#and even after that none of the characters have a clue what's going on and janet still withholds info from them lmao

[rhiannonsknife]

heyyy first of all, i just needed to say that your writing is soooo fucking good like i was genuinely impressed when you said that english isn't your first language because I can't imagine how this could get any better. Also, it isn’t only about the way you write but also the way you just get each character perfectly. That's just... woah, just woah. So yeah, I hope you keep on writing for a long time for the sake of everyone's happiness lol

And lastly, you remembered us about how you also write for the rest of the yellowjackets, not that I don't enjoy the whole "let's give love to all ella purnell's characters" thing going on here buuuut i remembered one scenario has been in my mind for a while and I'd love if you wrote about it.

Shauna, after losing so much to the wilderness, carries this relentless, overwhelming anger that keeps most of the other girls at a distance. Even those who aren't outright scared of her still know better than to get too close. She obviously needs love and comfort, but god help anyone who tries to say that to her. And then r decides to take a shot, carefully inching closer without setting her off. Slowly but surely, r makes progress. First, just being allowed in Shauna's space, then a hand on her shoulder, brushing her hand, maybe even touching her hair. When Shauna finally lets her guard down, r sees just how touch-starved she really is, how deeply she needs someone to just be there, to be her person.

Shauna and r start disappearing for hours, slipping off to somewhere, maybe the airplane, where r can pepper her face with kisses, making her feel safe. And Shauna just lets herself melt in those moments, holding r close.

my mind just goes ogdofgkditwukymg w her

── ౿🪵 NO ONE COULD SAVE ME BUT YOU

— summary: shauna shipman needs a hug. that’s it. that’s the summary.

— warnings: hurt/comfort. canon typical dark themes. implied cannibalism (duh). child loss. etc. so: angst. some fluff. did not beta-read this. + i had no clue how to start or end this fic.

— a/n: woah thank you so so much!! i genuinely appreciate that <3 i’m not planning on stopping any time soon! anyway, i hope you like how this turned out!!

out here, she’s lost everything. you all know it, though none of you dares to actually talk about it. it doesn’t come as much of a surprise that she’s beginning to lose herself too. it’s concerning all the same.

shauna still gets her chores done, so it is not like you don’t have her support in this poorly built system, this attempt to keep things under control when -really- all last restraints of control were lost the morning you’d found jackie’s body, buried in the snow, and with all that came after that. the things no one ever speaks about.

perhaps that is why none of the girls have approached her yet: as long as she does what she’s supposed to do, why would anyone try and cross her, or potentially upset her? after what she’s done to lottie, it’s no surprise. sometimes, in moments during which you find yourself staring at her hands for reasons beyond you, you can see the flash of a scar, standing out against the thin skin of her knuckles.

maybe they’re scared of her. or scared of what she’s become, out here. it doesn’t make a difference. maybe you should all be scared of what you’ve become.

either way, it’s not fair. you obviously know that she needs the same comfort some of the other girls have found in each other, whether shauna wants to admit it or not.

so you -with nothing better to do for the most part- make it your mission to be this comfort for her.

at first, shauna gives you short, cold responses when you try to make small talk, but you keep at it. there’s nowhere to go anyway, nowhere she could flee to get away from your slightly awkward attempts to just talk. it’s a first step.

gradually, you notice her replies get a little longer, her posture softens, just slightly, and she doesn’t seem so quick to brush you off. a small sign, but it means you’re beginning to earn her trust. you don’t talk, not always. sometimes, you’ll just linger nearby and watch her prepare the last remaining pieces of meat or sit in the same room as she scribbles in the journal she’s brought from home.

sitting with shauna in silence becomes its own form of closeness; she doesn’t say much, but she lets you be near her. you can’t remember, now that you think about it, when she was last hugged. when she last felt the touch of another person. your heart aches at this realization. could it have been jackie? it already feels like a whole lifetime ago, that she'd been among the group.

over time, she actually starts letting you sit close enough that your legs touch. you hope it’s her way of saying that maybe she doesn’t mind your presence as much as she lets on.

one day, after a particularly hard night, you take a chance and rest a hand on shauna’s shoulder. you’ve noticed, even from a distance, that she doesn’t sleep well. truthfully, no one out here does. but, with your makeshift mattress closest to the spot she’s preoccupied in the farthest corner of the room, you often notice the way she flinches in her sleep, or shoots up in the middle of the night, panting heavily.

when you notice it that night, you slip out of the more or less comfortable ‘warmth’ of your blankets and make your way over to her.

she tenses, but for a moment, she doesn’t pull away. her silence feels like a monumental moment, a sign that she’s slowly starting to let her walls down. you sit like this, hidden by the darkness of the cabin and with none of the others awake, for a long moment. neither of you moves, neither of you even dares to breathe, afraid it’ll pass by as fast as it has come. then, she shrugs away from your grip and mutters: “i’m fine”. she’s not, obviously. but you take it as a small victory. you’ve felt the way she relaxed under your hold, the way she didn’t immediately push you away.

as weeks pass, you notice shauna becoming less and less guarded in your presence. she’s still wary, still sharp, but you can sense the small shifts, a quiet murmur here, a shared look there, that suggest she’s warming up to having you close.

maybe that night is what’s to blame, or maybe she’s genuinely beginning to realize how much she craves the warmth of another person. your warmth.

it’s one of these days where she’s angrily scribbling down words into her journal when shauna reaches a first ‘breaking point’. she’s sitting beside you in silence, the weight of the wilderness and the day pressing down on both of you. the only noise is the angry scrape of her pencil against paper. in a rare moment of boldness, you reach out, brushing a strand of her hair back from her face.

you’re not sure why you do it. but shauna seems so far away from everything, so detached from the reality you live in, that you just want to offer her something grounding.

her first reaction is to freeze, her eyes widening with a flicker of surprise, and you nearly pull your hand away, wondering if you’ve overstepped. but instead, shauna lets out a breath and holds still, allowing you to tuck the strand behind her ear. as your fingers brush her cheek, you can feel her breath catch, her defenses lowering just a little. it’s a brief, fragile moment, but one that feels much bigger to you: an unspoken acknowledgment that maybe, just maybe, she’ll allow more of this.

that’s when things begin to change: shauna starts looking for you after difficult moments, lingering by your side in ways that tell you she needs someone, even if she won’t say it; too stubborn to ever admit it out loud. she lets you take her hand quietly, her thumb rubbing yours a wordless promise that, just for a while, she’ll let you be her safe place.

it becomes routine for you and shauna to disappear to some quiet spot when the cabin feels too heavy. no one has figured you out yet, although you’re sure that they can put two and two together by now: tai has caught your eye, the last time you sneaked off together and lottie has long claimed that the wilderness has its fucked up ways of communicating with her. whether any of it is true or not, something about the glances she shoots in your direction tells you that she knows. that she might even appreciate it, though that could just be because she won’t be the outlet for shauna’s anger anymore.

after a particularly tense exchange with the others, she brushes past you, muttering, “let’s go.” you follow her immediately, of course, and the two of you wind through the forest until you reach the plane’s wreckage. inside, it’s silent and dim, a place that’s somehow managed to become a safe haven. the last reminder of civilization, somewhere far far away from you.

shauna lets herself lean back against the metal frame, shoulders dropping in relief, her usual guarded expression softening as you sit close beside her.

she doesn’t say anything, but her hand finds yours, squeezing it tightly, as if she’s grounding herself in your presence. then, in a rare show of vulnerability, she leans her head on your shoulder, her eyes closing as she lets out a shaky sigh. you wrap an arm around her, pull her closer, and let her melt into you, feeling her tension slowly give way as she buries her face in the crook of your neck.

together, you stay like that for hours, just holding each other. shauna curls into your arms, letting herself fully relax in the quiet. you actually dare to cradle her head and press gentle kisses to her forehead, feeling her melt into your embrace, and trusting you in a way she hasn’t trusted anyone else in a long, long time.

“you’re…you’re way too soft for this place, you know that?” you hear her whispering. she doesn’t stop you, though.

when it’s time to return, shauna doesn’t say a word but gives you a look that says it all: gratitude, trust, and something almost like relief.

even when you’re not together, shauna’s glances toward you become longer, her eyes lingering with something that remains unspoken, as if she’s trying to understand this newfound feeling.

around the others, she is still hesitant to be openly affectionate. in the cabin, it is only late at night, when it’s just the two of you, that she lets herself fall into your arms. It’s the only time she allows herself to be unguarded, clinging to you silently as if afraid you’ll vanish too if she lets go.

that same night, you catch a quiet confession under her ragged breath. she’s facing the other way, letting you spoon her from behind. only this way, does she dare to open up about how everything seems to slip away from her. she’s scared but hides it behind anger and frustration. you’re the first person allowed to see her tears.

you can’t even begin to imagine what she’s going through. all the things she’s been robbed of: girlhood, like all of you. even if you’re ever rescued (which seems less likely with every day that passes) how are you supposed to move on? how are you supposed to live, like none of this ever happened? her best friend, who no one dares to talk about anymore, afraid it’ll bring back the things you’ve done. it’s like she was never here at all which, you think, must be even worse. motherhood, too, though she never even wanted it. no one seems to acknowledge that, out of everyone out here, she might just be the one to have lost everything to the wilderness.

in an attempt to comfort her, you trace mindless shapes against the back of her hand, slowly soothing her back to sleep. the letters of her name, a loopy S, gliding across her scarred knuckles with a tenderness so contrary to everything these hands have done. your own name, next. you hear a gentle chuckle coming from shauna. she knows what you’re doing, of course. you don’t stop.

the outline of wiskayok, as you remember from the map. she doesn’t seem to recognize this one, a little crease between her brows. “home” you tell her quietly and the crease vanishes.

it feels surreal that, somewhere out there, home is still a place. that wiskayok still exists to the people, to your families, your classmates, and everyone else back there. that it’s more than just a fading memory.

“you suck at drawing” she finally manages. it’s the first time you can hear the glimpse of amusement in her voice.

“what? you think you’re any better?” you whisper quietly, wanting it to last.

shauna shifts beside you, and takes your hand with a gentleness you didn’t think she possessed still.

now it’s your turn to lay back and feel. she starts with words. “yellowjackets” she spells out. a small smile flashes over your features as shauna studies your face attentively. then, though it’s harder to make out, she traces the word: “champions”. your heart feels heavy with everything that could’ve been.

shapes are next: a tiny heart, resembling the shape of jackie's necklace, then a simple circle.

"that's a soccer ball" she whispers expertly. for the first time, you laugh. it only lasts a short moment before you remember where you are, and that the others are trying to sleep just a couple of meters from you.

you fall asleep with her hand in your own, as both of your eyes grow too tired and you drift off together.

other nights, when she’s fast asleep and -for once- doesn’t seem haunted by nightmares, you find yourself watching over her. it’s the only time you get to see her the way she’d once been: when her features aren’t tense or pained, but relaxed. when she’s the girl you met at the very first soccer practice years ago, who hasn’t known any of the things that’ll happen to her in this lifetime. you stay up all night, only realizing how much time has passed when light starts spilling into the cabin and she stirs up.

you know shauna hates being pitied. so while you do feel for her, instead of asking if she’s okay, you just stay close, offering your warmth and presence. when shauna’s frustration bubbles over, she lets herself scream or cry in your arms, knowing you won’t turn her away. you hold her tightly all through the waves of emotions, murmuring quiet reassurances, and she clings to you, even as she struggles to accept that someone genuinely cares.

“everyone else… they don’t understand. they couldn’t. but you-“ she murmurs softly. “you’re the only one who sees me. the only one who wants to.”

shauna begins to show subtle signs of protectiveness over you, too: always looking out for you and offering the little comforts she can manage. even though her gestures are often quieter than yours, and less obvious, she's found her own way of showing she’s come to care for you, and that she’s willing to fight for you as much as you’re willing to be there for her out there!! <3

[coulsonlives]

I knew Quantumania was gonna be a stinker going in, but hoooly cow is the writing vague, unnecessarily mysterious and desperate to hold back even basic information, and lacking any substance whatsoever

[lixbf]

...... how did all of this start with me just wanting to quickly write down how old a few thg characters were during the last ten games. why did my brain decide i need to figure out for myself how old various other tributes and victors were when they died/won. why am i now here multiple hours later looking at an ugly monster of an excel sheet with 50ish characters sorted by birthday with their ages/ages at death as they correspond to each year's hunger games, another sheet of all 75 hunger games with known victors and their lifespans inserted into it because i wanted to see just the victors but also how much time is between some of the named victors, yet another sheet where i wanted to see how the victors' ages at winning compare to see how common i made each winning age but then i also used that sheet to figure out how many victors made it to different ages (which like btw is kinda depressing bc so many of them didnt even make it past 40), and then fucking finally an excel sheet of what i originally wanted to look at aka the ages of a few characters in the last few games except i included way more characters than i originally wanted to and also started at the 60th games instead of the 65th like i wanted to

[frogeyedape]

I ran out of tags XD Good Omens Spoilers Beware! (time for dinner now)

The Magic Trick You Didn’t See: Being An Analysis of Good Omens Season 2

(or: Neil Gaiman, Your Brain is Gorgeous But I Have Cracked Your Sneaky Little Code And Have You Dead To Rights*) (*Maybe)

***

Soooooo I just spent the last 48 hours having a BREATHTAKING GALAXY BRAIN EPIPHANY about Good Omens Season 2 and feverishly writing a fuckin16,000 word essay about the incredible magic trick that @neil-gaiman pulled off. 

Yes, it’s long, but I PROMISE your brains will explode. Do you want to know how magic works? Do you want to know what Metatron’s deal is (I’m like 99% sure of this and it’s EXTREMELY FUCKING GOOD)? Do you want to know about the Mystery of the Vanishing Eccles Cakes and the big fat beautiful clue I found in the opening credits? Do you go through the whole inventory of Chekov’s Firearm & Heavy Artillery Discount Warehouse? 

Here is the essay, go read it: https://docs.google.com/document/d/193IXS11XN46lziHRb6eUpM17yK0BQkRqke1Wh64A_e0/ When ur done u can tell me I’m an insane crackpot, and u know what, i won’t even be offended

In case you don’t know whether you want to bother reading the whole enormous thing on google docs, I’ve put the first couple sections of it under the cut. JUST TRUST ME OKAY, HEAR ME OUT, THIS IS VERY EXTREMELY COOL, NEIL IS GOOD AT HIS JOB–

Keep reading

[shiny-jr]

- Warning: None really. Gender-neutral reader. 

- Characters: Malleus Draconia, Lilia Vanrouge, Silver, Sebek Zigvolt.

- Summary: You work a minimum wage job when a fae takes an interest after you jokingly asked him "will you adopt me?"

- Note: I planned for this to be a platonic yandere thing, but really it's only silly thoughts so I don't really plan to continue this unless y'all want. I don't even have a name for it.

Thinking about an AU where...

You were born a regular magicless person in Twisted Wonderland. Which was a travesty, but not too uncommon, as there were plenty of beings in this world that were incapable of magic. It was considered a privilege to be born with such capabilities. A privilege.

Which was likely why the world seemed catered specifically for magic users. Magic users were the cream of the crop, the best of the best. In the social hierarchy, magic users reined on top. That's just how things were. It wasn't discriminatory. It was merely the nature of society. If a company was looking to hire, of course they would inquire if potential employees could use magic. And of course, they were more likely to choose magic users to fill the positions. That explained why you could only find work as a minimum wage telemarketer, but it was better than nothing.

Random numbers generated and numerous attempts, scripted greetings you've said so much you could recite them in your sleep. As soon as you get an answer of "mmmyello?" a casual and exaggerated hello, you go off on the scripted greeting to advertise the product.

Shockingly, the person on the other end doesn't immediately hang up. They merely hum at your words, occasional shifting heard on the other end.

By the tone and voice, you've deduced that it's a rather relaxed guy. A conversation ensues, and although he doesn't sound all that interested in making a purchase, he doesn't get annoyed by your call. In fact, he continues to chat, seemingly amused by you and willing to share details such that he had a son and two others he fondly cared for.

The man, whom referred to himself as Lilia, mentioned he lived in Briar Valley. How odd, as it was common knowledge that the valley didn't have the best connection with technology due to their preference towards magic. He spoke of his well-mannered son and the other two boys he helped raise, one was a loud son of a dentist and the other was a quiet son of longtime family friends. By this time you were imagining an older gentleman with three young boys no older than ten.

He seemed to care so fondly for them that in the middle of the pleasant conversation, you couldn't help but jokingly ask, "Will you adopt me?"

The line was silent and you were mortified as you remembered this was supposed to be business talk, and your calls were likely being recorded. After what must've been shock, he began to laugh on the other end, and you immediately ended the call in your panic.

Why did you say that? You shouldn't have said that– Damn it, right when you were just gonna test the waters to see if he wanted the insurance package! Well, there went your big catch of the day. The rest of the evening was failed attempts, either deadlines or potential customers just hung up as soon as you spoke. Things were looking bleak.

Eventually, not even a week later, you received a letter. A letter, not an email, that was written much like how you expected the contents of a letter from the medieval ages to sound. Starting with: Salutations, Telemarketer–– and after several paragraphs, ending with ––That is why I am now interested in your deal! I will need your assistance, because I have not a single clue about how insurance works.

There was no number, and you couldn't recall the one you had reached him through, so there was no choice but to resort to the old fashioned way. Through letters. Although it would be a hassle and an interaction that would likely last for weeks just for one deal, a customer was a customer, and this would be your first one in so long. However, when you agreed to speak to him, you didn't actually expect him to show up at your doorstep. The voice you recognized, but he was not what you had in mind. He looked to be your age, short with magenta highlights in his black hair and wide red eyes accompanied by a fang-toothed smile. And pointed ears, the sign of fae. Of course he was a fae, that made total sense as to why he spoke as if he were older. He probably was older, much older than you previously thought.

Lilia wore a constant smile, listening but also not listening when you tried your best to explain what insurance was to a fae that had never once needed it.

"Do you get it now...?" You asked finally, after a lengthy explanation to which he barely asked any questions. All he did was nod up and down.

There was a brief pause. "Yesss..." That sounded uncertain, but he didn't appear to care too much as he noticed your bag with only the minimum in it like keys and a thin wallet. Along with the time. "Shouldn't you be on your lunch break now?"

"Yes, but... I don't eat lunch. I'm not hungry." A lie. You were hungry, but it wasn't easy to get lunch on a minimum wage salary alone. You'd eat something for dinner.

Lilia seemed to sense this, somehow detecting your lie. "Hm... Well, I like you. And I'm not about to let a child starve on my watch."

"A child...?" You stared at him incredulously. This fae was practically the same size as you, maybe even shorter. "I'm over––"

"Uh-huh, just nod and come along." He instructed, holding up a finger to gently shush you as he waved you along to follow beside him. "If your age only has two numbers in it, then in my eyes, you're like a toddler."

Lunch was surprisingly nice, as Lilia was quite eccentric but excellent at holding a conversation. He seemed wise and witty, making a great combination. However, you couldn't help but wonder what a fae from Briar Valley was doing here, as it was known that most faes preferred not to leave the valley.

"It's getting late, I do have to be going..." Lilia sighed, before turning to you and his smile softened. "Would you like to see my boys I told you about? It won't take long."

Did he live close by? That was the only plausible explanation you could think of, since Briar Valley was a whole continent away. It only made sense that he lived nearby if he were here now. Maybe he was one of the few fae that chose to leave the valley.

This was quickly disproven when he held your hand and told you to stay still, when it felt like you were hurled through space. A gust of wind slapping your face, your eyes momentarily seeing a kaleidoscope of colors, you felt sick when suddenly your surroundings were darker.

Dark brick walls like black, candles lighting the space, gray stone floors... definitely not the outside of the cafe you were just standing in front of moments ago. Teleporation magic...? He was a fae, and all faes had magic. You only had milliseconds to recover and swallow the rising bile in your throat, as Lilia pulled you into an open space like a courtyard where light filtered in. However, in this space there were training dummies and swords instead of flowers and butterflies.

"Come, come, meet my boys. The ones I've told you about!"

You immediately paled. When you heard boys, you were expecting young children no bigger than half your height. Instead you were met with three towering men with forbidding expressions.

Two of which were dressed in dark metallic armor and lowering sharpened weapons. The one on the left was a bit taller, with green hair and sharp eyes that pierced you like a blade. The one on the right was the shorter of the two, but that didn't make him any less intimidating with his gray hair and aurora eyes on an expression as cold as ice.

And the last, the last was recognizable anywhere. Black robes and majestic black horns like a crown with slitted green eyes that seemed to glow and peer into your very soul. That was the prince of the valley, a fae with unrivaled and frightening levels of magic.

"This is Sebek, Silver, and Malleus. They've so looked forward to meeting you ever since I told them about you after our pleasant telephone chat yesterday!"

[pomefioredove]

boop

summary: booping them + their reactions type of post: headcanons characters: third years additional info: is short, platonic or romantic, reader is gender neutral author's note: this would've been good to post for the tumblr april fool's event but I missed out so you're getting it now instead!

𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐲 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

hmm... okay!

trey often navigates his interactions with other students based on his interactions with his siblings

there's an order to human behavior, after all

especially with the underclassmen shenanigans (he's really seen it all at this point; don't ask)

none of his siblings, however, have walked up to him unannounced and booped his nose

not yet, at least?

it seems to make you happy though, so he just smiles

half of his job as vice housewarden is "going along with it"

he's pretty used to nonsense

𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

he's editing something on his phone the first time you try and doesn't even notice it

...and the second time, and the third

it becomes a sort of routine for you

tentatively trying to see how many times you can get away with it before he finally notices and says something

and it only spirals from there, of course

you'll up to him while he's talking to someone else, boop him, and walk away

(much to the other person's confusion)

does he notice? yeah, of course

do you need to know that he notices? ...maybe not

he likes the attention, just let him have this one

𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐚 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐫 ⋆˚⸙˖°༄✩⊹

he gnaws your hand off

okay, not really. too messy for him

(and the consequences would be such a headache to deal with...)

but he is all grumpy because you woke him up for that

"What was that supposed to be? -_- Don't do that again,"

rolls over and goes back to sleep

you're lucky he reacted as nonchalantly as he did tbh, lions don't like being pet, and he could've kicked you out of his room in a heartbeat for that

(maybe you get a special pass to be annoying)

note to you: don't do that again

𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭 ˚⊹˚₊🕊 ˚✧ ₊

boops you back right away

does he necessarily know what that means? no, but he'll find out soon enough anyway

and based off your body language and expression it seems like a gesture of affection

...which he's all too happy to return

(he's so excited to be touching you affectionately he could explode)

now every time you see each other you end up going back and forth for hours

"boop!" "boop!" "boop!"

that's one sure way to give Vil a headache

(you may or may not end up temporarily banned from Pomefiore for disturbing the peace)

𝐕𝐢𝐥 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐭 ˚⊹˚₊🕊 ˚✧ ₊

you'd assume he gets annoyed, right?

well, he's a little surprised at first (people just don't go around touching him, after all)

then he just smiles

"Remember what we said about asking before touching, hm?"

you're lucky he thinks you're cute

(if not a little strange)

like, so lucky

congratulations on being the only human on earth who gets away with casually touching his face like that

𝐈𝐝𝐢𝐚 𝐒𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐝 ₊✩‧₊˚⊹༄˚₊모‧₊

well. what do you expect

his eyes widen and his face (and hair) go pink and he internally freaks out (but externally just stands there)

"Um... What was that for?"

Idia might be a little more familiar with the conventions of a boop than anyone else

it's what you do to adorable little animals, right? like kitties and puppies?

so... why are you doing it to him?

if you say you "just felt like it" he might believe you

if you say it's because you think he's cute he will be avoiding you for the rest of the month

good luck!

𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐮𝐬 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐚 ✩⁺₊°⊹ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ☽｡°⊹

blinks.

has zero clue what you meant by that

but you seem happy with yourself so it couldn't have been a bad thing, right?

"I'm unfamiliar with that gesture. Is that a greeting from your home?"

you explain that it's a sort of affection you show towards cute things

"Oh, well... you're quite brave. I'm honored,"

he's definitely all sunshine and rainbows for the rest of the week

he's all but giggling and kicking his feet back and forth

no one really questions him

and he doesn't really explain

(if Sebek finds out you booped the heir to the throne of Briar Valley as if he were a kitty cat he will gnaw your hand off)

𝐋𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚 𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐞 ✩⁺₊°⊹ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ☽｡°⊹

pleasantly surprised, doesn't even question it

he is adorable, after all, he can't blame you for wanting to be affectionate with him

boops you back, of course

after all, aren't you just the cutest thing too?

if you try to walk away after booping him he will find you to return the favor

will somehow make it a competitive sport

waiting for you around corners, hiding in every nook and cranny so that he might catch you by surprise and boop you

(he is totally keeping count of who's ahead)

it makes the school a warzone for like a solid week before Silver's pleas to "please be normal about the prefect" finally work

(AKA Lilia gets bored of it and finds another way to be close to you)

[under-lore]

What could Sans find out about Flowey ?

By finishing a neutral route over and over again multiple times, Flowey has some unique dialogues in which he mentions various trivia or shares his thoughts on some of the other characters.

One such character is Sans, who Flowey notably gives us a warning about.

However, the way he words that warning feels a little intriguing :

While Sans is generally a very perceptive character who is often capable of making pretty good guesses from limited information, Flowey makes it rather obvious that he is speaking from experience rather than simply making a general comment about Sans' observation skills.

But a question that isn't brought up very often is, what was it exactly that Sans would frequently "find out" about Flowey to warrant this warning ? And how ?

While the question may seem unanswerable at first due to Flowey not giving us any specifics whatsoever, there are a few details scattered throughout the game which may allow us to deduce our way towards what was most likely the intended answer.

First, we know what solution Flowey ended up settling with in order to deal with whatever that issue was : Simply avoiding Sans.

In any given timeline, Flowey took the habit of avoiding to be seen by or around Sans at any point, unless he specifically had something in mind that required him to do so. (such as in the pacifist ending) As a general rule of thumb, he would avoid Sans altogether as much as possible.

However, even with that effort on Flowey's side, a quick mention of a talking flower from Papyrus is already enough to seemingly get Sans at least a little suspicious that something may be up with that.

This is our second clue : The fact that it took Sans so little information for him to get suspicious of what Papyrus told him about a flower.

Our last clue is the few words we hear from Sans after he sees and hears Flowey at the end of the pacifist route :

In order to find out what to make of those clues, we need to introduce a fourth element : Sans' scientific background.

Luckily, none of the more complicated or speculative nuances of that side of his character are required here, all that we need is to highlight his somewhat-hidden friendship with Alphys.

She knows him well enough to call his jokes in advance :

Or here, the game more obviously points out that these two seem surprisingly friendly.

Sans tries to play it off, but it is clear they know a lot more about each other than seems at first glance.

But how much exactly ?

Well...

