "two more little princess."

Every nerve is burning within you, painfully aroused by their torment. The evidence of your arousal drips down your legs and onto the bed and you're entirely powerless to stop it. You need them, need relief so desperately.

"Please," you beg, looking into Fred's eyes and for a second you think you've got him until George lands his fourth blow, fingers landing on your pussy lips. You can almost hear his fingers making contact with your wetness, the sound of wet slapping echoing through the room.

"F-f," you say, taking a breath. "F-f...our."

"One more baby, so beautiful," Fred says encouragingly, his hands reaching out to stroke your forearms that rest on the bed, holding your weight but barely as your limbs begin to shake. Tears are brimming your eyes through the sheer overwhelm of it, something that Freddie notices almost immediately.

When George's hand strikes you one final time, you cry out in both shock and relief, his large hand managing to catch your red bum cheek and your puffy pussy lips all in one go.

You're broken, tears silently falling from your eyes abs body exhausted.

"Colour sweetheart?" Fred says delicately, stroking back your hair.

"Orange," you reply quietly, taking breaths you needed to steady yourself, confirming that you were okay to carry on but didn't want any more punishment.

"You did so well beautiful, such a good girl for us," Fred says delicately but you're not really listening, your attention is focused on the burning need you have to be filled and of his rather silent twin who hadn't given you any praise or instructions yet.

"Let us love you Angel," George says finally, moving beside his brother to look in awe at your tear stricken face. "You look beautiful," he says, his resolve softening as he looks upon your face.

The moment you feel Fred's cock enter you, you feel immediate relief. George's cock sits heavy on your tongue as you begin to such gratefully, trying to prove to him that you could be his good girl after all. The sex is electric, magnificent. It's a complete entanglement of bodies, so much so that you can hardly tell who is who as they manhandle you and bring you to an overwhelming climax over and over.

In the end, you're abundantly satisfied and exhausted, lying between your two loves who look just as broken as you. Fred deals with the aftercare, rubbing some soothing ointment into your sore backside whilst George holds you tightly into his chest, pressing kisses to your hair.

"You ready to eat, Angel?" George asks eventually as he throws on a shirt and his boxers whilst Fred opts to stay nude, always running naturally hot. You cringe slightly at his question, remembering how you got into this in the first place.

"What are we having?" Fred asks, sitting back down onto the bed next to you, pulling you closer and pressing a kiss to your temple.

"Lasagne," George replies.

Two things happen at once. Immediately you gag hard, throwing your hand up to your mouth to prevent throwing up on your bedroom carpet. You lurch away from Fred desperately, causing him to lose balance and fall off the edge of the bed but you can't stop to apologise as you run into the bathroom and empty your stomach directly into the toilet.

As soon as it had come on, it went. You flushed the toilet, washed your hands and brushed your teeth whilst frowning, wondering what the hell had just happened. You were fine two minutes ago, what had changed?

Until you remembered that you were having lasagne and garlic bread for tea and your stomach lurched again, roiling dangerously. The thought of the oily, strong smelling bread and saucy, slimy pasta had you fighting back another heave.

"Angel? We've got you a glass of water," George calls out through the door. You take a deep breathe, open the window to air it out a little and sheepishly open the door.

"I'm sorry," you say immediately, cringing at the thought of your dramatic exit. "Freddie, I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it sweetness," he says with a smile, rubbing his sore coccyx with his hand. "Guess you're not the only one with a sore arse now."

"So you really didn't want the."

"Don't say it!" You say quickly, stopping George from finishing his sentence.

It's brief, a blink and you'll miss it sort of moment that if you didn't know your husbands as well as you did, their little twin quirks, you wouldn't have even seen it. They share a brief look, communicating between themselves wordlessly that is over in a flash, but you know it's meaningful.

Fred turns to you first, offering a softer glance than his twin as he steps forward to grab your hand. George disappears out of the room as Fred drags you willingly into the bathroom so you can bathe together, which you gladly welcome.

You're sat lazing in the bath between Fred's legs and resting your head back on his chest, camouflaged in a field of bubbles when George walks back in to the bathroom. You frown, noticing he was fully dressed, not in the boxers and T-shirt he'd thrown on after your escapades. He smiles warmly at you and you smile back, realising his dominant side had been shelved for now but you frown again when you see the little bag he's holding.

"Hear us out Angel," George says delicately, sitting on the side of the tub, unfazed by getting his clothes wet.

"Don't be mad okay?" Fred says, sitting up behind you, following your lead.

"You're pregnant," they say together.

You simply stare at them, confused and more than a little offended at the insinuation.

"Right because I throw up once and I've been a bit moody lately," you say with a slight roll of your eyes.

"Look sweetheart," Fred starts, "you've been a little... cranky the past few days, your appetites changed, your boobs are way bigger than normal, we just think it would be a good idea for you to take a test."

You look towards George who simply nods in agreement, a smile tugging at his face. You can tell he's trying not to get excited, the hope of what could be.

Under the hopeful gazes of your husbands, you relent, nodding slowly whilst you stare at the little box George has pulled out of the bag.

