#and now i wanna write the scene in the police station

[astrophileous]

A Well-Kept Secret

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Synopsis: While working on a case in D.C., Spencer didn't expect to hear a familiar name being mentioned as the sole surviving witness. Or, in which the team discovers Spencer's well-kept secret.

Warning(s): established secret relationship, mentions and/or depictions of death/physical violence/gun violence/injury/attack, signs of trauma, survivor's guilt, curse words, hurt/comfort, nudity but it's not sexual, allusions to sexy times, mentions/implied alcohol consumption

Word Count: 5900-ish

Author's Note: hiya! I decided to write this lil piece after seeing the fic challenge posted by @imagining-in-the-margins abt the family/found family trope. I had a lotta fun writing this one and I think it's got potential to be something more. So pls comment or message me if you wanna see me exploring with this idea (either turning it into a series of connected one-shots or multi-parters). Don't forget to like/comment/reblog and give me a follow :) I hope you enjoy! 💞

Criminal Minds Masterlist

When Hotch had notified the team to haul their asses up and drove all the way to D.C., Spencer never expected that it would also entail him having to suffer through a mini heart attack.

The series of attacks around D.C. had been dominating the 6 PM news segments in the entire country. What was initially perceived as a suspected sequence of robberies gone wrong--since the first two targets to have been hit were a bank and a prestigious auction house--soon turned into a nationwide panic as people realized that there was a bigger game at play.

After the third attack was found to have occurred in the headquarters of one of the top, up-and-coming renewable energy startups in the states, the D.C. police finally started to entertain the idea that perhaps they hadn't been dealing with their usual petty robbers at all.

And naturally, that was when the BAU had been called in.

As soon as the team entered the Metropolitan PD bullpen, they were struck with the smell of panic and the sight of chaos.

"Agent Hotchner?" A middle-aged man in a gray shirt and blue tie appeared in front of them. "My name is Detective Mills, we spoke on the phone."

"Of course, Detective." Hotch shook the other man's hand. "This is my team. Agent Prentiss, Jareau, and Dr. Reid. I have two others already at the latest crime scene. What can you tell us so far?"

"As you can see--" Detective Mills gestured towards the frenzied scene behind him, "--the entire D.C. area is going haywire after news broke out about yesterday's attack. The public is demanding the city to be put on lockdown, and I'm getting pressure from above as well. We received information that nearly half the city has called in sick today."

"A classic response to mass paranoia," Spencer noted.

"Well, paranoia or not, I just want to start getting some answers." Detective Mills began to lead the team further into the bullpen. "I have every pair of hands I could spare in this. If they aren't out there chasing leads, they're here interviewing the victims, friends, and families."

"Any luck so far?" Emily asked.

"Nothing more than what you've probably seen in the files."

Detective Mills pushed open the door to an office in the corner, away from the havoc in the center of the station.

"Lieutenant Jeffreys retired a couple of weeks ago. The lucky bastard." Detective Mills scoffed jokingly. "It's the most decent space I can spare at the moment. Think you'll be fine in here?"

"It's more than enough, Detective. Thank you," Hotch replied.

"What about the witnesses from yesterday's attack? Have you had the chance to interview them?" JJ asked as the rest of the team started setting up.

"Some of my men are with them right now. But I doubt they'll have anything useful. Just like the other two cases, the attack happened while most of the office was out. The rest left behind were DOA at the latest scene."

"They're rapidly devolving," Spencer pondered out loud as he skimmed over the case files. "They went from killing a non-compliant security guard during the first attack to executing almost every witness in the last one."

JJ raised an eyebrow. "Almost?"

"It says here there is one survivor." Spencer showed the word he had underlined in the case overview to JJ.

"Yes, there is," Detective Mills confirmed. "I had one of my men talk to her. There's not much she could give us. Thing is, she wasn't even supposed to be there."

"What do you mean?" Emily asked.

"She didn't work in that office. She was a consultant who just happened to be visiting. Poor girl's pretty shaken up. She hid in a supply closet the entire time. She was the one who found the bodies and called 911."

"So, the perpetrators never checked the rooms while they were holding the victims hostage?" Hotch questioned.

"Not according to her statement, no. See, I thought it weird myself. Do you have any idea why?"

"Not sure." Hotch hummed, deep in thought. "Perhaps our UnSubs didn't think to check because they didn't know someone was in there. Detective, you said all of the victims were the only employees of the company who didn't attend the event downtown, correct?"

"Yeah, they were the only ones who weren't listed as attendees. Why? Do you think those people were specifically targeted?"

"Unfortunately, we can't rule out anything yet this early in the investigation," Hotch said. "We need to talk to the witnesses to know more. JJ?"

"On it." JJ nodded. "What can you tell us about yesterday's sole survivor, Detective?"

"Not much. I didn't interview her personally, one of my men did. She works at a consulting engineering firm in town," Detective Mills replied. "I believe her name is... what is it called?"

When Detective Mills mentioned the name, Spencer's heart instantly crashed inside of its cage.

"What?" His hand had stopped scribbling on the board. In a matter of miliseconds, Spencer had crossed the room towards the doorway where Detective Mills was standing. "What did you say her name was?"

Dumbfounded, the detective stared at a dread-stricken Spencer before spelling out the name once more.

"Why? What's wrong?" Detective Mills asked in confusion.

JJ touched Spencer's shoulder. "Hey, you okay?"

But Spencer, either too alarmed or merely choosing not to acknowledge both questions, asked instead, "Where is she? I need to see her."

"In the waiting room by the pantry--"

Spencer didn't even wait for Detective Mills to form his complete thought before dashing out. JJ exchanged a glance with Emily following Spencer's sudden exit, perplexed by his odd turn of behavior.

"I'll go get him," JJ announced before leaving the room, chasing after a flurry of wavy hair and a wool-knitted purple vest sprinting across the bullpen.

The roaring commotion inside the station was almost loud enough to rival the intensity of your racing thoughts.

Almost.

At this point, you didn't think there was anything you could do anymore. The vivid images from yesterday's attack were playing continuously in your head. There was nothing you could do to stop them.

Rubbing your eyes from exhaustion, you mourned the loss of sleep that you failed to get the previous night. As if the waking nightmares weren't torment enough, the images had somehow translated even more cruelly into your subconscious. You could barely close your eyes for three seconds without feeling like you had been brought back to that place.

Cold, cramped, and alone. Fearing for your life in the tiny supply closet that smelled more like death than bleach.

At the sound of the door opening, you quickly turned around in your seat to hide your face away from prying eyes. The last thing you needed at that moment was having a complete stranger seeing you fall apart in the middle of a police station.

But when the voice came carrying the sound of your name, it wasn't the voice of a complete stranger you had heard. It was a voice you knew more than you probably knew your own. A voice you loved and a voice you had longed to hear for the past gruesome twenty-four hours.

"Spencer?" You turned back towards the door, seeing the face you adored most in the whole world staring back at you.

"Sweetheart."

At the speed of a lightning, Spencer dropped to his knees in front of you and gathered your broken little pieces into his arms.

Spencer's touch was everywhere. Your hair, your neck, your shoulders. As if he was checking whether you were real. That you were actually there inside his arms, and you were not a simple imagination that his mind had conjured up.

Surrounded by the safety of his embrace, you could feel the shattered pieces of yourself beginning to mend once more.

"Spencer," you uttered his name again as you pulled away, still in disbelief that he was physically there with you.

"I'm here," he promised you as he cupped your face gently.

"Spencer, what are you... How..."

"My team is working your case. We arrived half an hour ago," he explained simply. "Sunshine, why didn't you tell me? I thought you were still in Alaska?"

You had previously apprised Spencer that you would be hard to reach during your trip since you would be spending most of your time at the power plant site where cellphone receptions were scarce. So when an entire day went by without him ever hearing from you, Spencer didn't have any reason to be worried.

Never in a million years would he have ever predicted that you'd be caught in the middle of a hostage situation.

That thought alone caused Spencer to squeeze your hand a little tighter than usual.

"I'm sorry, Spence," you said sincerely. "My trip ended earlier than planned. I arrived back yesterday morning. I actually wanted to surprise you last night. After yesterday's... incident, I wanted to call you, but my phone was shot--"

"Wait, what? You were shot?"

"No! No, baby. Not me. Just my phone," you assured him. "But that's why I couldn't call. I did attempt you once using this station's phone, but it went straight to voicemail."

At the new piece of information, the colors immediately drained from Spencer's face.

"That was you? Fuck. I didn't--I didn't know. I rejected the call because I didn't know it was you."

"Hey." You stopped his guilty rambling with a hand to his cheek. "It's okay. I'm okay. I'm just glad you're here."

And then, because Spencer needed to make sure that you really were okay, he pulled you back into his arms and held you even tighter this time.

"Uh, Spence?"

The sound in the doorway snapped you both out of your mutual reverie. You looked up to see a blonde woman there, staring in an equal mixture of shock and confusion at the sight in front of her.

Spencer begrudgingly untangled himself from your arms before getting up to approach her.

"JJ, do you mind if I do the cognitive for this one?" Spencer asked.

The woman--JJ-- shifted her eyes a few times between you and Spencer. "Um, of course. I'll just go and inform Hotch. Tell us if you need anything."

After JJ's departure, Spencer closed the door again to award you both a much needed privacy.

He grabbed a wooden chair from the corner and dragged it before sitting down right in front of you.

"I need to start the interview now, sweetheart. Think you're up for it?"

Your whole body went rigid for a matter of seconds before you forced it to restart again. It was gone as soon as it came, but Spencer noticed it just the same.

"Look at me," Spencer ordered softly, using his delicate finger to nudge your face up until he was looking straight into your eyes. "I know it's scary. I don't want you to have to relive yesterday either, but it will help us catch whoever did this."

"I've told the police everything I knew yesterday. I was hiding the entire time." Like a coward. "I didn't see anything. I don't have anything else that could help you."

"I know that, sunshine. But as I've told you before, our method is slightly different. We won't be just focusing on what you saw, but also what you smelled, or maybe even heard." Spencer took your hands then, squeezing affectionately. "I'll be here with you the entire time."

The nod you gave him was hesitant, but it was a start nonetheless. You listened intently to Spencer's words and closed your eyes just as he had instructed.

"We'll start at the beginning," you heard him say. "Why don't you tell me why you went there yesterday?"

"I, uh, received a call from my friend, Nick, after my plane landed. We had been communicating back and forth since his company seeked my consultation for one of their upcoming projects," you began. "I wasn't even supposed to work because I had requested the day off. But Nick said it didn't have to be a formal meeting, so I agreed to meet him."

"Tell me what you remember after arriving at the office."

Your mind traveled back to that specific time one day prior. You remembered walking into the place and seeing its unusual state of vacancy even though there was still a good half an hour left before lunchtime.

"I just assumed everyone had gone to lunch earlier and shrugged it off," you recalled.

Spencer nodded his head. "Did anything else strike you as out of the ordinary?"

"No? I don't... I don't know. It was only my second time being there, I'm not sure what was normal and what wasn't."

"Okay. That's okay. You're doing good so far, sweetheart," Spencer quickly interjected, trying to get you to calm down before your distress could turn into a full-blown panic. "Now, what did you do next?"

"I followed Nick into his office."

Nick was keeping his promise true. It hadn't felt like a formal meeting, just two old college buddies reminiscing about the past and discussing possibilities of the future that, of course, included the company's upcoming project which you would be working on with him.

"I excused myself to the bathroom at some point," you added. "When I first heard the commotion, I thought nothing of it. It's like the idea that a group full of armed men had taken over the building didn't even cross my mind. I mean, why would it? I was on my way back to Nick's office when I saw them."

You recalled turning a corner after exiting the bathroom only to see those figures carrying machine guns and shouting at everyone to get on their knees or put their hands above their heads. You remembered sprinting the way you had come from and opening the first door you could reach that just happened to be the supply closet.

"Let's go back to the moment you saw them," Spencer urged gently. "How many people were there? Do you remember any conspicuous detail? Maybe one of them had tattoos or spoke with an accent. Anything that distinguished them."

Taking a deep breath, you tried replaying those crucial seconds slowly in your head.

"There were four of them. I couldn't see much. They were all wearing identical black clothes."

Suddenly, an unexpected piece of memory rushed to the front of your mind. You opened your eyes in shock, meeting Spencer's curious gaze that had been kept intently on you the entire time.

"I think at least one of them is a woman," you told him.

Spencer's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Are you sure?"

"One of the guys said something about... fucking this place up. And then she laughed. I heard her. It was definitely a female laugh."

"Good. That's good."

"Yeah? Do you think it'll help?"

Spencer nodded assuredly, bringing his hand to leave calming strokes on your head. "I know it will. You've done a great job, sweetheart. I'm proud of you."

The praise Spencer gave eased the tension in your shoulders. As if having been granted fresh air after decades of confinement, you were finally able to let yourself breathe again.

Spencer continued his loving strokes on your head. Little by little, the weight of his touch melted the resolve you had built into a pathetic puddle on the floor. Without its mental shield protecting you, your tears sped forward, gathering in your eyes until they spilled on the vast path down your cheeks.

"Hey, hey." Spencer's voice was laden with panic after seeing you start to cry. "Sunshine, what is it? What's wrong? Talk to me."

"I-I just... God." You struggled to get the words out in between sobs. "I'm a coward, Spencer."

"What?"

"All of those people... They died because I was a fucking coward."

Your admission tore into the air before stabbing Spencer right through his chest.

"Sweetheart, you know that's not true."

"But it is!" you cried out, pulling away from Spencer's grounding hold around your shaking body in favor of your own arms. "I was a coward. I ran and hid because I was too scared to die. Too scared to fight. If I had just tried a little harder, I could've called for help. That way, maybe all of those people wouldn't... And Nick wouldn't..."

A haunting image flashed behind your eyes. The image of Nick's limp and lifeless body on the floor, among those of the others. You remembered crying next to him, punching his chest, body, and arm despite having seen the gunshot wound on his forehead. It took you another five minutes before you eventually managed to gather yourself together, found a phone, and dialed 911.

Not that it made any difference. They were all already dead.

Spencer could hear his heart breaking at the sight of you curling into yourself, recoiling from his touch because you somehow believed you didn't deserve his affection at that moment. If Spencer could just transfer all of your pain towards him, he would. Seeing you beat yourself up that way over something that happened and was done to you was the worst kind of torture he ever had to endure in life.

And Spencer had been through more kinds of torture than the general population in the world.

Deciding that he had seen enough of your self-deprecating torment, he reclaimed your hands inside of his palms and urged you to look at him.

"Are you hearing yourself right now?" Spencer asked incredulously. "How can you even think that way? Sweetheart, what happened to those people, to Nick, it is not your fault."

"B-but, if I hadn't run away--"

"Then you would've died, too," he cut you off. "Sunshine, there were four of them with machine guns. No one stood a single chance against them. Those people were there to kill. There was nothing you could've done."

It was a hard pill to swallow, but Spencer needed you to hear it.

He needed you to know the truth no matter how unacceptable it was.

"If you hadn't hid from them, we would've found seven bodies there instead of six. And I--" Spencer took a shuddering breath, "--I would've lost you."

Your shoulders deflated at his revelation. "Spence--"

"So please--" he searched your eyes then, using his thumb to sweep away the remaining tears under your eyes, "--stop holding yourself accountable. I promise I will do everything I can to find those people and make them pay for what they did."

Spencer's vow triggered a new wave of tears that compelled you to sink into his awaiting arms. He let you stay there until you had cried your tears dry. It was something he also secretly needed for himself after suffering through the short-lived horror over the mention of your name in relation to the heinous case. He just needed to make sure that you were okay.

A few minutes passed by with you in his arms. Eventually, Spencer had to tear himself away to finish his job. He asked you to wait as he wrapped up the transcript of your cognitive interview, along with his professional report over it.

"I need to run somewhere real quick. I promise to be back in a couple of hours," he notified JJ as he handed her the interview report. "Tell Hotch for me? Thanks."

Without waiting for his friend's reply, Spencer rushed back to the waiting room before leading you out to take you home.

Back at your apartment, Spencer guided you towards the direction of your bathroom as soon as you had stepped into the threshold.

"Are you trying to get me naked, Spencer?" you remarked playfully after he refused to let you take your clothes off yourself.

"Yes." The gleaming mischief in your eyes caused him to flick your nose lightly. "Just to get you ready for your bath. Get your head straight, will you?"

You scoffed at his back as he turned around to check the water temperature in the tub.