To go back to our main point, if one were to call Papyrus' phone in front of Alphys' lab, the conversation between the skeletons brothers would eventually deviate towards the question of wether or not Alphys is hiding dogs inside of her lab.

To which Sans answers, winking :

If it had just been this one joke, it may have been a coincidence, but the game doubles down on this exact same implication if you call Papyrus from within the lab as well, showing that this connection between Sans and Endogeny was absolutely intentional :

While the determination experiments were sorely Alphys' entreprise, it appears that Sans was at least made aware of the way they ended up playing out.

We cannot affirm with certainty how much detail exactly Sans has regarding the experiments, but if he is aware for the dogs and possibly even involved in dealing with them (as he had the dog food bag in his room), then he most definitely would also know about the vessel too. It was the main goal, after all.

This vessel had a few particularities.

First, it was a golden flower, the flower from the outside world, chosen for symbolic reasons.

But second, that specific golden flower was chosen because it was different from the rest.

It was at the center of the garden, it had grown before all the others, those were the ones mentioned by Alphys in her entries. But there was one more specificity which she omitted to bring up :

Golden flowers in Undertale are a species of flowers which has 5 petals.

But our "vessel" had a mutation, resulting in an extra 6th petal.

A design choice in part, perhaps, but one that takes a very real in-world importance within this context.

Adding to this that, from the view of the current timeline iteration, the vessel seems to have suddenly vanished one day and...

Since it is likely for Sans to have been aware of all of this, now, it makes a lot of sense that the mere idea of a new mysterious talking flower that says strange things showing up out of nowhere would immediately put him on high alert. A potential connection with the missing vessel is easy to make.

Actually, now that we have this context, even Alphys seems to make the same connection as well after hearing Papyus mentioning a talking flower just before Flowey arrives.

But most of all, it now feels incredibly clear why Flowey needs to avoid being seen by Sans so much.

His entire appearance, and particularly his obvious extra 6th petal, are all dead giveaways of his origins.

Could Sans, who is skilled enough at analysing faces to tell the difference between the face of someone that has died 9 or 10 times in a row, really miss out on such blaring evidence ?

Of course not.

Flowey might as well have written "i am the vessel" on his face with a marker as far as Sans is concerned.

Chances are that merely seeing Flowey even once would be all it takes for Sans to be practically certain that Flowey must be the former vessel.

Not only that, but given that those experiments were all about determination, the so called "resolve to change fate", Flowey would also immediately be considered extremely likely to be the anomaly, too.

This is what we see in this scene :

Not only does Sans get to see Flowey here, but the speech that Flowey makes during this scene also provides him with definitive evidence that Flowey really was the "anomaly" he had been worried about, as his psychological profile matches extremely well with the one Sans shows us to have built for the anomaly in a genocide route. But, it also shows him that Flowey has, for now at least, lost his anomalous time powers to Frisk, and is thus struggling to keep them in his "game".

This suggests that for now, Frisk actually still has the advantage, and that despite all those crazy speeches, without his reset powers, that weirdo has got nothing on them.

But this is all later on in the story.

During Flowey's earlier RESETs, being seen by Sans, even once, quickly becomes a major pain for Flowey in every timeline iteration in which it happens.

At best, he might get "pranked accross time and space" a number of times. At worst, Flowey might have no choice but to reset and start all over again on whatever he was aiming to do.

Except this time around, without letting the smiley trashbag learn ANYTHING about him.

[rhysazriel]

Smoke & Light: Part 2 [Plug!Az]

SUMMARY: Azriel hasn’t been able to get you out of his head, and when you agree to smoke with him and go for a drive, truths aren’t the only things that are shared. (6.6k)

WARNINGS: lots to unpack tbh, so let’s start with swearing, (male) masturbation, teasing, flirting, kissing (!!!!!), mentions of abusive families, reoccurring themes of use of recreational drugs (weed), Az driving while smoking/stoned (I do not condone that so please do not do that in real life!!)

A/N: firstly, thank you so incredibly much for all of the love on part one, I’m so excited to share what I have planned for this series!! This part is longer than the first, so maybe grab a drink and a snack hehe

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“Why don’t we give the brownies idea a try?”

Azriel’s head felt like it may explode. For the past two hours, he’d been stuck in a discussion between his brothers regarding new ideas for new products to sell. And while Az and Rhys had no ideas to suggest (all agreeing cocaine, molly and ket were not up for discussion), Cassian was still hellbent on making weed brownies—despite knowing not a damn thing about baking. 

“Cass,” Rhys sighed, pinching sharply at the bridge of his nose. Azriel was going to lose his shit, he couldn’t go through this again—for a fifth fucking time. “We literally spoke about this last week! None of us know how to bake!” 

Cassian paid no mind to Rhysand’s clear frustrations with him and scoffed as he threw his head back on the couch. “It can’t be that fucking hard.” 

“Then by all means, buy your own shit and burn it while you try and figure it out.” 

Azriel blinked, looking between the pair. He’d barely said a word, too worried he may get a bit too heated. Cassian got like this sometimes—most of the time—and more often than not, Az got the idea he only did it to get a reaction out of Rhys, who had very little patience when it came to him.

Someone had to play mediator and devil’s advocate in every situation, and somehow, even since they were teens, that role always landed on Azriel’s shoulders. 

Deciding enough was enough, he leant forward and peered between them both. “As much as edibles would help out sales, Rhys is right,” Cassian snickered at him, “It’s not a good idea right now. Not when we have no clue what we’re doing, and especially not when we’re having problems with our supplier right now.”

It was silent in the room for a moment, for the first time in an hour. And after a few minutes passed and no one spoke, Rhys stood from the couch with a sigh. “I’ve gotta get going to the parlour. All my sketches are there and I’ve got a long day and a huge back piece to tattoo tomorrow.” 

He clapped a hand against both Az and Cassian’s shoulders before bidding them a goodbye and leaving. Cassian remained sulking on the couch, thick and toned arms crossed on his chest with an unsatisfied scowl on his face. Azriel took purchase on the coffee table in front of him, lips pursed to suppress his amusement.

Cassian often got like this if he was told no or something didn’t go his way. When they were younger, Azriel used to roll his eyes and tell him to get over it. But now, in their mid-twenties and Cassian sharing a striking resemblance to that hunky character from that one Disney movie, Azriel found his sulking the best form of entertainment. 

“Are you not working tonight?” Az broke the silence with a lighthearted question. As much as he found his brothers face amusing, he didn’t really have the energy to deal with it all fucking night. He had shit to do, people to see. And he didn’t particularly want to bring Cassian along to his drop off’s—not when Cass scared the shit out of most people. 

“Club’s closed, waiting for Nes to finish. Staying at hers tonight,” he mumbled.

Relief was quick to flow through Azriel’s blood as he let out a breath. His phone chimed from his back pocket as he said, “Tell her I say hi,” and a gentle smile tugged at the corners of Cassian’s mouth.

Az and Nesta had a decent friendship, he was closer to her than he was Feyre, but maybe that was because Nesta didn’t tiptoe around Az like most other people did. Maybe that was why he liked you so much. You didn’t shy under his gaze, and you didn’t treat him differently after noticing his scarred hands. 

Yes, he saw you watching, inspecting with hurt and curious eyes. But you didn’t say anything so neither did he. And when you purposely brushed your skin against his when you took that bag of bud, he knew you’d done it out of silent reassurance. 

And yet, he hadn’t heard from you since you met three days ago. Not that he expected you to message so soon, not after you said the 3.5 would last around two weeks, but he still felt that deep disappointment whenever he checked his phone and your name wasn’t the one to have messaged him. 

He needed to get a grip on himself, really. But you were different. So different from anyone he’d ever met or known before. You didn’t play up to any facade, you didn’t hesitate to tease him back. You were honest, painfully so when you admitted you were clueless, but that only made him find you even more endearing. 

“What about you?” Cassian’s voice drilled into his ears, abruptly pulling Azriel away from the memory of you. He quickly typed back a reply to a client that he could drop off within the hour and shoved his phone back in his pocket. 

“What about me?” Az asked. 

“Any plans?” 

Azriel shrugged, elbows leaning on his spread thighs and the oak coffee table creaked beneath his firm weight. “I’ve got a few deals to do, but that’s about it.”

Cass nodded, finally unfolding his arms and letting them drop to his sides. “Well, you know where I’ll be if you wanna come by, Nes would be happy to see you.”

Azriel raised a brow. “I saw her two days ago.”

His brother gave him a look, one that suggested ‘yeah, I know, but you’re like her best friend and she loves you to literal death’, and that was that. 

Cass left soon after, picking Nesta up from work and leaving Azriel home alone for what seemed like the thousandth night in a row. He didn’t mind it, not really. He enjoyed his own company and when Cass stayed at Nesta’s and Rhys stayed at Feyre’s, it meant Az could play around with new melodies and not be scolded for playing guitar at 4 a.m. and waking everybody up. 

Having the apartment to himself was a win-win for everyone involved. 

Only tonight, he didn’t want to sit and play with new sounds and rhythms. Not when his mind was completely distracted by you. By your smile, your eyes, by that sensual voice of yours that he hadn’t stopped replaying in his memory for the past three days. 

It wouldn’t hurt to send just one text, right? Just the one, just to check in on how you were finding the bud. As if you hadn't smoked it before they met. 

He shouldn’t. This wasn’t what he did—he didn’t chase after girls, he never had, and he most certainly did not get hooked—especially not on someone he’d known for three days. 

And yet, despite that, Azriel found himself on your messages, hovering his fingers over the keyboard and typing out a quick text and sending it before he could even think about it. 

Azriel: how’s the bud?

But it wasn’t his lack of thinking before sending the message that had his jaw slack, no. It was the fact that as soon as the message travelled from the box to the messaging thread, you had already opened it. Like you were already on the chat. Perhaps debating your own text to him. 

Those grey bubbles appeared at the bottom of the screen and Azriel made quick work to click out of the conversation. His heart should not have been stammering in his chest the way it was, he should not have felt so anxious about what you may think if he read your text as quickly as you read his. 

You: very good. And you were right. 7 joints! 

And then, another.

You: I may need a top up sooner than i thought, if that’s ok?

Azriel: what happened to it lasting you 2 weeks?? Nah, that’s fine. Did you wanna meet up tonight?

You: would that be ok?

Azriel: yes. Old tower in 20?

You: life saver <3 see u then!

He tried his damned hardest not to stare at the little heart you sent him, tried his best not to picture you thinking about texting him to meet up again. But all he tried, it didn’t work and a smirk began to tug at the corners of his mouth. 

//

His Ford Mustang parked outside the Old Tower fifteen minutes later, the engine still humming softly and his eyes flitted between the rearview mirror and his view in front of him, trying to gauge which way you’d come from. 

He didn’t expect for you to come out of the shadows in a third direction, one in the wake of the passengers side, and he didn’t realise until the door opened and you slid your body inside his car, shutting the door behind you. 

“Hi,” you turned to him with a beaming smile—eyes gently blazed with a moody pink hue. 

Azriel drank you in. Your hair was down today in what he presumed was your natural waves, face bare of makeup save for the sheen of pinky lip gloss that coated your mouth. You wore an oversized cropped olive cardigan; the large buttons done up just enough to offer a slither of a peek of the white bralette you wore beneath, and a pair of straight-legged black cargos. 

Gods, you looked even better than he remembered, but Azriel wasn’t naive to your staring either. Your eyes caught notice of his thick, muscled arms. They weren’t hidden beneath a jacket this time. No. They bulged from the black t-shirt he wore, and his brown skin was etched in intricate swirls and shapes and designs in black ink. 

You gulped, visibly so. Tattoos had always been an immediate attraction for you—not that Brandon ever had any—but the sight of Azriels and the one that hid beneath the sleeve of his top and curled up and around his neck… Gods, your throat felt extremely dry.

And Azriel noticed everything. 

“I thought you said you didn’t smoke much?” 

Your eyes finally snapped to his hazel ones and warmth coated your cheeks and chest. You cleared your throat, blinking a few times to regain some sense of composure. “I don’t,” you retorted. “Girls night. And it was my turn to host.” 

Azriel tried not to think too deeply into the idea of you having a night at home with your girlfriends, stoned and warm and cosy and all inhibitions thrown out the window. He wondered if those were the types of things you did with your friends. He’d been with a few before that did. 

He looked away as soon as he felt that familiar tightening in his jeans. “So, you want another 3.5?” He cleared his throat, lifting the compartment between your seats. 

You hummed, eyes following his movements. Your gaze lingered on his biceps for a moment, trailing down to the veins that protruded from his smooth skin. You didn’t know what was wrong with you. Oftentimes than not, you found yourself horny and riled up when under the influence, but never like this. Never so strongly at the sight of two veiny, tattooed arms. 

“Um, yeah… please.” You finally spoke. “I promise it’ll last me longer than three days this time.”

Azriel prayed to the fucking mother above that it didn’t. But he didn’t say anything. Instead, he retrieved a 3.5 baggie and handed it to you, closing the compartment again and the second he opened his mouth to speak, you were already grabbing a marred hand and shoving two twenty’s into it before forcing his fist closed. 

Perhaps it was the buzz of the joint you smoked on your way, or perhaps it was the pure arousal you felt at the sight of him and the feel of his hand in yours that gave you a surge of confidence. Whatever it was, it had you saying, “Pretty clients might get a discount from you, but incredibly attractive, tattooed plugs get full pay from me.”

Azriel was stunned for a moment, by both your boldness and the shameless compliment. His mouth blubbered open, a retort just as flirty as yours on the tip of his tongue when the sound of his ringtone blaring through the car’s bluetooth speaker cut him off. 

He disconnected the call a bit too quickly, an amused smile teetering on the curves of your already twisted lips. Azriel paid no mind to his own actions, instead turning back to you with a fire in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place. 

His lips parted in another attempt to speak when that gods-dammed phone interrupted him for a second time and you could no longer hold your laughter. Azriel decided there and then that the next time he saw you, he’d make sure he heard that sweetness again. 

You didn’t give him time to cut the call off again. Instead, you reached for the door handle and offered a grateful smile. “I’ll text you when I’m out.”

His senses were too on overdrive. Too torn between wanting to stop you, even if to spend a few more moments in your presence, and the deafening sound of his fucking phone. But you’d exited the car and closed the door behind you before he could do anything about it. The cash was still stuffed in his warm hands and the incoming call continued to make his ears bleed. 

“What?” Azriel seethed the second he answered the call. It was silent for a moment, the caller caught off guard by Az’s tone but that only pissed him off further. 

“It’s Brandon,” the line paused for a moment again. “You about?” 

Azriel felt his blood boil. “If I don’t fucking answer the first time, that usually means no.”

He disconnected the call without another word, marred hands now gripping the wheel until his knuckles turned white. He hated the way he was reacting over you—over being interrupted from your presence. But he couldn't help it. Couldn’t get the thought out of his head of how sweet your lips probably tasted with that gloss. And without it. 

Azriel’s chest heaved slightly, that all too familiar sense of arousal tightening in his pants. He couldn’t stand this, couldn't understand how a tiny slip of your bralette could have his mind and body reacting like this. How a subtle smirk and a sultry gaze could have him ready to blow a load in his pants. 

Christ, he needed to sort himself out. Absent-mindedly, Azriel snuck a hand between his thighs, large scarred hand palming at his length through the fabrics. His breathing turned quicker, his moments growing needier. If he didn’t sort himself out soon he’d been in agony. 

With one hand on the wheel, he forced himself to drive—only for a moment or two until his Mustang was parked idly between two buildings and switched off the engine to not draw too much attention to himself. 

He was above this—above getting himself off semi-publicly. But he couldn’t fucking help it. He didn’t care how shameful and icky he might’ve felt afterwards, not when he was so desperate. 

As soon as the car was covered in shadows of darkness, he unclasped his seatbelt and unpopped the buttons of his jeans. He didn’t bother to pull them down, only releasing the zip and reaching into his boxers to tug his length free. 

The second he felt his skin on him, he shuddered. His slender fingers wrapped around his thick shaft, offering himself a teasing squeeze as he slowly moved. Azriel didn’t need lube or lotion—not when pearly beads of semi-translucent arousal leaked from his pink, ruddy tip. He smoothed it down his length, mewling at the contact he rewarded himself. 

And all he could think about was you. 

Your eyes, your lips, your voice.

He let his mind wander to sinful images of what may lay hidden beneath your clothes—beneath that little white bralette. Azriel quickened his pace as his eyes fluttered closed, the back of his head hitting the headrest. He throbbed in his hand, a gruff moan tearing from his throat. 

Azriel could picture you clearly in his head; on your knees in the footwell, your dainty hands around his cock as your lips kissed and sucked him. His hand in your hair, bobbing you on his length, watching your eyes water from the size of him as he hit the back of your throat. 

His breathing grew ragged, filthy images of your choking on his cock filling his brain, clouding his sensing and coaxing a release out of him. Azriel didn’t think he’d ever come so quickly before in his life, but the idea of you looking up at him with sultry eyes through thick lashes had him spurting warm ribbons of cum into his hand as he cupped his head to minimise the mess. A desperate attempt to replicate what he imagined the warmth of your mouth would feel like. 

As his breathing began to even out, the post-nut clarity hit him like a ton of fucking bricks. Shame boiled in his blood, a tint of pink embarrassment painted on his cheeks as if the shadows judged him, too. The idea of seeing you again while knowing what he’d done to the thought of you… it made his insides churn slightly. 

But more than that, it made his cock leap again in anticipation of soon being in your presence once more. 

//

“Az, what do you say? Up for a double date?” 

Feyre couldn’t hide her smile, unable to keep her emotions in check when it came to her attempts to set Azriel up. But the instant disappearance of his smile wasn’t missed on her. Nor was the way his shoulders tensed slightly. 

He sighed. “Fey, as much as I appreciate your concern for my love life, I don’t need to be set up.”

She pouted at him. Despite that always being his answer, she still held a shred of hope every time she suggested it. Even if he never changed his mind, she was willing to continuously try, even if he did find it annoying. Even if she didn’t tell him until the very last minute. 

“Who’s the lucky girl then, Az?” Nesta piped up with a wide grin from her seat in the couch, tucked closely into Cassian’s side who paid no mind to the conversation at hand. 

He rolled his eyes at her. “There is no girl.” 

“Guy, then.” Nesta scoffed, waving a hand. 

Azriel didn’t want to entertain this conversation, especially not because it had somehow brought his mind back to you. Something he’d been so desperately trying to avoid. 

Though, he supposed it was inevitable. He would be seeing you again at some point and then he’d be stuck right back where he started. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure why he was doing this to himself— why he didn’t allow himself to pursue you if that was what he truly wanted. 

His phone chimed from his pocket. 

In hindsight, it was probably a good thing that Azriel didn’t hear from you for two weeks. It gave him ample time to attempt to get his hormones in check, but it didn’t stop his blood from warming everytime he received a notification. Each time, he was left with slight disappointment to find it was just another client. 

Until today. Until now. Where your name was in fact the one on his lockscreen and all of that forgetting and willing to get you out of his mind faltered. 

You: Hey, are you free later?

Azriel: I'm free all night.

When you didn’t respond, Azriel assumed you were looking for a more direct answer. So he sent another text. 

Azriel: old tower in an hour good for you?

You: see you then.

He couldn’t help the frown that furrowed in his brows at your reply. Given, your only communication was mainly through text, and perhaps he was looking too much into it, but you didn't seem yourself. And that thought shouldn’t have irked him as much as it did. 

He barely bid anyone a goodbye, throwing a mumbled ‘see you later’ as he grabbed his shit and left. 

His first stop was to Sean, a lean Asian guy that had been buying off Azriel for two years now. He was decent enough, never tried to haggle or complain about the prices. They shared a mutual respect and minimal words were shared when Az handed him a Q and Sean gave 140 in one swift motion. 

And just like that, Azirel moved onto the next.

And then another. 

And another. 

Until he was waiting at the Old Tower and watching your silhouette approach the Mustang. You entered the car just like you always had done, though you didn’t meet his gaze this time. Instead, you kept your line of view ahead. Your hair obstructed the side of your face, effectively shielding you from his prying eyes. 

“Sorry I’m a little late.” 

Azriel absolutely did not like the quake in your voice as you spoke, nor did he like the way you seemed to cower into your body and clothes. Clothes that didn’t seem to match your usual vibe—instead, the mismatched black sweatpants and bright pink puffer jacket gave off the impression you threw on whatever was around you. 

Somehow, Azriel still thought you made it look good. On you, the outfit looked both planned and effortless. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that that wasn’t the case. 

“You good?” he asked through the piercing silence. 

You hummed, twisting the bulky silver ring on your thumb. “Yeah, just tired.” You tried your hardest to offer a convincing smile as you turned to him, but Azriel noticed the way it didn’t meet your eyes—the eyes that appeared slightly bloodshot, though he had a suspicion it wasn’t from smoking.

Not wanting to press on the matter, Az opened the compartment and pulled out a baggie of your usual amount and kept it pinched between two scarred fingers. You reached for it, the cash in your other hand but he kept his grip tight. 

Azriel raised a brow. “You’re sure you’re alright?” 

You could see the concern flood his hazel eyes, and the sight pulled on your aching heartstrings. How could someone who was a virtual stranger care more for you than the ones who were much closer in your life?

You didn’t trust your words, so you nodded and he finally released his hold on the bag. “Alright,” Az sighed. “It’s a different strain than my usual stuff, so go a little lighter with it. It’s pretty strong.” 

You were incredibly thankful for the warning, though you couldn’t help feeling a little offended. Did he really think you were so naive and new to this world that you couldn’t handle a new strain at your usual strength (which, admittedly, was very weak) without greening out? 

But as quickly as that feeling rose, it faded. He was a dealer, afterall, and he couldn’t afford to lose business all because someone thought they knew better and had a bad trip. 

“Thank you,” you muttered out, already reaching for the handle when his ruggedly soft voice stopped you. 

“You wanna smoke before you go? I can drop you back after.” 

You whipped your head to him, blinking through slightly blurred vision. With a brow raised and widened eyes, your lips parted. “Together?”

A smile stretched across his full lips, one so full of charisma and keen interest that it awakened something deep in the pit of your stomach. Something you distinctly remember feeling the last time you saw him. 

“Why not?” 

You swallowed as your hand slowly fell from the handle and made its way back in your lap. Your smile morphed into a smirk that matched his and the air shifted into something unreadable. Something palpable but not quite real. 

“Really? Do you normally smoke with your clients?” 

Azriel’s wicked grin widened. “I do with the cute ones.” 

You choked on a laugh, rolling your head back until it hit the headrest and Azriel didn’t think he’d ever seen or heard anything so fucking beautiful in his life. That laugh would haunt him in his dreams to a blissful paradise. 

“First, I’m pretty. Now I’m cute… what’s next?” 

Damn the rules he set himself. Damn the restrictions he forced when it came to someone who piqued his interest. It was about time Azriel took what he wanted for once. Even if that meant he started with no longer feeling guilty for flirting with you. 

Chewing at the inside of his cheek, Azriel started up the engine and shifted the gearstick. “Guess you’ll have to wait and find out.” 

He tilted his head to the dashboard compartment and you pulled it open. The small warm white light lit the cove, a golden hue casting on a small yellow tin. Throwing a glance to Azriel, he nodded and you pulled it out, closing the compartment and popping open his travel tin. 

It was packed with perfectly rolled joints and blunts. The smell was strong—potent—but you didn’t mind. Not as much as you had before. You picked one random of the bunch and pinched it between two fingers. It was rolled tightly and packed full, a very small twist of paper at the end and you hummed, impressed. 

Of course he could roll perfectly. And you had a feeling just two pulls of one of those would keep you warm and fuzzy for the remainder of the night. 

“There’s a lighter in the cup holder.” Azriel spoke as he pulled out of the space and began to drive further out of the lights of the city. 

You pinched the lighter. Just a simple black one, no funky pattern or engraved initials like most others had. No, Azriel’s was one that came in a pack of five and the other four were somewhere in the car or back at his apartment. 

“We can smoke in here?” you asked softly, that crack in your voice easing. 

Az hummed, taking a right turn. “If you’re comfortable to.”

You waited a moment, eyeing the joint and then him. “You drive when you smoke?” 

He seemed to notice your somewhat apprehension when he nodded again. He turned to you briefly before flicking his eyes back on the road again. “I drive better when I’m stoned. But if you’d prefer, we can park up somewhere.” 

You shook your head, warmth caressing every inch of your body. You didn’t know what it was, but something had overcome you. An overwhelming sense of pure yearning. You could admit when you first met Az that he was attractive, incredibly so. But now? Watching him, speaking with him, smoking with him… oh God’s… you had a fucking crush on your plug. 

“You wanna start it or should I?” Azriel’s voice broke you from your epiphany and you blinked quickly, willing the rising heat to just fuck off and give you a moments reprive. 

“Oh,” you squeaked. “You can, it’s your weed.” 

He didn’t look away from the road, not for a second. With a hand on the wheel and the other shifting gears, he edged his head closer to yours and angled his face just slightly with his lips parted. You were stunned for a moment, realising what he was asking you to do, and you swallowed back that bubbling arousal as you placed the unlit joint to his lips and sparked up a flame, igniting the end.

Az hummed in thanks as he took a long, deep drag. You couldn’t take your eyes off him. He was a fucking sight. Cheeks ever so slightly hollowed and eyes barely squinted as the smoke filled his lungs. 

A scarred hand left the gearstick to reach for the joint, his thumb reaching for the bottom while his forefinger grazed the top and he pulled it away with another fresh intake of breath, settling the drug further. 

You were soaked, you were sure of it. Your previous problems from today were a distant memory as you finally watched him exhale and bring the joint to his lips again for another long pull. 

The sound of the windows opening broke you from your trance and only then did you realise you hadn’t yet put on your seatbelt. You tore your gaze away to clip yourself in and when you turned back, Azriel was offering you the joint. 

With your free hand, you accepted it, the other stuffing the cash in his cup holder with the lighter. You inspected the joint, tried not to let your heart race. You’d only ever smoked with your friends and Brandon. Never with a dealer. Never with someone like Azriel. 

You slotted your pursed lips over the same area Az did, and inhaled as deeply as you could. The burn at the back of your throat was stronger than when you smoked your own joints, and as it filled your lungs you pulled it away and held back a cough that gagged to release from your throat. 

With a shaky exhale, you swallowed around the dryness of your mouth before bringing it back to your lips for another drag. When you pulled it away, the burn wasn’t as bad and you passed it back to Azriel who took another turn on the roads. 

“Where are we going?” You pondered, a certain rasp to your voice from the strength of the joint. 

Azriel took two short pulls and angled the burning end out the window, flicking off the excess ash before offering it to you again. 

“Wherever you want,” he replied. “But first, we should probably get some food for when the munchies kick in.” 

You laughed as you exhaled another breath and handed the joint back to him, waving a hand to signal you were tapping out and did not intend on smoking anymore. Five pulls of that shit was more than enough for you. You could not handle the idea of greening out in his car with him. 