"Shoo, out!" You laugh, getting them to leave you alone to pee. You smack Fred's naked arse on the way out as you evict them, not listening to their muttering about how they'd seen you squirt, how is it different.

You take a deep breath and unbox the little contraption, looking it over in your hands before reading the instructions. You try your hardest not to get excited or hopeful but you fail miserably, could you actually be pregnant? It could hardly be a surprise, your two husbands both had a certain preference for cumming inside you without protection, but you had no idea that it might happen so soon after stopping your potion.

"3 minutes," you say, opening the door to let them in, both of them immediately walking over to the little stick that you'd flipped over. George had bought in a little egg timer and sets it on the side of the bath, twisting it round to the little plastic 3. Fred still hadn't covered up in the slightest and you had to laugh at him, looking between them at the fully dressed twin and the fully nude one.

"If it's not," George begins to say, looking deep into your eyes.

"Then there's always next time," Fred says, patting his brother on the shoulder, flashing your both a reassuring smile.

"Put some bloody clothes on," George chuckles, shoving his twins hand off him and you have to laugh at the interaction as Fred huffs, jogging off to put some boxers on.

When the timer goes off, you take a deep breath and close your eyes, secretly hoping that this could be it. You open your eyes when you feel two hands slipping into yours and entwining with your fingers, George on your left and Fred on your right. They both lean down to press a kiss to their side of your head before pulling their hands away to let you check the little stick.

Pregnant.

#emeritusemeritus #emeritusemerituswrites #harry potter #fred weasley #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x reader #george weasley x you #fred weasley imagine #george weasley #fred weasley masterlist #weasley twins x you #george weasley x reader x fred weasley #requests

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1k1ga1 · 1 year

Text

𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐡𝐰𝐚 💭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 💭 𝐞𝐥𝐦𝐢𝐫 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐜𝐰 💭 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐲 𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭, 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲(?), 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐬

you were never fond of the nobles. as an orphan who was abandoned by her own parents, you had to fight your way to survive in the back alleys. you had to learn to defend yourself from the cruel thugs. you had to learn how to beg for a spare coin or half-eaten food, even though they would wrinkle their nose at the dirty rags you wore. you had to endure the harsh weather with those thin rags on your beaten and bruised body.

at one point, you truly realized how utterly useless your life was. you were just a waste of space. a peasant whom no one knew. you had no purpose, so why were you trying so desperately to live?

you groaned, a loud rumble came from your stomach, but you ignored its pleading. you had no purpose, so you might as well die. though you did find it regrettable to die in a dark and dirty alley like this. who knew what those vile people would do to your corpse. but, at least you wouldn’t feel the pain anymore.

you slowly close your eyes, accepting your fate, before you heard a warm voice call out to you. you slowly opened your eyes again, squinting at a girl who held her hand out to you. you blinked, staring into her emerald-like eyes. there wasn’t any hint of disgust or hatred, only pure worry for your poor state.

“are you alright?” the girl asked you, tilting her head as her obsidian fringes framed her face. was it just you, or was there light shining behind her? “would you like to come with me?” you cringed at the question.

many nobles had offered to take you in, but they all ended up mistreating you, leaving you with the whip scars on your back and the bruises from struggling to run away. your trust in humanity was like a broken glass, your own will to live spilling from it.

your lips quivered. the girl before you shine so brightly, unlike those evil people with ominous shadows following them everywhere. this girl was warm, the warmth you had seemed after so many years of surviving. your hands subconsciously reached out for the girl’s extended palm, and you felt the girl shake it gently, a smile gracing her face.

“i’m alyssa. what’s your name?” the girl asks, giving your small hand a comforting squeeze. your lips trembled, digging the name from your painful memories. the only thing in this world you could truly call your own. “my name…is (y/n).”

everything after that was a blur. alyssa had taken you back to her quarters in the palace, and gave you the position as her maid. the sweet, kind, and lovable princess alyssa gave you a purpose to live again, and you could not be more grateful, swearing to dedicate your life to the 4th princess.

in a span of a few months, you and alyssa bonded quickly. you could always sympathize with each other’s experiences and the way people would go out of their way to make the two of you an outcast. in a sort of strange way, the two of you became each other’s pillar. a place where each other could always come too when they feel like the world is giving up on them. the two of you have each other hope.

so, when your ‘hope’ was accused of of being a criminal, you couldn’t believe your ears. princess alyssa, the benevolent princess that took you in? she would never do something so cruel to her younger sister! you tried to defend the outcasted princess, but no one was on the crow princess’s side. in fact, they all seemed to ‘expect’ her to do something like this. were they so blind? you wanted to cut off their tongues for speaking such filth.

but in the end, you were only a maid, and without the princess, you became nothing once again. alyssa had built you up from a corpse with no will to live, and now that the princess was gone, all you could do was offer her they life she had given you.

holding the thick rope around your neck, you didn’t even have the will to struggle as you kicked away the chair. tears burned at the edges of your eyes, feeling your lungs tighten painfully, but no pain could compare to the lost of your princess. “please…if a god exist…please guide me to the princess again..!”

you expected to never wake up in that moment, but when you could suddenly open your eyes, and were taken aback. you were alive? did you somehow survive that? who would even save you anyways?

you looked around, darting up to a makeup vanity and ogling at your reflection. there was no rope burns around your neck, in fact, it looked so smooth and delicate. your eyes trailed to admire your face, and a small gasp escaped you. your face looked so different than before where it was dull and sunken. you never realized you could look this beautiful with these rosy cheeks and plump lips.