Once you were submerged safely inside, Spencer left the bathroom to give you some privacy. Meanwhile, he began rummaging through your drawers to pull out a change of clothes, a towel, and a clean sheet for your bed.

By the time you exited, Spencer had changed your bedsheets and lit one of your favorite candles on the bedside table. He asked you to sit down on the bed as he kneeled before you, helping you put on the pajamas he had picked out with little prints of sunflowers on them.

None of Spencer's touches were sexual. They swept over your skin with the care of an artist handling their most precious work. When his eyes found yours, you swore you could almost cry from the intense adoration that seemed to shine so brightly out of them.

As he guided you to lie on the bed, you were surprised to see him following suit. He got under the covers with you, pulling you close to tangle every inch of your limbs with his.

"I love you, Spencer," you admitted to his chest, heart heavy with the deep appreciation and overwhelming affection for the man beside you.

Spencer looked down at your confession, finding his favorite pair of eyes already looking earnestly at him. Instinctively, he reached for your chin with his fingers, tugging your face upward until he could capture your lips with his.

The kiss was slow. Careful. Filled with silent promises and discreet reassurances. When you both parted, Spencer didn't pull himself away. Instead, he let his forehead touch yours while his eyes stayed closed.

"Will you be here when I wake up?" you asked quietly.

"Yes, sweetheart. Now go to sleep."

Although the two of you knew his answer was a lie, you both chose to pretend otherwise. You knew Spencer still had responsibilities to fulfill, along with a promise to you that he intended to keep. You knew that when you woke up later that evening, Spencer would already be long gone, and you would be forced to bask in the traces of himself that he had left behind.

But for now, Spencer was still there, in the comfort of your bedroom, lying on the bed next to you. And that knowledge alone was good enough for you to finally drift further into the land of sleep, surrounded by the warmth of Spencer's loving embrace.

"I'm telling you," JJ insisted, looking at her entire team minus Spencer and Hotch. "There was definitely something going on between them. Why else would he request to take over the cognitive for me?"

"Maybe he was feeling generous," Rossi deadpanned, earning an unimpressed glare from JJ.

It had been a full week since the BAU team had arrived in D.C. to investigate the series of gun attacks in the city. Just the day prior, they had successfully made their fourth arrest, bringing this case to yet another satisfying conclusion in the eye of justice.

If nothing else was amiss, they should have been on their way back to Quantico in less than an hour. In the meantime, though, JJ felt obliged to gather her team members in the middle of the bullpen to share her suspicion about a certain scene she had accidentally caught on their first day working the case.

"Pretty boy did seem more emotionally involved in this case than he usually does, though," Derek pointed out.

"Right? Right?" JJ replied almost too enthusiastically. "Come on, aren't you guys at least half as curious as I am about who this mystery girl might be? Don't you wanna try finding out who she is while we're still here?"

They all stared at each other in hesitation.

"Or, we could just ask Spencer directly and let him explain?" Emily suggested, receiving incredulous looks from the other three in response. "Yeah, you're right. What did you say her name was again?"

"I don't remember," JJ answered.

"It must be listed in the files somewhere, right?" Derek immediately sprung into action, reaching towards the scattered case files that might contain the name they were looking for.

"Just to be clear, I am not taking any part in this." Rossi sighed.

"Got it!" Derek waved the offending file in hand, giving it to JJ, who instantly began skimming over it.

"Alright. Says here that her name is..."

JJ read the name aloud when unexpectedly, an answering sound sprouted from behind them.

"Yes?"

Every single one of them turned in shock at your voice. You smiled at their wide-eyed expressions, waving your hand a little awkwardly in the air.

"You!" JJ exclaimed.

"Me?"

Emily nudged JJ in the ribs, making the blonde woman wince.

"Y-you're the witness from the startup case, right?" JJ said, trying to rectify the situation.

"That's me."

"What can we do for you, Miss?" Rossi asked, stepping forward and away from the rest of the group.

"I'm actually looking for Spencer. Do you know where he might be?"

"Spencer Reid? You know Reid?" Emily asked.

Before you had the chance to reply, the man in question came strolling into the bullpen, rambling animatedly to Hotch who was walking beside him. The moment Spencer caught sight of you, though, he immediately abandoned Hotch's side and rushed towards where you were standing.

"Hey, what are you doing here?"

"Looking for you, of course," you told him, fitting yourself easily into Spencer's side as his arm went around your waist. "Hi, Hotch."

The older man called your name in greeting. "I got your message. You wanted to talk to me?"

"I wanted to ask you--well, all of you, actually--" you glanced around at the other team members, "--if maybe you all would let me treat you to lunch? As a thank you for your hard work on the case."

Hotch nodded in response. "It's fine with me. We don't have to be back until tonight, anyway. Everyone?"

Instead of replying to your offer, Emily voiced aloud the question that was circling everyone's mind.

"You know her?" Emily looked at Hotch before dragging her eyes away towards you. "And you know him? You know each other? How?"

You gazed up at Spencer's eyes, seeing them shining with the same mirth as the one you felt dancing in your stomach.

"I guess this is supposed to be the part where I introduce myself, isn't it?" You chuckled.

Extending your palm, you shook each of their hands while telling them your name, them responding back with theirs even though you already knew who was who long before you had even met them.

"I still don't understand," JJ admitted after you finished shaking her hand. "How did you know Spencer and Hotch?"

Once again, you looked into Spencer's eyes, a question bouncing around in yours. Spencer's nod of affirmation was the only go-ahead you needed.

It's time.

"I'm Spencer's girlfriend."

"She's my wife."

You turned your head towards Spencer in shock.

In front of you, Spencer's teammates were causing an uproar.

"Wait, what?" Emily stared dumbfoundedly.

"You have a girlfriend?" Derek asked in disbelief.

"You're married?!" JJ shrieked.

"Hold on a second," Rossi interjected, holding his palms out as if to tell everyone to stand down and calm themselves. "So which one is it? Girlfriend or wife?"

And that was how you found yourself sitting in the private VIP room of your favorite restaurant in the city with some of Spencer's closest people on earth.

"That's the craziest story I've ever heard," Emily pondered in astonishment.

Rossi, Derek, and JJ were all wearing an identical look on each of their faces after hearing the story of how you and Spencer met: by drunkenly getting married in Vegas after only knowing each other for barely one night when you both weren't even twenty-two yet.

"If someone were to tell me yesterday that there's another member of this team who also went to get married while drunk in Vegas, I would have never even thought of mentioning Spencer's name," JJ mused.

At your curious expression, Spencer explained, "Rossi also got drunkenly married in Vegas to his third ex-wife,"

"Why didn't you two get a divorce?" Emily suddenly asked.

It was something that everyone who knew about your situation with Spencer had questioned at one point or another. The real answer was because you and Spencer had both been reluctant to go through the nasty and lengthy legal process of getting a divorce. Therefore, you decided to part ways without doing anything about it, vowing to only track each other down if one of you ever needed to end the bond because of another impending marriage or any other urgent matter.

But that reason alone was usually not enough to appease people's curiosity. And over the years, you and Spencer had poked fun over that particular fact by coming up with the most outrageous lie you could muster up.

"She wanted to get a divorce," Spencer fabricated smoothly. "I persuaded her otherwise because I had this inkling that someday we were gonna fall in love."

Usually, any other people would coo sweetly at Spencer's statememt.

But these weren't any other people. These people were Spencer's family in more ways except flesh and blood, and even without their profiling skills, you knew they could see right through Spencer's little deception.

"That sounds like bullshit to me. Doesn't that sound like bullshit to you?" Emily asked, turning to JJ for support.

"Yeah, that was bullshit, alright," JJ claimed vehemently, prompting an innocent-looking grin from Spencer and a series of chuckles from everyone else.

"When did you two start dating, then?" Rossi spoke up from one end of the table.

"About two years after Vegas, right?" you estimated, to which Spencer nodded in confirmation. "He strolled into my place of work while he was on a case, and then he asked me out."

Derek sat up on his seat after hearing the new information. "Wait, when was this? Why didn't I know about this?"

"The beginning of my second year in the BAU," Spencer offered. "Elle knew."

"Elle? Elle Greenway? You told Elle but not me?" Derek looked offended.

Spender shrugged nonchalantly. "Elle was assigned with me that day."

"Unbelievable." Derek slumped back down in his chair. "Penelope is gonna freak when she finds out what she missed today."

"Penelope? Oh, she already knows," you told him.

That revelation earned a collective disbelief look across the entire table.

"Yeah... I, uh," you cleared your throat, "I actually just went shopping with her two weeks ago."

"You've got to be kidding me," Emily muttered.

"You told Penelope but not me?" Derek sounded hurt as he pointed his accusatory stare at Spencer. "You even told Hotch!"

"I didn't tell Garcia. She dug through my history and found it out herself. Had to bribe her with candies and chocolates for a whole month to keep her quiet," Spencer grumbled. "And I had to tell Hotch. We needed to add her number to my emergency contact list."

Despite Spencer's concise explanation, Derek still seemed unsatisfied by the whole ordeal.

"How long have you known?" he finally decided to ask Hotch.

"A while," the man answered from his seat at the opposite end of the table from Rossi. "They even babysat Jack a few times for me."

"I don't believe this," Derek scowled. "Pretty boy's got himself a girl for the last six years, and I never knew? Outrageous."

"Technically, we've been married even longer than that," Spencer responded, as if he was unaware of the imminent glower that Derek was sending his way. "Eight years since Vegas."

"That's longer than any of my marriage," Rossi remarked before sipping his drink.

The laugh that resonated upon Rossi's little comment elicited an affectionate smile on your lips.

"So, you live in D.C., then?" JJ asked, at last stirring the conversation away from the topic of your and Spencer's secret marriage-slash-relationship.

"I do, yeah. But most of the time, I live out of my suitcase," you answered. "My firm has clients all over the country. A few overseas, as well. I'm lucky if I even get to have an entire week to sleep uninterrupted in my own bed."

Even then, you truthfully quite enjoyed the work you had to do. You didn't mind having to travel some place new every other week. In fact, you somehow believed that your constant need to travel for your job, and Spencer for his, was one of the reasons why the two of you worked so well together.

Although people might think that two adults who had to travel for a living were a recipe for a disastrous relationship, you and Spencer had so far proven otherwise. Because of your respective schedules, you could sympathize more with the other anytime they had to go somewhere urgent for work. It only made you savor every single second you spent together because of how much precious each one of them became.

The rest of lunch unraveled with the same bucket of smiles, jokes, and laughter. It felt good to finally tell the few people who meant the world in Spencer's life the truth about your relationship. It was also a huge relief to see them opening their arms and welcoming you into the family without an ounce of hesitation.

"Hotch?" Spencer called out after everyone exited the restaurant. "Will it be okay if I stay in the city for one more night?"

"As long as you promise to be back for tomorrow's briefing," Hotch reminded sternly, but the meaningful look he passed over you before he entered his vehicle spoke of a thousand things left unsaid.

"It was so nice meeting you," JJ said as she took you in her arms. "And I'm sorry again about your friend."

"Thank you. And thanks for all of your hard work in catching those guys."

"Of course, it's what we do." JJ smiled as she pulled away. "Invite me and Emily the next time you and Penelope hang out, okay?"

"Will do," you promised.

You watched as every single one of them scrambled into the two black SUVs, waving your goodbye until the cars drove out of your sight.

"I think that went well," you commented before looking up at Spencer. "Do you?"

"I think it went as well as it could."

"So--" you began, circling your arms around Spencer's neck, "--we have more than twelve hours until you're expected back at Quantico. What do you wanna do?"

Spencer nudged your nose with his. "I can think of a few activities we can partake in."

"Really?"

"Really."

Just as he was a hairbreadth away from pressing his lips to yours, you suddenly tore yourself out of Spencer's arms.

"Like getting some frozen yogurts?" you asked giddily, smirking at the dumbfounded look that you managed to put on Spencer's face.

"Fine. Let's go get some frozen yogurts."

Spencer had to hide his amused grin at your elated squeals. He was more than content at that moment to let you produce those addictive sounds at the mere prospect of frozen yogurts.

But later that night, he had a whole different set of activities lined up to pull those same sounds out of you once more.

And it might or might not potentially involve an entirely different yet creative use of frozen yogurts as well.

Spencer simply just hadn't decided yet.

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

Okokokok SO….. I know the cowboy!reader is already set up with JJ- but what if there’s like one fic with hotch instead of JJ as the love interest?

Love your work! Make sure to eat and drink some water!

-Gay trash panda

Oooooo!!! Is it really bad if now I want to do that as a separate series? My whole tumblr is just gonna be cowboy reader, I can see it now (I mean it already is - don't worry I fucking love cowboy reader)

combination of this ask too

Warnings: mentions of death, child deaths, yelling, kissing (fairy heavy make out scene which feels weird to type), yelling

Taglist at the bottom of the post

When you first joined the team, Hotch was a dick. He didn’t trust you, he didn’t like that the decision to add you to the team didn’t go through him. And he made that known from day one.

He had made snippy comments from your first day and had yet to stop. You would catch him glaring at you for no specific reason. You would always be the first one he sent back to the hotel on a case. And you were sick of it. It made you want to rip your hair out. 

This time, he was particularly annoyed because you had intervened during a hostage situation. Everyone else was practically sitting ducks, trying to talk him down when there was a little boy with him. You had disobeyed direct orders and snuck into the building, taking the unsub down (you knocked him out). Hotch was absolutely fuming from the second he realised you were gone. Stream practically flew out of his ears. 

You all head back to the police station in silence, Hotch motioning for you to get in the same car as him, Reid, and Rossi. Tension filling the air. You all made your way back to the bullpen, thankful the case was close by. 

“(Y/N), my office. Now.” Hotch says, walking past you, going straight to his office. 

“Good luck,” Morgan mumbles as you walked past him. 

You walk in. 

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Hotch snaps, as soon as you were in his office, door not yet fully closed before he’s yelling.

“What was I thinkin’?” You scoffed, “I was thinkin’ a kid needed help and none of y’all seemed to be doin’ anything about it!”

“You know it takes time to talk an unsub down!”

“N I weren’t willin’ to wait!” You snap. “I didn’t wan’ another dead kid in my arms!”

“You were reckless! If you keep going like that, you will end up with another dead kid in your arms!” He exclaimed. 

You don’t care that he’s your boss, that this is probably going to get you fired. All you can think about is the anger as you slam him against the wall. You both glare at each other, chests rising heavily. Silence passed, both of you glaring at each other, chests still rising angrily.

“You keep breathin’ like that n I’m gonna wanna kiss that pretty mouth of yours,” You mumble. 

And the next thing you know, he’s kissing you. And he's breathing heavily, the thought of you pressed against him causing his brain to short circuit. You don’t hesitate, kissing him back. The argument and hatred forgotten, your hands gripping his blazer tightly as you push against him, deepening the kiss.

Some clears their throat and you both pull away at record speed. Ignoring the potential whiplash, you turned to the noise, Garcia grinned at you both. “Thank God you finally realised, you could cut the sexual tension with a knife.”

Taglist:

@xweirdo101x @xdark-acadamiax @ara-a-bird @poolclaws @chaosofmanyfandoms

@prmsn-17 @logicalhorror @shane18492 @iliketozoneout @goth-boi-atlas

@introvertpan84 @13thdoctor-run @winterwitchxxfan @ducks118 @woodandwaxwings

@aphroditeslovr @wizardmon3 @pinxeajin @pendragon-writes @chubbyboyinflannel

@migwayne @bigolgay @technikerin23 @supercriminalbean @honestlycasualarcade

@1s3v3n1 @oddmiles @kevyeen @stealing-kneecaps @criminalskies

@azeal-peal @luvfornick

[elikajinnie]

You Know You Should Not Have Survived That, Right? | Ghostface!Heeseung x fem!reader PART 2

PART 2 OF 4 Pairing: Ghostface!LeeHeeseung X Fem!reader

Please read Part 1 before proceeding if you haven`t already!

Genre: Romance, Horror/Thriller

Wordcount: 35k

Warnings: Swearing (Offensive words), Stalking, Obsessive behaviour, possessive behaviour, Blood/Injury, Violence, Graphic depictions of injury, Attempted murder, Murder, Mental health struggles, Family struggles, Self confidence issues, Bullying, Kidnapping, Jealousy, Alcohol and Drug use, Heeseung kinda goes feral?? does that count as a warning? !!KINDA MATURE CONTENT!! Minors beware!!

a/n: It took awhile to finish this chapter, but i finally dug myself out of the writing block i had and completed. So this chapter is longer then the second, combined together the fic has an estimated wordcount of 48k. Some scenes have been inspired from the Scream movies and The Slumber Party Massacre. I do not take any credit from that, so be free to check them out. I also wanna personally thank my pookies for giving me motivation to finish it <3 ANyways! Enjoy this long ass chapter :3

REMEMBER!; This is purely fictional and just for fun. I do not wish any harm upon any characters.