Azriel stifled a laugh and finished off the rest of the joint by the time he pulled into a drive-thru. He placed his order first, turning to you with flushed cheeks and hazy eyes. You blinked a few times, your brain requiring a few moments to catch up with what was happening. 

“I’ll have the same as you.” 

He stifled a laugh as he spoke into the machine, doubling up on his order and driving through to the next window. Azriel paid no mind to you when you attempted to offer him your money—barely even looked at you as he tapped his card against the reader and then reached for the cash in the cup holder, shoving it back in your empty palms. 

“You can keep that, too.”

You knew it wasn’t up for discussion, so you begrudgingly took your cash back and stuffed it into your jacket pocket again. Az stopped in the parking lot, the two of you eating through hushed yet uncontrollable giggles at the people that passed by. 

It was the first time you’d heard his laugh so unrestricted and it spread another shot of warmth through your body. It continued like that for another undisturbed hour, where after the food, Az sparked up another joint and began the drive to your apartment. You’d told him Old Tower was fine, but he wasn’t okay with that. 

“Too many freaks around at this time of night. I’ll drop you to your door. Put your address in the GPS.”

And it wasn’t until the drive back to your apartment that you were reminded of your previous troubles. The ones that caused your teary eyes and sombre mood. The buzz off the night felt like it had dwindled away the second you thought of your situation, and you were left slumped in your seat again, fiddling with your fingers. 

Azriel noticed your change in mood almost immediately as he glanced over to you before flicking his eyes back to the road. He took another drag of the joint. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You pondered his offer for a few moments, weighing out whether or not you should. In the end, what difference would it make? If you divulge your issues or not, it wouldn’t fix them. But perhaps talking about it might help. 

“My sister got married yesterday and no one told me.”

Azriel blinked rapidly, almost spluttering on the breath he exhaled. “What?” 

“Yeah.” 

He waited patiently, eager for some sort of explanation as to how and why something like that was kept from you. But he didn’t know the relationship with your family, he couldn’t presume anything. For all he knew, you had troubles just like his. 

“My family and I didn’t have the best relationship growing up. I was born from a toxic relationship so I was cast aside as a kid, I guess. I thought we were past that, though. I thought things were better.”

That familiar ache sat heavy in Azriel’s chest. He knew all too well the hurt that came from being shunned by your own family. He wouldn’t wish that upon anyone. Especially not somebody like you. 

“I’m sorry.” His words held such compassion and sympathy. No pity, just pure understanding. 

You blinked back the tears, not wanting to show just how much it had all affected you. But it was no use. A single drop slipped down your cheek and as quickly as it fell, you wiped it away. 

You were agitated now, extremely so. “I didn’t even know she had a boyfriend, Az.”

“Why would they do that?”

There was a pause. And then, “because her now husband was my first everything.” 

You waited for the statement to settle into the thick night air. Your first kiss, first boyfriend, first time. First love. Azriel could understand even more now just how much it hurt you. And the fact they kept it a secret? Even your family knew what they did was wrong. 

“I’m so sorry, that’s truly fucked. But you know, families suck sometimes. I only speak to my mom.”

“Oh?” You hadn’t realised you were even on your street until he parked right outside your apartment and flicked on his hazards. 

Azriel flicked the but of the smoke out the window and held out his hands, showcasing the marred flesh and patchy skin. “My half brothers did this to me when I was eight. They didn’t like that our mom had me with another man before she had them. They said that my bastard blood tainted the family, so they wanted to taint me.” 

Azriel had absolutely no fucking idea why he was divulging such an intimate and traumatic part of himself. But he made no attempt to hide or sugarcoat any of the truth. Especially not when he looked up from his hands and caught sight of your face. 

Salty tears silvered the linings of your eyes at the truth of what had happened to him. Bile crept up your throat and hatred for his family formed. Eight years old. You felt sick. 

“Az… I’m so sorry. That’s… I can’t even…”

But Azriel waved it off with a gentle smile. “It’s awful, sure. But I’m fine. I wouldn’t have met Cass and Rhys if that didn’t happen. They may be my found family, but they’re my brothers. Blood doesn't mean shit to me.

A single tear slipped down your warm cheek, staining the skin in its wake. Azriel reached out to wipe it away, his touch gentle and soft and yet all-consuming. Your gaze met in a flickering glance of hazy eyes and fluttering lashes. 

And then next thing you knew, your lips were on his. 

Azriel was quick to kiss you back; moulding his plump lips around yours as his large palms cupped the sides of your face. He was sweet on your mouth, a hint of salt from his fries and he swiped his tongue across the seam of your lips, you almost imploded. 

Azriel was no better. The second he got a taste, he was a starved man. Your tongues met in needy strokes and Az had never tasted anything like you before. Sweet like the watermelon lip gloss you wore, and a tang of smoke that haunted your mouth. 

He was hooked, desperately fucking hooked. Your own hands reached up to hold his wrists in hopes of keeping his touch on you. Azriel kissed you deeper, licking across your teeth before settling even deeper in your mouth. 

It was needy and messy and every unspoken word of desire was poured into that kiss, your touch. He could stay like that forever, kissing you, tasting you. Azriel could feel himself stretching in his pants, and from the almost inaudible whimper that strained from the back of your throat, he was certain you were just as needy between your own thighs. 

The thought spurred him on, as it did you. Your hands trailed down his forearms to his biceps, feeling at the muscle that tensed beneath your touch, until your arms were wrapping around his neck and he was pulling you closer over the centre console. 

Azriel kept a palm caressing your jaw while the other snaked to the side of your neck, his long fingers weaving through the hair at your nape and blunt fingernails scratching at your scalp. 

In your drug and lust filled haze, Azriel was shifting in his seat. You let one arm leave his body to reach for your seatbelt, planning to unbuckle it and crawl into his lap for a deeper, richer taste of him. 

But the second the safety belt was released, the blaring sound of an incoming call through the car's speaker jolted you both apart. It was then, and only then, that the gravity of the situation finally sunk in. 

His eyes were glazed over with something you’d never seen on him before, his lips even plumper and smeared with your gloss. You didn’t look much better. Only your eyes were wider than his and your hair had been a lot more dishevelled. 

Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, the insistent ringing of his phone jarring your eardrums. For the fourth time tonight, warmth settled over you again but in the form of embarrassment. He confided in you about a trauma so deep, and you’d kissed him. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologised breathlessly. 

Too caught up in your own fear and anxiety of what you’d done, you missed the way Azriel’s brows furrowed. His confusion quickly turned into panic when the thought settled in that perhaps you had regretted it. That even though you kissed him, perhaps you felt he had pressured you. 

And that made him sick to his stomach. 

Before Azriel could utter a single word, your hand was on the door handle and you were pushing it open. “I’m sorry, I should go.” 

You climbed out of the car as you uttered another apology, and slapped the door shut without so much as offering him another glance. The incoming call died to voicemail but Az couldn’t take his eyes off your empty seat, couldn’t get the taste of you off his tongue, the feel of your lips off his. 

Frustration grew at himself. Azriel turned forward in his seat, nostrils flared and teeth grit. He’d fucked it. He’d gone and fucked it entirely. His open palm smacked against the wheel before gripping it tightly, taking a moment to compose himself. 

He looked over at your seat again. 

Despite the lack of your physical presence, you were still there. In scent and touch and taste. 

Azriel was fucking done for. 

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[its-your-mind]

ALWAYS rotating TAZ: Balance around in my brain like microwave but ESPECIALLY with the announcement of The Suffering Game graphic novel

The dope thing they can do (and are doing) with the graphic novel series is sprinkle in moments of foreshadowing and hints to the reader about what REALLY might be going on here, which is so cool and I’m a huge fan of it, especially when you’re telling a story in this form.

But what is REALLY FUCKING TASTY about Balance as a story is that none of the motherfuckers telling it had any clue what they were doing when they started

Gerblins is dick jokes and not knowing how dice work and making fun of each other for voices. LICHRALLY the scene where Taako grabs the Umbrastaff is immediately proceeded by Clint trying different voices for Merle while Justin begs him to stop, as Taako. Merle gets launched across the room cuz he failed his save, and now Taako has an umbrella. The scene moves on.

Griffin brought them up to the BOB, introduced them to the Director, and gave them memories of a war fought over nameless, lost, powerful but mysterious artifacts. The memory that Taako takes from it is the idea of soured cream (ya know, for his taco quest).

And then they’re off, on different adventures, making friends, saving lives, making more dick jokes, and Griffin is in the background, slowly building in the meta-plot, as all DMs do.

But this meta-plot was HUGE. It was ALL-CONSUMING. It completely changes everything we know about this world and these characters. It takes the moments of dick jokes, and arguments about character voices, and flirting with death, and adds a layer of tragedy and complexity that just wasn’t present the first time they told that story.

AND THAT’S WHY THIS STORY KICKS ASS. The vibe of the story changed as Tres Horny Boys grew closer and closer to remembering the lives they had lost, as Griffin upped the stakes, as people started dying. They still don’t know shit for most of The Suffering Game, but you absolutely could not have predicted the tone of that arc after just listening to Gerblins. It sounds like a completely different story. And so when the other shoe drops, when shit breaks bad, when it’s the end of the world… again, and they have to reclaim their Stolen Century…

It makes sense. The tone has shifted enough to accommodate that kind of change. The characters have grown (back) into themselves enough to make this work.

Because TAZ: Balance is a tragedy. But the tragedy happened before the podcast even started, and had been erased. So of course it started off with goofs and dildo jokes. Of course the three of them started being standoff-ish with each other and making light of every situation that should have had a lot more weight. They didn’t know what they had lost, and we, the audience, didn’t either. So it was easy to laugh and joke… until slowly, it wasn’t so much anymore.

Plenty of people have praised Griffin’s storytelling abilities, but I think the thing that was most impressive to me was how he took the disparate threads laid out behind the Boys on their adventures, and followed them backwards, into the story they had lost, and forwards, into the ending they earned. I fucking love that he settled on Istus as the deity to interact with them, because I don’t think there’s a better representation of the story Griffin was weaving behind the scenes of the arcs.

Story and Song wasn’t really an arc driven by dice rolls and role playing - but it wasn’t railroading either. Griffin took every story they had told, every happy ending they had fought for, and twined them around and through each other. The world was saved not because of a lucky nat 20 roll, but because every person they had helped through the story came out in force to fight beside them to save their world.

And so in the end, the Stolen Century was a tragedy. But The Adventure Zone: Balance was a story of hope, of family, of the power that just a few loveable doofuses can have when they move through the world, making friends and saving lives. So when the world was ending and they needed help, there were dozens of people waiting to hear the Story and the Song that would give them the push they needed to fight, and the hope they needed to win.

[purple-plum-petals]

Homicipher request for the Homicipher starved fans pls? 🥺 Is it okay to ask for the reactions of Mr. Silvair, Mr. Chopped(as he gets wheeled past us on a cart after being kidnapped, again), Mr. Gap, Mr. Machete, and Mr. Scarletella with a reader who winks and blows a kiss as they pass by them? Like for some reason reader seems to be in a really good mood and they're skipping around with their trusty crowbar in hand then they see one of the boys then mwa~💋. I can imagine that they'd be confused at the unfamiliar gesture but I'd like to get your thoughts on it. 😂

⊱ Homicipher Characters’ Reactions to MC Winking at Them and Blowing Them a Kiss ⊰ || Multiple Character Headcanons

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Character(s): Mr. Silvair, Mr. Chopped, Mr. Gap, Mr. Machete, and Mr. Scarletella (Homicipher/文字化化) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Spoilers for Homicipher (MC’s Lore), Brief Canon-typical Mentions of Violence (Mr. Machete’s Part), Canon-typical Horror Elements (Mr. Gap and Mr. Scarletella's Parts), Cultural Barriers (None of Them Understand the Gesture). Genre: Headcanons, Fluff, Platonic or Romantic Relationship Word Count: ~1,880 Request: “Homicipher request for the Homicipher starved fans pls? 🥺 Is it okay to ask for the reactions of Mr. Silvair, Mr. Chopped(as he gets wheeled past us on a cart after being kidnapped, again), Mr. Gap, Mr. Machete, and Mr. Scarletella with a reader who winks and blows a kiss as they pass by them? Like for some reason reader seems to be in a really good mood and they're skipping around with their trusty crowbar in hand then they see one of the boys then mwa~💋. I can imagine that they'd be confused at the unfamiliar gesture but I'd like to get your thoughts on it. 😂” Author’s Note: They all would definitely be confused by the unfamiliar gesture, so I kind of did headcanons about how each of them would react to you blowing them a kiss/how they would go about trying to understand what the gesture meant by using context clues (or just straight-up asking you about it haha). Sorry if they’re not great! I’m still trying to figure out how I want to balance the characters’ personalities as they are in canon while adding some more fun/whimsical aspects of your ask.

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated!  ♡

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💉: He smiles softly at your cheerful demeanor, yet it falters slightly when you press the tips of your fingers to your lips and squeeze one of your eyes shut in response to him looking in your direction. You remove your fingers from your pursed lips and blow out a puff of air before continuing in the direction you had been walking towards. While he could infer you were in a good mood by your body language, he was curious to know what exactly the gesture meant. 

💉: Instead of lightly treading the question or observing you for any longer to see if he could figure out what the gesture meant by using context clues, Mr. Silvair instead just asks you directly to get an answer as soon as possible the next time he sees you. He deeply enjoyed research and observation, yes, but there was no need to wait to gather information when you were a perfect source of it. 

💉: Of course, it wasn’t easy to explain what “blowing a kiss” was, especially since they didn’t even have equivalent words in their language for “blow” or “kiss,” but you tried your best with what you had to work with. It’s almost funny how earnestly Mr. Silvair is hanging onto every word you speak. He chuckles after you finish explaining, amused by the gesture and its meaning – how quaint, he thinks to himself. 

💉: He found humans to be fascinating and their diverse cultures even more so, so he was of course interested in learning whatever you were able to recall from your previous life in your old realm before you ended up in this one. He treats everything you tell him with an air of respect, and he even documents what you share with him so he (and you) never forget that part of yourself. 

💉: Mr. Silvair finds the gesture to be an entertaining one, but deducts that it’s not usually one humans do with strangers or those they are not comfortable with from your explanation. Does that mean you are comfortable enough around him to express yourself in that manner? How fascinating... Do you care to tell him why you feel the way you do toward him? He’s very much interested in learning the reasoning behind your thought processes. 

🗣️: Mr. Chopped smiles so widely when he sees you in such a chipper mood, making your way down the hall with a noticeable spring in your step. He likes seeing you happy, so it makes him feel good, too, watching you skip by with such a bright expression on your face! Then, you press your hand to your lips and wink, blowing something he couldn’t see in his direction, and suddenly he’s confused. 

🗣️: Huh… well, that was strange. For some reason, though, the playful gesture seemed almost familiar, yet he couldn’t remember why. He can’t exactly chase after you and ask what that meant, so he’d have to wait until the next time he saw you (which he hoped wouldn't be a long wait – he liked spending time with you). 

🗣️: The next time he saw you, he asked if you could explain what the gesture meant. You did the best you could, but you’re pretty sure he comprehended what you were telling him if the giddy expression on his face was anything to go by. His excitement was quite adorable. However, his expression suddenly falls, and you watch him begin to sulk. How was he supposed to blow you a kiss in return? He didn’t have a body!! The poor man is so distraught. 

🗣️: He gets either Mr. Silvair to help him out or Mr. Hand to, well… give him a hand to enact his plan. The next time you see him, he calls out to you with such a delighted look on his face. So, you make your way over to him and kneel down to his level, watching as the sentient hand comes up to Mr. Chopped’s lips, making the same gesture you did, before he blows you a kiss and winks. He did it! He blew you a kiss!! 

🗣️: Mr. Chopped is very proud of himself and the pleased expression on his face is far too charming for you. He feels a warmth in his metaphorical chest knowing that you felt comfortable enough with him to blow him a kiss, especially since it seems like something humans do with those they are most comfortable with. 

🕳️: He’s honestly somewhat impressed you knew he was there, observing you through the small hole in the wall while you walk around like you’re on top of the world. He can’t help but wonder what happened that has you so chipper, but his thoughts are derailed a bit when you press your hand to your mouth and blow something at him, closing one of your eyes as you do so… What the hell was that?? 

🕳️: He feels somewhat offended, honestly, and gets that semi-disgusted look on his face before disappearing into the darkness. Mr. Gap understands it’s some kind of weird human gesture, but he can’t really put two-and-two together about what it means. Though, he finds himself continuing to watch you from any nook-and-cranny he could find, observing you to see if you would do the gesture again – you don’t.

🕳️: Mr. Gap ends up startling you while you’re walking down a long, grimy hallway, his hand darting out from a vent to grab your ankle. His grip isn’t tight, but it most certainly scares the life out of you and effectively catches your attention. He finds your scare amusing but ends up cutting straight to the point and asks you why you blew something at him. 

🕳️: Even after explaining what the gesture meant, Mr. Gap still doesn’t fully understand why you did it, so you just tell him it was supposed to be a nice gesture that showed you enjoyed him – playful. That is something he does understand, and it’s almost amusing how the smirk on his face grew. He must be special, he thinks, and his smugness is radiating from his face peeking out of the darkness. 

🕳️: Mr. Gap doesn’t do the gesture back, but he strangely enough finds himself hoping you don’t blow anyone else your kisses. He doesn’t know why the thought of you sharing the gesture with another annoys him a little bit – after all, it wouldn’t make it special anymore if you did it with everyone. He even begins bringing you things, like more crowbars or even pieces of candy he finds lying around. It’s almost like he’s trying to bribe you…

🔪: He sees you happily skipping around and finds himself having to do a double-take at the strange sight. It wasn’t a bad sight, not at all, it was just weird seeing you so bright and lively. However, his mind buffers a bit when you look at him, pursing your lips and giving him a wink before your fingertips press to your mouth and then flick towards him. 

🔪: Mr. Machete is immediately annoyed, not knowing what the gesture meant, and he assumes you were trying to pick a fight with him. So, he takes his large sword and reels it back, throwing it at you with a strength that still had your eyes boggling. You duck with a yelp as the sword implants itself into the wall behind you. 

🔪: He makes his way over to you with incredible speed, blocking your body between his and the wall as he looks down at you, his head tilted to the side as he asks you if you wanted to fight him. Mr. Machete finds your frustrated expression endearing as you tell him the gesture was meant to be playful and fun. He’s low-key kind of disappointed you didn’t want to fight, but he steps away from you after your explanation without another word. 

🔪: However, while looking down at your angry expression, Mr. Machete suddenly has the urge to squeeze you (I imagine he experiences cuteness aggression regarding you). So, he reaches down and squeezes your cheeks between his large and calloused hand, causing your lips to purse. Even though you hadn’t been in the mood to fight him, now you were. He smirks widely as you two begin to spar all because he misconstrued what your gesture meant. 

🔪: Mr. Machete doesn’t see the point of blowing kisses, and he doesn’t feel any particular way about the gesture. It’s kind of whatever for him, even though he does notice that you don’t seem to do it with anyone else. After the first time (that ended up leading to a spar), though, he notices you hadn’t blown him another kiss since… He ends up coming up to tell you in his gruff, almost rude way, that he wouldn’t mind if you did it again. 

🩸: He tilts his head to the side at the gesture, his shaggy red hair swaying with the movement. Well… that was new, he thinks. He liked you quite a bit (far more than just a bit, really… my man is kind of obsessed with you), and he had been following you throughout your entire journey in this realm, yet he had never once seen that expression or gesture from you before. Now, he was curious to know what it meant, and he was going to try and figure it out one way or another.  

🩸: He continues to keep his eye on you, following you as you go about your day. Mr. Scarletella likes seeing you so chipper and full of life, especially considering you were someone who tended to take life from others. The dichotomy between your behavior and actions had his heart racing. However, despite what he expected, you never did the gesture again. So, he couldn’t gather information by observing you – he would need to simply ask you directly, then. 

🩸: Mr. Scarletella effectively manages to corner you after some time, catching you completely off-guard. While you two had certainly started off on the wrong foot, you had gotten to the point where you were relatively calm and comfortable around the strange man who was so incredibly down bad for you. He gazes down at you with his lifeless eyes, inquiring about the gesture you made earlier. 

🩸: You explain to him what the gesture meant for you, that you were simply in a good mood and felt a little bit playful at the moment when you blew him a kiss. Mr. Scarletella smiles at your words, feeling very pleased with the information. So, it meant you liked him, correct? It meant you felt comfortable enough to express your happiness towards him in such a way, right?

🩸: Well, you inadvertently ended up making him even more obsessed with you, and now his feelings become even stronger every time you blow him a kiss. Mr. Scarletella finds the act an interesting way to express your interest and enjoyment of another being, so he begins to blow you his own kisses in return. He is one of the characters I feel would want to learn more about human customs to deepen his relationship with you even if he doesn’t fully grasp why some gestures mean certain things. 

[trivia-yandere]

autumn of terror

the small town of oakville is being taken over by a serial killer who goes by "the ripper" who uses fear as a tactic to control the town entire. you, an out of town detective, team up with head detective of oakville kim seokjin, to take down the ripper. @sweetempathprunetree @momnomnom @darkuni63 @bangtans-momma @chimmy-licious @investedreader

word count: 16.773

warning: blood, character deaths, smut, reader is blindfolded, dub-con moments, slight mention of child abuse/abandonment, voyeurism, oral sex (m/f), handjob, dub-con.non-con elements, dirty talk, degradation, nipple sucking, thigh riding, overstimulation, squirting, unprotected sex, mentions of human trafficking,

halloween masterlist - happy spooky season!!

The leaves crumble beneath your feet as you step onto the pavement, a chill running up your spine at how chilly it was this autumn. The breeze runs through your hair and pierces against your skin like a knife. Your breathing is evident in the harsh, cold weather and your nose automatically sniffles.

Your legs continue to walk up the shallow stairs of the building, your gloved hand grasping the door handle and pulling it open. Warm air engulfs you and you sigh in relief, rushing inside. 

It’s chaotic inside said building - there’s several phones ringing nearly nonstop, people running around in a frenzy. You never seen a precinct be in such a ruckus. There’s a crowd forming inside, all of which are hollering out demands while there are several police officers attempting to hold them back.

Your eyes scan the large precinct, eyes unsure where to fall - the telephones are ringing nonstop and you notice they are several officers already speaking. Officers who are attempting to keep the crowd at bay are seconds from drawing their weapons.

“What are you doing to catch the Ripper?!”

“How many people have to die before the Ripper is caught?!”

The Ripper.

The Ripper was the reason why you were here - all the way from your own town. The Ripper has taken over the town of Oakville spanning back to the end of summer. It began with one or two murders a week - it caused mumbles in the streets of Oakville. Murders so gruesome didn’t happen in said town - blood splattering the streets and the walls, intestines sprawling outside of the body and seemingly dragged away for miles.

One or two murders a week became murders every night - each murder more gruesome and cruel than the last. It caused a frenzy throughout the town that had officers and detectives working overtime for any clues; the Ripper left none.

As Autumn creeped in, it appeared as if the Ripper’s identity had remained a secret, but that didn’t mean that the Ripper worked alone. 

“Excuse me?” you clear your throat, waving your hand high to grab the attention of the officers. “I’m here to speak to Detective Kim? I’m Detective-”

“Y/L Y/N.”

There’s a door to the far right that opens and you hear the ragged voice of just the man you were looking for. Seokjin is tall and his shoulders broad - they appear to be stressed as the weight of the town depends solely on his shoulders. “Come, please.” he says, waving you over to his office. “We’ve been expecting you.”

You do as you’re asked, rushing towards the man's office where he quickly slams the door shut and locks it in case anyone from the crowd wants to follow after you.

“Coffee?” Seokjin asks - the question comes out as a sigh. You assume that he uses coffee to keep himself sane and awake. There’s slight bags underneath his eyes and you understand that he must be working overtime to figure out clues.

“Uh, yes. I’ll make it.” you nod your head, making your way towards the pot of coffee that’s on the shelves while Seokjin makes his way around to his desk. “So, what do we have so far, detective?”

“Please,” Seokjin huffs with a shake of his head. He falls onto his office chair and opens up a few documents. “You can call me Seokjin or even Jin. We’re going to be well acquainted if we’re going to be working together.”

You nod your head at him. “Yes, Jin.” you say, the little nickname sounding foreign to your tongue. 

It was a month prior when you got a call from Kim Seokjin, lead detective from Oakville, a small town a few hours from your own. The man appears slightly frantic and desperate, explaining that every precinct he has called for assistance outside of his town had refused any assistance - an act you found completely cowardly. You had agreed to help him with the investigation no matter how long it took and he was grateful.

You listen to Jin speak as you pour sugar and milk into your coffee.

“Right, as you know,” Jin begins, leaning back into his chair. “the Ripper has been plaguing this town for months now. The townspeople are utterly terrified of him - them.”

“You believe the Ripper is more than one person?” you ask, blowing at your coffee.

Jin shrugs. “It’s a possibility,” he states. “Nothing is off the table. I believe the Ripper is just the head of an organization - the same gang we have around Oakvale now.”

“Explain further, please.” you sip your coffee, leaning against the wall as your eyes watch Jin. 

Jin sighs. His right hand reaches up to rub at his temple. 

“There’s a small gang that we are positive that operates at the Ripper’s orders. We have someone on the inside undercover.” Jin says, glancing up at you. “By his words, none of them has seen the Ripper face to face, only speaks to him over the phone or through letters and such.”

You furrow your brows. “Interesting.” you murmur. You place your cup of coffee on the shelf and cross your arms, grateful that you were beginning to warm up. “The Ripper is doing a great job at remaining anonymous.”

“Tell me about it.”  Jin scoffs. “I had one of my men go undercover nearly a month ago and has seen everything except the Ripper.”

“I see.” you hum. “What is the plan while he’s on the inside?”

“The Ripper is one hell of a killer and none of those working under him is as calculated as he is.” Jin opens up a few envelopes. “His kills are truly horrifying and demeaning and this is how he even keeps his own gang in line. They’re just as terrified of him as we are.”

Jin continues. “I’ve seen this town go from safe to completely…barbaric. Prostitution is at an all time high on the outskirts of the town and my detective tells me that some of them are forced into it. The townspeople are attempting to take matters into their own hands and have physically brought in who they assume the Ripper is.”

You believe it, the angry crowd outside were just as restless and afraid. “I take it as none of the suspects were the Ripper.”

Jin snickers with a shake of his head. “You’re catching on quick, Y/N. Can I call you by name?” he asks, and when you nod, he continues. “By what I’ve seen the Ripper can do, he would not let a few townspeople catch him. He’s truly a force of nature…a shadow.”

“You must’ve had a lot on your plate.” you take another sip of your coffee. 

“Indeed I have. Detectives and officers have quit because they received threatening letters…by the Ripper.” Jin glances your way, analyzing your reaction. “I should have told you before-”

“I understand why you haven’t.” you interrupt. “I’m from out of town, Jin. I won’t be scared away by the Ripper.”