“lady (y/n)?” you whipped your body around at the unfamiliar voice, internally panicking as a girl in a familiar uniform approached you. “did you sleep well, m’lady?” you froze at the way she referred to you as if speaking to a noble.

“w…who am i?” the girl frowned at you, pouting her lips as she placed her hands on her hips ‘threateningly’.

“why, of course you are the princess of the (l/n) duchy, lady (f/n) (l/n)!” the servant girl announced to you, mirth within her tone. “now, if you are done with your pranks, please allow me to bathe you.”

you wordlessly listened to the girl, following her towards an extravagant bathroom you knew was comparable to that of a princess’s. was this girl actually being serious? how did you suddenly wake up as a duke’s daughter? you didn’t want this. you wanted to reunite with her.

your eyes widened, staring into the naked reflection in the mirror. all the scars you had was gone. the whip scars, the bruises, the scratches. they were all gone. there was not even a scratch on the supple skin you were unfamiliar with.

that day was already a week ago, and you had grown accustomed to your new blue-blooded body. (f/n) (l/n), a mischievous duke’s daughter known for pulling harmless pranks. despite that, high society adored her due the girl’s knack for lifting people’s spirits and her pure virtue.

elmir’s nobles were flabbergasted when the playful girl had a total 180 degrees change in attitude. where was the prankster girl they knew? why was she behaving like such a solemn flower? the doubts didn’t last long though, since the girl’s sudden maturity made the nobles adore her even more. she became the symbol of how a noble should be, and the muse of many. prime, elegant, and refined. the duke’s daughter’s popularity exploding, and everyone in the elmir empire wished to see this graceful dove.

so, when their darling little aisha suddenly showed an interest in the rumored duke’s daughter, the empress and emperor just had to invite the lady to the palace! after all, their little aisha rarely showed any emotions, not to mention such keen interest in someone! and this couple would do anything to see their daughter happy!

when your carriage arrived at the palace, you couldn’t help but tremble anxiously. the emperor told you not to fret, but how could you not when the emperor himself invited you to the palace?! had your family committed treason? had you committed a crime without realizing it? was your family actually involved in rebellion?

“you don’t need to be so nervous.” a velvety male voice chuckled, somehow he calmed your nerves with his mere words. you focused on the blonde male before you, slightly towering over him, a wide grin on his striking face while emerald eyes stared at you. “you must be lady (y/n).”

“y..yes,” you glanced at the blonde’s attire, noticing the imperial family’s insignia engraved on the buttons on his vest. “ah..! greetings to prince isis de elmir!” you curtsied, the anxiety building up again as you stand before the empire’s prince. “my apologies for the delayed greeting…”

“please don’t worry, it was my fault for not introducing myself first.” isis scratched his pink cheeks, averting his emerald eyes before focusing on you once again. “my father has instructed me to accompany you to aisha’s room. i hope you don’t mind.” isis offered you his arm, and you gladly looped your arms with him.

“of course not. i’m honored.” alright, so you were here to see the princess? so you were just panicking over nothing.

“um, aisha is a little…quiet, so please don’t feel offended if she doesn’t speak much. she just takes long to warm up is all.” isis suddenly chimed, attempting to strike up a conversations during the long walk to his sister’s chambers.

“it’s alright, your highness. i understand.” a gentle smile graced your lips as you glanced at the male who seemed rather jittery. you couldn’t blame the princess. after all, it took you much longer to become accustomed to your new parent’s affection, especially since you were an orphan in your past.

isis didn’t understand what you meant, but decided it wasn’t in his place to ask you to explain, instead, staying quiet as he continued to maneuver with you through the halls. occasionally emerald irises would glance towards your thoughtful face before darting away, hoping you didn’t notice that he was staring. “she really is as alluring as the rumors say…” isis remarked to himself.

undeniably, the prince was also curious about the lady who dominated high society after just one banquet, and now he could no longer pass off the rumors as an exaggeration. isis felt like he could understand why his sister was so interested in the lady now. perhaps his lovely little sister secretly admired the lady.

“it looks like were the same age,” you chimed out of the blue, catching the blonde off guard with your smooth voice. isis nodded, mumbling a quick ‘yes’ in response, then everything went silent again. you internally sweat-dropped. you were never any good at making conversations, even in your past life. and in this new life, the nobles always tried to talk your ears off with flattery, so you never had to say much except some quiet replies.

finally, the two of you arrived at a big white door after an awkward silence, you admired the details engraved on it while isis knocked on the door. “aisha. lady (y/n) has arrived.” isis announced, hearing a quiet ‘come in,’ the blonde opened the door, allowing you to enter first.