Important note!

When in costume Heeseung will be described as Ghostface when they do not know his identity.

The dialouges are kinda cheesy at times and suck so dont mind it.

⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

You sat in the cold, sterile room of the police station, the fluorescent lights flickering overhead. The air was heavy with tension, and the room echoed with the hushed conversations of officers and the distant ring of phones. The chair beneath you felt uncomfortable, but you held yourself with crossed arms, gaze fixed on the waiting area where grief-stricken families sought solace in their shared sorrow.

Your eyes, however, betrayed no tears. The well of grief within you had been drained, leaving only an unsettling emptiness. Yeji's family and your own were engulfed in a sea of tears, but you couldn't bring yourself to join their sorrow. The pain had numbed you, turning your emotions into a distant echo of what they once were. And, to make matters worse, the perpetrators of Yeji's death claimed innocence, painting it as an accident and an act of self-defense. A bitter scoff escaped your thoughts—self-defense, yeah right.

Heeseung, had confessed that he never intended to harm Yeji, planning to leave her alive. However, that plan unraveled in chaos when the police arrived, turning the night into what the media dubbed The Nightfall Homicide. The name seemed eerily fitting, a descriptor for the tragedy that had unfolded.

In the cramped room, you listened to the officer's questions, his words a distant hum in your ears. The memories of that night, now tainted with the knowledge of Heeseung's double life, clouded your responses. You found yourself withholding the truth, a newfound reluctance to reveal the dark secret that had unfolded in that secluded hut.

"I told you, we were partying," you recited mechanically, your voice betraying none of the turmoil within. "I went to the bathroom, came back, and the chaos had erupted. The police arrived, shot Yeji, and I blacked out from the shock. Woke up in the forest and walked back. I don't remember anything more." The officer nodded, accepting your words, though a subtle skepticism lingered in his gaze.

As you exited the room, your younger brother, Kyungmin, lunged at you, wrapping his arms around you in a desperate hug. His plea not to die clung to the air, and you reassured him with a murmur. The weight of the situation pressed on your shoulders as you shifted your gaze to the adjacent room, where Heeseung sat, a striking contrast to the stark police station backdrop. His presence alone seemed to make the air thicker, your breath hitching as your eyes locked onto his. He occupied the chair with an unsettling ease, facing directly towards you, his posture exuding a disconcerting nonchalance. Legs casually spread, he idly played with a coin between his fingers.

Your unease intensified as you noticed his intense gaze fixed solely on you. The officer conducting the interview seemed oblivious to the silent exchange, engrossed in paperwork or perhaps wilfully ignorant of the tension building in the room. Heeseung tilted his head, a smirk dancing on his lips, a chilling expression that sent shivers down your spine. A gulp caught in your throat as he toyed with you, his eyes narrowing in a way that suggested an unspoken challenge.

The momentary confrontation shattered as the officer redirected their attention back to Heeseung. His smirk vanished instantly, replaced by a mask of innocence, as if he were hanging on every word the officer uttered. The speed at which he shifted his expressions, from smirking provocatively to feigning cooperation, sent a chill down your spine. It was unnerving, the way he effortlessly danced between personas.

The clarity dawned on you—the stark absence of his scent, the lingering touch of his hands, and the distant memory of his lips on yours allowed your mind to untangle itself from the web of emotions. As you watched him, questions echoed loudly in your mind, demanding answers that seemed elusive in the fog of uncertainty. Why was Heeseung a killer? What drove him to act this way, and why did he reserve a special kind of attention for you?

Your heart and brain waged war within you, locked in a relentless battle. The dissonance between the memories of his affection and the grim reality of his actions created a storm in your mind, leaving you standing at the center, grappling with the aftermath of a truth that shattered the illusion of who you thought he was.

⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

The room was bathed in the soft glow of a lone lamp, casting shadows that danced along the walls. You sat at your desk, notebook open, pen in hand, attempting to immerse yourself in schoolwork. The day had been long, emotions running all over the place, and sleep felt elusive. Your family had retired to their beds, asleep, but you found yourself unable to succumb to the embrace of slumber.

Two distinct knocks on your window disrupted the quiet of your room. Your head snapped towards the source of the sound, confusion etched on your face. You cautiously approached the window, pulling aside the curtains to peer into the darkness outside. The moon's feeble light offered little clarity, and you hesitated before opening the window to investigate further.

A figure materialized before you, and with an involuntary yelp, you stumbled backward. "Heeseung! What are you doing here?" you hissed, the surprise evident in your voice. Heeseung attempted a graceful entrance through the window but ended up tripping, the thud of his landing echoing in the room. With a sheepish "oof," he got up, closing the window behind him.

"I wanted to see you," he confessed, drawing closer, his hand gently cupping your cheek. "But... I thought you were still at the police station or..." Your words trailed off, lost in the jumble of thoughts racing through your mind. Heeseung silenced you with a reassuring shush, pulling you into a warm embrace. At first, you stiffened, the memory of recent events resurfacing, but gradually, you found comfort in his arms.

"You didn't say anything to the cops," Heeseung mumbled as his gaze wandered around your room. "Yeah... I didn't," you admitted, unsure of the implications. "Good," he replied, settling on your bed and noticing the schoolwork spread across it. "Still working, hm?" A casual smile adorned his face. You shrugged in response, and he patted the space next to him, inviting you to sit.

A violent storm of inquiries raged within the confines of your mind, each question vying for attention, clamoring to be voiced. Yet, as you attempted to give voice to the cacophony of thoughts, an inexplicable restraint silenced you. "I can hear you thinking," Heeseung's voice cut through the quiet, drawing your attention. You looked up, eyes widening as you found his gaze fixed upon you, a contemplative darkness shrouding his eyes. His face remained an enigma, devoid of emotion.

"Sorry..." you uttered, a feeble apology, as Heeseung gently seized your hands in his. You couldn't help but notice the stark contrast between the seemingly tender hold and the gruesome reality your mind incessantly reminded you of. Those same hands that now sought connection had wielded a weapon, held a knife, and bore the evidence of violence, your blood staining their once seemingly innocent surface.

A shiver ran down your spine as you pulled back, a reflex driven by the reminder of the dual nature residing within those hands. The conflict within you intensified – the desire for comfort at odds with the fear embedded in your memories. The room hung heavy with unspoken tension, a palpable silence punctuated only by the beating of your heart and the weight of your unuttered questions, imprisoned within the recesses of your mind.

"Look... why did you come here?" you finally managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper. Heeseung sighed, "I just wanted to see you. Listen, I know you're mad and confused, but I won't hurt you. I promise." He tilted your head up, and in his eyes, you found a sincerity that tugged at your doubts.

"Okay... but can you leave?" you requested, your gaze drifting away. Heeseung, seemingly taken aback, huffed and stood up. "Sure," he replied before surprising you, grabbing your jaw and leaning down to whisper in your ear. "But remember, you are mine now." With those words hanging in the air, he climbed out of the window.

You hastily closed the window behind him, the room now echoing with the weight of his departure. As you collapsed onto your bed, a wave of tears escaped, tracing wet paths down your cheeks and onto the bedding. Exhausted, confused, and emotionally drained, you succumbed to the fatigue, seeking refuge in the solace of a restless sleep.

⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

The school hallways stretched before you like a desolate maze, each step heavy with the weight of grief and the relentless whispers that followed you. Your bag, laden with textbooks and unspoken burdens, hung from your shoulder as you trudged toward your locker. The days leading up to the school's reopening had been a nightmarish blur – a cacophony of sleepless nights and missed meals, the relentless gossip clawing at your fragile composure. Heeseung's absence, a void in your life, left you feeling hollow, uncertain if it was the vacancy or the lingering shock that cast a pallor over your existence.

As you walked alone through the corridors, the usual chatter seemed distant, and the faces that turned toward you carried a mix of sympathy and morbid curiosity. You scanned the crowded hallways in vain for Heeseung, but he remained elusive, adding another layer of unease to your already heavy heart.

Gathering your books, you made your way to class, the weight of loneliness accentuated by the empty seat beside you where Yeji used to sit. The desk stood as a poignant reminder of the void left by her absence. The principal's voice crackled through the speakers, momentarily breaking the uneasy silence, as he addressed the student body with a somber acknowledgment of the lives lost to the Ghostface killer. The words offered little solace, and the notion of moving forward seemed an insurmountable task.

Sighing, you leaned over your desk, lost in the shadows of your own thoughts. The monotony was interrupted by a voice – Kim Taehyung, a high viewed person in the high school popularity. "Mind if I sit here?" he asked, and you shrugged, the emptiness of the seat beside you an invitation.

"I've heard a lot about you, Y/N," Taehyung stated, his eyes locked on yours with a mixture of fascination and curiosity. "Yeah, sure you have," you replied, fully aware of the rumors that painted you as a survivor of Ghostface's relentless pursuit.

His question echoed in the hollow spaces of the classroom, "Is there any reason why you have survived against him?" A peculiar intensity colored his gaze, unsettling you. "I don't know... I always ran and fought," you replied, a simple truth.

As you shifted your gaze from Taehyung to the front of the class, a sudden tension gripped the air, as Heeseung, entered the room. His eyes, drawn like magnets, found you immediately. Yet, as his gaze lingered, it snapped abruptly to Taehyung, who had leaned over to you with an question that sliced through the stifling quiet.

"Heeey, do you know who Ghostface is?" Taehyung's question hung in the air.

Shock painted your features, the abruptness of the question catching you off guard. "What?" you asked, incredulous. "Why would you ask this stuff?" The words tumbled out, a mix of disbelief and frustration.

Taehyung, sensing the rising tension, put his arms up in a placating gesture. "Hey, it's just a question!" he protested, his tone attempting to diffuse the sudden hostility.

"Yeah, well, you seem very stuck on Ghostface," you muttered under your breath, eyes narrowing in suspicion. The intensity of Heeseung's glare toward Taehyung was palpable, a silent warning that cut through the charged atmosphere. You could almost feel the weight of Heeseung's unspoken threats, and, somehow, you didn't doubt for a moment that he was capable of carrying them out.

Just as the situation reached a boiling point, the timely entrance of the teacher disrupted the building tension. Heeseung, now robbed of immediate action, had no choice but to take his seat, back where Jay had ushered him earlier.

The minutes dragged on in the classroom, each second feeling like an eternity as you struggled to concentrate on the lesson. Heeseung's piercing gaze bore into the back of your neck, a constant reminder of his presence. The weight of his stare created an almost tangible pressure, making it difficult for you to focus on anything other than the unnerving energy radiating from him.

As you tried to navigate the sea of swirling thoughts, it became apparent that Taehyung was also affected by the charged atmosphere. His usually relaxed demeanor had shifted to one of stiffness, as if he, too, could feel the invisible tension in the room.

The bell finally rang, breaking the spell that had held you captive. Quickly rising from your seat, you made your way toward the exit. However, your attempt to escape the suffocating atmosphere was short-lived, as Taehyung followed you out.

Annoyance etched across your face, you turned to face him, questioning his persistence. "What are you doing..." you asked, a tone of irritation lacing your words.

"Nothing! It's just—well, you didn't answer my question!" Taehyung exclaimed, his eagerness revealing a certain fixation on the topic that left you uneasy.

In your peripheral vision, Heeseung lingered, a silent figure observing the exchange. "No. I don't know who Ghostface is. His mask is always on. Now leave me alone." The words, firm and final, left no room for further discussion as you walked away, a flicker of relief washing over you as Taehyung, thankfully, chose not to follow.

The bustling sounds of the cafeteria gradually faded as you walked past it, as you did not feel any desire for food. As you turned a corner, the unexpected collision with someone jolted you back to the present. Looking up, your eyes met Heeseung's, who stood there, leaning against the wall with an air of anticipation.

"Heeseung?" you whispered, confusion etching your features. Before you could question his presence, he swiftly grabbed you and ushered you into the janitor's closet, deftly locking the door behind you.

"What did Taehyung-ssi want?" he asked, hands gently caressing your arms. "He asked about you—well, about Ghostface," you replied. Heeseung's eyes lingered on yours, then drifted to your lips. An almost-kiss hung between you, halted in anticipation.

"May I kiss you, my love?" he inquired, seeking your permission. You nodded, but Heeseung demanded more. "Words, love. I need words." A nod from you wasn't enough; he craved words. "Yes," you said, granting him permission. A satisfied smile graced Heeseung's lips as he bridged the gap, initiating a kiss. An electric spark ignited as your lips met, and you gasped when Heeseung tilted his head, deepening the kiss.

His hand found your waist, pulling you closer, and he pressed you against the wall. The other hand supported his weight, creating an intimate embrace. "Fuck, I missed you," Heeseung murmured between kisses, his lips trailing down your jaw and throat. Collateral to his ardor, he adjusted your collar, pulling it down as it hindered his path. A sudden bite against your neck made you jump, and as he pulled back, a mischievous grin played on his lips.

"Now Taehyung knows you are taken," he declared, pulling you in for another kiss. His hand found its way to your neck, thumb on your jaw, and index finger tracing your cheek as he hummed, savoring the moment, while you squeezed your eyes shut, caught in a whirlwind of sensations.

The fervent exchange of kisses consumed you, Heeseung's touch igniting your senses. Pinned against the wall, your mind buzzed with the intensity of the moment – his lips on yours, his distinct scent enveloping you, his hands exploring every inch of your being. Your fingers clung to his shirt and neck, desperate to hold onto the sensations he stirred. His groans and whispered praises fueled the passionate encounter.

As the intensity of the moment peaked, Heeseung left a trail of bite marks and love bites across your skin, each one a testament to the desire that consumed you both. With each mark he left, you felt a surge of pleasure ripple through you, your body responding eagerly to his touch.

As the distant bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, you gasped for air, attempting to break free from the all-encompassing kiss. Heeseung, however, pursued your lips, capturing them once more. "Heeseung," you managed to utter between breaths, but his fervor persisted. "The bell," you insisted, feeling the urgency of the passing time.

"Skip with me," he pleaded, his words laced with desperation. He tilted your jaw up, examining the marks and bites he had left on your collarbone, throat, and neck, a sense of accomplishment evident in his humming. Overwhelmed, you gulped, and before rational thought could intervene, you nodded. Heeseung grinned, seizing your hand and pulling you out of the janitor's closet. Together, you raced through the now deserted halls, escaping the beginning of the next class.

Outside, you both ran through the empty streets until Heeseung stopped by a serene lake. Turning to you with a smile, he guided you down to the water's edge. "Why are we here?" you asked, curious about his choice. "It's my favorite place," Heeseung confessed, his gaze fixed on the distance. "I haven't been able to come here for a while." The sincerity in his words caught you off guard. "Is this a special place for you?" you asked, seeking to understand the layers behind the man who, despite his dark actions, appeared lost. Heeseung nodded, meeting your eyes before returning his gaze to the water. Unable to find words, you embraced him, and after a brief hesitation, he reciprocated, his face nestled against your neck, his form trembling ever so slightly in your arms.

⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

In the quiet confines of your room, the soft glow of the moon painted a delicate tapestry across the ceiling. Lying in bed, you found yourself enveloped in the dim illumination. Fingers intertwined, you absentmindedly fiddled with your hands.

Confusion reigned as you grappled with emotions that had evolved from a simple crush on Heeseung into a complex, undeniable love. The journey from infatuation to this deep, forbidden affection was unexpected, and you struggled to reconcile the warmth that surged through you whenever Heeseung was near with the harsh reality of his dark secret.

With every stolen glance, your heart seemed to flutter, almost smiling in response to the mere presence of Heeseung. The touch of his lips on yours sent your stomach into a frenzy of butterflies, and the brush of his fingers against your skin set it tingling with an electric charge. His captivating gaze, those dark eyes that held a universe of mystery, had the power to turn your legs into jelly.

Yet, amidst the euphoria of love, an undeniable truth lingered—an uncomfortable awareness that Heeseung was a murderer. The police, having found Beomseok in the Ghostface costume, believed they had solved the case. However, recent news stories hinted at the contrary. Murders continued, marked by the enigmatic Ghostface masks left at the scenes, challenging the assumption that the killer had been unmasked.