Jin exhales.  “I hope so. We need all the help we can get.” he admits, eyes glancing back down at the stack of documents. “Do you have any questions?”

“Well, for one…is there a spare room around here? I already told my captain that I won’t be returning until the Ripper is caught.”

Jin’s eyes slightly widened. You were serious about staying and helping.

“I can have a room made for you!” Jin nods his head. “I live right above the precinct, as sad as that sounds. I have basically lived here myself ever since the murders.”

“Thank you.” you nod, offering a soft smile. “My next question is, what do you think we should do to take down the Ripper? I have a few of my own.”

“Please, explain.”

“Well,” you step forward to sit across from him in the arm chair. “The Ripper doesn’t work alone. I say we take down as many of his little gang and that should be able to draw him out, right? Your detective on the inside should be able to help with that.”

Jin slowly nods his head. He places a hand on his chin.

“We start by taking down whatever businesses he has. The prostitution ring is just the beginning I’m sure. There has to be a reason why he’s doing all of this.”

“Control? He’s completely taken over the city.” Jin shakes his head once more. “My detective said there’s parties nearly every other day at a secluded location.”

You nod. “That’s what the prostitutes are far, I’m sure. Maybe there may even be…higher officials at these parties?”

Jin tilts his head. “You mean like…?”

“Officers. Politicians and more. People in high places with power.” It wouldn’t be a surprise to you that this is why the Ripper can remain as anonymous as he does.

Jin releases another exhale. He licks his lips, beady eyes blinking a few times. 

“You can be right, Y/N. We’ll have to infiltrate these parties.”

“We do. If I may,” you lean forward, elbows on his desk. “do you believe we should have another insider?”

“How so?”

“Well, like me?” you tilt your head. “I’m a new face. The Ripper nor anyone working for him would know who I am.”

“Y/N,” Jin goes to shake his head. “I don’t think-”

“The closest to the Ripper’s operation are the prostitutes, are they not?”

Jin’s beady eyes widened. “Y-You want to go undercover as a prostitute? Y/N,” he releases a shaky chuckle. “that is completely dangerous.”

“I’m well aware, Jin. I’m also a trained and skilled detective, unlike the women working those spaces. I’ll be able to protect myself.”

Jin eyes you, scanning your face. “You’re serious.” he states. “I’ll never forgive myself if you were harmed, Y/N. You are only here because of me, after all.”

“We both have jobs to do, don’t we, Jin?” you tilt your head. “I’ll be safe and grab intel while I’m on the inside. I’ll be nothing but a whore to them.”

A loud knock sounds on the door and it startles both you and Jin. The door creaks open, waiting for no answer. It shuts abruptly behind the intruder.

“Y/N,” Jin stands to his feet. “This is my undercover detective. Daniel,” he nods his head to you. “This is the detective I was speaking with you about.”

“The one from out of town.” Daniel nods his head. He appears to be out-of-breath, dark hair sticking to his forehead. 

“Y/N is suggesting she infiltrate, as well. As a prostitute…”

Daniel’s eyes widen and he looks at you. “I…don’t think you’d want to do this.”

You raise an eyebrow. “For the sake of the case,” you begin.

“You’ll have to sleep with one of them in order to gain access. That’s how they determine if…” Daniel sighs, a pink tint to his cheeks. “...if you’re worthy or not to work for them.”

Your mouth goes dry for a moment. Slowly, you nod your head. What else would you expect - these women were working and selling sex. “Who would I have to sleep with?”

“You’re not truly considering this?” Jin scoffs in disbelief. “Y/N-”

“How else are we going to gain access to these parties? We’ll need someone else on the inside. Once there, I’ll excuse myself and find a way to contact you and that’s how you’ll be able to bust them, no?”

Jin shakes his head. This plan was already risky - but knowing now that you’d have to give up your body so soon is something he doesn’t want for you. 

“It sounds like a good idea…” Daniel murmurs. “Even I don't even know where these parties are held. Only certain members are allowed to go for security purposes.”

“You’re sure you want to do this?” Jin murmurs to you. “Sleep on it for now. Tomorrow we can speak further.”

“Jin-”

“It’s not up for debate.” Jin says. “Enough talk of this case. Are you hungry? We can grab something to eat. Daniel?”

“Right,” Daniel nods. “I was just reporting back. Tomorrow there’ll be a shipment coming in.”

Jin nods. “I’ll make sure to have officers on hand,” he says. “Thank you, Daniel.”

Daniel nods. “No problem.” he sighs. He offers you a short glance. “Detective,” he bows to you before turning on his heels and making his leave.

As the door clicks shut, Jin frowns at you. You furrow your brows. “Are you upset with me?”

“No. Just…” Jin swallows his words. “...I don’t want anyone else dying at the hands of the Ripper or his weak henchmen.”

You understood completely. What you were doing is insane - but for the sake of the case, you’d do it. You were a renowned detective that always put whatever case you had first, no matter the consequences.

“What do you prefer to eat?” Jin asks, closing a few file envelopes before rounding his desk to you. “There’s a diner not far from here we can go to?”

“Uh, yeah sure. That’ll be fine.” you nod your head, lifting yourself up from the chair. You make your way to your discarded cup of coffee and quickly down it. It’s lukewarm now and easier to drink than when it was white it was piping hot. “Let’s go. I’m sure you can fill me in on whatever details we left out.”

“I often enjoy breakfast for dinner.” Jin comments, digging into the smothered pancakes, syrup daring to drip down his lips. “I basically live in my office since the Ripper appeared.”

You take a sip of your juice and nod your head. “I can imagine. The phone was ringing nonstop.”

Jin snickers. “You’re not lying. I’ve unplugged the one in my office.” he says. “The calls were all useless. Some thought they caught the Ripper while others were just demanding that we hurry up and do our jobs.”

“Is it that ludicrous to believe that they did find the Ripper?” you ask.

Jin lifts his eyes to look at you, a look of disdain. He nods his head slowly. “Of course. You believe a regular person can find someone that doesn’t want to be found?”

You scoff. “Putting it that way…”

Dinner goes by smoothly. Jin has managed to give you as much information about the Ripper as possible and your mind processes it entirely. You didn’t have an easy stomach, so going through the crime scene photos didn’t bother your stomach, but your spirit. The way these people were harmed so cruelly - dismembered and body treated with such hatred. You want to ask if the Ripper has any tie to any of these people? Surely these could not be random murders committed - not when it appeared to be so personal.

“Enough about the case.” Jin nearly has to pry away the documents from you. He closes them and places it besides him. “What about you, Y/N?”

“What about me?” you plop a piece of toast into your mouth and begin to chew.

“What made you want to become a detective?” Jin questions. “I feel like we’ll be working together for a while. The Ripper isn’t an easy target.”

“I agree.” you chuckle. “Well…I…” you swallow, unsure of where to start. The beginning is always good and Jin didn’t appear to be in any rush. “...I always wanted to help. I actually…um…”

You bring your glass of juice up to your lips and begin to chug. Talking about your past was never easy for you. You don’t cry anymore - you’re an adult that doesn't need to seek out pity. In your line of work, you’ve experienced worse as do others. 

“I was given up for adoption by my biological parents and that led me with people that weren’t so kind. I wasn't with them for long until I eventually found myself with people I don’t belong with - even as a child.”

You’re being vague and you’re positive that Jin understands this. 

“I had to do some horrible things just to survive. Thing’s children shouldn’t have to do.”

Jin listens, no longer eating his food. His eyes are watching you, awaiting for you to respond. 

“I wasn’t alone. I was surrounded by more children…they were my,” you put your fingers up to do finger quotations. “‘siblings,’ they said. I’m too young to remember any of them but I do remember the day we were rescued.” Jin furrows his brows. “Rescued?”

You nod your head. “I remember the two of them. I remember being so scared of them. They were adults and all the adults in my life ever did hurt me and my siblings. But they didn’t. They promised to help us…and they did.”

Your mind processes your memories, the blurred faces of the children and the two saviors who freed you all from captivity. “It’s unfortunate that I’ve never seen those kids again. I’m not sure if they’re still alive to this day but,” you exhale. “I truly do hope their lives got better. I prayed that they found peace and happiness in wherever life took them.”

Jin is quiet for a moment, probably taking in everything you’ve told him. You said a lot without speaking too much of the truth, not fully ready to address the early years of your life. You contemplate if you ruined the mood as speaking of your past could do that to anyone - even you at times. But you understand that Jin didn’t mean any harm and probably wasn’t expecting your past to be that chaotic.

“I see.” Jin says. He takes hold of one of his drinks - he ordered three, a coffee, a water and fresh-squeezed orange juice - and takes a sip. “I suppose we both had different childhoods.”

You raise an eyebrow. “My mother,” Jin drops his drink and blinks at you. You notice just how intense his eyes are - dark and nearly unreadable. “was a prostitute.”

You sit straight on your side of the booth, shoulders straightening as you listen to his speak.

“I’ve seen a lot of men come and go in my life and the same men take her life. I suppose you and I are somewhat the same. I was trafficked, sold to work in factories and warehouses alongside other children and even adults paying off their debts.”

Your eyes widened slightly, your mind swirling with flashbacks of your own past life and how you and the other children you grew alongside. You swallow the lump in your throat. To think Seokjin has gone through something similar like you and also managed to not allow his past to define his future.

“My mother had a long debt and since she was gone, I had to be responsible for it. I recall only sleeping a max of two hours before we were instructed to go back to work. The amount of times we’ve almost died working in such heinous conditions.” 

Jin speaks without a stutter or as much as a short break. His face remains stoic and you just wonder how much he’s been through to be so numb to it all.

“I suppose maybe that’s why the Ripper is so personal to me. He once targeted prostitutes before his reign of terror around the town had widened. The same sun that would shine bright in the sky appears to always be hidden by dark clouds.”

You can hear your heart beating so rapidly and it pounds right outside your chest. You take a deep breath to process it all.

This wasn’t going to be easy, you note. The Ripper was a sensitive subject for everyone- especially Jin. By the few hours you’ve come to know him, you realized that he worked such long hours in catching the Ripper and now you understand why. His childhood followed him into his adulthood ; working on little to no sleep, nonstop. There’s slight bags underneath his eyes, and yet he still manages to look refreshed and young.

“Thank you for telling me.” you speak after a few moments of silence. 

“I should be thanking you, as well, then.” Jin smiles with a tilt of his head. It causes your body to heat up slightly - but you weren’t here to act as a giddy teenager with a growing crush. “I’m glad we’re both getting to know one another. You are going to be my partner until we catch the Ripper. I do want us to be close.”

Jin leans forward and you’re caught completely off guard. You stiffen, his eyes boring into yours only making you a bit more awkward. 

“I really do appreciate you for coming here, Y/N. It isn’t safe for someone like you here.” Jin speaks truthfully. He wasn’t going to sugar coat anything for you, and for that you were grateful. “You’re putting yourself into harm's way is truly admirable.”

“It’s nothing.” you murmur, body still warm at his words - and even the tone of which he says them. “I’m not doing anything differently than you.”

“True, but,” Jin shakes his head. “Oakville is my town. You came all the way here to help us, and for that you deserved to be acknowledged.”

After all these years, you weren’t used to being praised. It always caused you to just stand awkwardly as you received them, but you cannot say that his praises didn’t cause a warmth fill throughout you. 

Slightly, you nod your head. You take a gulp of your drink, needing something to cool yourself off.

“I’m surprised I haven’t scared you off yet. I was hoping I would be able to steer you away from becoming…”

“A prostitute.” you finish the word for him. Understanding Jin’s childhood with his mother, it made sense as to why he didn’t want you to go undercover as one. “I’ll do whatever it takes to help catch the Ripper, Jin. I can handle whatever is thrown towards me. I’m sure we went through the same basic training in bootcamp.”

Jin chuckles with a nod of his head. He finally leans back into the booth. “I’m positive we have.” he responds. “I don’t wish to offend you. I just want you to be careful. If you ever need a way out, please, don’t hesitate to use Daniel to your advantage.”

You nod your head. Your stomach was satiated and you were glad that you had a chance to sit and speak with Jin on a deeper level. It made working alongside him better - more trusting.

Jimin was an interesting character and he made you nervous - you’re positive that he’s aware. You were expecting someone grimey and old; maybe not ancient old, but old enough to be that creepy uncle.

Jimin wasn’t old and you truly wish to ask for his actual age as it appeared he and you were around the same age. His skin is fresh and wrinkle free, almost like a porcelain doll. His lips are hydrated and plush. His face is sculpted perfectly, oval face shaped with narrowed chin and jawline. His hair is styled neatly, the silver tresses on top swooped on the right side of his head, the sides cut shorter than the top. It seemingly reflects off of the dim lights of the room you’re in.

Jimin’s eyes are what makes you the most nervous. They’re dark and they appear to be watching you closely, trailing up and down your body entirely as if looking for any imperfections. It’s hard to be confident underneath his gaze, but you had to remain as such.

You’ve been in Oakville for a week and finally managed to make it inside Jimin’s large estate. It’s cleaner than you would have imagined a brothel to be and the women are all welcoming and inviting. There’s an aura around them that shines brightly even underneath the dim lights of his estate.

Only you and Jimin stood in this large room and it appeared to be like an office. There’s a desk directly in front of a large window - it displays a beautiful scenery of woods behind it, the tree’s moving silently in the wind from the outside. The floors are hardwood and a dark mahogany that doesn’t squeak or squeal when you walk on them. 

There’s several paintings on the walls, most of which are of women and some are nude, but they aren’t lewd paintings as you might expect in a brothel. They’re artistic in a way and you recall hearing many people speak highly of art such as this.

“You like them?”

Your eyes snap back to the man in front of you. He’s still seated at his desk, leaning back with his arms placed in his lap as he stares right at you. His voice is as young as he looks, soft and calm. It has a level of coolness and sensuality to it that has you realizing why someone like him could be in this line of work.

“The art,” Jimin continues, glancing at the array of artwork on his wall. “do you like them?”

Slowly, you nod your head.  “They’re amazing.” you admit.

Jimin’s lip stretches into a low grin at your response. “It was once said by Michelangelo that the skin is more beautiful than the garments in which it is clothed.”

Jimin begins to tap his fingers against his thigh, again watching you closely. 

Daniel had insisted - apologize profusely, as well - that you needed to dress the part if you were going to impress Jimin. This is how you found yourself, clothed completely in white. Your stockings stop at your upper thigh, held up by a garter of the same color. Your bralette is laced and similar to your panties, a floral pattern stitched onto the fabric and hides just enough for you not to be fully exposed.

You didn’t wear lingerie and your undergarments were as basic as they come. You had gone out your way to buy some new ones when Daniel had warned you - going with white as it was the safest color for a situation such as this. 

“What’s your name?” asked Jimin.

“Y/N.” you answered truthfully.

“You’re not from here.” Jimin states. It wasn’t a question. Jimin is certain that someone like you wasn’t from Oakville - he’s lived in this town for years. “Where are you from?” “Nowhere, really.” you respond. “I haven't settled anywhere for too long.”

Jimin blinks and hums, mind taking in your response. 

“Why have you chosen Oakville, Y/N?” Jimin leans forward, hands placing themselves onto his desk. “Surely you’ve heard of the Ripper.”

You swallow. You had to act the part and appear slightly afraid - even if the Ripper had not frightened you. 

“I have.” you nod your head. “I assume if I stay in my own lane, I wouldn’t be his next victim.”

Jimin chuckles to himself, a boyish laugh that causes his eyes to turn smaller. 

“You’re right about that.” Jimin nods. “Working for me means that you’ll also be working for the Ripper. Do you know what that entails?”

That you’ll be one step closer to defeating the Ripper and stopping his reign of terror in the town of Oakville. Instead of stating that, you shake your head.

“It means you do what you are told.” Jimin stands, his chair scrubbing against the hardwood floor as he pushes his chair back. 

Jimin’s taller than you expected and he rounds the corner of his desk and stalks towards you. “It means that while you work for me, Y/N…” Jimin is in front of you now, tilting his head to peer at you with dark eyes. “...you’ll do as I tell you to. Turn around.”

Your shoulders are tense but you have no choice but to turn around. If anything, you’re sure you would be able to fight off Jimin if needed be - but you couldn’t resort to that just yet. You were undercover; expected to be nothing but a prostitute in their eyes. 

Your eyes are then covered by a silk fabric. It’s tied behind your head tightly and you lick your lips in nervousness. 

You know what you are expected to do, you think. If Jimin was going to invest in you, he needed to test out whatever product you were selling - that only meant your body.

“Turn back around.” Jimin’s cool voice speaks to you, his hands on your shoulders to guide you around to face him. 

Your mind is making up images as your eyes cannot see. Jimin removes his hands from you and takes a few steps back - you can hear his footsteps creak away, as if watching to see your reaction.

“Get on your knees.”

Jimin’s voice is farther and you are given no choice but to do as you are told. Your knees hit the cold hardwood floor, hands in your lap.

You hear the footsteps come closer again and you inhale a shaky breath as you feel warm hands on your chin. It lifts your head up as if to look at him.

“Working for me means you’ll be more privileged than any other prostitute.” Jimin words hit your heads, a thumb swiping across your bottom lip. “I want to see how good you are.”

Your heart is pounding now and your body heats up at the obvious sign of sex. You were going to have to make the first move - after all, you came to him.

Your hands reach out to touch him, finding his wrist. Your mouth opens slightly, tongue poking out to poke at his thumb. Your tongue twirls around his thumb idly, your grip on his wrist tightening. 

You lightly nibble on his thumb, your thighs pushing themselves apart as you inch closer to the man. Your hand trails from his wrist to reach out until you are sure you find his thigh. It would be easier if you could see, but you would have to manage.

There’s a bulge that you finally manage to find and it causes you to gulp once more - you were actually doing this. But there was no going back now. You were one step closer to the Ripper.

Your hand caresses the bulge in his pants, squeezing it into your embrace teasingly. 

“It looks like you want to taste something else.” Jimin states. 

“If you’d let me.” you retort, head lifting as if looking at him in the face - you wish you could.

“If you truly wanted to, you would. I’m not stopping you.”

Your hands trail up until they feel a belt buckle. It’s leather and it takes you a few tries until you manage to unbuckle it. Your hands tremble as they go to pull down his pants, breathing increasing.

“You look so scared, Y/N. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” you respond. “It would be easier if I could see you.”

“You made the impression that you’ve done this before. Have you not?”

Jimin speaks as if he knows you’re lying and that’s not something you wanted. Your life was on the line for this and you truly didn’t want to die this soon.

You don’t respond, and instead your hands proceed to tug at the briefs he wore until they are down. Your mind has to connect the dots that you cannot see.

Your hand finds his cock, the naked flesh already hard and warm. It pulses in your grasp and your thumb circles the tip of his cock to assure you had it in your possession. Without warning, your tongue licks up the slit as if licking a lollipop. It swirls around the tip, the salty taste of precum meeting your taste buds immediately. 

You wished that you would have taken something upon coming here - you knew what you would be getting into. A type of aphrodisiac of the sort so that you could enjoy yourself without the thoughts in the back of your mind.

You didn’t have time to think about your actions now, and instead wrap a hand around the base of his cock to continue sucking, your cheeks suctioning inward with each slurp. His cock is coated with saliva. You can hear him - short moans that have your ears perking at just the sound of them. You suppose it’s nice, as the sounds of his boyish moans shoot straight to your core - an act of service you indeed needed if you were going to go through this case.

Your palm begins to pump his cock, focusing more on the tip than anything. You’re sure you looked exactly like you were supposed to - exactly what they were looking for in a woman in this business. 

Your slurping increases, bouncing off of the walls of the quiet room. As your slurping increases, so do the moans he releases. It comes out in short breaths, dancing through your ears as a compliment that what you were doing was indeed working.

Your hand falls onto your lap and you widen your mouth to take more of him. You pop his cock from your mouth and lick your lips - you could taste pre-cum, the salty taste bitter in your mouth. “You’re such a tease.” your ears perk when Jimin finally speaks and you cannot help but believe that you had no effect on him. 

You gulp, breathing through your nose a bit. “I can’t help but believe I’m doing all the work.”

Your hair is gripped suddenly and without warning, he slides into your mouth. Your eyes widen behind the silk ribbon and you’re unable to react fully as he’s already sliding in and out of your mouth.

It’s rough, you note, and maybe your words set him off. With each thrust, it hits the back of your throat and you feel the need to gag, but you manage. Your fists clench in your lap, legs clenching together tightly for whatever friction you could get.

His moans increase, grunting and groaning with each thrust into your mouth. There’s drool dripping down your chin sloppily to match the forming tears in your eyes. The sounds that now echo across the room are filthy, suckling and gagging from you and his increased breathing.

“Ah, maybe you are a good whore, after all.” Jimin sing-songs, amused. “You’re excited, aren’t you?”

Your head is yanked back. If you could see, you would be looking up at the man now. His thrusts slow down and your mind has to connect the dots once more. You’re positive that he’s watching you, possibly admiring the way you look now; vulnerable and slutty - something a man like him would enjoy.

“I can see the way your legs clench together…” his words hit your ears once more, this time his tone is low and deeper. “...you like this, don’t you? A woman like you enjoys being treated like this…”

You cough when his cock is released from your mouth. Air finally hits your lungs and you take it all in as you’re unaware when you’d be able to process what’s coming next.

Again, you’re pushed. This time, you’re on your back and your legs and forced open. Your head crashed against the hardwood floor as hands touch and grip your skin with such greed. You’re unsure what to do and all you could do was whimper to yourself silently.

“You’re a whore, right, Y/N?” Jimin asks you. “Has anyone ever pleasured you?”

You feel pressure on your clothed clit - he was cupping it. Your stomach churns at the feeling; forbidden and dirty. You weren’t supposed to want this; you weren’t a whore. You were a detective, and for a moment you forget about the case entirely. 

“No…” you respond.

“Tsk,” Jimin murmurs. 

You whimper once more when you feel circular motions being rubbed onto your clit. The lacy fabric of your panties were beginning to stick to you and you feel utterly exposed to the man, now more than before. 

“Take them off.” Jimin suddenly commands. There’s a slight tug at your bralette. “I want you to strip for me, Y/N. After all, I’m paying you to be here, aren’t I?” You inhale, lifting yourself up from the cold hardwood floor to do as the man asks. Your bra falls off of you and without warning, your panties are tugged off, as well, a ripping sound sounding through your ears. 

“You look so scared.”

Jimin’s voice doesn’t have any concern in them. If anything, you could hear a tint of amusement. He got off by embarrassing you and other woman. To him, you were indeed a whore that needed him to succeed in life. You’ll make it your mission that he would be brought down alongside the Ripper.

“Whore’s usually…” you are pushed down against the floor once more. “...pretend they're with another man while doing this. Who are you pretending you’re with?”

Your mind flashes for a moment, seeing Seokjin. His dark eyes shining with concern at not wanting you to be here. He was kind, truly, and it hurts to think that he showed more concern for your safety than you had from your own.

“Tell me.” Jimin speaks again. “What’s his name? Is he a childhood friend? A former lover?”

“Jin.” you murmur, defeated. 

Jin was the first man that came to mind - if you were going to pretend you were with anyone, it could possibly be him. Back home, you devoted yourself to your cases. You worked alongside mostly women. There wasn’t any man in your life that you could think of in a moment such as this - besides Seokjin.

You haven’t known Jin long, but seeing as your relationship with most men were close to nothing, he was the top candidate. While you’ve been in Oakville for such a small amount of time, he was determined to keep you out of harm's way. He had given you a room in his home that also had its own bathroom for privacy purposes. He had allowed you to take over smaller cases that involved the Ripper’s henchmen and had treated you with respect - like an actual equal. He hadn’t been a typical man who would use their authority over you and for that, you were grateful of him.

Your skin prickles with goosebumps as a shiver runs down your spine.

“Jin…” Jimin says, the name trailing off his tongue. “Jin…who is Jin?”

You don’t give a response and after a few moments, he doesn’t care to hear one. His hands are upon your body once more and it causes you to flinch. His hands are softer than what you expected and they grip and tug on your naked flesh. 

Your breath hitches when those soft hands grip at your breast, pads of his thumbs pressing against your erect nipples.

Your thighs are forced apart and you can feel him between you - you assume his own thigh right where your heat is at. He presses it ever so gently against your clit, his palms squeezing your breast.

Maybe if you imagined it was Jin then things would be a bit better - you wouldn’t get too far into your head about what you were doing. You didn’t technically see Jin in a sexual light before; of course you’d admit that he was attractive. But whatever attraction your eyes enjoyed would not allow you to ruin what you were here for - not until now.

You gasp when a warm sensation runs through the skin of your neck - slimy and wet. You notice it immediately being his tongue. It swirls at the nape of your neck before trailing down towards your collarbone. He presses his clothed thigh harder against your clit, his left hand removing itself from your breast to place it onto your hip. He doesn’t speak and instead attempts to guide you.

He wanted you to rub yourself against him as if the moment wasn’t embarrassing enough. You do without a fuss, your eyes closed (even if they were bound by the ribbon) and imagining a kinder man that wasn’t Jimin.

Your hips buckle, rubbing yourself against his thigh. His tongue runs lower and lower. It’s right between your breasts now. The coolness of the large office causes your skin to shiver once more, body heating up.

There’s a groan from him. His left hand leaves your hip to then grasp your breast once more. This time, his tongue is connected to your hardened nipple and hungrily he suckles onto it. His right hand begins to pinch your other nipple with his index and thumb, tugging and pulling onto it.

You swallow back a moan, unable to control the way your body feels about receiving pleasure. You clench around nothing as you glide your clit against his thigh, all the way he continues to suckle slopping onto your breast.

He seems to be insatiable, moving onto your next breast to suck just as needily onto it as he did the first one. He now forces his thigh hard against you, right hand slapping your hips to grind even more.

You sigh, a shaky moan coming from your throat that has you embarrassed by how much you liked this. You know when it was all over that you would have a hard time looking at yourself in the mirror, but you were also aware of what you were getting yourself into.

Don’t think of Jimin, think of Jin, you tell yourself.

And as your mind thinks of the tall man with broad shoulders with such kind eyes, it makes it easier for you to touch him. Your hand places itself onto the back of his head, soft tresses greeting you. Your back arches slightly towards him and with that, you feel both of his arms engulf you entirely. His lips release your swollen nipple with a low pop and you can now feel his lips, so plump, press against your neck once more.

His teeth sink into your neck, biting down harshly - possessively. In reaction, you yelp, holding onto the back of his head for support. You can hear him breathing so intensely, getting into the moment just as you were.

“Ah-”

His hands are large, you note, ranking down your naked back as he pushed himself against you. Your thighs now cage his waist between your legs and you can feel how excited he is, a hardened bulge pressing right against your clit.