“greetings to the star of the empire, princess aisha de elmir.” you curtsied, peeking at the princess through your lashes. she was adorable with her rosy cheeks of baby fat, her curly silver hair, and her doe-azure eyes that sparkled at you.

a part of you slumped in relief, sensing a strange familiarity with the princess despite knowing you’ve never encountered her before. with such a unique appearance, you were sure you’d remember if you ever came across her.

aisha could feel her chest swell up, staring at your healthy figure, she inwardly praised herself for going with her gut feeling after hearing people talk about you. compared to the girl she befriended in the past, you adopted the noble appearance worthy of a duke’s daughter, and the princess was relieved to see you living in a good conditions. aisha quickly took notice of the dullness of your eyes though. she’d have to fix that, and she knew exactly how.

you sat across from the princess at the round table, taking small sips from the porcelain tea cup while glancing at the princess. was your eyes fooling you, or was she doing that habitual pucker of her lips? the habit that princess alyssa always did whenever she enjoyed her tea. god, even the tea was chamomile, princess alyssa’s favorite.

“(y/n),” you felt your brow furrowed at the nostalgic warmth in her voice. “do you not recognize me?” you shook your head, laughing off the ridiculous thought…unless—

“….princess..a..alyssa?” the name tasted bitter in your mouth, waiting for the girl before you to respond with narrowed eyes.

after a short while, aisha nodded her head, a grin gracing her face as you immediately pounced out of your seat, pulling the smaller girl into your chest as tears spilled out of your eyes. aisha sobbed into your shoulder, sniffling as you both felt your hearts pound against each other’s. you weren’t dreaming. your ‘hope’ was sitting before you. god had truly reunited you with the princess!

it took the both of you longer to release all the suppressed emotions than you anticipated, but you didn’t care as aisha’s tears dampened your shoulder. your own salty tears dampening the girl’s back. your princess was in your arms again. your hope was in your arms again. and this time, you will never let her go.

it didn’t take long for rumors of the duke’s daughter and the young princess becoming close friends to become the hot topic of the empire. they knew you were charming in many ways, but befriending the princess? now that was just pure talent.

since you two had a lot to catch up on after not seeing each other for so long, you would visit the palace almost everyday. of course everyone welcomed you, since they could see the way their princess’s eyes would light up at the slightest glimpse of you.

naturally, you also bonded with the rest of the imperial family since you would visit almost daily. the emperor and empress adored you for becoming their daughter’s first friend. they even started treating you so warmly as if you were their own daughter. how could they help it? you were such a joy to be around!

isis grew on you quickly too. the boy was so kind and considerate! especially when he would look at you with eyes the color of emerald that makes your heart swells!

likewise, isis also enjoyed your visits, occasionally joining you and his sister with whatever you guys were doing for the day. be it painting, reading, doing makeup, or touching up on etiquette, isis found your personality like a light bulb in a completely black room.

time flew by like water, and before you knew it, isis had already become the crown prince! the prince who you adored teasing about the differences in your height was now towering over you! it was scary how much he grew, but you couldn’t help and look up at him in fondness as he wore his usual smile.

aisha also blossomed into a beautiful young lady, and you were so honored to be next to the princess as she finally experienced true familial love that she craved in her past life.

everything seemed great, and your days with the imperial family was the biggest joy in your new life. however, nothing lasts forever. your parents suddenly got into a carriage accident while on a business trip, and when the news reached your ears, you dropped the tea cup in your hand, while aisha widened her eyes in horror.

you sat there quietly, staring at your clenched fists as aisha hugged you. you couldn’t comprehend the emotions swirling through your mind right now. it’s not as if you were ever close to you new parents after waking up in this body. all your attention and affection was focused on the young aisha who revealed her past identity to you, and you began to drift away from ‘your family’ as a whole. perhaps you felt a little regret. god gave you a new chance at life with your ‘hope’ at your side, and the opportunity to experience your own family, yet you ignored that chance.

that day you excused yourself from the imperial family, who all gathered to see you after hearing the news. the empress could see the darkness in your eyes, and she wanted to beg you to stay. so that darkness wouldn’t take you away. iris couldn’t bear it if that twinkle in your eyes would disappear.

tyrion stopped his wife though. as much as he loved you as if you were his own child, he knew you needed time alone to process the shock. he gave you an endearing pat on the head like he always did, and added some encouraging words to the expressionless you.

aisha could only watch your back, shoulders seeming heavier than normal, as she held hands with isis, who would occasionally squeeze your hand. their heart ached to see the bright and joyful girl they adored look so depressed, but they could only hope that you would figure out a way to get back on your feet again. they’d always be there waiting for you once you did, and they’d be happy to make you an addition of their own family.

their hope was utterly crushed though. since your parents had passed away, you inherited the duchy, figuring your ways through the stacks of heavy paperwork. every since you held the funeral for your parents, all you did was lock yourself in your father’s old office, filling and stamping papers after papers, barely eating nor sleeping.

aisha and isis took notice of how you hadn’t visit her even after two days, and after a whole week, iris and tyrion were also worried. only then did they realize how much they took your presence for granted, and they hastily reached out to you. sending letters after letters, requesting for them to come visit you. but in the end, you just gave the worried family some excuse before continuing with the paperwork.