In the silence of your room, the conflict within your heart manifested in the gentle rise and fall of your chest. You pondered the morality of your emotions, wrestling with the profound love you felt for a man who lived a double life—one of tender affection with you and another steeped in darkness.

The echo of the argument resonated in the corridors of your memory, a haunting playback of words that lingered in the silence of your thoughts. It was a scene etched vividly—the dimly lit kitchen in Heeseung's house, the weight of your question hanging in the air like a storm on the horizon.

Heeseung, leaning casually against the kitchen counter, confronted your question with an unsettling nonchalance. "What?" His voice held a detached quality. "Did you kill all those people that are on the news?" you pressed, the words carrying a heaviness that seemed to punctuate the air.

"Well..." Heeseung's response was a hesitant admission, a glimpse into a world stained by the consequences of his actions.  "Not all of them, at least not the ones where the mask is left behind. Amateur move, honestly." he dismissed, scratching his neck as if contemplating the simplicity of the copycat killer. The chilling revelation, sent shivers down your spine. It was as if you were discussing a mundane topic, not probing the depths of a heinous crime.

The revelation brought forth a torrent of emotions, a mixture of fear, anger, and a profound sadness. "So someone is acting like they are you, doesn't that bother you?" The question hung in the air, a plea for acknowledgment that the reality of his actions should stir something within him.

However, Heeseung's response, delivered with an eerie calmness, further unraveled the threads of your emotions. "No? Why should I?" he retorted, indifferent to the gravity of the crimes that mirrored his own. "Because they're doing the same thing! Killing! Hurting. That's wrong!" you said.

In a hauntingly intimate gesture, Heeseung closed the distance, his hand seizing your jaw, commanding your attention. "As long as they don't touch you," he murmured, his words a possessive declaration that resonated down to your very core. His hand descended to your neck, fingers tracing a delicate path, as he swore, "I will kill them if they touch what's mine." The tension crackling in the air like electricity. Heeseung, undeterred, leaned in for a kiss, seizing the moment to entangle your senses in a web of conflicting emotions. His tongue invaded the space between your lips, a calculated move to distract and claim, his other hand enveloping your waist.

Your legs shook as he pulled you closer, his tongue slipping past your lips in an invasive dance. There was a desperate urge to succumb, to lose yourself in the intoxicating familiarity of his touch. Yet, with an iron resolve, you pushed him away, breaking the suffocating embrace. "I just... I can't do this now, Heeseung," you whispered, your voice a fragile echo in the room. In that moment, you turned away from him, the sanctuary of his home now tainted with the bitter taste of reality.

Without waiting for a response, you bolted, your footsteps echoing through the hallway as you fled from the confrontation you weren't ready to face. The door slammed shut behind you, a final punctuation mark to a conversation that left wounds too raw to bear.

The outside world greeted you with the cool embrace of the night, the stars a witness. As you ran through the quiet streets, the rhythmic cadence of your steps became a desperate heartbeat, each stride a futile attempt to outrun the truth.

Heeseung, left behind in his own dwelling, resisted the urge to chase after you. His silhouette stood tall in the doorway, bathed in the muted glow filtering through the windows. Leaning his head down, his eyes fixated on the space you once occupied, he wore a cold stare that betrayed no emotion.

The memory played like a vivid nightmare, each detail etched in your mind—the coldness of his stare as you escaped, the desperation that radiated from you, and the haunting realization that love had entangled you in a dangerous dance with a man who lived in shadows.

Heeseungs Pov:

Heeseung's days at school turned into a relentless quest, a desperate pursuit to find you, to have a moment alone, to bridge the widening gap that seemed to stretch with each passing day. Yet, you were always two steps ahead, a phantom in the hallways, eluding his attempts to catch even a glimpse of you. The avoidance seemed like a deliberate dance, and he, despite his persistent efforts, was left yearning for a moment to talk, to connect.

His texts, now read with the status delivered. Calls, once filled with the warmth of your voice, turned into one-sided conversations as he was greeted by the coldness of voicemail. The frustration mounted, and Heeseung, a master of control, felt his grasp slipping.

One evening, driven to the brink of desperation, he climbed up to your window, a silent plea etched on his face. The curtains, drawn tightly shut, denied him even a glimpse of the space where you laid. Knocking on the window in the darkness, he called your name, but the room remained shrouded in silence.

The realization hit him like a cold gust of wind—his efforts, no matter how persistent, couldn't breach the walls you had built. The decision weighed heavy on him, but with a heavy heart, he conceded to give you space. The anger and frustration that pulsed within him found an outlet, a return to the only thing that brought him a twisted sense of satisfaction: murder.

As the other Ghostface, seemingly inspired by his legacy, terrorized the town, Heeseung decided to expand his reach to other towns. The chase, the thrill of the hunt, became a distraction from the echoing emptiness left by your absence. Yet, none of it compared to the rush he felt with you.

The chase, the fear in his victims' eyes, and the life draining from them were all familiar sensations, but none matched the electrifying thrill he had experienced with you. The adrenaline rush was too quick, leaving him even more frustrated.

Breaking into houses, shattering windows, and forcefully entering doors became his routine. The victims, now more vigilant and security-conscious, provided a challenge, but it only added to Heeseung's irritation. The once-satisfying acts now felt like mere inconveniences.

Yet, amidst the chaos he orchestrated, it was your avoidance that annoyed him the most. His thoughts often circled back to you, wondering why you resisted him. But Heeseung was patient, confident that you would come back to him when you were ready. In the twisted game he played, he reveled in the idea that you were the ultimate prize, and he would wait for you, no matter how long it took.

Your POV:

The living room was cloaked in the soft glow of the television, casting a warm ambience across the room. Your little brother was off with his friends, and your mother was at work, leaving you alone with the flickering images on the screen. The news report unfolded the grim tale of the ongoing murders in the town, and the recent revelation that there were now two Ghostfaces haunting the community.

You sat on the couch, your gaze fixed on the television, absorbing every detail. The news broadcast showcased a video feed capturing both Ghostfaces in action. One of them stood in the clear, the camera capturing the entirety of his menacing presence. Dressed in a black cloak, a twisted white mask concealed his identity, and a blood-stained knife gleamed menacingly in his hand as he brazenly entered a house with a chilling lack of remorse.

The other Ghostface remained elusive, shrouded in darkness. Only the stark white of his mask and the glint of his knife were discernible. As the camera focused on him, a sinister head tilt added an eerie touch to his enigmatic presence. The screen abruptly went dark, as if the Ghostface had severed the connection with a swift, calculated move.

"The police has stated that the evidence is pointing that the right one is the original Ghostface because of his tendencies, proving that Kim Beomseok was indeed innocent and just a pawn in his game," the newswoman declared, her voice delivering the weighty verdict. A sigh escaped your lips, acknowledging the familiarity of Heeseung's distinctive traits.

"The real Ghostface is still out there, and he has an accomplice. We advise people to set a curfew and lock your doors and windows tight," the news woman continued, her words an ominous warning that echoed through the room.

As the news segued into weather updates, you took a moment to exhale the tension that had gripped you. 

As the disconcerting reality settled, your phone pierced the silence with an unknown caller. A frown creased your forehead as you scrunched your nose in distaste, swiftly ending the call. You rose, moving toward the television, the haunting images of the Ghostfaces still fresh in your mind. With a click, you turned off the TV, leaving the room in profound darkness.

Navigating through the obscurity, you made your way to the kitchen. Refusing to turn on the lights, you reached for a kitchen knife, a cold metal reassurance in your hand. Seated on a barstool, you waited in the inky silence.

A persistent ring pierced the quietude, emanating from your phone, held tightly in your grasp. As the call persisted, you let it ring, the vibration against your palm a rhythmic reminder of impending danger. Finally, with a stoic resolve, you answered, the chill in your voice unmistakable.

"Hello," you uttered, devoid of emotion, bracing for the encounter with the dark voice on the other end. The subtle distortion revealed the use of a voice changer, heightening the malevolence of the conversation.

"Hello, Y/N," the voice responded, a sinister greeting that sent a shiver down your spine. "Hello, Ghostface, or should I say fake Ghostface?" you retorted, a flicker of defiance in your tone.

"Clever, aren't you? I can see why you beat the master," the voice acknowledged, "Master?" you uttered.

"Yes, master. I admire him so much, you know? When he first started killing, I was appalled. But now? I see why he likes this career," the voice confessed, unveiling a twisted admiration for the chaos that had gripped the town.

"That's disgusting," you spat out, a visceral reaction to the perverse admiration for a killer. "Hm, I suppose so. But I don't really care what you think. Now that I have proven myself worthy as a killer, I wanted to see what the deal with you was," the voice continued, unapologetic in its admission.

As the unsettling conversation unfolded, the voice delved into a sinister curiosity about your resilience against Ghostface's attacks. "Why couldn't he kill you, what's so special about you?" the voice probed, drawing out a chilling anticipation.

"Why don't you come and see for yourself, asshole?" you retorted. The voice responded with a laugh. "You know, I think I will accept that proposition happily. Here I come, bitch," the voice declared before abruptly ending the call. The air thickened with impending danger, and in the shadows, you braced yourself for the approaching storm, armed with nothing but a kitchen knife and a heart hardened.

A crash shattered the stillness, drawing your attention to the source of the disturbance. The garden chair outside had been hurled into the room, breaking the window. With a blink, the ominous silhouette of Ghostface materialized in the hallway, a figure you instinctively knew wasn't Heeseung. Dread coiled in your stomach, a chilling realization that terrorized you.

This Ghostface was different, shorter and less imposing than Heeseung. The masked intruder charged toward you, a gleaming knife in hand, and quick thinking became your ally.

With a swift motion, you leaped onto the kitchen counter, rolled to the other side, and seized the faucet. A torrent of water erupted, drenching Ghostface. Choking and gurgling sounds punctuated the air as he struggled against the unexpected assault. You turned off the water, before you darted into the living room.

Jumping over the couch, you retrieved the gun stowed beneath it, a precautionary measure your mother had taken. You aimed the gun, and fired. The bullet found its mark, and Ghostface howled in pain, an unfamiliar vulnerability beneath the mask.

As you stood, rounding the couch, you stared down at the wounded assailant. "Is that your best? Come on," you taunted, kicking away the knife that had posed a lethal threat.

Ghostface's gaze bore into yours before he lunged, toppling you to the ground. Pain reverberated through your head as it collided with the floor. The masked intruder mounted you, hands closing around your throat. Panic surged, but you fought back, grappling with his wrists, desperately trying to pry him off.

"You bitch!" Ghostface spat, the voice changer momentarily silent, revealing a clear, angered voice. A punch landed on your face, pain blossoming as the assault continued. In the struggle, you glimpsed the kitchen knife near your leg. An opportunity for self-defense emerged, and you seized it without hesitation, driving the blade into Ghostface's back.

His scream echoed through the room as he released his grip. You kicked him away, scrambling to a safe distance. Blood stained the floor, a testament to the violence that had unfolded. Ghostface, weakened and desperate, retreated through the back door, leaving a crimson trail in his wake.

Gasping for breath, you clutched your phone, dialing the police. In the aftermath of the struggle, you summoned the courage to make an unexpected call. Heeseung's voice, warm and familiar, filled your ears. "Hello? Angel?" he greeted.

"Heeseung... he came. Ghostface came," you uttered, your voice strained and hoarse. "Shit. I'm coming, just hang on," Heeseung's determined response resonated through the line. The door slammed shut, signaling his departure.

"I beat him. He called me and broke in. And I fought against him," you whispered. "Good, good. I'm so proud of you, baby," Heeseung reassured, his words a soothing balm in the aftermath of the storm.

⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

The street outside your house was a tableau of flashing lights and uniformed officers, a reminder of the recent chaos. Sitting on the doorstep, you stared into the scene. However, a ray of relief pierced through the gloom as Heeseung came sprinting toward you.

His presence, a beacon of comfort, ignited a rush of happiness within you. Without a second thought, you leaped into his arms, seeking solace in his embrace. Tears flowed freely as Heeseung held you close, his arms a haven that shielded you. He rubbed your back soothingly, whispering words of reassurance.

As your cries subsided, Heeseung gently pulled back, his gaze scanning your face. Anguish flickered in his eyes as he beheld the bruises and the haunting marks around your throat. "He did this?" Heeseung questioned, a simmering anger beneath his words. You could only nod in response.

Suddenly, Heeseung scooped you up in a bridal embrace, determination etched across his features. "Heeseung! What are you doing?" you protested, clinging to his neck. "Taking you with me. No way I'm leaving you alone with him running around," he declared, his voice laced with protective fervor. Concern for your safety outweighed all other considerations.

"What about my mom and brother?" you inquired. "They have the police. I only care about your safety," Heeseung asserted. "Heeseung!" you pleaded, a mix of desperation and loyalty.

"What? It's the truth," he responded. "They are my family!" you insisted. After a moment, he relented, "Alright, just let me have you now." With a resigned sigh, you agreed.

Upon reaching Heeseung's house, weariness clung to you like a heavy shroud, as he guided you to his bedroom, gently laying you down. You looked up at him, the exhaustion apparent in your eyes. Heeseung settled beside you, drawing you into an intimate embrace. "I'm here now, angel," he whispered, his words a tender promise of protection.

As he held you close, the weight of the night's events settled on Heeseung's shoulders. The realization that the other Ghostface had dared to touch you, to harm you, ignited a storm of rage within him. The room seemed to pulse with the intensity of his emotions. His eyes, once gentle, now burned with a fierce hatred and anger.

A possessive fervor took hold of Heeseung as he held you close, not leaving even the slightest room for air to pass between you. His arms wrapped around you like an impenetrable shield, a silent declaration that he would do whatever it took to keep you safe. The rage within him was a primal force, fueled by the audacity of someone else daring to harm what belonged to him.

⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow in Heeseung's bedroom. As you stirred from your slumber, the remnants of sleep clinging to your consciousness, you found the bed beside you empty. A quick scan of the room revealed no sign of Heeseung. The only evidence of his presence was the lingering scent of his cologne on the sheets.

With a yawn, you shuffled out of the bedroom, following the enticing aroma of breakfast wafting through the air. Descending the stairs, you found Heeseung in the kitchen, effortlessly moving between stove and counterto.

"Good morning, baby," he greeted you with a warm smile, his attention momentarily diverted from the sizzling pan.

"Morning," you mumbled, still half in a dream, and made your way to the table. The aroma of pancakes and freshly brewed coffee filled the air, enticing you to partake in the morning feast.

After a satisfying breakfast, Heeseung trailed besides you as you made your way to school. His hoodie enveloped you in its warmth, and the oversized sweatpants added a touch of casual comfort.

Entering the school grounds, the attention directed at you was palpable. Whispers and glances followed your every step, the events of the previous night etched into the collective consciousness of your peers. Heeseung's proximity only intensified the scrutiny, and you couldn't escape the awareness of being the center of attention.

Reaching your locker, Heeseung leaned casually against the row of lockers, his arm sliding around you. You retrieved your books, the cool metal of the locker a stark contrast to the warmth of his touch. The hallway buzzed with the muted sounds of conversation, but in that moment, it felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of you.

As the first class commenced, you found yourself alone, the comforting presence of Heeseung absent from your side. However, the second class brought a familiar face. Taehyung joined you, though something seemed off. His usually vibrant demeanor was replaced by a subtle shadow of unease.

"Are you okay?" you asked, concern lacing your voice. Taehyung glanced at you, attempting to muster a reassuring smile. "Me? I'm fine, totally fine," he replied, but the words seemed to lack conviction. Opting not to press further, you turned your attention to the board, though a lingering worry for your friend remained in the back of your mind.

⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

The school halls were mostly deserted, the echo of chatter and laughter fading as you walked towards the bustling cafeteria. Your steps were purposeful, the anticipation of meeting Heeseung pulling you forward. The usual hustle and bustle of students had already subsided, the majority having rushed ahead to the cafeteria while you were held back by a teacher, discussing assignments and grades.

The silence enveloped you as you neared the cafeteria, the muted sounds of your own footsteps echoing through the corridor.

However, before you could reach the bustling cafeteria, you were abruptly halted. The sudden impact against the cold wall sent a jolt through you, and you found yourself face to face with a group of popular girls from the school. Led by Yeowang, their accusatory stares bore into you.

"You think you are so mighty, don't you? Taking Heeseung for yourself?!" Yeowang accused, her tone dripping with venom. Confusion furrowed your brow as you attempted to make sense of the unwarranted confrontation. "What are you talking about?" you questioned.