His tongue reappears, swiping over the spot he bit at, determined to leave a mark upon you no doubt. Just like before, his tongue makes its way down your collarbone, his head lowering. He goes past your breast before it stops at your stomach. This time, his lips press a kiss by your belly button.

This felt far too intimate and the part of you that knew that this wasn’t Jin was left confused - did Jimin do this with all the women he slept with? Was he always so intimate and sensual?

But in order to not be grossed out by the scenario, you pretend it’s Jin, and the thought causes you to relax. You give into the kisses, mouth opening slightly to allow a low moan to be heard. 

His kisses trail further, kissing your abdomen and it’s then you realize that he was going to be right between your legs. Your body is already hot while in the moment, heat radiating off of your skin like a furnace in the cool room. A part of you wanted to see him, but the other part didn’t want to ruin the fantasy.

He presses a kiss directly onto your clit. Your thighs quiver at the sudden action, inhaling a breath. He presses a few more kisses before his tongue licks a stripe up your slit. Your back arches once more at the foreign feeling. His tongue is so warm - warmer than it felt against your skin. 

He continues to lick between your folds, both hands forcing your thighs apart so that you’re unmoving. You don’t hide how good it feels - especially since your mind is connecting pieces that aren’t there. Your mind displayed images of Jin between your legs, ravishing you so hungrily; similar to the way he appeared at the dinner. His dark eyes would look up at you, watching the way you came undone on his tongue for him.

Your hand tangles into his soft hair, hips buckling to feel more of his tongue - and it’s as if he gives you exactly what you want from him. His tongue lays flat against your clit, allowing you to take a bit of control of your own pleasure.

With your free hand, you grasp your breast in a semi-tight hold. Your lips get caught into your teeth in an attempt to not be too loud.

There’s a slap onto your thigh and without much warning, your legs are pushed farther apart. They are brough upwards to your shoulders - a position you weren’t aware you could be put in - and he takes back his control. His tongue suckles onto your clit sloppily, his head weaving back and forth with such speed. 

Your groans increase higher and maybe that was his plan all along, to hear how good he’s making you. His wet suckling along with your cries soon echoes off of the walls, a filthy sound entirely.

Your mind flashes again, with Jin’s tongue buried so deep onto your pussy that it causes your skin to litter with goosebumps again, your pussy clenching around nothing.

“Ah…!” you shriek, genuinely surprised with the sudden pressure inside of you. 

He never gives any warnings. His fingers enter you whole, pumping greedily inside of you - he wants more. More moaning and groaning, more arousal to pool onto his tongue. 

More.

Your pussy is tight as it clenches around him and your thighs are quivering once more with pleasure, but he doesn’t allow you scurry away from him. His fingers are so long and they fuck into you with such experience, hitting spots you never knew existed.

You're humiliated with the squelching sounds your pussy makes, an obvious sign of how much you enjoyed it all - his tongue lapping between your folds causes severe overstimulation.

Your eyes squeeze shut harder, hips jerking. You’re breathing intensifies, your body appearing so much lighter than before. You can feel the slick pooling out of you.

“I-I can’t…” you try to speak, but it doesn’t go anywhere. You’re trembling with pleasure right now, and your mind can only display images of Seokjin fingers curling inside of you. He stares at you with those dark eyes that tell you to cum all over him without having to utter a single word.

“...gonna…cum…” your hand reaches out to push the man away when the feeling comes - a sudden urge to let loose. It’s not something you’ve ever truly felt before and you were frightened by what it  was.

The man doesn’t move as you expected. He removes his tongue from you and replaces it with his tongue instead, fingers drilling inside of you while his thumb rubs harshly against your clit. 

Your toes curl, your hand holding onto his soft locs in need as the feeling grows closer and closer. You don’t realize that there’s tears forming until they slide past the silk ribbon and onto your cheeks.

“P-Please…” you plead, sounding utterly pathetic. Your head dips back and you let the pleasure consume you entirely, pooling out all at once with a humiliating splash that hits against the floor. It sounds like water spilling, a disgusting sound as this was your first time experiencing anything like this.

You fall back against the floor, chest rising and falling. Slowly, you feel his fingers leave you and you feel so empty with them. Your legs shake, pussy clenching and unclenching. You've never experienced such a thing, your body enduring the aftermath of such an orgasm that has you feeling dirty.

Your body is being pulled once more, a sign that the man wasn’t done with you just yet. You are handled like a doll, legs forced apart once more. 

There’s another sensation against your clit - it’s already so wet that when it rubs against you, it squelches.

You knew it was time for him to fuck you - the tip of his cock inching closer and closer to your entrance. 

You’re more willing now, widening your legs. You are still seeing Jin in your mind and imagine that it is him. When he enters his cock inside of you, you gasp, back arching from the ground once more.

He enters you deep, allowing you to adjust to his size. You cannot help but groan, your hands reaching out to touch his wrists. His own hands dig into the naked flesh of your hips and for the first time in a while you hear his own groan.

Your breast bounces as he begins to thrust inside of you. He lifts your lower body up from the floor a bit to get a deeper entrance. He isn’t quiet in the slightest. With each deep thrust, there’s a groan after it.

You are positive that you aren’t meant to last long - not with the amount of pleasure you experienced in such a short amount of time. You’re so full of him, his cock ramming into you so fast and deep that you don’t have a time to react to it.

Your hands trail from his wrist to his arms, holding on for support. Your moans dance along with his and you cannot help but want to be closer to the man. You initiate the embrace first, lifting yourself up from the ground to wrap your arms around his neck.

The act causes the man to fuck you ever harder, hands gliding from your hips to wrap you in his own embrace. 

His shoulders are so broad, you note, and you rub onto them needily. Maybe it was the sex blinding you from the fact that this wasn’t Jin as Jimin didn’t have the same body - but the ribbon causes you to imagine that it was. It’s what has you moaning and begging him for more.

The ribbon blocking your sight is what has you licking onto his own skin hungrily as he fucks into you so good. It’s what has you buckling your own hips to meet his thrusts.

Your lack of sight of Jimin has you seeing Jin in your mind, and it causes your lips to meet his plump ones that are coated in your arousal. Your hands grip onto his hair as your tongue dances with his, your pussy clenching so tight around him that neither of you want to stop now.

You wonder what he sees. Maybe a girl once shy, turned so aroused that she’s pleading for more. She’s leaking all over the place, soft moans growing higher and higher until she’s nearly screaming.

He gives you exactly what you want him to, fucking into you with a stamina so great that it has you cumming all over him again, more hot tears streaming down your face pathetically.

He doesn’t last too long, either. His thrust becomes sloppy and he’s grunting into your ear so melodically. He manages to pull out of you, cumming right onto your stomach - it’s hot and the amount is alarming, but you allow it, your mind seeing Seokjin, so fucked out and full of lust that you are completely content with being used by someone that wasn’t him.

“Y/N…I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon.”

It’s been another week since you’ve last seen Jin.

Daniel nods his head before closing the door to his office.

Jin places whatever documents he’s going through down onto his desk and rounds it to come closer to you.

“Jin. Hello.” you greet him, nodding your head. “Mind if I have some coffee?”

“You don’t have to ask.” Jin snorts and nods his head yes. “How are you?”

You’ve adapted in Jimin’s mansion and had gotten your own room. It was luxurious and completely your own. 

After the day with Jimin, you were told to keep the ribbon on until he specifically told you to take it off. 

Looking Jimin in the eye was easier than you expected. He didn’t appear different or smug after having just fucked you. You assumed it was because he was accustomed to it already.

Looking Jin in the eye a week later is what frightens you. 

“Y/N.”

“S-Sorry.” you had poured coffee onto the counters. You grab several napkins to clean it up, blinking away the thoughts. 

“You seem so shaken up.” Jin places a hand onto your shoulder to grasp your attention. “Do you need me to find you a way out-”

“No.” you shake your head, turning to look at him. You swallow when you look into his eyes - the same dark eyes you’ve seen in your mind constantly.

“You don’t look good, Y/N. Is everything…alright?” Jin doesn’t want to dig deeper into what you’ve gone through the past week, unsure of where he should inject himself. “I don’t want you to get too deep into something that isn’t for you.”

You offer Jin a short smile.

“I’m…not a prostitute.” you murmur to Jin who nods - he knows that. Whatever you had to do while undercover was just that. He would never label you as such.

“Jimin…he keeps me around as his maid. So he says.” you admit. “Said I was…too good…to be a prostitute.”

Your body burns now with even more embarrassment. Jin’s ears are red and he nods his head. “I’m glad.” Jin admits, a part of him content that you wouldn’t have to be selling yourself for the sake of the case. He isn’t sure how to put what he feels into words at times, you note. “I just want you to be safe, Y/N.”

You continue to clean up your mess, your mind racing. 

You were a detective - you’ve managed and solved several cases. You’ve gone undercover countless times.

And yet…

This was the straw that broke the camel's back?

You didn’t want things to be awkward between you and Jin as you still had a job to do at the end of the day. Yet, it was difficult being around him when you had to have him on your mind in order to sleep a little better at night; in order to not feel so shitty about yourself.

“I’m able to handle myself, Jin.” you murmur, pouring a few sugar packets into your coffee and grabbing a little straw to stir it. “Jimin doesn’t suspect that I’m nothing but a whore.”

“A maid.” Jin corrects, knitting his brows.

“Right.” you scoff. “A maid. There’s going to be a gathering this weekend at the mansion. I was told that several high-ranking individuals would be attending.”

Jin nods his head slowly as he processes the information.

“I don’t think the Ripper would be there, however.” you admit, taking a sip of your coffee and humming when it hits your throat. “He appears to be…an entity. People speak of him but no one’s ever seen him. I’ve asked a few women who work for Jimin-”

“Y/N, you have to be careful!” Jin interjects. “You’re the new girl there who managed to be a maid instead of a prostitute. You don’t think women are pining for your position?”

Your eyes connect with his and instantly, your mind replays you the events of the week prior - how content you felt being with him even if it wasn’t with him.

You take a deep breath before nodding your head. “You’re right.” you murmur. “I’ll be more careful.

Jin stands straighter. “Thank you.” he responds. “I do appreciate your dedication, Y/N. I don’t want to be so hard on you.”

You take another sip of your coffee after blowing on it a few times. “I can handle whatever you throw at me, Jin. I’ve worked alongside harsher men.” you place your cup back onto the counter and lean against it with crossed arms. “Back to the gathering. It’s being held in a neighboring town instead of Oakville.”

Jin furrows his brows. “Oh?”

“Yes.” you nod. “They never have any form of gatherings in Oakville incase of…you know, you.” you slowly grin his way. “Having so many people come to a small town suddenly raises questions that they don’t want to answer.”

Jin returns your grin - an act that causes the hairs on your arm to raise.

“Uh...I’ll give Daniel the details when I get them.” you avert your eyes to the ground. “I’m sure we can get the neighboring town police force in on what is happening and go forward with the raid that way?”

Jin nods his head. Without warning, he places a hand on your head. He pats it, almost as if he was patting a small child's head. Your head slowly turns toward him for answers. “Good job.” he chuckles, a twinkle in his eye. “I have to admit having you on the team has made my life a lot easier. No one has such great ideas as you do.”

Your heart begins to pump faster and mentally, you’re screaming at yourself to stop acting like such a pathetic little girl with a growing crush. This was nothing but an attraction for your lack of love and (former) sexual life. Maybe you craved attention you never got - not even as a child - so any form of it was making you weak.

Jin’s hand slowly slides from the top of your head down to your cheek. Your skin is even hotter, unaware of what to do in this situation.

“I’m always here, Y/N. If you ever need anything.” Jin assures, years ears perking at the sound of his voice that any background noise seemingly dies down. “Just ask and I’ll do my best to deliver.”

Your lips part and a shaky breath releases. You begin to nod your head at his words, swallowing down a gulp. His eyes are so intense and you couldn’t truly read them. They scan your face for any form of reaction, possibly reading right through the facade you’re attempting to put up.

“I want you to be safe, as well.” you testified, your hand placing over his - still resting on your cheek lazily. “You can call upon me, as well. If you need me to do anything while on the inside.

“Let’s catch the Ripper.” Jin hums, that familiar twinkle in his eye returning once hearing your words.

“Is this a gathering for important people?” you ask as you fix Jimin’s tie, your eyes fixed on the piece of fabric. “Or do you usually dress this way for them?”

Jimin’s attire has always been up to par, you’d admit. The suits he adorned were always tailored to fit him perfectly. You were advised to hand-wash his clothing and let them air dry before ironing them just the way he showed you how as he was specific about how he wanted his clothing to present him.

Jimin tilts his head just as you were done with his tie. “Is this your way of flirting with me?” he teases, a smirk forming onto his lips.

You take a deep breath and put on a smile that wouldn’t reach your eyes. You’d play nice for now for the case. You lightly tap his chest as that was the only response you were willing to give. 

“It’s a gathering, yes. But also a meeting.” Jimin speaks, strolling towards a small, rectangular box in his bedroom and opening it. It’s where he kept most of his expensive watches. “We have a lot to discuss, Y/N.”

A meeting? Your mind racks through different ideas and possibilities - would the RIpper be at this meeting? Of course not, you think, most of his henchmen never even saw him in person and surely would not start now. 

“You’ve been with me long enough to know the struggles we are facing, I assume.” Jimin places his watch onto his wrist as he speaks. “Our men are being arrested. Prostitutes not doing what I am paying them to.” he shakes his head. “It’s so hard to find decent help.”

You want to boast that you were the reason that the men in their “gang” were being arrested - thanks to you and Daniel. You had given information to Jin about whereabouts; when shipments would be coming and days where they would be causing havoc before it happened.

Prostitutes were escaping - also thanks to you - this lifestyle. Majority of them were young and had never spoken to anyone with positivity who encouraged them to be better. It wasn’t an easy task to do and you still had hundreds of women to speak with, but you were determined to do just that.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” you tell Jimin, lying through your teeth. “I wish there was something I could do to help.”

Jimin’s eyes flicker to you when you respond. He hums. “There is.” he says. “Just do as you’re told.”

You nod your head slowly, licking your lips.

The journey to your destination wasn’t a long one, only about an hour. You arrived alongside Jimin and a few men while the other remaining prostitutes arrived separately. You were surprised to find that the gathering would be held in what appears to be a theater. The inside is clean and pristine with high ceilings with such amazing white lighting that shines down on the bodies surrounding you. There’s rows upon rows of seating available, even ones upstairs in booths. The stage is right at the center, tall and grand and you ponder just how many theater performances have been right here.

“You,” Jimin catches your attention, placing a hand at the low of your back. “represent me, Y/N.”

You understood as such when Jimin had chosen your clothing - a dress that is entirely too long that you often find yourself nearly tripping if you weren’t so quick on your feet. It’s a dark maroon color to match that of his suit and for some odd reason, you adorn a corset that was tied by Jimin himself to shape your figure, it’s laced and tied behind your back. 

“You’ll be serving us tonight.” Jimin begins to steer you away and into a room to the right. It’s a bar area where rows of drinks are set up ready to be served. “Just make sure people’s cups are full. Easy enough for you?”

You nod once more, eyeing the cups. You assume they’re wine mixed with more - something to have the girls and whatever attending this gathering be more loose. You cringe at the thought.

The night drags on and you do as you’re told, serving people as they mingle. You shouldn’t be surprised to see familiar faces - officers from other neighboring towns, high police officials and politicians alongside mayors. They all funded the Ripper - you’re unsure as to why but that didn’t stop you from collecting the desired intel needed. You had their faces and names locked deep in your mind, the case only growing larger. 

Your eyes catch Daneil from across the theater. He’s sipping his own drink, looking around the same as you are. You ponder if he notices anyone familiar or something off about those who are attending.

The theater is loud with chatter and laughter, prostitutes being seated in the laps of powerful men. You take another deep breath.

“Excuse me,”

There’s a loud voice - Jimin’s - followed by clapping. He strolls onto the stage and makes a grand entrance that has you rolling your eyes. 

“Y/N, please serve our guest the specialty wine of the night.”

You stand a little straighter as Jimin calls for you. You go into the backroom to find the wine he was speaking of. It’s a dark color of crimson on a medium sized silver platter. It took you longer than you desired, especially with the waiting eyes of the attendee’s around you, but once the last glass was full, you scurried off to the side.

“Thank you all for coming.” Jimin begins, his clapping together. “It’s been too long since we have been together. Just like old times.”

There’s a few murmurings of agreement.

“As you know, however, there's been a slight…inconvenience to our operation.” Jimin’s tone lowers and you assume he’s speaking of several of his men being arrested and the police force - that’s not involved with the Ripper - was zoning in on them.

“It’s nothing we cannot handle, surely.”

You turn to the sound of the voice - an officer. Maybe this is why they’ve never been caught before. Having officers on the inside was a smart move from such a sick man like the Ripper.

“As I thought.” Jimin nods. “However, we’re also losing our girls. With these men being arrested and charged every other day and whore’s leaving…”

You lick your lips, scoffing to yourself. This is what the gathering was about - trying to find ways to stop the decline of their operation? 

“I have a shipment coming from out of the country.”

A shipment from out of the country…?

You gasp to yourself at the statement. The man was a mayor not from Oakville, but elsewhere. They were trafficking girls from outside the country - how they managed to do a thing, you’re unsure. The thought makes your skin crawl, your mind flashing of your past and what you had to endure alongside your “siblings”. 

“That’ll help.” another member of this cult - because this couldn’t be anything but - has said. He has a girl seated in his lap as he speaks, his hand rubbing onto her thigh.

“It’ll help. But,” Jimin appears stoic. His eyes glance around the room as if in search of someone. “Let’s raise our glass and drink to the Brotherhood.”

As you expected. This was some sort of sick cult of elitists. The Ripper wasn’t the only sick individual as he was surrounded by much more. 

“To the Brotherhood.” the surrounded men all state in unison. Your eyes meet Daniel’s once more and not that he had not lifted his cup to drink anything.

What comes next is what shocks you. As the men all take their drinks, it’s followed by sudden screeching. Chao’s ensues and you could only watch in horror as things began to go haywire.

Coughing and gagging are heard, followed by the screams of the prostitutes who all scurry away and surrounding one another. Several men fell to their knees and began to vomit their guts out, blood pooling from their noses.

“W-What-”

“There has been a traitor among us…”

That voice is different. It’s not Jimin’s, you note. It comes directly behind you all and it takes everything in you to not freeze in your stature. 

A man, tall and covered from head to toe in dark clothing. His trenchcoat is black and leather and sways behind him as he trails down the carpeted stairs to reach the stage. He’s sporting a mask that covers his face entirely. It’s ghostly and adorns an expressionless expression.

“One of you,” the man says, coming even closer. “has betrayed me.”

It happens entirely too fast. He lunges at the prostitutes, a large dagger in his hand and manages to stab one directly in the heart. The other’s scream, crying to get away from his attack - but none of them manage.

It’s a shocking sight to behold - the men are slowly dying, obviously poisoned…by you.

You feel sick to your stomach having been a part of such a sick set up.

The Ripper is here.

The Ripper is here.

Your eyes blink several times, as if trying to comprehend what you’re witnessing is true. He is so brutal in the way he murders the prostitutes without a care. They’re thrown around like ragdolls, being, blood seeping from such quick attacks upon their skin.

Your mind is racing, eyes darting all around the room. It was pure chaos - utter havoc. The screams only grow louder and louder.

“S-Stop!”

You found your voice, going to screech as loud as you can to grab the attention of the man. Your heart nearly stops when, ever so slowly, he turns towards you, knife raised. Crimson blood seeps off of it and drops onto the carpet. 

You swallow, taking a step back when the man stalks towards you. 

You’re unsure what you imagined yourself doing in a situation such as this, never truly expecting to be in it. You thought of ways of figuring out who the Ripper was and what you’d do if you ever came face to face with him - but now you appeared to cower.

You had witnessed a massacre right before your eyes. You were a part of it, having served these same people with poison.

“Y/N, what did I say earlier?” Jimin’s voice rings through your ears and before you could process anything, you’re being pushed harshly onto the ground. Your head nearly crashes against it but you catch yourself. “Just do as you’re told.”

You exhale a frightening breath, eyes slowly looking upwards at the man, knife clenches in his gloved hand. He’s looking down at you, almost as if waiting for you to react.

You weren’t a prostitute or a maid.

You were a detective. 

You have trained for years to be where you were at. 

You had come to Oakville to bring down such a horrid person - you couldn’t just lay here and cower.

It takes far more strength than expected, but neither of the two men - the Ripper and Jimin - were expecting you to react so quickly, or at all. You attack the man's legs, bringing him to the ground with you in an attempt to get the knife out of his hand.

Your hair is being pulled, yanked harshly. Your eyes clenched shut and your hands immediately clasp onto your hair. You can feel your body being dragged against the carpeted floor.

Your heart thumps, pounding into your ears. You couldn’t contain the low grunts coming from your lips, pain shooting throughout your body as you continue to be dragged so violently by the Ripper.

“Now why shouldn’t you be killed for your actions, Y/N?”

Jimin’s voice oozes with disappointment, like a superior upset with their students' actions as he steps off of the stage. 

You were finally released and pushed aside roughly. Your head throbs but you whip it around to look at the tall man. You cannot see his eyes and they appear to be pitch black holes of nothingness staring right back at you.

Daniel is looking between Jimin and the Ripper, his own heart thumping in his chest and he’s visibly trembling. This is his first time meeting the man in person. He was stunned at the sudden appearance of the murderer slaining people in plain sight - only when you were in trouble did he snap back to reality. “S-Sir!” he speaks forward, stepping closer to where you three stood. “I-I can take her back to the-”

“Get the fuck out.”

You don’t blame Daniel for being terrified and you could only be upset with yourself if this is how you did die. You could only hope that Daniel wouldn’t meet the same fate. 

Your chest heaves, your eyes fixed on the Ripper who seemingly is staring right back at you. 

Daniel’s mouth shut once he heard Jimin’s stern tone. His eyes flicker to you onto the ground, trying your best not to cower away, but even he was frightened of what would happen to you if he left.

“Are you deaf or stupid?” Jimin snorts, shaking his head a bit. “Get the fuck out! Wait for us outside.”

You can hear footsteps scurrying away, going farther and farther, and yet your eyes never leave the ghoulish mask of the Ripper.

Jin, if you managed to make it out alive, was surely going to be upset with you. You had managed to come face to face with someone so heinous - and piss them off to the point that it might just lead you to your death.

“She’s a feisty one. I like her.” Jimin is leaning against the stage with his arms crossed. “She’s different….not a whore in the slightest.”

You swallow, your eyes remaining on the dark sockets of his mask. You didn’t want to give yourself away or appear suspicious.

What did Jimin mean that you weren’t a whore in the slightest? Did he know who you were - no. He couldn’t have. He would have gotten rid of you if he did.

Still, why keep you around if he knows you weren’t a part of this world? Just what was he planning on doing?

“What say you, Y/N?”

“Are you going to kill me?”

You didn’t waste any time. If you were going to die here, you’d make sure you had the chance to fight back.

“If he wanted you dead, you’d be dead already.” Jimin looks bored as this was not entertaining in the slightest. You and he stared at one another, as if daring the other to strike first - no one had. “You look determined to survive. How about this…we all love a little game.”

Your first clench at your sides. You weren’t in the mood to be toyed with - especially not when you’re at such a disadvantage.

“You make it out of here alive, Y/N…we pretend none of this ever happened, yeah?”

For the first time in who knows how long, you glanced at Jimin, the Ripper in the corner of your eye becoming a blurred figure. 

“I’ll be making my leave…”

Jimin begins to stroll away, a strut in his walk. 

“W-Wait!” you call, looking back at the Ripper. “Where are you-”

“I’m not going to be here. If you want to live, you’ll escape yourself. You know where to find me if you survive.”

You let out a low gasp as his footsteps clogged your mind, his words replaying over and over  - and over again. Your eyes slowly turn back to the tall man a few feet away from you. It’s eerily silent, only the theater door opening and closing behind Jimin.

You were powerless and had not a weapon on you. Your mind races of ways to survive this. You were positive that if he didn’t want you dead then, by now he surely did.

You barely have a second to process when he suddenly lunges at you. You throw yourself to the side and manage to get onto your feet.

Your dress is entirely too long to function properly and you ponder if this was Jimin’s initial intention. 

Your hands scrunch up the dress so you could run freely.

He’s swinging the knife as it slices the air close to you. You continue to dodge, finding that this would be the easiest option instead of trying to attack the man head on. 

“You’re a coward!”

You hiss at the man after managing to dodge another attack, this time it slices at your side and fortunately slices the dress and not your skin.

“Attacking women because you cannot take on a man!”

Maybe it wasn’t smart to taunt someone hellbent on killing you - and if not killing you, at least hurting you. However, you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction that you were frightened to your core at the disadvantage.

“I know men like you.  I’ve dealt with men like you.”

You round a corner, a beam separating you and him. His attack stops and you’re met with his eyeless stare.

“Weak.” you spit, your hands clutching onto your dress for support. “You take your pathetic anger out on innocent women simply because your life is miserable. Were you rejected…maybe…”

Your breathing increases, determined to stay alive.

“...Mommy issues?”

The man attacks again, this time dropping his knife to come at you full force. You should have expected it and could only blame yourself when both of his gloved hands crashed onto your face. You’re forced backwards until your back hits against a wall.

Your hands punch along his chest - it’s broad, you note, a thought that he was a man of either great strength or smart enough to wear protection beneath his clothing. 

You weren’t doing any damage to him and he gave you little room to do so. His body pressed against yours. Your face throbs beneath his clenching hands.

You wheeze when you’re pushed away, back slamming against the wall once more. Without warning, you’re turned around, your cheek now pressed to the cold, theater wall and his right hand clasp around your neck. 

Your hand reaches back to attack him once more, an attempt to claw at him to release you.

No man should have strength like this - this was inhumane. 

“Let…me…go…”

It was getting hard to breathe.

Your body tenses up when you feel him press up against you sickly, your mind going to the darkest possibilities of what he was going to do to you if you didn’t escape him.

“...fight me like a-”

His gloved hand reaches upward to clasp against your mouth while his free one grasps your waist harshly. You’re pulled from the wall and suddenly, slammed onto the ground. Your head crashes against the carpeted floor and before you could react, you feel pressure on top of you.

There’s a knife pointed to your throat, dangerously close. You can feel the cool tip prepared to slice against your skin.

“Hurry up and kill me.”

You weren’t going to give him what he wanted. It’s obvious that he wanted you to cower before him and beg for your life - but you weren’t.

If you were going to die, then so be it. But you would not feed into his ego. 

The man tilts his head, eyeless sockets staring right at you. 

The man comes closer to you, his masked face inches from yours.

You swallow, remaining whatever eye contact you could.

The knife pinches your skin a bit, trailing from your neck to your collarbone. It stings -  but not the way you thought it would have. It feels more like a papercut slicing through delicate skin.