after a whole month of this game, the emperor and empress could not endure the anxiety consuming them any longer. you were basically their own child, so they had to check up on you. that day, tyrion sent and emergency summon to the duchy. he knew he shouldn’t be taking advantage of his title, but it’s not as if he intended to do anything bad. even iris agreed with his plans! they just needed to check up on you, and this was the only way to force you out of the duchy!

once you made it to the palace and maneuvered your way through the familiar halls, you entered the audience room. tyrion and iris paced around anxiously until they heard your footsteps, turning to look at you after a whole month, only for their heart to sink.

you had completely lost the brilliant glow in your eyes even though you tried to conceal it. your cheeks look sunken, and they knew you hadn’t eaten as regularly as you were supposed to. the dark crescents under your eyes especially stood out, signifying that you hadn’t had enough sleep. oh, just where did the lively (y/n) go? now you were only rendered to a husk of your former self. a ominous appearance as if you were a corpse.

you knew of their intentions to summon you like that, but you took it as an opportunity to ensure them you were fine. lies. you told them you needed more time. that you were going through a difficult time right now. that you wanted to be alone for a while.

if it was any other person, the couple probably would have doubts. but the person making these pleas were you. the child who’s intelligence and grace was praised throughout the whole empire. your words were like honey to their ears. the exact comfort that they needed to hear. that you’d be back to ‘normal’ in no time. that their happy (y/n) would return to their arms.

of course, the emperor and empress trusted you. dismissing you with a tight embrace. when the news of their meeting reached their children’s ears, they comforted aisha and isis. persuading them that you’ll be just fine. you just needed more time. unaware of how they were dead wrong.

a whole year had passed every since that meeting, and you continued to give emotional excuses to the imperial family’s invites, which became once a week to twice or thrice a day. you were probably the only person courageous enough to blatantly ignore them like this, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about anything. you knew the princess you adored was in good health and happy. after all, she awakened the powers of a ‘saintess’ and now her reputation has been exploding while your’s slowly fade away from society.

there was no one else you needed to be concern about. not iris, tyrion, or… isis. they’ll be just fine without you. they’ve got each other, after all. and you were just a pest latching onto them all this time…

in fact, you were wrong. the family might seem to be doing well from the outside, but inside they were breaking apart. why? just why? why. why. why?! they’ve waited so long so why haven’t you returned to them? we do you continue to pretend like you were never really close to them? why. why. why. couldn’t you see they wanted you? they needed you. they craved you. just say the word and they’d give the world for you. so why do you keep being so stubborn!? can’t you see you need them too? that night, they finally decided to sit down at a table together for the first time after months had passed of them going their separate ways. their string of patience had snapped. they couldn’t swallow their greed any longer.

you were working in your office as usual that night when you heard a strange sound coming from outside your door. you dismissed it at first, but when a bloodcurdling scream reached your ears, you jumped from your chair. legs wobbling as you haven’t gotten up in so long, you darted to the door of your office, only to halt when you felt strong arms wrapping so tightly around you they knocked the air out of you.

“just stay still, alright? this won’t hurt…” your mind registered the owner of the lovesick voice before it grew hazy as whatever was soaked into the clothe pressing into your nose and mouth was making you dizzy. all you could feel before blacking out was the intruder nuzzling his face into your neck to relish in the scent he hadn’t inhaled in so long. one name did cross your clouded mind though; isis.

#—ichigo 💭#yandere manhwa x reader #yandere x reader #into the light once again #isis de elmir #aisha de elmir #_𝟏𝐊𝟏𝐆𝐀𝟏_

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nikolliver · 6 months

Text

Princess or Prince, You are still Royalty

The show kept going like usual.

Script followed perfectly, none of the actors tripped at their feet, no buzzy noisy phones in the middle of the crowd.

Nothing was out of place. Except for one little detail that tormented their systems the entire performance.

In the middle of the children at the front seats, a glum purple bow remained still watching the show.

Something was wrong.

Karma was never that quiet.

“You look tired.” Geppetto asked while tapping Nana’s shoulder with a small frown.

“I’m always tired.” Nana mumbled.

“More tired than usual.” His frown grew.

The old lady sits at one of the chairs near the stage with a sigh. “Just my son failing at trying to change things for better.” She rubs her forehead. Geppetto sits at the chair on her left.

“What did he do this time?” Geppetto rolled his eyes, this is not the first time Nana was stressed by his own son. His glasses caught a small yellow spot near the bright stage playing with a plush of Moon. Their movements were reticent than usual. Karma lifted their head to stare up at Geppetto. The sparkle in their eyes were weak, they couldn’t hide it.

Geppetto tilted his head and Karma mimicked. As the lights of the stage slowly went dark, metal clicks and soft bells moved behind the curtain, a silhouette crawled to the backstage entrance. Karma’s eyes followed the dark figure while hopping slightly on their feet, hesitant.

“Hey!” Geppetto called, Karma turns in a flinch to Geppetto. “I’ll be here talking with your nana; You can play with Moon while we talk.” He speaks with a serene smile.