"You know exactly what she's talking about!" Jiwoo chimed in, her expression equally accusatory. Yeowang, the self-proclaimed leader, sneered at you. "What's even so special about you, huh? You survived two killers, oh, big deal. I can do that with a hand tied around my back!"

Annoyance welled up within you, and you retorted, "Then why don't you try it, huh? Try not being murdered!" With a defiant push, you attempted to distance yourself from the confrontation.

In response, Yeowang's rage peaked, and she raised her hand, ready to strike you. However, before the blow could land, a strong grip clasped around her wrist, halting the impending assault. Heeseung stood there, a storm brewing in his eyes.

"What do you think you're doing?" Heeseung's voice was deceptively calm, a dangerous edge underscoring his words. "Heeseung! I—I... it's not what you think! Uh, Y/n pushed me, and I simply wanted to go against her in self-defense!" Yeowang stuttered in her attempt to justify her actions, but Heeseung's glare pierced through her excuses. "Really? I thought you were better than that," he remarked, releasing her wrist.

"Now, I'm going to be nice and ignore the fact that you were hurting Y/N. Now go before I change my mind," he commanded, and the girls scattered, leaving you standing there in shock.

As the commotion subsided, Heeseung turned to you, his gaze softening. He came in front of you, looking you over with concern. "You okay?" he asked, his voice gentle yet filled with an underlying intensity.

"Yes, I'm fine," you responded, still processing the unexpected turn of events, grateful for Heeseung's timely intervention. 

⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

The midday sunlight streamed through the classroom windows, casting a warm glow on the bustling scene within. Animated conversations echoed off the walls, punctuated by the occasional rustle of papers and the soft hum of the air conditioner. The air was alive with the energy of students engrossed in various discussions and activities.

Seated at your desk, you attempted to immerse yourself in the lesson, the teacher's voice a constant presence in the background. However, a fatigue gradually crept over you, shrouding your senses in a hazy fog. Desperate to shake off the encroaching drowsiness, you blinked repeatedly, but each blink seemed to weigh heavier on your eyelids.

As you struggled to maintain focus, the ambient noise surrounding you took on an underwater quality. Conversations became muffled, as if distorted by an unseen force. Your vision blurred, and the edges of your consciousness began to dissolve into an indistinct haze. Fingers twitched involuntarily, a subtle tremor that hinted at the overwhelming weariness settling into your bones. Someone in the distance called your name, the words reaching you like a distant echo, detached and surreal.

The world around you seemed to fade, and a sense of weightlessness accompanied the descent into the beckoning darkness.

And then, like the closing of heavy curtains, everything collapsed, and you surrendered to the comforting embrace of unconsciousness.

In that silent realm of blackness, time seemed to hold its breath. There were no whispers of conversation, no distant echoes. Only the profound stillness of an unconscious mind.

As your eyes fluttered open, the sterile environment of the nurse's office came into focus. The soft hum of fluorescent lights overhead and the antiseptic scent in the air signaled your departure from the realm of unconsciousness. Confusion clouded your thoughts momentarily, and you glanced around, realizing you were lying on the medical bed.

The nurse, a calming presence in the room, sat on a nearby chair and noticed you had woken up. "Hello, dear. You caused quite a commotion," she said with a gentle smile. "I did?" Her response was a nod, and a blush of embarrassment crept up your cheeks. "Oh..." you mumbled in response.

Offering reassurance, the nurse continued, "It's alright. Your boyfriend brought you here." She handed you a cup of juice, and you sipped it slowly. "My boyfriend?" you echoed in surprise. "Yes, he's sitting right outside," she replied, gesturing toward the waiting area. "Now, you've got to be more careful with your health. I would rather not panic seeing you lifeless in a boy's arms," she added with a chuckle before returning to her duties at the computer.

With a nod of acknowledgment, you finished the juice, tossed the empty cup into the trash, and made your way out of the nurse's office. Heeseung was sitting in the waiting area, and you couldn't help but wonder why he had taken the time to be there for you. "What are you doing here?" you questioned, genuinely curious.

Heeseung stood up, his eyes meeting yours as he came to your side immediately. "Waiting for you," he responded, slipping a warm hand around your waist. A genuine smile played on his lips as he guided you back, and you felt a rush of butterflies in your stomach. "You didn't need to do that," you insisted softly.

"I wanted to," he replied, the sincerity evident in his gaze. His smile, directed solely at you, held a rare genuineness that made you feel special.

⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

The days rolled on, and a fragile sense of normalcy returned. Heeseung, reassured by the absence of the other Ghostface's threat, let his guard down. The watchful eyes of the police gave a semblance of security to the neighborhood, and you gradually began to resume a routine.

However, the peace you found at home sharply contrasted with the ongoing trials at school. The popular girls, harboring resentment, made your life difficult. Yeowang, reached new lows, and took pleasure in subtle but malicious acts when Heeseung or any of his friends weren't around. She denied her involvement even when confronted, weaving intricate lies with a practiced ease.

⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

You entered your bedroom after a long day when you noticed an unexpected arrangement on your bed. A bouquet of red, white, and blue roses intertwined with each other, creating a harmonious blend of colors, alongside a box of chocolates, awaited your attention. A simple blue wrapping adorned with a pristine white bow encased a mysterious gift.

The floral fragrance filled the air as you lifted the bouquet, appreciating the delicate beauty of each bloom. Satisfied, you set the flowers aside and turned your attention to the box of chocolates. To your delight, it contained your favorite type.

Your curiosity piqued further as you unwrapped the main gift, revealing a sleek black butterfly knife adorned with golden designs. The handles, featured elegant white angel wings. Eager to explore its intricacies, you attempted a playful flick, only to fumble and drop it onto your bed. "Ow!" you exclaimed, shaking off the momentary sting.

Recovering swiftly, you spotted a note at the bottom of the gift. Retrieving it, you read the words inscribed: "For my angel, love Heeseung." A smile played on your lips at the gesture.

Grateful for the unexpected present, you promptly reached for your phone to express your appreciation. "Thank you for the gifts; I loved them. And i will not ask how you got them in," you messaged Heeseung.

Almost instantaneously, his reply arrived, "You're welcome, princess. And don't worry. I will teach you how to use it." His words sparked a conversation that extended into the night. As you exchanged messages, the hour grew late, prompting you to bid Heeseung a good night. "I'm going to bed. Good night, Heeseung," you typed. His response, "Good night, angel. Make sure to lock your windows," came promptly. Following his advice, you secured the windows before settling into bed.

A new message from Heeseung flashed on your screen, simply stating, "Good girl." You gulped, the message sent a subtle thrill down your spine. A peculiar warmth, a delightful tickle, settled in your stomach as you read those two simple words.

You glanced toward the window, half-expecting to find something beyond the glass. The room was dimly lit, shadows playing on the walls, and the soft glow of the moonlight casting a gentle ambiance.

With a hint of curiosity, you studied the windows, half-expecting it to reveal a mysterious figure with a playful presence. The night air outside was still, and the surroundings seemed undisturbed. Yet, the lingering echo of "Good girl" resonated in your mind, creating an air of suspense that you found oddly thrilling.

Taking a deep breath, you shook off the imaginary tension, and changed into comfortable pajamas, sliding under the covers with the butterfly knife on your nightstand. Examining it closely, you noticed the intricately carved initials of your name and Heeseung's on the handles. A quiet gasp escaped your lips. The unexpected yet incredibly thoughtful touch sent a rush of warmth through you, a gentle smile played on your lips as you marveled at the personalized detail. With a satisfied sigh, you carefully placed it back on the nightstand.

The room dimmed as you turned off the lights, and you layed in bed, staring up at the ceiling.

⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

In the unsettling ebb and flow of high school dynamics, the once vibrant halls of the school now seemed shadowed by the undercurrents of hostility. Every step felt like a careful dance to avoid the traps set by the popular girls. Despite Heeseung's protective presence, their relentless efforts to undermine you continued.

On top of that Taehyung's behavior grew increasingly intrusive, his advances becoming more pronounced in class and the halls. His proximity became uncomfortable, and the boundary between friendliness and invasion blurred.

His persistence in getting close to you prompted a growing sense of unease. The lingering feeling of being watched whenever he was nearby compelled you to take measures to avoid him altogether. The hallways became a maze where you strategically maneuvered to sidestep encounters with Taehyung, who seemed determined to bridge a gap that you were intent on widening.

Despite your efforts to dodge him, Taehyung's persistence continued. Another time, in the empty school hallway, he cornered you near the lockers. "You know, you're pretty when you're mad," he commented.

Feeling trapped, you shot him a glare. "Enough, Taehyung. I'm not interested, and your comments are not welcome. Back off."

His giggles echoed as you walked away, determined to distance yourself from hiseerie behavior.

⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

As the days unfolded, you couldn't shake the lingering sense that, despite the calm on the surface, there were storm clouds gathering on the horizon, threatening to disrupt the fragile peace you desperately sought.

The news continued to broadcast the chilling saga of the two Ghostfaces haunting the town. The police, growing more frustrated by the escalating body count, struggled to apprehend the elusive killers. Each new report fueled the anxiety that had settled over the community.

You found yourself caught in the relentless grip of fear once again, the shadow of Ghostfaces looming larger than ever. The unpredictable nature of his attacks had everyone on edge, and you couldn't shake the feeling that the danger was closing in.

Heeseung, on the other hand, was adapting to the heightened scrutiny and frustration of the police. When he wore the Ghostface costume, he became more cautious, stalking his victims for extended periods before making his move. The cat-and-mouse game between him and the authorities intensified, a dangerous dance in the moonlit shadows.

The other Ghostface seemed to be taking a page from Heeseung's book, growing more careful and methodical in his approach. However, unlike Heeseung's relatively clean crime scenes, this Ghostface left behind a gruesome trail of blood. The brutality escalated, leaving a mark that horrified even the most seasoned investigators.

One night, a particularly disturbing message written in blood on a crime scene wall sent shivers down your spine: "For you, Ghostface." The implication was clear, and it left you feeling creeped out. Heeseung, upon seeing this gruesome display, was impressed by the audacity.

But had the other Ghostface not gone after you, Heeseung might have entertained the idea of an unholy alliance, a partnership in chaos. But now, with the line crossed, Heeseung's desire for revenge burned bright. This town, in his eyes, had room for only one killer, and the other Ghostface had just signed his own death warrant.

Friday Night:

In the opulent confines of Yeowang's mansion, a sleepover took place, an event initiated by the absence of Yeowang's parents for the weekend, her closest friends—Hyo-jin, Yoo-mi, Hayeong, and Jiwoo was present. The night started late, as the girls gathered in the spacious living room adorned with lavish furnishings. The girls huddled on the plush sofa, draped in cozy blankets, their laughter echoing against the opulent walls. A large flat-screen TV, mounted like a work of art, illuminated the room, showcasing the latest news broadcast featuring the ongoing Ghostface killings and investigations.

As they bantered and gossiped, Jiwoo, known for her audacious comments, couldn't help but interject with her own peculiar observation. "Ghostface is hot, actually," she declared, earning incredulous looks from the others. Hayeong, ever the voice of reason, promptly dismissed the notion. "Okay first of all, that's a killer. Second, you have a boyfriend, and besides, he's masked! You don't even know how he looks!"

"So? I can see it," Jiwoo retorted, undeterred. Hyo-jin, more observant than the rest, interjected, " There are two Ghostfaces. Which one is hotter?"

The room fell momentarily silent as the girls processed this, their eyes fixated on the TV where two distinct images of the masked killers were displayed. Jiwoo, with her usual nonchalant demeanor, broke the silence. "Oh…both, I guess? I mean, look at them!" she exclaimed, pointing animatedly at the screen.

"You are crazy," Hyo-jin remarked, her voice tinged with disbelief. Unbeknownst to the others, Yeowang found herself oddly conflicted, silently acknowledging Jiwoo's point but reluctant to admit that she, too, felt an inexplicable allure to the enigmatic figures behind the masks.

The mood took a sharp turn when Hayeong, attempting to shift the conversation, brought up your name that immediately ignited Yeowang's fury. "I can't believe that Y/N is the only one who survived both of them," she stated, a heavy silence enveloping the room. Yeowang's reaction was visceral—her anger palpable, manifested by the shattering of a vase against the wall.

"That whore does not deserve it!" Yeowang's scream reverberated through the expansive mansion. "She survived two killers and suddenly got famous! She got Heeseung! It's unfair! What does she have that I don't?!" Yeowang's accusatory glare swept across the room, her friends taken aback by the sudden outburst.

"You are in my house! You will not mention her name!" Yeowang's command echoed, punctuating the room with a tense energy. The other girls, startled and intimidated, nodded in compliance. "Got it, we will not say her name," they meekly replied, an air of discomfort settling over the once lively sleepover.

The night pressed on, and Hayeong, feeling a stifling warmth in the crowded room, decided to excuse herself. She climbed the stairs to the bathroom, her steps a subtle echo against the hushed whispers of her friends below. Her nimble fingers worked silently to ease open the window, allowing fresh air in.

As she called her boyfriend, the cool breeze that wafted in cooled her down, "Kwan, why don't you come over? I'm too bored here, and I miss you," she whispered into the phone, her voice a delicate secret. "I'll be right there, baby," Kwan's voice assured her from the other end before he hung u.

Hayeong emerged from the bathroom and, like a phantom, slipped to the dimly-lit garage. There, waiting in the shadows, was her boyfriend's car.

Closing the garage door behind her, she got into the passenger seat, and the car became a heated session as they made out. "What do you think about ditching and coming over to mine?" Kwan proposed. "Sure, let me just tell the others," Hayeong replied, sealing her fate as she returned to the oblivious gathering in the living room.

She informed her friends of her departure, and Yeowang's dismissive response lingered in the air like an unspoken omen.

Hayeong retrieved her belongings and, with a roll of her eyes, made her way back to the secluded garage.

As she settled into the car, the illusion of safety shattered, she turned to face her boyfriend, only for her face to twist into sheer horror at the sight of his lifeless form. Panic set in, and before she could scream, a gloved hand clamped over her mouth, stifling any sound.

The rearview mirror reflected the ghostly visage of a white mask, and the glint of a knife spelled impending doom. A searing pain erupted in her stomach. The garbled scream of her pain was stifled as the hand tightened its grip, and though she fought against the assailant's grip, her strength waned.

Disoriented and weakened, Hayeong clawed her way out of the car, her hands leaving smears of blood on the cold concrete floor. Ghostface emerged from the backseat, his movements deliberate and silent, carefully closing the car door behind him. The shadows draped him in an impenetrable cloak as he advanced, following the crimson trail left by Hayeong.

With calculated precision, Ghostface struck again, the knife finding its mark in Hayeong's back. Her weak cries echoed in the garage, a desperate plea for mercy. She twisted her body on the ground, lying on her back, staring up at Ghostface, she saw only the impassive mask that hid the face of her killer.

Each breath she took seemed to expel the last vestiges of life, accompanied by the gasping for breath as blood bubbled from her mouth.

Lying on the garage floor, Hayeong's gaze fixed on the unforgiving concrete ceiling. Blood continued to spill, and the last vestiges of life slipped away. Ghostface, unaffected by her suffering, simply stared down at his victim before pocketing the blood-stained knife. Then he dragged Hayeong's lifeless form with him, leaving behind the scene of horror in the quiet garage.

The encompassing darkness welcomed him as he stuffed the corpses in the trunk of the car before leaving the garage to guard its grisly secret, the echoes of Hayeong and her boyfriend's final moments lingering in the air.

⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

The sleepover had transformed into a scene of collective ennui, the girls sprawled across the living room, eyes glued to the blaring horror movie on the screen. The volume was cranked up to its maximum, attempting to infuse some excitement into the lackluster atmosphere. Jiwoo, the embodiment of impatience, couldn't contain her discontent. "I'm bored!" she declared, punctuating her statement with an animated kick of her feet, reminiscent of a spoiled child. Yoo-mi, joining the chorus of dissatisfaction, drawled, "Me toooo," her words elongated in a languid manner. Hyo-jin, the silent participant, simply nodded in agreement.

In the midst of this collective restlessness, Yeowang, always quick with a plan, had an idea to salvage the night. "Why don't I invite Kwangsun and Joonwoo?" she suggested, eyeing an opportunity to inject some life into the gathering. Jiwoo, seizing the chance to involve her boyfriend, Minho, eagerly chimed in, "Oh! Can I invite Minho then?" Yoo-mi, with a hint of skepticism, interjected, "You're just gonna fuck him!" Jiwoo, undeterred, stuck her tongue out at Yoo-mi, and Yeowang, with a roll of her eyes, relented, "Yeah, sure, invite him too."