It pierces through the fabric of your dress, slicing ever so slowly - as if  to taunt you. Your lower half is constricted, but your arms are free.

“Get off-” you hiss, your hands balling into fists and you throw a harsh jab at the masked cheek. It was just the amount of reaction you needed to kick him away from you, freeing yourself from beneath you.

You begin to crawl backwards, your eyes not leaving his figure as you struggle to get to your feet. Your breathing has increased tremendously. “Fuck you!” you spit, stumbling further away from him. You needed to grab a weapon - any weapon.

As you were rushing away to find said weapon, the masked man lifts himself up, knife gleaming in the lowlights of the theater. 

You’re behind the bar now, grasping the largest bottle of alcohol you could find and hurling it at him, then another. The third bottle you grasps you slam against the large bar island, the sharp now being used as your own weapon. The excess alcohol splashes against you, but you don’t move your eyes from his. 

You duck just as the man attacks, the knife swiping right above your head and with instinct, you thrust your own weapon towards him. 

“Ah-!” you swing it once more and with each swing, the man dodges it. “Get,” swing. “away,” swing. “from me!” you scream, swinging once more, but the Ripper’s glove hand catches your wrist. 

Your free hand is quick, however, grasping the nearest bottle and smashing it against the man's head. 

The Ripper stumbles back, the alcohol shattering and the liquid staining his clothes.

You know well enough that the attack would only stun him, not fully halt him. You toss another, this one hitting him directly in his masked face. 

Your eyes move around with great speed, wondering what you could do next - what weapon could be used upon him to save your life and the life of others.

Your eyes catch them, the small, square box of matches.

You swallow, your body moving before your brain could fully process what you were doing.  Your hands are slippery as you grasp them, but you knew exactly what you were going to do. 

You struck the match, the small flame illuminating against your face. Your eyes meet the Rippers eyeless ones and you tilt your head. 

“I won’t allow you to kill anymore people.” you say to him, almost as if he would care what you would say to him. 

You fling the match and, almost as in slow motion, does it fall onto the pile of alcohol behind the bar and directly in front of him. 

The flames spark immediately and you attempt to make this your exit. You had no idea how long you’d have, especially with the flames growing larger and larger, but you understood that you had to make your way out somehow. 

You’re positive that Jimin is long gone, having no hope of you ever making your way out alive.

The fire spread rapidly and quicker than expected was the entire scenery full of smoke. Your eyes begin to water and your throat clog up. All your ears could hear were the cracking of the flames surrounding you, unsure if this was your final moment alongside the Ripper - and if it truly was, then you couldn’t be upset with yourself.

You promised that you would stop the Ripper - that his reign in Oakville would come to an end. You promised Seokjin that his once quiet and safe town would return to just that, not realizing that your life would also be a part of that promise.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

Your chest felt heavy, as if someone was seated right on top of you. Your head is pounding, an increasing pain at all angles that even with your eyes closed, it feels as if the room is spinning.

You were trying so desperately to open your eyes - to see what the fuck was going on like the voice was speaking.

“Y/N?”

Y/N.

Y/N.

The voice appears far away, like a distant echo. You recognize the voice - Seokjin.

Where were you?

Where was he?

Why was everything so dark?

Seokjin presses a hand to your shoulder, squeezing it gently as your eyes begin to flutter open, completely glossy and dazed. The oxygen mask clings onto you, assisting in your breathing.

“You’re finally awake.” Jin sighs, closing his eyes for a few moments. “Can you hear me, Y/N?”

You cough, as expected, and Jin waits for you for him to continue.

“Jin…” you cough once more, your eyes wandering around to where you were at. “...how-”

“Are you fucking insane, Y/N?!” Jin hisses, his once soft eyes now enraged. “I had to hear from Daniel that you came face to face with the Ripper?!”

Daniel.

Jimin.

The Ripper.

Your mind swirls with what happened. Where was Jimin? Had the Ripper survived the fire since you had - did he manage to escape?

“Jin.” you begin to lift yourself up from the bed and Jin shakes his head. “I-”

“You are not capable of going anywhere, Y/N! You’ve literally survived a fire!” Jin nearly screams. 

“Where is he?” your throat is aching, but you had to know what was going on. “Where’s Jimin-”

“Gone.” Jin grits his teeth. “We…don’t need to worry about Jimin anymore, Y/N. Focus-”

“Gone?” your hands reach up at the hospital mask and you begin to lift it from your face. “Gone where? Has he been arrested or-”

“He was gone by the time we arrived, Y/N!” Jin doesn’t want to take out his frustrations upon you, but you were acting daft. His hands slap yours away from the oxygen mask and he places it back where it was once located. “Obviously he had no intention of you escaping the Ripper. Daniel told me as much as he knows.” Jin explains. “The theater is burned to the ground, Y/N. You’re lucky to even be alive.”

You inhale, the information clogging your brain.

Jimin was gone - as expected. Who else managed to escape?

“The Ripper…” you trail off. 

“There wasn’t another body recovered in the fire.” Jin murmurs back, eyes blinking away. “And right now, Y/N, I don’t care about the Ripper.” he shakes his head. “You could’ve lost your life right then and there. I…”

Jin turns away from you and you understand that this would weigh on his shoulders. Your heart jolts at the thought of Jin and what guilt he may be feeling. 

“I’m capable of taking care of myself, Jin.” you inhale. You could still hear the harsh cracking of the fire as it spread throughout the theater. “I did this for the case-”

“Fuck the case, Y/N!” Jin’s eyes turn back to you, dark ones staring right into your own. “I wouldn’t have cared if the Ripper was still alive and well as long as you made it out of there alive.”

Jin swallows, inhaling deeply.

“I don’t…I don’t want to blame you. It isn’t your fault, Y/N. You couldn’t have known but…” Jin blinks a few times, trying to find the words to say to you. “...I don’t want you on this case, anymore. It’s too risky and-”

“What?”

You look pathetic, barely able to raise your voice past a hoarse whisper. 

“You’re off the case.” Jin repeats. “Don’t fight me on this, Y/N. I’m-”

“I’m not getting off the case. I-”

“I want you to stay in Oakville.” Jin interrupts, raising his voice to challenge your own. “I want you to stay here. With me.”

You swallow, throat aching for some water but all you could think about are Jin’s words at the moment. 

“I want you to be safe.” Jin begins. “And I can only assure your safety if you’re here with me. Jimin is gone and the majority of the Ripper’s men have since been arrested.”

You sniffle, eyes roaming Jin’s face.

“I…”

“I won’t force you.” Jin shrugs his shoulders, a bit awkwardly. “I…have grown to like your company. I would like you by my side. Here. With me.” he murmurs, hoping that his words - as vague as they were - would have you understand what he truly wants from you. “I appreciate all that you’ve done for the case but now I just want you to fall back. Heal and-”

“I’ll stay.” you nod your head, swallowing back the lump in your throat; that or it was soot, who knows. 

“Good.” Jin licks his lips. “Good.” he sighs in relief, glad that he didn’t have to fight too hard. You were a stubborn one and in a way, he likes it. Not when your life is put into a compromising situation, however. 

As days dragged onto weeks and weeks dragged onto months, your mind can do nothing but wander to Jimin and how someone of his status could just disappear into thin air. The streets of Oakville were slowly returning to how Jin said they were once before - safe and homely. There was very little crime and death was at an all time minimum unless caused by natural causes. 

The once ringing telephone in Jin’s office now laid silent most days and it was just as it was before, peaceful. You began to think that maybe the Ripper was truly gone; that Jimin would never return to Oakville as it was far too risky.

The Ripper’s name was uttered as something in the past - somewhat like a folktale. The town of Oakville now allowed the sun to shine bright above their small, happy town. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to return to your own town?” Jin asks as he sets down your boxes onto the ground of his apartment. It’s labeled “kitchen”. “I don’t want to force you here with me.”

“Are you telling me you want me to go?” you tease, placing a smaller box on top of the one he sat down and cross your arms. 

“Of course not.” Jin scoffs with a playful roll of his eyes. “I just don’t want to remove you from your home.”

“Oakville is my home now.” you uncross your arms to throw a jab at Jin’s side, an act that he dodges effortlessly, smooth hands grasping your wrist to bring you closer to him. 

You’re unsure how you’d ever explain to someone how you and Jin got closer with one another after the death - or disappearance - of the Ripper. His admission to wanting you by his side was just the first (awkward) step. You working alongside him constantly was another step of you two getting closer, mixed with shy glances and awkward encounters in his home. 

“What are you thinking about?” Jin questions, arms wrapped loosely around you. “And don’t say nothing, either. I know you.”

“Sure.” you scoff, but it was true. Jin did know when your mind was clouded with a thousand thoughts at once. “Jimin…”

“Ah, of course.” Jin rests his forehead against yours. 

“You think I’m foolish to keep thinking about him, huh?” you snort. 

“No, of course not. It’s in your nature.” Jin responds. “Jimin is like…an unsolved case to you. You’re fiending-”

You pinch Jin in the chest slightly and he yelps.

“Hey!” Jin flinches but chuckles heartily at your reaction. “It’s the truth! You’re just a determined detective.”

Jin squeezes you a bit. “It’s not your fault. I want to know where the bastard went, myself. But dwelling on it would only drive me insane.”

Jin leans his head back to scan your face. He inhales deeply, a smile slowly creeping onto his lips. 

“I like to think Jimin met his demise. That he’s somewhere laying in a ditch. It’s easier to accept that he could still be out there in another town alive and well.” 

“Ugh,” you groan and throw your head back. It’s easier for Jin to not care about things such as this - maybe it was because he was a man. Men tend to lack any form of sense. 

Jin is quick to press his lips against your neck, plump lips kissing the spot he knows would be your sweet spot.

“Just forget about Jimin and everything else for now.” Jin murmurs.

“We’re supposed to redecorate…!”

“We have all week for that.” Jin exclaims. “It isn’t like there’s a lot of crime, Y/N.”

You hated when Jin was being logical. There was a lot of time on your hands as Oakville has become such a safe haven for the townspeople again. 

“How about you,” Jin’s lips crash against yours to silence you and you’re only partially surprised. “mph, just go lock up downstairs and-”

“Ugh,” Jin groans but he knows you’re right. He has already told several officers that they could go home early. Business had really slowed the last few months. “fine.” he sighs. “Then we’ll pick up where we started?”

You nod your head, a glint in your eyes that has Jin excited. 

Your eyes follow as Jin scurries out the door, his footsteps growing more faint with each passing step. You release a sigh, your body radiating heat. 

“Let’s see what I can do while Jin is locking up.” you speak to yourself, eyes roaming to the array of boxes until your eyes catch one.

Jin had insisted that he move the boxes full of items you didn’t use into the attic. They’re filled with memorabilia mostly instead of day to day items. 

You grab a chair to open the attic door to the ceiling, the stairs squeak as you drop them down onto the ground. A bit of dust catches your nostrils and instantly, you sneeze.

You grasp the box and begin to slowly ascend the attic stairs. It’s dark mostly, but your phone light is all you truly needed to not be completely creeped out by the scenery. 

There’s already boxes up there - expected seeing as Jin did state he kept the area as storage. You place your box down on the ground and grasp your flashing phone from on top of it. You scan the area, not finding anything out of the ordinary. There’s rows of boxes all closed and on top of one another, your camera finding that there’s an insane amount of dust covering the top of it that indicates that neither of them has been opened in years.

Though, your eyes catch a chest that is the only item inside the attic that isn’t covered in dust and grime and you hum. Your feet stroll towards the chest, kneeling down to shine your flashlight right at it. It’s wooden and a mahogany color, the top drawer slightly cracked open.

Your free hand pulls at the drawer to open, shining the light inside. It’s nearly  empty, aside for a few pieces of jewelry, you note, and what appears to be picture’s facing down.

“Is this an invasion of privacy…?” you ask yourself but your hand grabs at the pictures either way.

They’re old pictures and now you think they're of Jin in his youth. Your eyes scan each passing photo, more and more children coming into each frame. 

Your eyes stop at one in particular, dozen of children standing in front of what appears to be a warehouse-like building. 

Your eyes blink a few times before squinting.

“What…?” you murmur, orbs staring at a familiar face of you, right in the corner of said picture. You recall the exact outfit you wore that day, covered in mud and grime. 

You swallow, slamming the picture down into the drawer. Your heart is pounding and your head is swirling with far too many emotions to count. 

Your eyes catch onto the next photo and your heart sinks at who.

Jimin.

Jimin and Jin.

They’re young - possibly teenage years. However, they’re both smiling ear to ear with arms wrapped around the other’s shoulder.

Your breathing increases.

“Jin…”

Your ears hear him - Jin. He isn’t home yet, however he will be. He’s just down the hall and you sprint out of the attic. Your nerves are causing you to shake violently and you’re truly unaware how you managed to close the attic door and put the chair back to where it belonged as he entered. 

“I’m back. Do you think we should order a…” Jin’s eyes turn to you and instantly, he freezes. “...pizza...? Is something…wrong?” He tries to laugh but nothing is amusing.

“Huh?” you try to sound unfazed, but you know you look as though you’ve just seen a ghost. 

“Is everything okay?” Jin steps closer to you and without thinking, you step back. 

“Yeah.”  you nod your head. You touch your forehead with the back of your hand. “I’m…just feeling tired.” you lie. “And…hot. I need a-”

“Y/N.” Jin takes another step forward and with each step, you take one back. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

You swallow.

Jin and Jimin knew one another. They were friends the least.

Jin knows you - for fuck sakes you knew Jin. You’ve blocked out your past life as much as you can that you completely forgot your ‘brothers and sisters’ and now Jin stands before you, reminding you everything of the past life you wished to keep behind you.

“Y/N.” Jin repeated, this time his voice was deeper and more stern.

“How did you know where to find me?” you ask Jin. “When…the fire broke out?”

“Daniel told me.” Jin responds with a tilt of his head. “Is something wrong?”

“How did you know I fought the Ripper?” you question. “Daniel wouldn’t have known. He wasn’t in the theater with me.”

Jin is silent and only his heady eyes are watching you. 

“Is there something you want to ask me, Y/N?” Jin stands straighter. “Go out and ask. Don’t jump through useless questions.”

You want to ask Jin what was truly on your mind - you were just afraid of the response. 

“Why…how do you know me?”

“That’s your question?” Jin scoffs. “You’ve been in the attic, have you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost…like a person who’s been shown the truth.”

“Stop coming closer.”

“Why?” Jin doesn’t listen and he slowly steps closer to you. “Are you afraid of me, Y/N?”

“Stop.” your teeth grit. 

“Ask me what you want to know, Y/N. I’ll answer you truthfully.”

You have nowhere to run without him easily catching you. Your heart was beating so loud that it was getting hard to focus.

“You…you’re him.” you shake your head in near disbelief. 

“Are you upset with me, Y/N? Do you look at me differently because…I was the Ripper?”

You release a choke gasp of disbelief. 

“You tried to kill me!” your back hits a wall and you curse at your own bad decisions. “You-”

“I could’ve gutted you a long time ago!” Jin suddenly roars - one so loud that it echoes off of the walls. He stomps towards you. “I could’ve had your blood seeping through these floors the same night you came.”

Jin slams his hands on either side of your face against the walls.

“I could’ve killed you that night you presented yourself for Jimin so willingly…for me so willingly.”

“What…?”

“I knew you and I were meant for one another right then and there, Y/N. When you said you would be thinking of me while giving yourself to another man.”

Your night with Jimin was another night you would rather forget and often block out.

“I don’t…I-I don’t understand-”

“You don’t think it was Jimin who fucked you, right?” Jin scoffs with a shake of his head. He looks so different. His eyes…they were so cold and deranged. So distant. 

Your stomach churns at Jin’s words. 

“You’re as strong as I remember you were. You fought me the entire time at the theater. I wasn’t expecting you to be so dumb and cause a fire.” Jin shakes his head with a low tsk. “I had to get the both of us out of there before anything happened.”

Your hands, as rough as they could, shove along his chest to get him away from you. 

“Get the fuck away from me!” you hiss, eyes blurred with hot tears. 

“You’re being rash, now, Y/N.” Jin spit. “Don’t let this ruin us.”

“You’re a murderer!” you hiss, your eyes viewing Jin as he was; the Ripper. 

“And you’re any better, Y/N?” Jin laughs. “Or does it not count because it was just a bit of poison?”

Your eyes widened at Jin’s words.

Your fist clench - another memory unblocked. 

“I didn’t…you and Jimin and-”

“If anything, you were an accessory. You caused the fire that got rid of all the evidence, baby.” Jin shrugs his shoulders. “You’re just as bad as me. Get off your fucking high horse.”

“No.” you shake your head. 

“Yes.” Jin scoffs. “The Ripper is dead, Y/N. I killed that part of me so that you and I can be together. Don’t you get that!”

Jin is quick in his movement, snatching your shoulders and forcing you to look at him. 

“The Ripper is dead. Kim Seokjin is not.” Jin grits his teeth, appearing utterly deranged. “You and I can be a family again, Y/N. Eventually you’ll come around to Jimin, too.”

“You know where Jimin is?”

“Of course I do.” Jin smiles. “Jimin is my brother. Our brother.” he murmurs. “We all went down different paths but we’re together again. The Ripper was just a phase that I’ve gotten over.”

You didn’t know Jin - not as much as you thought you had. These eyes weren’t the eyes of the Jin you were growing to love. He didn’t look as kind and soft; his eyes were different. They dance with insanity as he speaks. 

“You aren’t going to leave me again, right?” Jin watches you intensely. “I'd hate to have to kill the both of us, Y/N. But if that’s what you want.”

You stiffen, your ears not believing what they were hearing. 

“We can pretend you never found out about the past and go back to what we were doing.” Jin’s hands begin to sooth you, rubbing along your shoulders. “We can order pizza and do what we normally do.”

You feel the tear drop onto your cheek before you realize you’re crying. You’re unsure of what to say or how to respond to this new information - you’re left with more questions than answers; questions you’re far too afraid to truly grasp.

“Or…I kill you. Then myself.” Jin shrugs his shoulders. “Don’t let your emotions get in the way of our love, baby.” 

halloween masterlist

[otaku553]

I am making an AU that is Sooooo self indulgent

ASL x Nine Sols crossover :)

Don’t ask me for context because I have none!! Usually I enjoy crossovers but I think Nine Sols is an amazing standalone piece of media that is very difficult to fit other characters into reasonably given the setting and circumstances. I feel like trying to add characters from other media to it would take away from the narrative strengths of the game— the way everything is centric on the Tao and fighting by deflecting and inaction and how death is such a key part of Yi’s journey and character development and the path for all solarians in general.

In short, I just wanted to see ASL as little cat people and that is why this exists :) I like when they’re just Here and There with no reason and people are like “what. How did you even get here”

I am at present also working on hanfu designs for the three of them so this is a little teaser :))) I’m especially proud of some of the little details— on Sabo’s sleeves are the characters 革命 for 革命軍, the revolutionary army, and the dragon on his robe also has three horns to match the revolutionary flag. Then on Ace’s glasses on his hat, the characters are 笑 and 哭 in place of his usual smiley and sad face. I had some ideas for Luffy but in the interest of keeping his design simple his design is a lot more plain.

I imagine it as a side quest for Yi to go around New Kunlun and help the brothers find each other. I have no clue how they would have gotten into New Kunlun in the first place, or how they would survive for so long without Vital Sanctums and soulscapes. Maybe they just have their own spaceship and happened upon New Kunlun and managed to get on before all Dusk Guardians disappeared, and then got separated while on the ship and individually hid around different places to avoid both the Tianhuo and the mutants?

I feel like Ace would chill around the factory area since he’s most at home with fire. Maybe he would venture out to the agricultural area once in a while to grab food. Sabo would camp out near the Empyrean District passages. He’s not suicidal enough to go around the Empyrean District itself, especially after finding out that the weird monsters there don’t die. I think he would have some grudge against the Tiandao Council for being composed mostly of the rich and powerful. The Fengs are especially high up on his shit list, which is why he hangs out in the empyrean district in the first place. And Luffy,,, somehow would just be in the four seasons pavilion, I think. He finds a way to sneak in, probably pretty easily while Yi is in hiding because the security is down without Abacus activated.

[apricotgojo]

Protection be gone! ʚ♡ɞ

ׂ╰┈➤ Some Choso and Gojo headcanons (Separate) on how they would be when they fuck you raw for the first time! I might write some for other characters too later on ;) Tags: unprotected sex- obvi, cum ᐢᗜᐢ , whiney choso, creampies!, Gojo has a weak pull out game.

Satoru Gojo

his face lit up when you told him that you're ready to try it without protection - and the most devilish smile formed on his lips.

He's never pressured you about it but god DAMN was he happy to finally get the chance to properly feel you.

You were nervous of course, praying to god that his pull out game was as strong as he said it was - spoiler it wasn't .

he had your legs spread out and resting against his shoulders and his eyes were glued on your pussy as he put the tip in.

"Oh my fucking goooood~" he shamelessly moaned out loud, his mouth agape as he watched your pussy basically swallow him whole.

You could barely keep your mouth shut too. His cock felt so good inside you like this, you swore you could feel every twitch and vein.

You were so tight, so wet around him, so warm. Your pussy was making him feral.

The sounds he let out were like none other. He was a swearing, growling mess.

"You take my cock so-fuck-fucking good baby", "You like how fucking deep inside it is baby? you like how good my-hah- cock feels?"

How long did he last you might ask? 10 minutes tops. He couldn't control himself when he put you into a mating press. He was plunging himself so deep inside of you that it felt like he was trying to go deeper but he physically couldn't.

His head was buried in the nape of your neck as he pounded into you, moaning your name and talking about how good he's gonna cum.

You didn't have the time to protest because all you could hear is a muffled, "fuuuuuuuck" and he was cumming inside you, basically balls deep.

and it was A LOT.

Your mind was too hazy at how utterly amazing it felt to be filled up by him to complain.

His head lifted up from your neck, revealing a disheveled, grinning, gorgeous face that belonged to the love of your life. You couldn't even be mad at him when he looked like that, but you still shot him a glare.

"Oopsie"

Choso Kamo

The idea sparked through your head while you were riding him.

"Choo~" You whispered into his ear, kissing the shell. "Let's take off the condom this time."

Choso - bless his soul, actually froze and he cocked his head towards you, eyes wide and lips parted.

"A-are you sure?" He stuttered out before gulping and you simply nodded.

Choso was nervous. he's never fucked without protection before and he had no clue what it felt like. He didn't think it was any different than fucking with a condom on.

And oh, was he wrong

He basically gasped when you slowly sat down on his cock and he covered his mouth to stop himself from making embarrassing noises.

His grip on your hips tightened and it was like he was at loss for words.

But then you start moving up and down.

And then he absolutely lost it.

His moans were so loud and whiney.

"yesyesyesyes" "mmm please go faster baby" "I love your pussy."

He was a man possessed. gripping your hips roughly and pounding into you like you were his own personal fleshlight.

Thankfully, you were on the pill so it didn't matter if he pulled out or not and you kind of didn't want him to ;)

His cock felt bigger than ever - you didn't even think that was possible with the size of him already, and he was hitting that sweet spot over and over again.

Poor Choso couldn't even last 5 minutes - but you took it as a compliment.

His head was thrown back in pure euphoria muttering out little, "ahh fuckfuckfuck" 's and talking about how much he doesn't want this to end.

With one big thrust inside you, he came bucket loads, shivering beneath you and panting.

To your surprise though, he was still hard as fuck after he pulled out.

Probably because of how lewd it was to see your pussy gushing out his cum, - he wanted to fuck you again

And he did fuck you again, and again.

and again.

"I think your pussy put a spell on me"

[livelaughlovesubs]

okay my dude, have you seen the recent hsr leaks about mr. reca??2?2?2?2?1!#+@( I am so down bad for that man you wouldn't understand........ anyways, I'd like to ask for prompt 28 (fitting them with a collar) with him :3333

- anon

I saw!!! But I don’t have a single clue what his personality is like! I’d guess a fun but sly character? Welp, let’s see how this goes (I have no ideas help)

Dom!Actor!reader x sub!Reca - reader is GN

Warning: collaring, teasing, fwb…?

Anniversary event

“Oh come y/n, for old time’s sake, do it for me, alright?” You clicked your tongue, not even looking at the individual who was talking to you, back facing to them with your arms crossed, “I won’t do it, I told you already.” A moment of silence, before they sighed and closed the distance between you two, “why won’t you take that role?”

“Mr. Reca, will you please respect my choices?” Suddenly you turned around and raised your voice, seeing him lean against the couch in the middle of the room, wearing a fading smile. “I need you for that role, there’s no one else who can take it.” He repeated once again, then continued with, “and I won’t leave until I’ve convinced you, or, if you gave me a reason for your decision.” You slammed one hand onto the makeup table in front of you, putting the other against your forehead. “If I gave you a reason, you’ll have hope, and keep trying.”

The male kept quite, he couldn’t argue with that one, “if it because of the writing? Or the personality of the character?” You shook your head, “no, none of that. Don’t bother me any further, Reca, don’t let our friendship go to waste because of some measly dispute.” He scoffed, grinning widely, throwing his head back in a defeated stance, “I’ve already got sponsors and began the preparations, I can’t go back now. Y/n, help me out, I don’t want to end up as minced meat.”

You chuckled, answering his plead with a sarcastic smile, “it’s your own fault. Don’t worry, I can introduce you to some actors.” Reca looked down to his feet, taking a deep breath, exhaling, before staring you in the eyes, “no, I still want you, and I won’t have it any other way.” After debating for so long, you thought he’d finally crave in, though it seems you underestimated his resolve. “Reca, i-” “yea yea, you don’t want to, got it. So, what can I do to convince you?”

Your eyes widened at that, it took you a while to compose yourself, “wow, your resolve is admirable, but I don’t think I’ll fold.” The brunette stepped away from the couch, getting closer to you, mumbling, “don’t be shy now~ you can request whatever you want. A deal, of some kind, what do you think?” It’d be a lie to say you weren’t intrigued, just how far could you push his buttons, you wondered. “Whatever?” You repeated his words in a questioning tone.

“Whatever.”

“Do your movies mean more to you than your life?” You joked, shaking your head in disbelieve. “Let’s see what I can make you do.” His eyes lit up, his usual cheerfulness returned, “so you agree? Haha! You have my gratitude, y/n! Aeons, lemme kiss you.” Out of nowhere he hugged you and kissed you on the cheeks, both sides, before taking a few steps back. You on the other hand froze, blinking a few times, remembering his eccentric tendencies, then gagging out a, “don’t thank me- it’s a mutual deal.”

“Right, that reminds me, got any idea what you want?” Reca smirked again, he was in a usually good mood now. “I’ll just have you as my pet.” You eventually said, then you specified your statement, “ah, and I’ll only cooperate as long as you are my pet.” When you looked over at him again, his mouth hung agape, red eyes shrunk a little while he stood there like a statue. “…you are joking.” He asked carefully. “I’m not.”