Karma’s expression shined with thrill. Their feet swift dragging themselves towards the backstage door almost tripping on the way.

Nana glances up at her grandchild with an exhausted smile as they ran.

Karma drifted at the hallway and found themselves starring to a dark path. The backstage was consumed by the dark, the cutout settings and props were barely visible for Karma. All they could recognize in the dark was a hanger, some makeup chairs… A dim blue-Ish smoke in the air.

A tall ominous figure lurked at the dark right in front of the hallway Karma was. The bells hanged on its body and hat jiggled with its movements as it stood on its feet, dim white lights from its eyes as it turned to glance down at Karma, its arms glowing a dim weak blue. His faceplate spins once, twice. His hat didn’t fall from his head somehow, as always, the bell on his hat jiggling with the spinning. The static grin on his face was merely visible by the reflection of his eyes in the dark.

He was just shrimping there… menacingly.

Karma lets out a snicker, causing Moon’s posture to perk up. He lurks in the dark sideways, luring as a trail of blue smoke follows his hand as he walks. Soft snickers crackling from his voice box. The child hops towards the backstage following the blue smoke trail which emanated a dim glow in the dark for them to follow. The sounds of metal clicks in the dark mixed with the sound of the jiggling bells helped the child with their locomotion in the dark.

Moon was hanged in his wire, “swimming” around and pushing makeup chairs here and there. Karma just watched the trail of smoke from Moon’s hand as he swings himself smoothly in the air. The lunar animatronic sets up a small sun-themed makeup mirror on the small table, right next to a makeup kit stage-themed and S.T.A.F.F bots stands with accessories, the lights were dim enough for Karma to see their reflection and for Moon to stay near it. He pushes a small chair towards Karma with bright purple glowing from his arms and cheeks LEDs lights. Karma ‘fancily’ sits on the chair and makes a pose with a smug, placing the Moon plush on their lap. Moon chuckles as he pushes the chair to the makeup set up. He adjusts the chair to the size of the table and swings away to the darkness.

Moon returns on a chair, stomach on the seat with legs above his head, mimicking a ‘swimming’ motion with his arms while spinning around Karma. Both the child and the animatronic chuckle in pure cheer. He extends his hand towards Karma’s plush of himself, which the child handles it for him. Moon smoothly pushes himself next to the mirror on the table, he sits the plush next to it and opens the makeup kit, theatrically presenting all the options for Karma. Lipsticks, blushes, eyeliners, a phenomenal treasure for theater kids.

Both of them exchange glances as they rub their hands like little giggling menaces, Moon wiggling his feet on the air. Karma analyzes the makeup kit, tilting their head and raising an eyebrow.

“Purple, please!” The child points at the purple blush. Moon nods, he snaps his fingers with a blue smoke and a brush falls on his hand. With his other hand, the animatronic presses a metallic finger against Karma’s bow on their head, gently lifting their head slightly upwards. He taps the brush on the blush color that Karma had chosen and carefully passes the brush against Karma’s right cheek. The child giggles. “It tickles…!” They chirp. Moon snickers as he spins his faceplate.

As he keeps brushing Karma’s face, his movements get slower as he brings the brush to the blush kit. He stares at the brush for a long second and then side-eyes Karma. The child shows a poker face… And sticks their tongue out. His head twitches to the side once, twice. His LED’s turning into his debut blue.

“You’re upset.” Moon intoned.

Karma blinks at Moon’s words. They look at their surroundings consumed by the dark and then back to Moon. “…I’m not.” Karma replied. “I’m fine, Moon!” They completed.

The answer they got from Moon was a still glare, tapping Karma’s bow slightly, his feet brought to the wire on his back, his expression was its usual static grin, but Karma could tell that Moon was narrowing his eyes at them.

“Tiny, tiny…” Moon muttered.

Karma side-eyes to their sides. “… Yes Moonman?”

“Feeling down?”

“No Moonman…”

“Telling lies?”

“No Moonman!”

“Gimme your nose.” Moon reaches a finger towards Karma’s face.

“No!” Karma squeaks, pushing Moon’s hand away.

“Gimme, gimme, gimme.” The lunatic wiggles his fingers up and down as he giggles.

Karma chuckles as they push Moon’s hand. “No! You already have a nose!”

“I’m making a collection.” Moon brushes the brush on Karma’s face, causing squeaky chuckles from the tickles.

They keep with the tickles and giggles until Karma slaps the brush from Moon’s hand. “Moon!” Karma hissed. Moon flinches with the chair away, pulling his feet to his shoulders, he freezes and pulls his hands back from them as his LEDs turn into bright white. An annoyed pout on Karma’s lips turns to a mournful face. “…Sorry.” They turn their head to the side.

Moon stood still for a moment as his lights slowly change to his usual blue, he looked at the brush on the floor and back to Karma. He stretches his arm to pick up the brush and places it on the table. He stares at the sad child for a second and takes the Moon plush from the table. The lunar one brings the plush closer to the child. “… talk?” He whispered.

Karma turned their head to see the plush slightly tilted to the side. They look at Moon, his whole arm was stretched holding the plush.