Overjoyed, Jiwoo leaped to her feet, celebrating the approved invitation. "You mean it??" she questioned, to which Yeowang simply nodded in affirmation. "Yes!" Jiwoo exclaimed, immediately reaching for her phone to call Minho. Concurrently, Yeowang composed messages to Kwangsun and Joonwoo, both of whom promptly confirmed their attendance.

As the clock edged towards 1 AM, signaling the arrival of the anticipated guests, a resonant doorbell rang through the apartment. Hyo-jin, assigned the role of the door opener, took a moment to peek through the peephole, ensuring that it was indeed the boys behind the door.

The door swung open, revealing Kwangsun, Joonwoo, and Minho, boisterous and full of energy. They entered the room with a flourish, bearing beer and loud shouts, injecting a burst of life into the previously lethargic atmosphere. Jiwoo, unable to contain her excitement, screeched Minho's name and leaped into his waiting arms.

The group settled on the couch, drinks in hand, and laughter filling the air. Amidst the lively atmosphere, Hyo-jin rose from her seat with the announcement, "I'm going out for a smoke." She strolled toward the front door, and closing it behind her, leaving the vibrant scene inside.

In the solitary darkness outside, she retrieved a cigarette, her fingers fumbling to find the elusive lighter. "Where is it… I knew I brought it," she mumbled, the soft glow of her phone's torch revealing her determined search. The night air wrapped around her like a shroud as she continued her quest.

A sudden sound shattered the quiet, causing Hyo-jin to startle. Swiftly, she raised her phone, its light piercing the darkness as she scanned her surroundings. "Who's there?" she called out, her voice echoing into the silent night. The beam of her torch revealed a rogue cat, its eyes glinting in the light. "Oh, it's just you," she muttered, attempting to coax the feline closer. However, the cat, seemingly spooked, scurried away from her. "Alright, fuck you then," Hyo-jin grumbled, standing up in mild annoyance.

Unbeknownst to her, Ghostface materialized in the shadows behind her, his ominous figure concealed by the night, as he approached silently. In one fluid motion, he drew a knife, it`s blade gleaming ominously. Without a sound, he effortlessly slit Hyo-jin's throat, a crimson river staining the quiet night.

Hyo-jin's eyes widened in an involuntary response to the sudden, searing pain. The cigarette that once dangled between her lips fell with a gentle thud to the cold ground.

Her body, suspended in that surreal moment between life and death, crumpled forward.

Ghostface stood over his lifeless victim, a silent spectator to the masterpiece he had orchestrated. The night seemed to hold its breath as he lingered momentarily, the mask concealing any hint of emotion. The cool breeze whispered through the darkness, indifferent to the gruesome scene playing out beneath its veil.

With an eerie calmness, Ghostface began his next calculated move. He crouched beside Hyo-jin's motionless body, drawing her into the shadows with a predatory grace. The crimson trail she left behind became a haunting testament to the brutality that had transpired in that quiet space.

⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

The living room buzzed with the flickering glow of the TV as the horror movie unfolded its spine-chilling narrative. The remaining group sat together, the pale glow casting shadows across their faces.

As the credits rolled, someone in the group suggested putting on another horror movie. The group agreed, and the atmosphere in the room became tense once again. Just then, Jiwoo suddenly stood up, pulling Minho with her, and declared, "We are so tired, so we'll go to bed." With that, they vanished upstairs, the closing door shutting out any response from the rest of the group.

Yeowang, an observer of the unfolding events, watched Jiwoo and Minho saunter upstairs with an air of disapproval. Rolling her eyes, she leaned toward Yoo-mi, lips curling into a disdainful whisper. "What a slut," Yeowang hissed, and Yoo-mi, ever the loyal companion, nodded in agreement, their suppressed laughter mingling in the dimly lit room. The two continued their hushed commentary, exchanging snickers as they reveled in the judgment they cast.

Unbeknownst to the gossiping duo, a silent figure lingered outside the window, casting a dark shadow against the night. The clandestine observer vanished into the depths of the night as Jiwoo and Minho disappeared behind the bedroom door, leaving no trace of their presence.

In the intimate confines of the bedroom, Jiwoo and Minho layed in post bliss. Jiwoo giggled playfully, her eyes sparkling as she looked at Minho, who stretched and reluctantly got out of bed, pulling on a pair of pants. "Stayyy," Jiwoo pouted, her words laced with a playful plea. "Sorry, babe, gotta pop in the bathroom. I'll be right back," Minho assured her as he strolled out of the room.

Little did he know, the window, left ajar by Hayeong, served as an ominous entry point for the lurking Ghostface. As Minho locked the bathroom door, he remained oblivious to the impending danger. It was only when he glimpsed Ghostface's reflection in the mirror that realization struck, and a gasp escaped his lips, as he turned around to face his assailant.

Reacting swiftly, Ghostface threw a throwing knife with precision, embedding it in Minho's shoulder. His attempts to scream stifled by a punch to the face from the masked assailant. "Shit!" Minho exclaimed as he pushed Ghostface away, slamming the murderer against the wall.

Undeterred, Ghostface deftly retrieved the lodged knife from Minho's shoulder, brandishing it menacingly. In a swift, brutal motion, he thrust the blade into Minho's stomach, eliciting a guttural groan of pain. Minho staggered backward, only to trip over a bathroom stool.

He fell backward into the bathtub, the impact echoing through the small room. His head struck the surface, and the room filled with the sickening sound of the collision. Minho's eyes remained open, glossy and lifeless, as his blood pooled in the tub.

Ghostface, having completed his gruesome work in the bathroom, meticulously exited the confined space. Adjusting his cloak and straightening his posture, he entered the bedroom where Jiwoo lay peacefully unaware. A sinister silhouette against the dimly lit room, he stood over her, his chilling presence casting a shadow.

Lifting his arms, Ghostface brandished his knife, a glint of malice in his eyes. With a swift, deliberate motion, he plunged the blade into Jiwoo's stomach. A startled cry escaped her lips as she awoke to the nightmare before her. Desperation filled her as she attempted to retaliate, futile punches met by Ghostface's vice-like grip. The relentless onslaught continued, the repeated stabbings painting the once serene room in the stark hues of violence.

Leaving Jiwoo to bleed out on the bed, Ghostface, retraced his steps through the bathroom window, vanishing into the nocturnal abyss.

Meanwhile downsatirs, Yoo-mi, feeling a growing unease, ventured outside through the front door to check on Hyo-jin. Upon her return, she delivered the unsettling news, "Hey, Hyo-jin isn't outside anymore." Yeowang, quick to assume the worst, spat, "The bitch probably left us, again." Yoo-mi, concerned, muttered, "I don't know, she wouldn't leave like this."

Yeowang's sharp response echoed, "Did you just talk back to me?" Yoo-mi, intimidated but determined, defended herself, "No! No! It's just... I'm worried, you know?" Reluctantly, Yeowang conceded, "Ugh, fine," and turned her attention to the boys, "Why don't you two go out and find her?" Kwangsun, defensive, questioned, "Why us?" Yeowang, dismissive, replied, "Because you two are available, and it's cold. Now, go." With a wave of her hand, she refocused on the horror movie.

Joonwo and Kwangsun reluctantly complied, with Joonwo suggesting a strategy "You go through the backdoor, I'll go through the front door, and we'll meet in the middle." As Joonwo exited the front door, Kwangsun took the backdoor route.

In the living room, Yoo-mi sought reassurance, "You think they'll be okay?" Yeowang, unfazed, assured her, "Yeah, they'll be fine."

Meanwhile, Kwangsun navigated the darkness alone, squinting to discern any signs of Hyo-jin or Joonwo. The quietude was only interrupted by the gentle whooshing of the wind past his ear. As he scanned the sky, the moon was obscured by clouds, plunging him into deeper obscurity. Unbeknownst to him, a figure trailed silently behind him. Suddenly, a searing pain tore through Kwangsun's back, and he crumpled to the ground, the merciless kick from Ghostface intensifying his agony.

As Kwangsun prepared to scream, the moon emerged from behind the clouds, revealing the lifeless form of Joonwo sprawled in front of him. Before he could react, his hair was violently yanked back, and Ghostface swiftly slit his throat, extinguishing his life.

Ghostface, rose from his crouched position, before he reached into the folds of his cloak and retrieved a phone.

As the flash erupted, momentarily piercing the darkness, Ghostface captured the haunting image of death.

However, as swiftly as the moon had revealed the morbid scene, it withdrew behind the obscuring clouds once more. The sudden darkness provided Ghostface with the perfect cover, concealing his presence as he dragged the lifeless bodies. The muted sounds of his sinister task blended with the night, and Ghostface seamlessly disappeared into the shadows.

⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

The night hung heavy with an unsettling stillness as Yoo-mi gazed into the darkness. Her voice cut through the silence, nervous with an escalating worry, "Okay, they haven't returned. Is this the time to panic?" Yeowang, seemingly unresponsive, rose from her seat and ascended the stairs with an air of determination. "Wait!" Yoo-mi pleaded, chasing after her.

In the dimly lit corridor, Yeowang halted outside the bedroom where Jiwoo and Minho had sought refuge. She knocked on the door only to be met with an silence from within. When no response came, Yeowang's hand hesitated for a moment before pushing the door ajar. What lay beyond would etch terror into their memories.

A gut-wrenching scream erupted from Yoo-mi as the door swung open, revealing the grotesque scene within. Jiwoo's lifeless body lay sprawled across the bed, a canvas of horror painted in blood and mangled flesh. Yoo-mi staggered backward causing her to open the bathroom door, her horrified gaze shifted to the now open bathroom. There, in the unforgiving cold of the bathtub, Minho's lifeless form met her gaze. Another scream tore through the air as the grim reality of their situation became undeniable.

Distraught and overwhelmed, Yoo-mi fled down the stairs, tripping on the steps, she stumbled into the chilling embrace of the living room, her anguished cries reverberating through the desolate space.

Meanwhile, Yeowang stood frozen in the upstairs corridor, the haunting images seared into her mind. A desperate determination seized her as she rushed to her room. There, amidst the remnants of her past, she found solace in a forgotten relic—a baton adorned with hues of pink and purple, a nostalgic reminder of her gymnastics days.

Haunted by the scene she witnessed, Yeowang clutched the baton tightly, her knuckles turning white.

As she descended the staircase, a sickening scene unfolded before her eyes. Joonwo's lifeless form lay sprawled on the couch, his vacant eyes reflecting the cruel finality that had befallen him. Yoo-mi, a pitiful body on the ground, cried out in agony as blood pooled beneath her. Ghostface, loomed over her with a foot pressing her down. His attention, however, pivoted towards Yeowang, his gaze fixated on her as he swiped the blood of his knife with unnerving efficiency, his chilling laughter permeating the air.

"Welcome to the party," his voice, distorted by the chilling voice changer, sent shivers down Yeowang's spine. Desperation seized her as she clutched the baton, like an inadequate shield.

"I saved you for last," Ghostface declared with a voice distorted, before he picked up Yoo-mi only to throw her against the wall, rendering her unconscious, before turning his relentless advance towards Yeowang.

Terror gripped her as she sprinted upstairs, reaching her bedroom, she fumbled to lock the door, her trembling hands betraying the fear that gripped her. In her bedroom, she fumbled for her salvation—her phone. Panic surged through her when she realized it lay downstairs on the living room table.

A sudden shock reverberated through the door as Ghostface relentlessly sought entry. "Open the door, Yeowang," his command sliced through the air, each word dripping with sadistic pleasure.

"No!" she screamed defiantly, her trembling hands fumbling with the window latch. With a surge of courage, she swung it open, revealing a daunting drop to the pool below, a shimmering oasis in the moonlit night.

The door continued to quiver under Ghostface's relentless assault, his ominous presence closing in.

The relentless assault on the door suddenly ceased, leaving Yeowang suspended in silence. Suspicion flickered in her eyes as she cast a wary glance toward the once-quaking barrier.

Suddenly, an axe splintered through the door, hacking it down with brutal force. Yeowang's scream echoed through the room as glimpses of the menacing white mask emerged. Ghostface stared intently, his gloved hand reaching to unlock the door. Just as Yeowang prepared to leap to safety, Ghostface unleashed a primal shout, hurling a dagger that found its mark in her shoulder. The searing pain sent her crashing down, the baton slipping from her grasp.

Ghostface, a looming specter, closed in. His knife poised for the final strike, but in a desperate bid, Yeowang seized her baton, swinging it towards his masked visage. With lightning reflexes, Ghostface raised his arm, blocking the blow. The precious seconds gained allowed Yeowang to scramble to her feet, sprinting towards the window. In a daring escape, she leaped into the pool below, the cold water offering a brief respite from the nightmare.

Emerging from the water, shivering and wounded, Yeowang glanced back at the window. Ghostface was momentarily absent. Swiftly, she extracted the knife embedded in her shoulder, a cry of pain escaping her lips. With determined urgency, she clambered out of the pool, crimson tendrils diffusing into the water around her.

Fearing the masked assailant might still be lurking, Yeowang cast a desperate gaze through the window into the living room. Joonwoo's lifeless form lay undisturbed, but Yoo-mi, injured and resilient, struggled to move. Yeowang recoiled, her attention caught by the absence of the phones on the table. Panic clawed at her as she began to navigate the house, a mixture of dread and sorrow swirling within.

As she approached the front, a hidden horror awaited her. Tripping over an unseen obstacle, Yeowang tumbled to the ground. A gut-wrenching sight unfolded as she discovered the lifeless bodies of Hyo-jin and Kwangsun concealed in the bushes. Tears blurred her vision as she sprinted away, abandoning the knife in her haste.

But the escape was short-lived. Charging down the porch, Yeowang's foot snagged on something, and she plummeted forward, her head colliding with the unforgiving ground, as darkness enveloped her consciousness.

⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

Yeowang's eyes flickered open, and a wave of disorientation washed over her as she attempted to move, only to discover the cruel reality of her situation – she was bound, trapped in the confines of her own bedroom. The haunting scene unfolded before her eyes, her friends' lifeless bodies strewn about, including Yoo-mi, who now lay still and unresponsive.

"Help! Someone! Please!" she pleaded, her desperate cries echoing in the silence. A chair creaked, drawing her attention to the shadowy figure sitting in the corner, and as her eyes adjusted, she spotted Ghostface seated in a shadowy corner. "No one is coming to save you," he declared with a cold certainty.

Desperation clawed at Yeowang's throat, and she screamed for help, her pleas echoing through the chilling silence.

"Stop screaming," Ghostface intoned, his figure slowly rising from the chair. The voice changer distorted his response, rendering it menacing and cold.

Tethered and vulnerable, she tried to appeal to the masked figure, a last-ditch effort to elicit mercy.

"Aw, that's cute. You're begging for your life," Ghostface remarked, rising from the chair with deliberate slowness. He approached Yeowang, advancing toward her with predatory intent, and crouched down, his white mask mere inches from her terror-stricken face. He scrutinized her with a sinister curiosity, reveling in the vulnerability of his captive.

"Why did you even come? I'm innocent!" Yeowang protested, her voice carrying a hint of defiance. However, Ghostface erupted in a sudden burst of anger, his distorted voice reflecting the glitched fury within him. "Innocent!?" he bellowed, standing back up and brandishing a gleaming knife. The blade pointed menacingly at Yeowang, his accusation hung heavily in the air. "You are, in fact, not innocent. You hurt what was precious to me. Your friends paid for it, and now it's your turn."

"What was precious?... Oh, you mean Y/N?!" she exclaimed, connecting the dots. Ghostface remained stoic, only intensifying the aura of menace. In a tense exchange, "Listen! It was just for fun! Just a game you kow?" Yeowang attempted to justify her actions, only to be met with Ghostface's stoic silence.

The truth, a bitter pill, surfaced—Ghostface's obsession with Y/n, was a possessive love that bordered on madness.

"Why do you even care? Didn't you try and kill her at first?" Yeowang spat, her defiance resurfacing. A hesitancy lingered in the room as she dared to pose a crucial question. "You are the first Ghostface, aren't you?" Ghostface nodded affirmatively, acknowledging his origin. "I am the first... and I care because she's mine. I own Y/N, and she owns my heart and soul. I would do anything to keep her happy," he declared, a rare glimpse into the twisted motivation that fueled his actions.

With an ominous deliberateness, Ghostface removed the clasps securing his mask, revealing the face beneath. A shockwave of horror coursed through Yeowang as recognition set in. "Heeseung?!" she screeched, attempting to recoil from the revelation. "It's been you this entire time!? But why?" she demanded, her voice a desperate plea for answers.