An awkward silence broke out once more, luckily he broke the ice after a few seconds, though it was done with a condescending comment, “Right, you were an eccentric like that.” A breathy laugh escape you, “hah, says who?” You two kept eye contact for a while, then he gave up and hide his face in his hand, groaning, “urghhhhhhh.” A faint blush covered his ears, and probably his cheeks as well.

“So?” You questioned, wondering if that was too much for him. “What? Of course i agree.” Reca frowned, an embarrassed scorn on his face, why were you so nonchalant about all of this? After getting his consent, you couldn’t help but sigh, “You really are a slave to your production.” He grinned again, winking at you, “Aren’t we all slaves to our desires?”

You thought about it, opening the drawer of the furniture behind you, taking something out before taking a few steps closer to the rather tall male in front of you. “Yea, you are right, it’s a part of being human I guess.” Then you wrapped the leather around his neck, pulling gently, tightening it. When you were done, you raised his chin, teasing him with a hint of irony, “don’t take it off, it’s a gift from me, your master.” His breathing hitched, but he didn’t back down, feeling the weight of the situation finally catching up to him.

“I’m sure the movie will turn out great, all thanks to you.” He then stated, rubbing the collar around his neck, feeling a weird sense of comfort inside him. You nodded, “of course it will, I don’t tolerate failures.” Reca laughed softly, then whispered meekly, “right. For that, I’ll be a good pet in return, master.”

[lukolabrainrot]

Welcome to My TedTalk

Hellooooo, I know I have been a little MIA lately... needed a little break after the energy shift from the rollercoaster last week. But I am still here lol and I have been marinating on quite a few things the last couple of weeks. So below are my thoughts. As always, everything here are just my thoughts and speculation from the information I have seen. Others might interpret information differently, and that is fine. Note: This will be another one of my long posts lol

Let's start with the obvious. October was a ROLLERCOASTER. It started off soooo strong, and the closest I think we have ever come to L/N publicly announcing they are in a relationship. And THEN... It was just total whiplash the rest of the month. Not a fun feeling right?? And I think a lot of people have started to feel like they can't trust L/N and have sooooo many questions on why October went the way it did. I think a lot of people are also feeling very frustrated because we have gotten so many clues/crumbs/Easter Eggs that haven't really led anywhere. All your various feelings around everything lately are valid. But L/N are allowed to do what they want (obviously) and if crumbs/Easter Eggs are all they want/can show us rn, we have to accept that. October was a rough month for me as well on this ship, which is why I took a couple breaks. We have to remember that we choose to be on this ship, we don't HAVE to be. It's totally valid if you're feeling overwhelmed/not having fun on the ship anymore, you can always take a break and come back if/when you want to. WE DO NOT KNOW L/N. NONE OF US. These are celebrities whose lives are very different than ours (which I know is obvious, but I thought it was important to note). They are human though and allowed to be imperfect, and we get to choose how much energy we give to them. And I have said this multiple times, but they do not owe us anything, and DESERVE to have a private life. We have so many questions related to them, and the fact is, we are never going to have all the answers. And you know what, that is how it should be imo. We are not owed every little detail of their life, and honestly, we got lucky we even got crumbs. THEY DID NOT HAVE TO DO THAT. They will go public WHEN they want/can.

People have talked about this before, but we got an AMAZING tour from them and sooooo much content. SOOOO MUCH. And we got addicted, and then were were cut off cold turkey, and papgate was a total grenade that threw everything into chaos. However, L/N were OBVIOUSLY hiding behind their characters during the WT (no one can convince me otherwise). And we talk about blurred lines between them and their characters, but L/N ARE NOT Polin (although there are a lot of similarities with their stories). There were definitely blurred lines between them and their characters yes, but neither of them are their characters and are a lot more complex and complicated. Lastly, I think because we got soooo much content from them, and they were obviously using their own personal relationship/feelings for each other to promote their characters and the season, L/N kind of lost control of their public narrative related to their private lives. I think that, and leaving everything open to speculation (STILL), was their biggest mistake. But like I said, everything has to be on their own time, and they do have good teams to handle this stuff.

I think we all know this already, but in case it's not obvious... DM has a personal vendetta against N, they do not like her getting positive attention, and I can't stress this enough, THEY WANT HER TO FAIL. 1000%. I think there are a lot of complexities on why this is the case, but you can make your own conclusions on why this is happening. But it IS happening. And you should never get your information directly from DM. They are a sensationalist, tabloid blog. THEY ARE NOT A RELIABLE NEWS SOURCE. THAT IS A FACT.

This fandom has turned INCREDIBLY toxic, and most of the drama is coming from WITHIN the fandom and in-fighting. We don't have concrete answers about ANYTHING related to L/N's romantic lives. Shipping should be fun and low stakes, because ultimately, who they are dating doesn't REALLY matter. That is their personal life, and they are not defined by who they are dating. But like I just mentioned, I think L/N leaving the wolves to mass speculation was one of their biggest mistakes, and has now led the fandom to where it is and this mass speculation and interest in their dating lives, which is feeding the tabloid frenzy and rumors.

Alright, now that I got that out of the way, on to my thoughts on everything the last couple of months:

Firstly, I HIGHLY recommend, if you haven't already, reading through this entire post by @fiamat12. It is incredibly enlightening and well laid out! Couple things I want to add/note:

The paparazzi are a money hungry machine, constantly looking for opportunities that will get them the most money. Ethics... out the window. Ethics/respect doesn't get them money. As long as there is a demand for "candid" photos/videos of celebrities' private/personal lives, and unless laws/regulations significantly change around them, this industry will continue being this way. This means though that the material they circulate is not always what meets the eye. It is just a moment in time with very little context, and in general, a total violation of privacy. However, unfortunately, it is a beast celebrities have to navigate, and sometimes they play games with them to protect their privacy.

L has not been seen in real time (via paps or people in public) since Sorrento. THREE MONTHS. And although we joke that L has just been holed up in their house (yeah I said it), L has definitely been out in public living his life. And y'all, people WANT to see him. I know he doesn't stand out as much as N and can blend into the crowd more, but there is NO WAY no one has seen him in three months. There is some strategy in place here where he has been able to keep a VERY low profile, and I think some of these side characters are part of that strategy. And no one can convince me that his low profile has NOTHING to do with the fact that him and N are together.

2. Alright, side characters... let's first get to the A of it because it's pretty obvious to me. I'm going to keep this short. She plays games. This isn't new. There are VERY likely NDAs in place. This isn't new information either. And she LOVES attention by stirring the pot. Therefore, any time we give her any engagement, we are feeding the beast.

3. Onto JD... this post basically summarizes my thoughts. NOTHING about JD has been private. There isn't anything to protect there from the masses. IF JD (and I'm not saying he is) was her serious partner, there wouldn't be so many public games with the two of them. There are a lot of games, and if this was a serious relationship she wanted to protect, she wouldn't be throwing him and her to the wolves. She just wouldn't. But L... she doesn't mess around about him. Although L/N have given us crumbs, they have obviously not been totally honest about their private relationship with each other (which is totally valid), because there is a lot there they want to protect from the wolves.

4. So if you have made it this far, you can see there is a LOT going on, and it's complex. And although L/N have maybe not been totally honest about everything, they don't have to be and there are reasons. And that doesn't therefore mean they have been totally disingenuous about each other and aren't to be trusted. I personally don't think they have. However, they want to protect their privacy. Even though October was a rollercoaster, in no way do I believe L and N are hot and heavy with A or JD. There is just too much evidence to the contrary that L/N are in a serious relationship BTS, and likely have been for a while. Here are some of the reasons I have come to this conclusion:

THE RINGS (everything about them)

The photo of L in her house while she was getting ready with a ring on his ring finger (we can argue all we want, those are his hands and that pic was VERY intentional)

N's TIME article

The October 3rd and BRB story from L (HE HASN'T DONE ANYTHING LIKE THIS ON HIS PUBLIC ACCOUNT IN A LONGG TIME)

The coordinated travel posts from L/N when they were going to NY

Chaos week from N in early August (that was about L, no one can convince me otherwise)

BLESS THE TELEPHONE (That was how I knew they were together and had been for a while likely... can't exactly explain it)

TalkTalk, Juna

The recent Polin pic they BOTH shared to their stories (they were both really emotional looking (N was absolutely beaming and looked like she had tears in her eyes) and the pic was VERY interestingly cropped 🤔)

All the "boyfriend" pics of L on N's IG page (I did a whole post about this that you can find if you scroll through my page)

The Polaroid(s)

THE WHOLE WT (which is why a lot of us are still here despite all the noise and emotional whiplash)

And trust me, both L and N know what people are saying and how people are interpreting the information they are putting out to the public. THEY KNOW. So if there was NOTHING going on between them, that would have been corrected atp and they wouldn't have fed the flames. But it hasn't and they have... They'll go public when they are ready/can. Until then, we just have to sit back, relax, and wait and see how everything unfolds.

And THAT is where I am with everything atp. Of course, we're all going to interpret the same information we are seeing a little differently, which is fine. This is just my interpretation of the information.

And if you made it to the end... thank you for coming to my TedTalk 😅

[vxsellie]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚. GHOSTS OF SACRILEGE !

synopsis. fbi agent!ellie williams x nun!reader ; it's truly no shock that the entirety of west virginia is emerged by trepidation, considering hundreds of residents have gone missing within the past three months. as a form of consolation for those fearful, an esteemed fbi agent is sent to investigate. what she finds, however, is more than she could ever have expected.

notes. this piece is part of the mythologica challenge! i tried my absolute hardest to do the theme justice bc of how good it is. also pls note that every town mentioned is real & i did a decent amount of research on each one, but that doesn't at all mean that it's entirely accurate. i've been to some of the places, but not all also ! this is my first time ever writing detailed smut so i literally know none of the correct words to use or how to describe what's happening & it might turn out being literal dog shit,, if that's the case i apologize!

warnings. religious horror, an attempt at writing smut, angst, plot twists, horrible world building, major character death x2, possessive / obsessive romance, descriptive gore, blood, satanic rituals, human sacrifice, blood, oral (r! receiving), brief mentions of abuse & assault, murder as a metaphor, past animal death, long exposition i'm sorry, and - last but most important - the sweet release of desecrating salvation.

wc. 9.5k+

𝓝aught but unease filled the tiny town of bluefeild as yet another missing person is found to be reported in the newspaper. the sun begins to peer over the horizon, long shadows cast against the sidewalk that newsboys toss the papers from. they ride their bikes down the concrete with a fervor that should be rare. but it’s been rather common in bluefeild as of late. every since december. ever since the incidents first began.

nobody in town can be seen outside without a frantic expression and a fast pace. fear fuels their every step as they scurry outside to retrieve the news before burrowing back into the safety of their homes, hungry eyes skimming the article in search of who’s gone missing this time.

ellie hadn't expected much when traveling here. a small town of worrisome locals, a serial kidnapper hiding in plain sight. y'know, the usual for cases like these.

but something about this case stands out to her. there's a certain weight in her chest as each day passes without answers. in the beginning, she'd asked around town, hoping to find some common denominator among everyone's weariness. but there's nothing. the residents are closed off, thick boots and even thicker country drawls quick to kick the agent off their rotting porch at first glance. she's been here for a while now, not a single clue made evident. no loose ends, no muddy footprints, no witnesses. it's like these people just disappear into thin air.

ellie sits in her idled car, eyes scanning today's newspaper for slips of information. she can't help the way her interest piques, slowly going mad with lack of elucidation. she runs a hand through her hair, shoulders weighed with fatigue and dwindling hope.

see, over two-hundred people have gone missing in the past three months ⎯ which is a big deal in and of itself, but even more so considering bluefeild's population is well under five thousand.

her windows fog as rain patters gently against the steel of her vehicle, the whether cold and dreary in comparison to her car's heated temperature. she supposes it fits the mood, though, doesn't it?

after twenty minutes of analyzing each and every word given, ellie groans and stuffs the newspaper into her glove box, slamming it shut. evidently, the paper provided nothing of use to her. it has a picture of the man missing, his name inscribed under the image, and a few words of grief are quoted to have been said by the families. but that's it.

as of this morning, jason casey has been added to the long list of missing persons. and not a soul could say why nor how.

ellie pulls her phone from her coat pocket, clicking on her bosses contact before wedging it between her ear and shoulder. she listens to it ring as she puts her car into gear, pulling out of the parking space she'd been occupying. it's not like anyone here would dare to use their cars anyhow. most shops and businesses have been temporarily closed, owners fearing the possibility of suffering the same fate as those prior.

"ellie?" joel's voice comes through the tiny speakers, papers rustling in the background of the call as he speaks. "what're you callin' me for? i thought you were on the bluefeild case."

"there's nothin' to go off of." she tells him. one hand is rested on the wheel whilst the other holds her phone.

"you're our best investigator, williams, i'm sure you'll find somethin'." he says offhandedly, continuing to shuffle through whatever papers are of more interest to him than his alleged best employee.

she rolls her eyes at his dismissive tone. "hundreds are missing, joel. without a trace or a sign left behind. they're likely dead, if i were to guess. i don't— what the hell good does that do?"

"find the bodies." he says easily. "their corpses might point to their killer."

"no shit." ellie scoffs. "the issue isn't what to do next, it's how the fuck i'm supposed to do it. this has been goin' on for months and no bodies have turned up. where am i even supposed to look? like i said, there ain't a damn thing left behind."

she coasts down the streets of bluefeild, using this time to feel the layout of it and examine what she's working with. she's been here for a while now, but the town remains a mystery to her. and, from what she's seen, it's a bit of a mystery to everyone else as well.

she notices that many of the homes are old and shabby, paint flaking and wood rotting. in the yards, however, almost every resident has some form of a religious symbol. a cross, a statue of mary, a flag for something biblical. anything to show their faith.

to each their own, i guess. she thinks to herself with a shrug before turning her attention elsewhere.

the streets are empty, as expected. a few street lights are on, the yellow illumination flicking with worn age. even on the two-lane roads, there's not a car in sight. she narrows her eyes at this, a shiver tracing up her spine at the disturbing vastness.

"well," joel says, "search the papers some more."

"i've done that a thousand fuckin' times." ellie groans, eyes still scanning her surroundings with intent of committing it all to memory. just in case. "there's nothin' there. it's just all information on the missing people, half-assed sympathy for the victim's family, and a picture of 'em."

joel sighs, the sound of tapping resonating through the phone. ellie recognizes the sound, having worked for joel long enough to know that he always taps a pencil against his desk when he's thinking. it's a good sign, she thinks. it means he's at least giving her predicament some thought.

she's been in bluefeild for eight days now, spending her time interrogating random residents for informations; spending her nights rereading the stupid fucking newspapers. naught good has been of ramification.

the repetition of it all is driving her insane, especially considering none of her efforts have yet to pay off in any sort of way. she'd hoped that when the next person showed up missing, something would present itself. a clue would rear its ugly head at her and she'd grab it by the throat with fervor. but no. jason casey went missing and all heads remain hidden. so, after an hour of battling with her pride, she decided to make the call to joel and admit her being stuck.

"okay." he says, shuffling a bit as he finally gives ellie his full attention. "okay, pull over for a second, i'm gonna need you to do somethin' for me."

she instantly obliges, pulling off to the nearest backroad. gravel crunches under her tires as she drives along the thin path wedged between two decrepit buildings. the alley is small and a bit sketchy, but that's exactly what she needs. ellie puts her car in park, windows translucent in their heavily fogged blanket.

"how many newspapers do you have on you?" joel asks when he hears her car go into idle.

"um," she reaches over and opens her glove box, watching as yellowed papers fall from the newly opened door. they flutter to the floor and atop the passenger's seat. she hums, amused at the sight of her obsession making a tangible image in her head. "a lot."

"okay, good. perfect." joel mutters, the clacking of a keyboard sounding through the tiny speaker. "the first person who went missing was carl andrews. he was thirty-seven. his wife claims he was supposed to have been walking home from work but never showed up for dinner."

ellie scrambles through her messy stack of newspapers, searching for carl's report. she finally finds it, the paper dated to have been written near the beginning of december. she straightens out the wrinkles, examining his picture.

"looks like your average middle age man." ellie mutters, taking in his scruffy beard and wrinkled skin. "he was a carpenter. had two kids, both boys."

"yes, i have the paper pulled up on my computer." joel says. "but it doesn't show his address or nothin'. this shitty website only has half of the damn document."

ellie skims through the words, searching for the street or neighborhood he'd lived in. when she turns up empty-handed she groans, now well familiar with the feeling of disappointment regarding this case. "nope. no home address." she says with an evidently annoyed tone.

"what about his workplace?" joel asks. "if he'd been walkin' home, his work must be close enough for him to do so."

"oh shit," she mutters. she'd studied his article for hours — studied all of them — and she hadn't even thought to look there. her hands clutch the paper as she searches with a hungered gaze. her eyes widen at the address listed on the paper. "yes it's on fifth street."

more typing is heard through the phone, "says here that,, there's a neighborhood right by there. a few blocks down from the carpenters' building. must've been where he lived."

"perfect." ellie grins, adrenaline rushing through her.

oh, she feels on top of the world right now.

"okay, now i want you to look for addresses in all the other papers." joel says, flipping a switch in his tone — off to being ellie's friend and on to being her boss. a familiar change, but an unpleasant one nonetheless. "check 'n see if there's a link between where they'd been last spotted."

"okay."

ellie sets carl's paper aside and grabs another random one. she reads the heading briefly, recognizing it to be the article on bryan turner who'd gone missing in the middle of january. he'd allegedly been walking his dog and never returned to his apartment, according to his elderly female neighbor.

the address is actually listed this time. not his exact apartment number, but the building. ellie can't help the smile that tugs at her mouth again as she grabs a random notepad and scribbles both addresses onto the paper, reminding herself to compare their proximity when she gets back to her hotel later tonight.

"you're a goddan genius, joel." ellie mutters as she sets bryan's paper atop carl's and grabs another. sam cortez. late december.

"thanks, kid." joel chuckles into the phone. ellie has it set aside, call set to speaker as she flips through papers and continues to write down addresses into her notes. her movements are frantic and hurried, adrenaline refusing to wind down from its newly heightened state. joel speaks again, regaining her attention. "uh, sorry t' tell you this but i've gotta go. it's almost midnight and i've been at the building since ten o'clock this mornin'."

"yeah yeah, whatever." ellie replies off-handedly. "thanks for your help, old man. i think i can take it from here now, though. go get your beauty rest."

"promise to call me in the mornin'?" he asks. "i wanna hear what y' find."

"yes, i promise." she laughs. "i'll call you as soon as i wake up."

"okay good. don't overwork yourself either, you need to⎯"

"goodbye, joel!" she says, grabbing her phone and hanging up on him before she has to listen to him reprimand her for lack of rest. he's one to talk, too, seeing as he'd just admitted to having been at the building all damn day.

she sighs, deciding to put a pin in her address search and get back to her hotel to finish working in the comfort of a bed.

she sets her papers into two neat piles in the passenger's seat ⎯ one for those she'd already gone through and one for those she hasn't yet gotten to. then, she puts her key into the ignition and pulls out of the little road.

as she drives down the street, she examines her surroundings once again. still as impoverished as before.

she passes a small farm house, eyes drawn to the old lady sitting on the porch. she's rocking back and forth rather ominously, making direct eye contact with ellie through the windshield. slowly, the woman nods her head toward where a large cross is staked into the soil of her front yard. ellie looks away, a sudden uneasiness washing over her as she presses harder on the gas.

she reaches her hotel a few minutes later, stuffing her papers under each arm before entering the building and heading toward the elevator. by the time she reaches her room, she practically rips her heavy leather jacket off, the yellow 'fbi' label bright and bold against the black material as she tosses it onto her bed. she sits cross-legged in the center of her room, laying out all the newspapers in front of her.

she continues to sort through them all, eyebrows furrowing as she comes to realize that all the victims are men.

she hurriedly flips through the documents, certain she must he wrong. but she's not. they're all male. ellie writes this down on her notepad, handwriting rushed and nigh unintelligible. despite the sloppiness, she circles it, sure it'll prove to be of importance later on.

by the time ellie finishes going through what feels like hundreds of papers, she decides that's enough for her to be able to find a pattern if there is one. the digital clock atop the nightstand reads 2am, flashing bright red numbers at her. she ignores it, too high off the thrill of finally finding something in this priorly monotonous case.

she pulls her laptop from her bag and flips it open atop her crossed legs, quick to pull up a map and type in the coordinates of each address. they appear random at first, completely fucking unrelated to one another. a pang of dread hits ellie in the chest, worried this will have all been for naught.

but then she zooms out.

each dot for each address glows blue. when zoomed out, it forms something. ellie squints, tilting her head at the incoherent image she struggles to make out. seeing as many of the papers weren't analyzed, the picture is only half-complete.

but then it clicks. a pentacle. and at the very center of the shape, a church.

ellie's mind goes back to the old woman on the porch. the way she'd nodded to her cross. the way almost every family in bluefeild is outwardly religious. she can't believe she hadn't seen it sooner.

this isn't just some case where she can stare at newspapers and hope something pops up. it's an intricately weaved web of murders.

her chest heaves as her eyes dart across the screen, unable to believe it. she finds herself tapping her men against the floor, drumming it just as joel does. she curses herself, tossing the pen across the room as her mind reels. it lands in front of the door, ballpoint pointed toward the exit. ellie takes this as a sign from the universe. despite not having ever been a religious person, she can't help the pang of hope in her chest.

deciding to indulge the pen's sign, ellie writes the church's address into her notepad, shuts her laptop, pulls her jacket back on, then heads for the door. she steps over the pen on her way out.

𝓢he stares up at the church, checking to make sure she's absolutely certain she's in the right place. when she's proven to be correct, she stuffs her notepad into her pocket and walks toward the building.

ellie doubts anybody is inside due to the time, but she wants to search the place regardless.

the church is old, creaky wooden exterior painted in uneven shades of white. the roof is brown and dilapidated with wear. atop it, a large cross is seen standing tall, its tip pointed up at the starry sky. ellie wades through the overgrown grass, her breath coming out in white clouds. it's fucking freezing out here.

when she reaches the building, ellie cups her hands around her eyes before peeking through the windows. the glass is dusty and cracked in some places. she can't seem to see through it, transparency made opaque from lack of maintenance.

she leans back and wipes a hand across the dust, forming a wide arc to peer through. inside, the church looks brand new. wooden pews line the space, a long aisle between each formed column. the floor is white tile, cleaned to be spotless. she tilts her head, struggling to look toward the pulpit. it appears to be⎯

"what're you doing?"

ellie jumps, her head slamming against the top of the window frame. she ignores the ache and whips around to face the owner of the voice. a nun.

you stand behind her with a raised brow, your entire body covered by black and white robes. ellie blinks, something about you making her stomach lurch. she's instantly put on edge, shameless in the way she examines your features.

your brow is knit in distaste for the trespassing girl. your eyes are sharp and steady as you pin your gaze onto hers. your hands are clasped behind your back, formal and almost robotic. or at least, that's how ellie sees you.

ellie reaches under her jacket and pulls out her badge. "fbi."

"there's no fbi in bluefeild." you point out, voice steady and melodic. ellie's lips part at the sound but she shows no other form of sway. you eye her badge, ellie williams. noted to be a top agent in her line of work. your eyes narrow. "where exactly are you from?"

"richmond." she responds, eyes never leaving yours as she places her badge back into the interior pocket in her leather jacket.

you tilt your head, inquiring. "virginia?"

"yes." she confirms.

you hum, noting the four hour drive she's sure to have taken in order to get here. you looks out across the grass, seeing her car still running as it's parked on the side of the road, yellow headlights acting as a beacon against the dark night.

"it's late, miss williams." you tell her, turning back to her to find that ellie's eyes have yet to leave your face.

she analyzes each expression you make, contorting every detail to memory ⎯ from the way your eyes flick across her features to the way your shoulders shift slightly after having been standing in one position for so long. she memorizes you, allowing your very being to sink into her mind. for the case, of course. you're a suspect, after all. she needs to learn you and feel you out in order to get a proper read on whether you're innocent in all this. that's why she stares at you. that's why her pupils are blown and her lips are parted again. totally.

"do you want to come inside?" you offer, raising a brow at her strange, yet obvious sense of interest in you. "it's freezing out here and i happen to have just brewed some tea."

her eyes dart to the shabby church behind her. judging by the exterior of the building, imagining the place having ac and working electricity is shocking. but judging by what she'd seen of the inside, she's tempted to take you up on your offer. for the case.

"only if y' agree to answer some questions of mine." she says, deciding to set the terms and conditions early on.

your eyes narrow, "what type of questions?"

"the type i need in order to solve the case i'm workin' on." she replies, reminding herself of the large amount of missing men and boys who've disappeared in these past three months.

"mm," you hum.

you look her up and down, taking in the sight of her. it's rare to see any form of law enforcement out here. you'd lived in bluefeild all your life and never seen a cop or fbi agent outside of the television. her leather coat hangs heavy from her set shoulders. her chin is held high despite the way goosebumps trail across her skin due to the chill of the air. she's wearing baggy black pants and heavy combat boots. interesting.

"sure." you shrug. "i've nothing to hide."

"we'll see 'bout that."

her eyes rake over to where he car remains running. she leaves it, using it as a sign to you that she plans to make this quick. you understand the gesture and heed it with care, nodding as you shift around her and walk toward the entrance of the church. the large wooden doors are already unlocked as you push them open.

ellie draws her eyes across the foyer, noting the long hallway. to the left is a doorway leading to the sanctuary and chancel that she'd seen through the windows. to the right is a large door with a shiny golden handle, locked. the hall is lined with more doors, some locked whilst others are free to peer into.

you move about the space as though you'd lived here all your life. ellie supposes that might be true, actually.

you sweep down the hall before turning one of the corners down a branched passageway. ellie follows behind you, the hall illuminated by only a dim yellow light. on either side of the hall, more and more doors branch out to the side. ellie pays no mind to the building's layout anymore. instead, she finds herself more interesting in watching your habit billow behind you, your shoes clicking with each step against the tile.

eventually, you're both now in a kitchen area. ellie hasn't a clue when you'd gotten here, far too distracted by you to care much for the journey you'd taken her on.

the floor is tiled to mirror the sanctuary, counters made of marble. you flick a switch and the lights flutter on, a low hum sounding from the ceiling as the kitchen is illuminated by a yellow glow. on the counter, two cups of tea sit premade. you grab them, one in each hand.

with an amused expression, you pass one to ellie. she takes it, eyes the glass in her hand for a long moment. in the end, she decides against trusting it.

"uh," she clears her throat as she places the mug on the counter behind her, turning to you with an uneasy weariness. "you knew you'd have a guest?"

"hm?" you hum, tilting your head at her with an innocent curiosity.

"y' made two glasses." ellie points out. you continue to look at her, feigning confusion that urges her to continue her explanation. "it's just— well, i haven't seen anyone else here besides you."