…Karma takes the plush to their hands. “Okay.” They nod at Moon.

Moon spins his legs, contorting himself on the chair, in a blink of an eye, he’s now sitting upright, clicking with excitement. For any human to do this without breaking a single part from their body is almost impossible to imagine, yet such a casual habit for this lunatic animatronic. He shrimps as he pushes himself with the chair near Karma, pulling another type of brush from the makeup kit. “Eyeshadow?” Moon tilts his head to the side.

Karma nods with a soft smile. “Yellow, please!”

Moon spins his faceplate and taps the brush on the eyeshadow color. He gently pushes Karma’s forehead upwards. “Close your eyes.” The moon whispers softly. The child obeys and close their eyelids, snickering as the brush slides softly against their face. “And tell the Moonman what happened.”

Karma peeks for a second, but Moon pokes their nose slightly indicating for them to not open their eyes as he passes the eyeshadow. “So, uh…” The child jiggles the plush hat. “My dad is trying to give me a new mom.”

Moon freezes as he takes the brush away from their face. Long seconds of silence and Karma peeks opening one eye to see a looming lunar animatronic with dead fish eyes staring at the void. His LEDs merge from purple to red. “… Moon?” The child calls. His faceplate ticks and tocks, spinning slowly like a clock. His LEDs returns to blue as his eyes turn down to Karma as his faceplate turns upside down, so he might be looking upwards?... The sounds of the bell on his hat as he corrects his faceplate distract the child from the thoughts.

“… Apologies.” Moon sighed. “Sun just had a seizure in here.”

“Pfft-” Karma covers their mouth with the plush.

Moon wiggles the brush close to Karma’s face and they close their eyelids.

“New mom…” Moon mumbles. “Did he find any?” He tilts his head.

“This is the third woman that dumps on him.”

Moon snickers as his LEDs turn into a brighter blue, the brush flinched slightly on his hand. Karma chirps with the tickling brush on their face. “Have you liked any?” Moon presses their forehead.

The child remains thoughtful for a moment. “…Not really.” Moon pulls the brush away and Karma opens their eyes.

“Were any of them naughty?” Moon tilts his head to the sides, analyzing his work.

“I think...?” Karma cuts their shrug with a blink. “Wait, no. Only two of them were evil.”

Moon hums as he pulls the S.T.A.F.F bots stands with the accessories nearby. His LEDs turning into darker blue. “What had them done?” He spins the bots slowly for Karma to analyze the accessories.

“The first one dumped on my dad after she found a weird magazine about woman that my dad had hidden under his side of the mattress.” Karma points at a green hairclip. “That one.”

Moon freezes, LEDs turning into a green-Ish tone, only moving his hand to take the clip and side-eyes Karma. “Being sunny nosy?” An audible grin on his voice box.

Karma giggles. “Nana told me to keep an eye on my dad~” They hum as Moon carefully places the hairclip on their… well, hair.

“Did you…” Moon paused. “Checked the magazine?”

Karma shook their head. “Nope, just saw the cape.” The turn their head to the mirror. “There was a woman with a weird bikini on it.”

Moon shrinks awkwardly, the green on his LEDs getting stronger. “…Don’t look inside magazines like that.” He spins the S.T.A.F.F bots.

“I won’t, don’t worry.” Karma pats the moon plush. “The next one was worse.”

“What had she done?” Moon stretches his neck frontwards.

Karma points at a white necklace, a frown forming on their expression. “She was a true witch…” They shrink on their shoulders. “She almost ruined my crawly parade!” They exclaim with bitterness.

A raspy gasp comes from Moon’s voice box. “No no…” He shook his head, his blue turning into red.

“I almost lost one of my froggies!” The child almost jumps on their seat.

Moon brings his hand to his mouth, shaking his head. “Oh no no…”

Karma crosses their arms. “That one was an evil witch…” They mumble.

“Evil evil…” Moon takes the white necklace near Karma, whose sit upright on their seat. He smoothly places it around Karma’s neck. The child tilts their head on the mirror. The lunar one tilts his head to the side, glancing down patiently.

“…And the last one?” Moon hushed. Karma’s frown turns to discommodity, their head turn down to their feet, kicking the air weakly.

“…” Silence from the child. Moon leans down to his side, turning his faceplate upside down. “… She tried to dress me as a… ‘boy’.” Karma whispers.

Moon smoothly straightens his posture on his seat, the red changed into a withered green. His eyes locked down on Karma’s face in a long minute of silence. He could feel the bow on their head wither with their sadness. Oh, how much they hated to see Karma like that.

“…” The animatronic followed the silence along. “… do you feel like a boy?” Moon rests his elbow on his knee.

“…So.” Karma hugs the moon plush. “I… Technically ‘am’ a boy… At least that’s what everyone tells me.” They frown. “But… I don’t know…”

Moon leans his head closer. “…Your name?” He spins his faceplate.

“Here’s the thing. I have a ��boy’ name.” Karma gestures with their fingers. “My dad gave me and I hate that name…” They hiss. “’Karma’ is the name that I like best, but everyone treats it like a nickname for me. So, they don’t take it so seriously.” They hold the moon plush to face them. “Only my mom and Nana actually understand that… I’m not sure if I want to stay as a boy or not.” The child holds the plush by its hands.