"You've watched enough horror movies, Yeowang, to know there's always motives. Mine is just personal," Heeseung uttered, his voice devoid of remorse.

With an almost mechanical precision, Heeseung adorned the Ghostface mask once again. The chilling transformation marked the end of any semblance of humanity, like a switch flipped between the person behind the mask and the ruthless harbinger of terror. The room became a theater of agony as Ghostface thrust the knife into Yeowang's chest, cruelly twisting it for maximum torment before extracting it with a grisly finality. Yeowang's agonized screams pierced the air, echoing in the chamber of death. Desperation gripped her as she struggled to draw breath, yet the encroaching numbness signaled the approach of death.

"Party's over," Ghostface declared. The last flicker of Yeowang's life bore witness to the white mask, as she accepted death.

In the aftermath, Ghostface lingered, a silent witness to the massacre of death he had orchestrated. With a swift, practiced motion, he swiped his knife, cleansing the blood before he departed the room with a purposeful stride, descending into the shadows.

Leaving the house behind, Ghostface embarked on a solitary journey into the night.

⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

As you sat on the couch, playing with your brother by your side, the tranquility of the day was shattered by the intrusive news spreading like wildfire throughout the city. The television broadcasted the shocking report, detailing the gruesome massacre that had occurred during the sleepover.

The once-grand mansion was now a crime scene, adorned with police tape that crisscrossed the entire property, and law enforcement vehicles surrounded the premises. Your eyes were fixed on the television screen, shock etched across your face as the news reporter stood in front of the crime scene.

"We have received reports that the victims have been identified as Kang Hyo-jin, Shin Jiwoo, Kang Minho, Bong Kwangsun, Kim Junwoo, Choi Hayeong, Park Yoo-mi, Jung Kwan, and Jeon Yeowang," the reporter solemnly announced, the weight of each name resonating in the air. The police inspector, Do-shik, stood by her side, his weary expression a testament to the magnitude of the tragedy.

"We have reason to believe that this is the work of our first Ghostface, by the pattern he executed in this mindless slaughter," Do-shik disclosed, his words sending a chill down your spine. The news reporter pressed for answers about the actions being taken for the grieving families, and Do-shik, burdened by the responsibility, assured justice and respect for the victims.

As the conversation continued, the realization that Heeseung, had committed these heinous acts sank in. The numbness enveloped you, making it difficult to comprehend the gravity of the situation. You couldn't fathom how he managed to execute such a massacre in a single night without being apprehended.

"Y/N?" Your brother's voice broke through your reverie, and you felt the physical sensation of being shaken. "Wha-?" you mumbled, your mind struggling to process the information. "Are you okay? You didn't answer me," he inquired, concern etched on his face. "Yeah, yeah. I'm okay," you responded.

"I need to get some air," you declared, rising from the couch and leaving the house without uttering another word. The weight of the revelations pressed down on you as you stepped into the open air.

The streets stretched before you as you navigated through the town, each step resonating with the echo of your conflicted emotions. Eventually the sunlight began to wane, casting long shadows across the pavement, and the familiar sights of the town started to transform under the softening hues of dusk.

As you meandered through the streets, you found yourself drawn to a nearby park. The familiar landscape offered a temporary refuge, and you made a spontaneous decision to linger. You gravitated towards a swing set, the rhythmic creaking accompanying the subtle sounds of nature.

Time seemed to blur as you swung back and forth, the gentle breeze carrying whispers of the day.

As the day transitioned into evening, you checked your phone to find it was already 8PM. A notification from your mom appeared, a reminder that cut through the quiet of the moment. She requested you to stop by the grocery store if you had time. The responsibility tugged at your thoughts, and you agreed to her request, assuring her that you would take care of the groceries.

Leaving the swing set behind, you walked away from the park, your surroundings bathed in the amber glow of streetlights beginning to flicker to life. The town retained a semblance of activity; a few people strolled on the sidewalks, and cars passed by intermittently.

Deep in contemplation, you traversed the familiar routes until, almost unconsciously, your steps led you to Heeseung's house in the outskirts of town. Heeseung, an adult living alone, bore the scars of a fractured family, his mother absent, and his father, a figure you suspected was better off beneath the earth.

His residence, an isolated abode, stood silent against the backdrop of the night. You knocked, and the hush persisted for a moment, fostering the fleeting notion that perhaps he wasn't home. Just as the doubt crept in, the shuffling of feet reached your ears, and the door swung open to reveal Heeseung. The dampness in his hair suggested a recent shower, and the grin on his face faded into a look of surprise when he noticed your serious expression.

"Angel," he greeted, the warmth in his voice attempting to breach the solemn atmosphere. "Can we talk?" you asked, your tone cutting through the casual air. Heeseung's surprise deepened, and he nodded, inviting you in. The door closed behind you, shutting out the outside world, and you were met with the soft patter of paws reaching your ears, and you saw Dongsik, Heeseung's cat, racing towards you. You knelt down, lifting the feline into your arms.

Settling in the living room, you cradled Dongsik in your lap, stroking his fur. The weight of the conversation hung in the air as you mustered the courage to address the chilling reality. "Heeseung… I saw the news," you began, your voice steady.

"You did not need to kill them," you asserted, hoping for a flicker of remorse in Heeseung's gaze. However, his eyes bore no trace of regret. "They deserved it. They hurt you, and I hurt them back," he stated, his nonchalant demeanor sending a chill down your spine.

Rising from his seated position, Heeseung advanced towards you, his movements fluid yet purposeful. As he closed the distance, his hand gently cradled your chin, tilting your head upward. The touch was possessive, his fingers warm against your skin, yet there was an underlying intensity that betrayed the dark determination within him.

In that moment, his eyes, once familiar and comforting, now held a darker, inscrutable depth.

"I made them regret every breathing the same air as you," he murmured, the words laden with a sinister satisfaction. His voice, usually a source of reassurance, now carried an unsettling edge. His gaze traced a path across your face, studying each contour as if searching for a reaction.

Caught in the intensity of his gaze, you couldn't help but gulp, the sound echoing in the charged silence. His eyes, fixated on your lips, followed the subtle movement as your tongue moistened them.

But you couldn't let the gravity of his actions escape scrutiny. Stepping back, you placed Dongsik on the ground and distanced yourself. "I do not want you to proceed with this," you implored, your voice tinged with urgency. "What if you get caught? Have you ever thought about that?" you questioned, your concern etched on your face. Heeseung, however, dismissed your fears with unwavering confidence. "I won't get caught. Trust me. I'm careful."

The proximity of his hands, once stained with the blood of others, triggered a sense of unease. "No, Heeseung, I can't do this now," you declared, your voice faltering. "I can't continue doing this."

"What?" Heeseung asked, his surprise mirroring the gravity of your words. "This, whatever we have? This? It's over!" you cried out, your emotions spilling over. Heeseung's gaze narrowed, the intensity of his feelings clashing with the sudden turn of events. "Angel, you can't—" he began, but you cut him off.

"You won't let me break up, but I can't bear you killing people!" you exclaimed, your words echoing in the room. The reality of grieving families planning funerals weighed heavily on your conscience. "You have let out a curse on this town, and for what? What is your motive, Heeseung? Why do you murder?" you demanded, your frustration boiling over.

"It's none of your business!" Heeseung retorted, his defensive stance highlighting the growing tension. "So you don't trust me? Is that it?" you questioned, the hurt evident in your eyes. "No, that's not it, baby, please," Heeseung pleaded, attempting to reach for you. However, you recoiled, creating a physical and emotional distance. "No, that's exactly what it is, isn't it? How can I trust you when you don't even trust me?" you articulated.

"A murderer kills because they are crazy, right? How do I know that you won`t kill me eventually?" you posed the unnerving question, the gravity of the situation casting a shadow over the room. "Yeah, this is all a game for you, isn't it? Trick me, then hurt me, and finish me off, right?" A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you clutched your hair in frustration.

"God, I wish you had just killed me!" you shouted, the anguish and frustration consuming you. With those words hanging in the air, you ran out the door, tears streaming down your face. "Y/N!" Heeseung shouted, attempting to chase after you. The rush of adrenaline urged you forward as you sprinted towards the more populated downtown, seeking solace in the anonymity of the bustling streets.

The relentless torrent of tears blurred your vision as you ran, the world a distorted mosaic of shadows and hazy streetlights. The weight on your chest felt unbearable, forcing you to gasp for breath as you sought refuge. The grocery store loomed ahead, a dimly lit sanctuary promising a momentary escape from the turmoil.

Leaning against the cool exterior wall of the store, you heaved deep breaths, each inhalation a struggle against the emotional storm that raged within. You swiped away your tears before you walked into the store. The door swung open with a hushed chime as you entered

The interior of the store appeared almost deserted, bathed in the artificial glow of overhead lights. A half-sleeping cashier lethargically manned the register, and an employee, lost in their cleaning duties, contributed to the quiet. Only two other customers wandered the aisles, their presence barely registering in the dim atmosphere.

With the basket in hand, you moved with a mechanical precision, guided by the monotony of your music. The list from your mother directed your movements as you navigated the aisles, the rhythmic beat in your ears providing a temporary respite from the emotional whirlwind.

Little did you anticipate the impending descent into chaos. The automatic doors whispered open, and a tall figure draped in a cloak stepped inside, an aura of malevolence accompanying their entrance.

The scene unfolded with chilling swiftness. Ghostface, concealed in the ominous cloak, advanced towards the unsuspecting cashier. A gloved hand silenced desperate cries before a blade flashed, cutting through the silence and life alike. The shotgun followed suit, the explosive sound resonating through the hushed aisles as it claimed another victim.

The sudden violence ruptured the fragile tranquility, and you instinctively tore out your earbuds, alert to the nightmare unfolding around you. Panicking, you instinctively sought cover behind a freezer, heart pounding as the screams reverberated through the aisles.

Silence settled, broken only by the haunting voice that emerged. "I know you are here, Y/N. Why don't you come out and make this much easier for us both and give yourself up now?" it intoned, a cruel invitation to surrender. Determined, you pulled up your pant leg, revealing the butterfly knife Heeseung had insisted you learn to use. The blade swished open, and you crouched in the shadows.

Ghostface continued his monologue, preaching a distorted sense of purpose. You, however, were focused on survival. Moving stealthily between the aisles, you checked your phone's camera at every turn, ensuring your unseen adversary was still out of sight.

Crawling on the ground, disregarding its grime, you moved with a mix of fear and determination.

Ghostface's taunts echoed, filled with promises of a twisted sense of justice. Moving with a catlike grace, you listened intently for any sign of Ghostface. Their voice droned on, but you paid it little attention, your focus locked on survival.

The aisles of the grocery store bore witness to a gruesome scene of tragedy as you stumbled upon the lifeless bodies of the employee and another customer. Their corpses layed, eyes frozen wide in terror, faces eternally contorted in the agony of their final moments. The metallic scent of blood hung heavy in the air, and you couldn't help but draw a shaky breath as you crawled towards the fallen employee.

Carefully, you approached the employee's still form, with a delicate touch, you reached for the keys hanging from their belt. The metallic jingle seemed deafening in the heavy silence that enveloped the gruesome scene.

As you retreated to a safer spot and peered around the corner, your eyes widened. Ghostface, stood amidst the aisles, holding the shotgun with an unsettling ease. His dark cloak billowed as he surveyed the surroundings, the mask betraying no emotions.

"Y/n!" he bellowed, the deep voice echoing through the desolate store. You remained still, concealed in the shadows, refusing to yield to his demands. "This isn't funny anymore. Come out... face me, you-you bitch!" he shouted, his frustration palpable.

His tone softened suddenly, an unexpected vulnerability seeping into his words. "I need you, Y/n. I need you here," he mumbled to himself, pacing away. A perplexed expression crossed your face as you watched him retreat, his erratic behavior leaving you both bewildered and cautious.

Seizing the opportune moment, you silently made your move. Crawling towards the backdoor, you clutched the stolen keys tightly, ensuring they made no sound. Ghostface's sporadic mutterings echoed through the store as he grew more agitated.

Reaching the backdoor, you fumbled through the keys, testing each one until the lock clicked open. The metallic sound felt deafening in the oppressive quiet. As the door unlocked, you grabbed the handle, ready to make a swift exit.

"There you are!"

Your heart pounded as you turned, eyes meeting the menacing figure standing just beyond the threshold. His shotgun aimed at you, you scrambled inside, slamming the door shut. The resounding gunshot echoed in your ears, a chilling reminder of how narrowly you had evaded death.

You wasted no time locking the door, the thump on the other side signaling Ghostface's frustration. The adrenaline surged through your veins as you retreated, navigating the labyrinthine storage room with urgency. The persistent echo of Ghostface's threats spurred you forward, each step a calculated move toward survival in this ghastly game of cat and mouse.

As you sprinted through the labyrinthine storage room of the store, the dim emergency exit sign beckoned you towards safety. Fingers trembling, you pushed the door open and burst into the cool night air. Panic set in as you dialed the police, the desperate plea in your voice cutting through the darkness.

"Miss, what can i help you with," the calm voice on the other end asked. " He's chasing after me! Ghostface is here! " you retorted, the terror resonating in your words. "All units are tracking your positions!" the voice replied.

A gunshot cracked through the air, and you glanced back to witness Ghostface, relentless and determined, hot on your heels. His ominous presence fueled your fear, propelling you forward in a desperate bid for survival.

In a moment of terror, Ghostface lunged at you, the force of his leap toppling you to the unforgiving ground. Your phone and knife clattered away, but with a surge of adrenaline, you rolled out of his grasp, swift and agile. Retrieving your knife, you abandoned your phone, the urgency of escape outweighing the need for communication.

The pursuit continued through the dimly lit streets, your breaths ragged and the cityscape blurring as you pushed your body to its limits. I will get you! You little bitch! You can't run from me, Y/n!"

The burn in your lungs and the relentless pounding of your heart fueled your determination to get away from the masked killer.

Vaulting over a fence, you cast a desperate glance over your shoulder. Ghostface closed in, his knife glinting ominously. With a swift maneuver, you veered to the left, finding refuge behind a hedge. The element of surprise played in your favor as you lunged at Ghostface, the blade of your knife finding its mark.

He howled in pain, an unexpected turn of events that left him wounded and disoriented. However, before you could savor your fleeting victory, Ghostface retaliated. Gripping you around the waist, he flung you to the ground, the impact stealing the air from your lungs.

Yet, salvation was imminent. By now, the lights in the surrounding houses flickered to life, and the distant wail of police sirens grew louder. Ghostface, now wounded and vulnerable, weighed his options. "Shit!" he exclaimed, his gaze darting between you and the encroaching law enforcement.

In a desperate bid to escape the imminent capture, Ghostface vanished into the shadows, leaving behind a wake of horrified onlookers. The chilling cries of "It's Ghostface!" and "It's the killer!" echoed through the neighborhood as the police closed in.

As you stood amidst the chaos, gasping for breath, it was in this disoriented state that you realized your knife, the very tool Heeseung had gifted you, was nowhere to be found. Panic and frustration intertwined as your eyes darted around the vicinity, searching for the glint of metal against the darkened pavement. But it was futile – the blade had vanished.

Then, the revelation hit you like a sudden gust of cold wind. A twisted sense of irony settled in as you connected the dots. Your knife, now lay embedded in the very source of the terror that had haunted your dreams.

A wry, bitter chuckle escaped your lips as you contemplated the absurdity of the situation. There goes Heeseung's gift, now an unwitting participant in the dark legacy of Ghostface that he had created. How ironic, you thought.

As the police surrounded you, you could only ponder the inexplicable twists of fate that had led you to this moment. "Why is it always me?" echoed in your thoughts. You were then ushered home, where your disheveled mother and worried brother awaited.

⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

After a week's absence, you returned to school, hoping for a semblance of normalcy. However, the moment you stepped onto the crowded campus, it felt like a tidal wave of students engulfed you. The sea of faces, voices clamoring over one another, and the proximity of people made panic grip your heart. The air felt thick, and you struggled to breathe as your vision blurred, overwhelmed by the chaotic environment.

With each step, the suffocating feeling intensified. It seemed like there was no escape, and you closed your eyes, attempting to shut out the sensory overload. The world was too loud, too close, and you pressed your hands to your ears in a desperate attempt to block it all out.

And then, a sudden quiet descended.