"i hadn't priorly known of your arrival, if that's what you're suggesting." you inform her before taking a long sip from your mug, peering at her over the rim with an alluring twinkle to your eye. you lower it, keeping the glass poised between your hands as you lick your lips and continue. "i simply knew i wouldn't be drinking alone."

"what's that supposed to mean?" ellie inquires, those fbi instincts of hers lacing through her tone. her eyes glint with piqued interest, watching you with a steady sharpness. it weighs on your chest, heavy but enthralling.

"what i mean is," you place your mug on the counter with a light clink. "in this church, you're never alone. not really."

she raises a brow, back straightening. "someone else is here?"

"something." you correct, a smirk tugging at your lips. "a deity, spirit, ghost, demon. take your pick, miss williams. it hasn't a title just yet."

ellie has surely formed her doubts about whether or not you're mentally insane. she can't help but indulges you nonetheless. if she intends on puzzling out the mystery of the missing people, she can't outwardly state that you're crazy. so instead, she says, "are these,, things good? or are they evil?"

"mm," you shift, taking another long sip of tea. you ponder on her question while drinking, your mind deciding on exactly how much you wish to tell this governmental investigator. once your mind is made up, you place you mug back down and flash her an amused smile. "its morality varies. as i said, it doesn't much like the feel of being confined by the barbed wire of titles. plus, there's more than one. and none are a repeat of the other, each separated by individuality."

ellie bites back a scoff, trying her hardest not to just grab you by the shoulders and shake you senseless. she wants direct answers, not riddles. she hasn't the time to figure out what you're trying to get at.

"how many?" she asks. "like. are there lots of them or are they few and far between?"

your brow knits as you take a step closer. at your growing proximity, her breath hitches. you are more than just a nun, you're the embodiment of her obsession. all the care and time she'd poured into this case; you personify it.

you're a religious figure in and of yourself. something worthy of worship and praise. if you were to seen by the world as ellie sees you, historians would be studying you for eons to come. paintings and playwrights would be made in your honor, temples and statues forged in hopes that you'd bat the sculptor even a moment of your attention.

but, alas, that's not how the world works. instead, you're made to be a random nun who lives holed away in a ragged church in the middle of nowhere. perhaps the universe had been wise to hide you from the world, for fear of what your divinity would cause. a repeat of troy, no doubt. wars fought for your hand. lives lost for the pulpy beating heart caged behind your ribs.

"as many as i'd like." you tell her, face now mere inches away from her own.

your body is covered entirely by your habit, black fabrics hanging from your shoulders and arms as to keep your entire being shielded from sight. your hair is cast back and under your veil.

despite the coverage, ellie's enamor is unmoved. it's not your body or your hair that she's drawn to. it's the slope of your nose, the plush of your lips, the curve of your cheek, the arc of your brow, the color of your eyes. it's everything that makes you stand out like a brightly shining star in comparison to the dull darkness that is this church.

and stars like you ought to be admired.

"as many as—" she squeezes her eyes shut, knowing her only chance at regaining control of her head is to not face you. her mind is muddled by thoughts of you. she can't think straight. when she reopens her eyes, she could've sworn you've moved closer. "what're you sayin'? i don't—"

"don't understand?" you finish for her, tone pitched in regalement. your head tilts to the side, your noses brushing. "few people do."

"just tell me what y' mean." she utters, voice a whispered breath across your face in the form of a plea. "tell me without the riddles. tell me without trying to evade the truth. tell me with honesty. if you're straight forward with me, i'm sure i'll understand."

you sigh through your nose, leaning away from her. she follows you like a fish on a hook. you take a step back and she takes one forward. noticing, you hold a hand up to halt her movements and she instantly ceases, blinking at you with parted lips.

your head is downcast, palm against her chest. "you'd hate me."

"hate you?" she questions.

despite only just having met you, ellie is quite certain she'd never come to hate you. your very being is as much a wonder to her as life itself. you're a celestial beauty she cannot bear to tear her eyes from. hate is foreign when you're the context in which it's spoken.

"yes." you confirm, expression contorting into one of feigned guilt. and, had ellie not been in such blind awe of you, she'd have likely seen through your facade of deception. "i've made mistakes; plenty. i could never expect you to hear me speak of them and look past their malice."

"but i would." she whispers, taking a step nearer. she places a hand on your wrist, lowering your palm that had priorly been raised between the two of you. she looks down at where she touches you, albeit through the cloth of your gown. "i'd look past it. i'd see you as i do now regardless of what you'd done."

you shake your head, "you cannot mean that."

"i do." she brings your hand to her mouth, pressing her lips against the hills of your knuckles. she looks up at you through her lashes, her mouth remaining close to your skin as she whispers, "i do mean it."

you feel guilt settle deep within your chest, burrowing between your ribs and in the very tissue of your heart. an immoral darkness encompasses the organ ellie so desperately desires to obtain.

you'd lured people into your entrapment many times before. but something about ellie makes you feel bad for doing what you know you need to.

but it's too late now.

she's your last victim. the final sacrifice needed in order to finish what you'd started back in december. after taking her life, all will be well. all will be well. all will be well. well, well, well, well. you repeat this over and over in your mind as ellie kneels before you. she looks up at you as though you're an alter made for this. for worship.

your breath catches in your throat as you watch her sink to the tiled flooring, hands brought up to rest at your hips. her fingers fist the fabric of your habit as she speaks once more, "allow me to prove how much i mean it?"

your head is swimming, unsure on what to do. logically, you know you should stop this before it gets too far. you've already lured her in close enough to do what's needed. but, for some reason, there's a thick knot forming in your chest. as it grows, you come to realize it's not a knot at all. it's a fist. it's ellie's fist.

her eyes bore into your own, her hands remain gripping your hips. somehow, though, you feel as though they're managing to trace their way through you. they line your bones and caress your tendons before inevitably finding their way to your heart. she holds it in the palm of her figurative hands as her physical ones begin to hike up your habit, slowly pulling the cloak up from the floor.

still, despite the discernible desire in her eyes, she does nothing but wait for your response of consent.

it's inexorable, the way you give in. the slight nod of your head had been predestined from the moment you spotted her at that window; and it will continue to prove relevant until your respective faits are sealed.

to ellie, it felt as though you'd taken hours to reply despite it only having been a minute or less. but the moment you nod, she's moving eagerly. she's grabbing your hips and hoisting you up onto the counter whilst simultaneously struggling to pull up the skirts of your clothes. she's trying to do so many things at once that it's dizzying. for both parties.

you aid her, shifting atop the marble as you pull the habit up to reveal what lies beneath it.

ellie feels the world fall from beneath her knelt locale as she stares. a pair of black lace panties adorn you, the upper half of your body remaining covered by the bunched cloth of your habit. the time she takes to memorize you feels agonizing as you sit there, itching to feel her body on yours.

once she's confident that the image has been successfully engraved into her mind, she leans forward. your legs are already parted when her mouth makes contact with your clothed vulva. the wetness that soaks the material soon made into a mixture of your arousal and ellie's opened mouth.

her tongue traces light circles into your clit, a soft sigh escaping your lips as your grip on your habit begins to loosen. you toss your head back in pleasure, the sound of ellie's slurping and licking mixing with the mechanical hum of the lights.

"ohmygod," she says against you, the vibrations of her voice making your breath pick up its pace. "you're so fucking perfect."

one of your hands comes down to tangle in the auburn of her hair, tufts weaving between your shaky fingers. you tug on it, pulling a grunt form the back of ellie's throat as her scalp stings. despite her noise of pain, this only manages to make ellie more vehement in her actions.

she grabs the hem of your panties with her teeth, yanking them to the side. her eyes are shut as she licks a long strip through your wet muscle. you can’t help the way you stare down at her, watching as she puts her absolute all into making you feel good. and, as it turns out, she’s quite skilled at doing so.

ellie's mind is fogged over, mimicking the way her car's windows had been earlier. she supposes there’s no true difference there, however. the interior of her car had been warm in comparison to the cool outside air. swap the temperatures and there’s naught that varies. the warmth that you provide makes ellie feel cold in contrast, which ends in a fogged mind.

the taste of you is enough to make her lose whatever sanity remains intact. all that adrenaline that had flowed through her earlier is being poured into you.

after all, stars should be worshipped right? they should be admired from below, gawked up at. they should be mapped and studied by only the wisest of mankind. they should be doted on with a possessive sense of adoration, one only fit for something so celestial and untouchable as a star.

and that's what you are. to ellie, at least. you're a brightly shining nebula — a feathery cloud of vibrancy, visible only in the darkest of nights. only in the coldest of weathers. only in most decrepit of churches. only here, only now.

only when fate is carved in this exact way. had one thing been altered, none of this would have taken place. it was providence that brought you together. you weren't written in the stars or tethered your entire lives. in fact, the chance of your paths crossing was rather low. but, honestly, that only makes your acquaintance more deeply rooted in kismet. makes it more special.

"fuck," you pant, chest heaving as you squeeze your eyes shut. your head thuds against the cabinet as you tighten your grip on ellie's hair. she groans, fingers pressing deeply into the skin of your hips, hard enough to leave a bruise. your thighs tighten around her head, a coil of heat sitting heavily in the pit of your stomach. "ellie, i'm—"

she tilts her head up slightly, nose pressing into the bead of your clit. she watches through lidded eyes as you come undone onto her face.

she savors it, committing every little detail to memory. a habit this has become, watching you. your brows knit, your legs shake slightly, you breath hitches. and ellie retains all to it.

she made you see stars. made you look into a mirror and see yourself.

that feeling of blissful release is what she feels every time she's fortunate enough to gaze upon you. and now you've experienced it. and she cannot feel more accomplished than she does right now.

"this," you pant, tugging on her hair to bring her face up to your own. she does as you direct her, standing from the floor to press your foreheads together. "was a terrible idea."

"yeah?" she breathes out. "and why's that?"

you run your hands up and down her back, fingertips tracing the stitching of her leather jacket. you can feel the outlined letters of her 'fbi' label. that familiar twinge of guilt encircles you.

she's a good person — a woman who's to spend the rest of her life helping random people she doesn't know. and yet, here she is. made unfortunate enough to have succeeded in her endeavor.

she stares at you like you're a god, something heavenly. something seraphic. something worthy of her.

"i'm not a good person." you whisper, leaning away from her proximity. predictably, she follows, leaning closer with a desperation only fit for one in love.

the guilt of what you must do is eating you alive. it claws at your chest, snapping your ribs like twigs as it wedges between them to burrow deep within you. it's agonizing yet completely unavoidable.

and in a sickeningly poetic outturn, a random butcher knife is sat neatly atop the marble counter only a foot away from where you sit. just as ellie meets your eyes, the blade happens to catch the light and reflect yellow luminescence. a grotesque reminder of what you're unable to run from.

"nobody is innately good. and, as a nun, y' should know that better than anyone." ellie huffs out a laugh, eyes not daring to stray from you. "in other words, i don't care."

"but you should." you insist, voice teetering on the edge of plea.

"and yet, i don't." ellie counters, just as passionate in her solemnity. you suck in a breath, eyes glossing over. she looks at you with a fondness that feels foreign. she cups your cheeks between her palms, repeating, "i don't."

"i've done horrible things." you say.

"you're a nun." she points out with a light chuckle rumbling her chest. "how horrible could these things have been?"

part of you wants to open up to her, tell her everything that's been weighing on you for these past three months. but each time you get close to a confession, something inanimately symbolic taunts you. whether that be the butcher knife, the hum of electricity, the gun holster at her hip, the residual lust in your chest, or the bright yellow lettering on her jacket.

that gun is meant for you just as that butcher knife is meant for ellie. she'd been wise to bring a weapon, a clear sign that she'd intended on finding someone culpable enough to suspect. and you'd been wise to set the blade atop the counter on the off chance that you'd meet your final victim tonight.

you feel sick to your stomach.

"oh shit," ellie curses as she takes notice to the way you're visibly crumbling in front of her. "i— uh, i didn't mean to be, like, insensitive or anythin'. i'll still listen to you. and i promise to not hate you. promise to never hate you."

"ellie, stop." you sigh. "you can't promise something like that. you don't even know what i—"

"then tell me." she insists, your face still in her cupped hands. you look at her through blurred vision, naught but sincerity behind her pale green irises. "if y' tell me what it is that y' did, we can both carry the burden."

you're instantly shaking your head.

"you don't have to do this alone." ellie says. "plus, isn't a weight split a lighter load than one full?"

as you stare into her eyes, you can't stop yourself from what comes next. you're unable to keep your mouth shut when she's looking at you like that. you decide to tell her, opening your ribs and bearing your heart as though she hadn't already taken it from you. you truly feel more bare in this moment than you did when she'd literally been eating you out.

ellie put her entire trust into you when letting down her guard and abandoning the case she'd obsessed over for weeks. she dropped it like it were nothing, focusing entirely on you in its stead. the least you could do is be honest, right? plus, she's not leaving here anyway. you'd locked the door the moment you two entered the kitchen when she'd been too distracted by your beauty to notice. the trap is already set and she's sitting inside of it without a care. all you need to do now is pull the strings.

but first comes honesty.

for ellie, you'd peel off your clothes. you'd peel off your skin. you'd peel off your flesh. then, when you're naught but bones, you'd give yourself to her. you'd give your entire being to her. not because you think you're worthy of her possession, but because this is all you have. the only thing you're able to offer her as a symbol of your devotion, it's yourself.

though, while you're unable to strip yourself clean off your bones, you feel as though rendering yourself vulnerable and fragile is the next best thing you can offer. for her, you are willing to do the priorly unthinkable.

"you're here in search of the missing men, are you not?" you ask, beginning with baby steps. "in search of who's behind their absences?"

ellie straightens, "i am."

"well." you gesture down at yourself. at your crooked veil that shows stray hairs peeking from underneath; at your hiked up habit, just barely falling to cover your underwear; at your knees that rest on either side of ellie's waist; at your vulnerable state that you're offering up to her. at your bones. "you've found me."

ellie's heart stutters in her chest. not because of what you'd revealed to her, but because you trusted her enough to do so. she no longer cares an ounce for the missing people of bluefeild. all she wants is you. she may be a fool to be this way, but she's in far too deep to mind.

she gives you a weak smile, "i don't care."

"what?" you croak. you stare at her incredulously. there's no way she doesn't care. there's no fucking way. "yes you do."

"i don't."

you blink, looking her up and down. there must be something you're missing — her reaching for her gun, her taking a step backward, her eyes darting toward the knife. but she does none of that. she simply remains stood between your legs, keeps her hands on you, and stares directly into your eyes as you confess your gravest of sins.

"but—" you shake your head, stammering. "but i killed all those people. they're dead. all of them. over two hundred men are buried behind the church."

"i don't care." she repeats, noticing the way your voice raises with trepidation. she traces her hands down your arms, stopping only when they reach your own. she tangles your fingers together, feeling the way your body relaxes slightly to the feel of her touch.

"i killed them because i was paid to." you tell her, your mind reeling as you're unable to grasp her lack of care. you talk in a frantic quickness, rushing to get the truth out for fear that ellie will change her mind in the time it takes for you to speak. "their wives, neighbors, daughters. they— they'd come to me in the confession booths and tell me of the men's abuse o-or assault or misdeeds. and i'd kill them for them. i don't—"

ellie's face remains soft. "you did a good thing, then."

"you can't be serious." you huff, eyes watering with the sheer confusion building within you. "i don't understand how you can still look at me like that. i took their lives. these people, i— they had dreams, they had aspirations and goals and families and—"

"listen," ellie whispers, her hands squeezing yours. "they were horrible people that hurt women. they were abusers and rapists and i don't care what y' did to them or how. all i care about is whether or not y' feel better."

"what?" you ask, voice nigh a breath. "what do you mean feel better?"

"to have gotten that off your chest." she digresses.

you take a deep breath, grounding yourself. the adrenaline of the confession slowly dwindles and you're no longer spiraling. you stare at ellie, centering on her face as the world comes back into focus.

you count your senses one by one. the smell of tea, the sound of humming lights, the feel of a hard counter beneath you, the taste of a bitter truth, the sight of ellie's fond expression. your breathing levels out, slowly but surely. and ellie stares at you the entire time. memorizing you.

"yeah." you whisper. "yeah, i do."

"then that's all that matters."

a supernova; to watch a star combust and explode, a colossally significant occurrence that only the most fortunate are able to witness. ellie considers herself to be substantially fortunate. not only because of what she'd just seen, but because of who it was that did it.

to her, this is even better than a natural supernova. rather than watching a random gassy ball of light die, its you. someone she adores and treasures. and you didn't die. instead, you opens yourself willingly to her. you broke down your walls and bore yourself to her. for ellie, that is far more important than some star's death.

"but—" you say, bringing her attention back to your face. your brows are knitted, clearly struggling to get the words out. she watches you with an easy patience, pupils blown as she submits this to her memory alongside all other files in her brain saved under your name. "but there's more."

"let's hear it." she replies, raising a brow.

you suck in a deep breath, lowering your head as to not face ellie before speaking. "i didn't just start killing whatever men that these women were asking of me. it started smaller. i killed animals, put them in a circle of salt, drew and pentagram, the whole ordeal."

"you sacrificed them?" she asks, tone remaining laced with gentility.

"yes." you nod. "i felt my baptism wasn't enough. god never answered me anyway, he never aided me when i needed it most. he watched my suffering and did nothing. so, i resorted to a new deity of worship." you lift your gaze to meet ellie's. "satanism."

"i'm sorry, i don't—" she blinks a few times, confused. "i don't understand."

"as a child, i relied on god to do everything. my life was nothing without him in it to keep me going. but as i grew, i realized it was unrequited. he cared nothing for me, watching with regale as i sobbed and begged for his help." you explain. "so, as a teenager, i switched over to satanism — worship of someone who actually cared enough to save me."

ellie says nothing, staying silent as you confide in her. she continues to hold your hands, softly cradling them on either side of where you sit.

"but then he wished for payment." you continue. "sacrificial lives as a form of repent for all those years i'd spent as a baptist. i obliged, of course. i killed bunnies and deer, doing research to understand how exactly to offer the stolen lives to him. but as of late, he's wanted more."

"humans." ellie guesses.

"yeah." you confirm. "but i couldn't bring myself to kill random innocent people. so i became a nun and listened in on the confession booths. then, i'd ask the confessors if they wished for me to intervene. they'd concur, paying me to take the lives of their abusers." you recall the fear in the women's voices, the shakiness to their hands as they slipped money through the cracks of the door. "they never saw my face, only heard my voice. and, seeing as i live in the church, none of the recognized me. i soon became a symbol of hope for women and one of fear for men."

ellie's mind strays back to all the religious symbols staked in the yards. "that explains their heavy faith. they think you're some type of prophet."

"yeah, but there's more." you say. "i've researched many, many books to make sure i get this ritual right. and, as it turns out, my 250th victim has to be a martyr. someone who doesn't believe in anything. doing this seals the ritual, ending it."

"good luck finding someone here who meets that criteria." she chuckles.

"exactly." you say carefully. "everyone in bluefield is heavily religious. unless that someone has come from out of town."

"me."

"i wish it wasn't." you rush to explain. "i wish there was some other way i could do this. but it has to be today. i need to do it before another woman comes in asking for my help or the numbers will get thrown off. and if i decline her, i'll lose the faith of all the women in bluefeild."

"okay," ellie shrugs. "do it."

"...what?"

"i don't care." ellie says, the sentence becoming something of a catchphrase for her.

the world stops. again. it screeches to a halt and you almost slam forward at the speed of which it crashed down. you stare at ellie with wide eyes, made shocked by her for a second time. someone so hauntingly perfect cannot truly offer herself up to you like this. she can't seriously be holding out her hand, asking for death to take it.

but what you don't know is that ellie would deem it a gift to die by your hand. it'd be better than dying as a withered elder attached to a beeping machine, or as an agent amid a case who only got to see you in her dreams.

but, this way, she'd be with you always. her love for you would be immortalized; she would be tied down to the very threads that make up the the fabrications of your soul. oh a gift that would be.

"do it." she repeats.

"what?, i don't—" she silences you by leaning forward, pressing her lips against yours.

ellie had kissed you out of impulse, knowing no other way to silence that thundering uncertainty that rumbles your brain. but the moment she does it, she's positive she'll never be able to pull away.

your lips are a cathedral of which she cannot help but melt into, your body a temple she's knelt before and wouldn't hesitate to do again. she kisses you with devout piety, her body molding into yours with each touch that lingers on your skin. somehow, this measly kiss is far more intimate than all else before it.

a silent tear slips from your closed eye as you subtly reach your hand over to where you know the butcher knife lies in wait. ellie surely feels your movement, there's no way she doesn't. but she makes no move to stop kissing you, her lips moving with a vehement neediness.

you loathe the way your fingers find the hilt of the knife. even more so, you despise the way you wrap your hand around it and bring it toward ellie.

she knows. she knows what you're about to do.

and she allows it.

love isn't easy for ellie, never had been. but with you, everything falls into place as though it'd been predestined to do so her entire life. as she feels your body shift toward the knife, nothing runs through her mind aside from your name. on repeat, the singular word replays over and over. she wraps your name around her skull, weaving the letters between her thoughts and molding the syllables against her brain. she was born to love you. and so long as she was able to do so, she'd be okay.

just as the tip of the blade brushes her jacket, you pull away from the kiss and stare at her. the knife remains at her back, resting against leather but not daring to press any harder. ellie's pupils are blown, her lips wet from your own saliva.

"i can't." you utter. "i can't do this to you."

she sighs, "i already told you it's fine, angel. just— as long as i have you near me, i'm content with my decision."

"no." you shake your head. "no i know. it's—" knowing ellie wouldn't understand your explanation, you decide to show her what you mean. with your free hand, you place your palm against her gun holster. "whatever you go through, i want to be there with you."

her eyes widen at your words. she jolts away from you, appearing as though she'd been burned. she sets her jaw, turning her hip away from your reach. "no."

"ellie, please." you implore, tone beseeching. "i can't live on knowing i'd done this to you."

"it's unavoidable." she reminds you. "y' made a deal with the fuckin' devil, or, well— i'm honestly not too sure on the details, but— y' can't not follow through. i understand, okay? finish the damn ritual and live your life."

"i don't want to." you plead with her. "not without you."

she shakes her head, eyes glossing over. despite the evident distaste, her refusal is weak. she stands only a foot away from you, seeming as though she's physically incapable of moving any farther.

"ellie," you say, whispering her name like a prayer. she can't help but look up at you through watery eyes. "ellie, please."

"i don't want you to die." she says, voice nigh a whimper.

"we'll be together, ellie," you tell her, hopping down from the counter to approach her. the blade remains in your hand, long forgotten to the both of you as the sight of the other is far more appealing. "if we do this, we can be together for all of eternity. they'll find our fossils in a million years, bones entwined. they won't even know who's who."

she chokes out a laugh that sounds more like a sob. "god, how stupid would that be?"

you laugh with her, "so stupid."

you're both crying now, tears streaming down your faces as you stare at one another. slowly, ellie pulls the gun from her holster. she's unsure on how this will go down, but she's willing to try. for you.

to be loved is a horrific thing, you've found. it's to be swallowed whole by something so disgustingly beautiful that you're incapable of turning away.

ellie takes a step closer, the distance between the two of you closing. her left hand holds the gun, her right hand coming up to wrap an arm behind your neck. she pulls your toward her, pressing another kiss to your mouth.

your tears mingle, forming a salty sea on your touching cheeks. you sob against her, chest heaving as you pull her closer with one hand, the other holding the knife. she tastes of sacrilege, salvation, and sacrifice. the ghosts that will haunt this decrepit church until the end of time. together.

whatever string that pulled the two of you toward each other will be knotted, tying two lost souls in search of the other.

"ellie," you whisper between wet kisses, lifting the knife to rest at the nape of her neck, "it's time."

she lets out a sob, a convulsive gasp tearing from her throat. "okay,"

you count down, the two of you agreeing to do it at the same time. you'll drive the blade into her neck whilst she pulls the trigger. your bodies will fall in unison, clinging to one another.

when you reach one, you sink the blade into her with a sickening squelsh. she chokes, dropping the pistol to the floor. it lands with a loud clank moments before her body falls with a thud. your eyes widen, heart ceasing. blood pools onto the white tiles and only one thought runs through your mind: she didn't pull the trigger.

she didn't pull the trigger.

she

didn't

pull

the

trigger.

she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't pull the trigger. she didn't—

you fall to your knees beside her, hands coming to cradle her bloodied face. you pull her head into your lap, rocking back and forth as crimson soaks into the black fabric of your habit. you clutch her tightly against you, pressing hard on her slit neck, willing the blood to go back inside.

death doesn't take her hand. instead, he grabs her by the shoulders and shakes her for the untimely demise she'd agreed to. the heart she'd taken from you rattles. the death rattle. you choke out a sob at the sound, everything aching.

you lean forward, pressing a kiss to her cold, dead lips. she doesn't kiss you back. you pull away, panting hard as your chest heaves and your eyes burn.

then, in the corner of your eye, you see the metal of ellie's pistol. you crawl across the kitchen toward the weapon, realizing she hadn't even cocked it. god, how had you been so stupid? you do it for her, loading the bullets into the chamber.

with the gun now in your possession, you crawl back over to ellie.

you position yourself atop her, entwining your legs and placing your head on her chest. it doesn't rise nor fall, no beating heard from beneath her ribs. you sob, placing the gun's barrel to the soft part of your chin.

then, without another thought, you pull the trigger. you pull it because ellie was unable. because ellie couldn't bear to do it for you. a part of you resents her for this, but another part can't feel anything for her aside from utmost love.

and there lie two bodies. lifeless.

ellie found what she'd been searching for all her life: something worthy of her devotion. something she can pour her all into. that had been why she became an fbi agent in the first place — in search something to worship whole heartedly. simultaneously, you'd found what you'd been searching for as well: peace.

in the end, however, it had all been for naught.

the ritual didn't work.

it needed someone faithless, someone who didn't care for religion, for god. but that wasn't ellie. not anymore, at least. because, after having met you, she'd finally found something worth her revere.

you were her religion.

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 perm. taglist. @luvsturniolo @ilovewomenfr @zzombiegirl @elliessweetheart @kasqnxx @xlovla

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 additional note. i want this to be said here because i know this piece is super fucking heavy. ellie and the reader's relationship is so fucking toxic. anyone who reads this, i hope you realize how absolutely horrific their love story truly is. there's a shit ton of symbolism weaved within this story that i didn't outwardly state (though most of it i blatantly explained). if u have any questions regarding this piece, i'd love to talk about it bc i put a lot of time into making it.

but, again, their relationship is TOXICCCCCCCCCC!!!!!! it's not meant to be idolized or romanticized in any way. if you didn't notice, i barely used the word 'love' and never made either of them say 'i love you'. that was for a reason!!!! because what they share isn't love. it's unhealthy obsession & i need that to be outwardly said before i post this