Moon drums his fingers on his chin and knee. “…Feel like a girl?”

“I don’t know…” They murmur.

“You can be both…” He tilts his head to the side. “You can be neither.” He tilts to the other.

“Ughhh.” Karma groans as they sink on the chair. “I don’t know…” They drop the plush on their face.

Moon clicks. He gently pushes the plush from their face to it fall on their lap. The animatronic carefully pats the child’s head. “No need to hurry.” Moon spoke softly.

Karma looks up to Moon and holds one of his long metal fingers with both of their hands. His hand turns to hold their tiny hands on his large palm, Karma sits straight on their seat and starts tapping their hands on Moon’s palm.

“You know…” The child speaks. “Despite all of that… I still like dressing up as a princess.” They place the plush hand on Moon’s palm.

“You are still a princess.” Moon replies. “Girl or not.” He closes his fingers glowing purple, holding gently the small hands, he pats the child with his other hand.

“I like dresses though…”

“So do I.”

“You’re an animatronic, it doesn’t count.”

…Moon rests his hand on Karma’s head for a minute, his dead fish eyes freeze as his head lifts upwards. “…” He opens his hand, letting go from the smaller hands. “Brb.” Moon is yanked by his wire to the darkness above. Karma looks up just to listen metal clicks and bells giggling away.

Now even a minute and Moon returns doing a somersault, rolling like an armadillo. He sits next to Karma like a dog with an old paper on his teeth, but spinning his faceplate. The child can’t help but laugh when Moon leans the paper to Karma.

On the paper there was a doodle of a ‘sun king’ and a ‘moon queen’. Karma can recognize Geppetto’s art style from any time, he had shown them multiple of his concept arts. The child looked at Moon and then the paper, for each turn their eyes seemed to get brighter and brighter.

“YOU WERE A QUEEN??” Karma exclaimed jumping on their seat, the plush almost fell but Moon picked it before it could hit the floor.

Moon replies with a giggle as his LED’s turn into pink. “Maybe maybe…” He scratches his faceplate with a finger. He places the plush back to Karma’s side.

Karma wiggled their feet in ecstasy as they stare at the paper. And they stop. “Wait a minute…” Their expression remains thoughtful. “… Did Geppetto made that choice or it was you?” The child tilts their head to Moon.

Moon drums his fingers on his faceplate, his eyes turn to the side.

The papers on the table, the sound of his fingers on the keyboard, that numb feeling weighting in its entire metal shell, the dusty rust in its joints. The old man said a single word, causing it to grip the table in front of the rusty animatronic. There were other people in the room, he flinched and backed away. How much it hated to be called like that, now finally aware of its own code. The old man didn’t scream like the others. He wasn’t running from the animatronic. He was… reassuring it? The people told him to run, but he didn’t. He finally called the animatronic. “Moonman”. Still with affliction. It stared for a long minute… It returned to its seat. It was enough.

“… He listened.” Moon looks down at Karma. The child blinks and handed back the paper to the animatronic, which slid the paper under his hat.

“You know what?” Karma held the plush. “It kind of makes sense that Sun was supposed to be a king before.” The child side-eyes with a smug.

“A flamboyant stuck up for sure.” Moon audibly grins in his voice box. Karma snickers along with the lunatic animatronic. “He’s now bonking me in here.” The child then crackles.

Karma makes a grabby motion towards Moon, which holds gently the child on his metal arms glowing bright purple. The small one bumps the plush against Moon’s face. “You guys are the best.” Karma giggles. “You two have some sort of a ‘mom and dad’ dynamic, I don’t know…”

The child’s words made Moon freeze in an instant. His LEDs flashed into white.

“Does that make Eclipse like, your child or something?” Karma obliviously asks while playing with the plush on their hands. They look up to Moon completely static while staring at nothing, fourth wall break style.

He looks down at Karma. Pats their head. And brings the child’s feet back to the ground. “Geppetto and Nana are done talking. Go.”

“…Okay.” Karma nods while removing the hairclip and necklace, handling it to Moon. “And Moon…” The lunar one clicks. “Thanks for that… And it was really fun!” The small one smiles at the animatronic.

“Your happiness is my only goal.” Moon bows at Karma like a gentleman, and the child bows back.

The voice of the old lady echoed through the corridor. The child skips to the bright exit of the room. Moon simply observes the child drifting away.

…He stared at his metal palm, the LED’s turning off. He wiggled his fingers, focusing on the clicking sounds.

Their small hand was growing. The child is getting older. Would he be able to easily carry them once they grow up? Would he follow up with their age?...

…

Moon clenches his fist. The wire hooked on his back and he is yanked to the dark above.

#niko niko writes #geppetto au #the daycare attendant #fnaf dca #daycare attendant #fnaf moon #moondrop #fnaf sun #sundrop #dca fanart #dca fandom #dca au #dca moon #fnaf daycare attendant #writing #dca fic #dca fanfic #dca fnaf

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