Opening your eyes, you found yourself facing someone's back. A familiar voice cut through the silence, "Back it up! Back it up! Give her some space! Ever heard of personal space?" It was Jungwon and Ni-ki, chasing away the dispersing crowd. Sunghoon stood by your side, his concern evident. The other boys formed a protective shield around you, except for Heeseung.

"Are you okay, Y/N?" Sunghoon asked, worry etched on his face. "Yeah… yeah, I'm okay," you replied, glancing at the boys with gratitude.

"Thank you, guys," you whispered.

"You're welcome, Y/N. People really have no respect," Jay remarked.

"Come on," Jake suggested, extending his hand toward you. You took it, feeling a sense of security as they flanked you, walking together towards your class. You noticed how others instinctively kept their distance.

Curiosity crept in, and you couldn't help but ask, "Why is everyone like this?" Their hesitation was palpable.

"What?" you pressed. "Well… how do I say this, Y/N... The video footage of the store was kinda leaked, so everyone saw how you survived," Sunoo explained reluctantly.

Shocked, you hadn't been on social media during your absence. Your mother had been vigilant, keeping you and your brother under close watch, and your lost phone remained unretrieved from the chaotic events. "Can I see?" you inquired.

They exchanged glances before Ni-ki stepped forward, tapping on his phone and showing you the video. Watching the footage from entering the store to seeking refuge in the storage room, you handed Ni-ki his phone back, muttering a soft "Wow."

As they asked about your well-being, you couldn't muster a definitive answer. "I don't know… I think I want to be alone now," you admitted, walking the rest of the way to class in solitude, grappling with the sudden spotlight on your survival.

⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

The school day unfolded as a mix of emotions and overwhelming attention. Everywhere you went, students sought your company, asking questions, expressing concern, or simply wanting to be associated with the survivor of the store incident. While the incessant attention was draining, you couldn't deny the relief of not constantly glancing over your shoulder, anticipating Yeowang's presence or the sting of hurtful comments from her followers. Heeseung's drastic actions had severed those ties, but the weight of the consequences lingered in the air.

Lunchtime offered a temporary escape, and amid the bustling cafeteria, you found a moment to inquire about Heeseung's absence. Turning to Jay, who was seated beside you, you popped the question that had been lingering in your mind. "Where's Heeseung?" you asked, genuinely curious. Jay, pausing from his meal, looked at you with a quizzical expression. "Heeseung? He's sick," he answered matter-of-factly. Your eyes widened in surprise. "You didn't know?" Jay questioned again. "Oh, no, I didn't," you replied, processing the unexpected information. "Well, maybe he forgot to tell you. He asked us to watch over you when you returned," Jay added before returning his attention to his food.

The revelation about Heeseung's sickness left you with a mix of emotions. You hadn't anticipated this news, and a sense of unease settled over you. The boys, it seemed, were keeping a close eye on you at Heeseung's behest.

Upon arriving home, your mother greeted you, "There you are! Here, honey," she exclaimed, holding out a familiar object in her hands. Your eyes widened with delight as she handed you your long-lost phone. "You found it!" you exclaimed, the joy evident in your voice as you accepted the device.

"Yes, I did. Sorry, it took so long," your mom apologized, her tone tinged with relief. "It's okay, Mom," you reassured her, appreciating her effort to recover your belongings. With a grateful smile, you declared your intention to retreat to your room. "I'm going to my room," you announced, "Okay, honey," your mom responded, her attention already shifting to the kitchen.

Retreating to your room, you plugged the phone into the charger, watching as the screen came to life. The device was flooded with notifications, but among them, Heeseung's attempts to reach you stood out. Eighty-eight missed calls and 113 unread messages painted a vivid picture of his persistence. However, you decided against delving into the messages. The idea of conversing with him felt overwhelming, and you needed time to process everything.

The remainder of the day became a sanctuary of solitude, spent either in your room or with your brother. As night fell, you found yourself alone in your bed, the familiar struggle to sleep resurfaced. Glancing at the watch, the harsh glow of the screen revealed the lateness of the hour — nearing 2:30 AM. With a heavy sigh, you turned your gaze back to the ceiling, the weight of memories threatened to pull you into a realm you desperately wished to forget. The scene replayed in your mind, a vivid flashback to a moment etched in pain and humiliation.

Flashback:

The air was thick with tension as you found yourself behind the school, isolated and vulnerable, devoid of Heeseung's protective presence. The silence that enveloped the secluded spot was soon shattered by the cruel laughter of those who reveled in your vulnerability.

In the grim backstage of the school building, Yeowang and her lackeys emerged like shadows, their intentions clear. The boyfriend of one of the girls seized you, his grip unyielding, rendering any attempts at escape futile.

One of the girls held your bag hostage, a sinister grin etched on her face as she poured a smoothie into its depths, saturating your belongings. The cold liquid seeped through your bag, a metaphor for the cold disdain they harbored.

Yeowang, the puppeteer orchestrating the torment, reveled in her power, her words laced with venom. "You really are a pathetic bitch, you know that?" Yeowang's voice dripped with disdain, a venomous taunt that sought to corrode your spirit. "Can't even go a day without your bodyguards.

Silence was your armor, a refusal to grant them the satisfaction of seeing you crumble. "I run this school! You hear me? Everyone wants me! Everyone answers to me!" Yeowang declared, her voice rising to a crescendo of arrogance.

Hateful glares were exchanged, and then, the resounding slap — a manifestation of her simmering rage.

A bitter glare was your only retort. "Well, you're doing a shit job at having everyone wanting you," you shot back, the words slicing through the tension like a knife. The impending storm erupted as Yeowang, seething with rage, prepared for another strike.

Refusing to succumb, you summoned strength from a reservoir of resilience. A swift punch to the guy's shin, a headbutt to his nose, and you were free. "Fuck! The bitch hit me in the motherfucking nose!" the boyfriend cried out, releasing his grip in pain. Seizing the opportunity, you launched yourself at Yeowang, a tempest of fists raining down on her.

The tables turned as you unleashed a torrent of punches on Yeowang, the once-confident bully now a target of your retribution.

Blood painted the scene as your fists found their mark, the visceral satisfaction of justice propelling each blow. The other girls, attempting to intervene, were met with your unrelenting force. Yeowang's hair became a makeshift handle as you screamed into her face, asserting your defiance. "Who`s the pathethic fucking bitch now?!" you declared, punctuating the statement with a final blow. As she staggered to her feet, blood-stained and defeated, her parting words echoed in the night air — "This isn't over!"

Breathing heavily, you watched them retreat into the darkness, a sense of triumph lingering in the air. With deep breaths, you salvaged what remained of your belongings.

A whimper from the fallen boy drew your attention. Standing over him, you asserted your demand for restitution. "Ey, asshole. You owe me a new bag and supplies," you declared, unyielding in the face of his feeble protests.

End of Flashback.

As the memory faded, you found yourself staring up at the ceiling, the weight of the past pressing against your chest, as another memory resurfaced

2nd Flashback:

The bathroom, a sanctuary of sorts, offered a brief respite from the chaos that often trailed in your wake. Alone, you stood by the sink, the cool water flowing over your hands. The door creaked open, revealing the unwelcome entrance of Yeowang.

"What now," you muttered, a weariness etched in your voice.

"You're dead," Yeowang declared, her words a venomous promise as she advanced with an air of calculated malice. Resigned, you met her gaze, your eyes betraying neither fear nor defiance. "Well, too bad I'm still alive," you retorted, the fatigue in your voice veiled behind a thin layer of indifference.

Yeowang, infuriated by your lack of submission, launched an attack. Her attempt at physical intimidation manifested in a swing of her hand, aimed at striking you into submission. Yet, in that moment, the reflexes of a survivor kicked in. You caught her wrist with a practiced ease, the strength beneath your seemingly fragile exterior taking her by surprise.

"Is that all you have?" you questioned, your voice laced with an exhaustion that transcended the physical. A gentle push sent her stumbling backward, her gasp of shock echoing in the tiled confines of the restroom.

"You worthless bitch! What does Heeseung even see in you?" Yeowang spat. Unmoved, you stood your ground, the echo of her insults bouncing off the bathroom walls. "I'm much better than you," she added, a final attempt to wound before she turned and left, the door closing with a hollow thud.

End of flashback.

As the memory dissipated, you sighed, the weight of Yeowang's animosity slowly lifting. Closing your eyes, you sought solace in the darkness, finally ridding yourself of the specter that haunted your past. Yet, amid the tranquility, Yeowang's last words lingered in the recesses of your mind — "What does Heeseung even see in you?"

The question, a lingering doubt, seized your thoughts, an elusive enigma that would accompany you into the realm of dreams. Exhaustion, both physical and emotional, finally claimed you, pulling you into a restless slumber, where the shadows of the past continued to dance at the periphery of your subconscious.

⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

The soothing hum of the library enveloped you as you sat with the boys, engrossed in your study materials. Ni-ki, positioned beside you, couldn't resist stealing glances at your work. Aware of his glances, you decided to address the matter. "Ni-ki, I can see you looking. I can just help you," you offered, your voice carrying a hint of amusement.

"No, no, I'm fine, really!" Ni-ki hastily responded, attempting to assure you. Your eyes rolled in response, a subtle expression of your disbelief. Despite his protests, you returned your attention to your work, a faint smile lingering on your lips.

The rhythmic quietude was disrupted by the sudden entrance of Jake, his figure a whirlwind of excitement as he sprinted towards your table, arms waving emphatically. Jungwon voiced the collective curiosity, asking, "What's up with him?" Jake, breathless, stopped by the occupied table, a piece of paper clutched in his hands.

"Guys!" he exclaimed, momentarily drowned out by a nearby shush from an irritated student. Apologetically, Jake mumbled an apology to the disgruntled individual before focusing on the group again. His announcement resonated with enthusiasm, "Guys, there's a Halloween party coming up this Friday at Hyunjin's house!"

Intrigued by the unexpected announcement, Sunoo, voiced the question on everyone's minds. "Halloween party?" he inquired. Jake's affirmative nod unleashed a ripple of reactions, from raised eyebrows to exchanged glances.

However, Jay, interjected with a touch of seriousness. "So let me see if I understood this... there's a party this Halloween, despite the fact that we live in an unsafe town?" His inquiry injected a note of caution, prompting a brief pause in the group's excitement as they considered the potential risks associated with attending a festive gathering in the current environment.

Just as uncertainty lingered, a new voice chimed in, and all heads turned to see Hyunjin, who sauntered up and casually slung an arm around Jake's neck. "It`ll be fun guys!" Hyunjin pointed out, "Besides! I hired security to stand guard! And the place will be packed. Only those with private invitations get in! So everyone will be held accountable!"

Hyunjin's explanation seemed to alleviate some concerns. As a gesture of encouragement, he set down five private invitations. Jake, already holding one, received an extra burst of excitement. "See you all this Friday!" Hyunjin declared, leaving the library with an air of confidence.

The group momentarily sobered, caught between the allure of a party and the reality of their surroundings.

However, Jake's plea for company quickly shifted the focus. "Come on, guys, pleaseee! I don't wanna go alone," he implored, pulling an empty chair to the table and joining Ni-ki, and you couldn't help but notice Jake's puppy-dog eyes fixed on you. Eyes turned towards you, the only girl in the group, as you reached for one of the invitations. The golden letters on the Halloween-themed background spoke of festivities and fun, inviting participants to wear costumes, with additional details about security and the address.

Despite knowing your mother might not permit you to attend, the earnestness in Jake's eyes prompted a smile and a nod from you. The boys, each securing an invitation, burst into lively discussion about the upcoming event. Sunoo's excitement over costumes and Sunghoon's reminiscence of past parties echoed through the library, and you found solace in the distraction from your own thoughts.

Amidst the lively chatter, your attention briefly strayed to your phone, thoughts of Heeseung, absent for days due to sickness, tugged at your heart. Days had passed since you last saw or heard from him, as he had been notably absent from the recent killing spree.

You did feel a mix of pride for his restraint and worry for his sudden disappearance.

While the boys immersed themselves in costume ideas displayed on Jake's computer screen, the realization struck— you missed Heeseung. The void left by his absence flooded your mind. The real smiles, the scent of his cologne, the sound of his voice, his tender kisses, and the protective embrace that made you feel cherished—all of it tugged at your heart.

Despite your attempt to ignore the emotions welling up inside you, you remained oblivious to the devious plans the boys were quietly hatching, a surprise destined to unfold on the night of the Halloween party.

⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

The soft glow of fairy lights adorned Sunoo's bedroom, casting a warm and inviting ambiance. Yet, the atmosphere clashed with the rising tension within you. "Are you joking with me?" you asked, standing in the middle of the room, a sense of skepticism etched across your face. Sunoo, with an excited glint in his eyes, had taken it upon himself to select your Halloween costume. Trusting him with this responsibility now felt like a leap of faith you were questioning.

On Sunoo's bed lay the ensemble he had chosen for you – an angel costume. The short, ethereal white dress poofed out at the bottom, giving it an otherworldly charm. White gloves, elegantly reaching to your elbows, accompanied the outfit. A delicate headband connected to a halo rested on the bed, awaiting it`s place atop your head. White tights, adorned with diamonds intricately stitched into the fabric, a pair of pristine white heels and soft, pelt-like angel wings completed the ensemble.

You cautiously touched the wings, surprised by their softness, "It's a pretty costume, Y/n! Come on, give it a try!" Sunoo pleaded with an infectious enthusiasm. "Fine…but only because I don't have anything else, and the party is in one hour."

As Sunoo gave you an encouraging thumbs up, he exited the room, leaving you to change. Closing the door behind him, you took a deep breath, eyeing the costume. The room echoed with your murmured mantra, "This is crazy, this is crazy," as you began the process of changing into the attire.

After finishing changing into the angel costume Sunoo had chosen for you, you stepped in front of the mirror to assess the result. As you looked at your reflection, a sense of relief washed over you—you looked okay. With a twirl, you tested the movement of the skirt, pleased to see it held its shape beautifully. Amidst the ensemble, a pearly waistbead adorned your waist, its lustrous pearls gleaming softly in the dim light. A black heart, connected the pearls, adding a subtle yet captivating contrast to the purity of your costume. Additionally, a layered pearly necklace graced your neck, at the center, a heart pendant adorned with intricate wings hung delicately, perfectly complementing the angelic theme of your attire.

"Y/n?" Sunoo's voice came from behind the door, accompanied by a light knock. "Are you finished?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm finished," you replied, confirming your readiness.

Sunoo eagerly opened the door and entered the room, his eyes lighting up as he caught sight of you. With an enthusiastic grin, he clapped his hands and bounced lightly on his feet. "You look so beautiful, Y/n!" he exclaimed, his genuine compliment warming your heart.

"Really?" you responded, still a bit uncertain.

"Of course! I would never lie to you!" Sunoo reassured you before grabbing his own costume—a simple pirate outfit—and preparing to get ready.

As you applied the finishing touches to your hair and makeup, you soon felt satisfied with your appearance. Descending the stairs in your costume, you found Sunoo already heading out the front door towards the car. And Jay, dressed as The Joker, was assisting Jungwon with his car racer costume.

"What are you supposed to be?" you asked Jungwon.

"I'm supposed to be a car racer who died in a car crash and—" Jungwon paused mid-sentence as he turned to face you, his expression mirroring Sunoo's excitement. "Wow, Y/n! You look amazing!" he exclaimed, rushing over to you and taking your hands in his.

"Thank you, Jungwon!" you replied, returning his smile.

Jay, who had also turned to see you, was momentarily speechless. "Wow…" he whispered, clearly impressed. "You will definitely win the prettiest costume," he declared.

"There are awards?" you asked, surprised.

"Yeah! Hyunjin put it together last minute as a treat," Jungwon explained as he guided you out to the waiting car, with Jay following suit.

Taking your place in the passenger seat as Jay drove, you glanced out at the streets, observing the groups of trick-or-treaters and families celebrating Halloween together. "The others will meet us at the party," Jungwon informed, looking up from his phone.

"Oh, fun!" Sunoo exclaimed, anticipation evident in his voice.

As Jay parked the car a bit away from Hyunjin's house, you all stepped out into the night. The air was filled with the distant sound of music and laughter, and the glow of colorful lights illuminated the sky above Hyunjin's mansion. The driveway was packed with cars, and groups of people in various costumes were milling around, chatting and laughing.

Jungwon led the way, striding confidently towards the imposing front doors of the mansion. A security guard stood watch, checking invitations as guests arrived. You, Jay, and Sunoo followed closely behind Jungwon, anticipation building with every step.

"Invites?" the guard asked as you approached. You reached into your purse and retrieved the slip of paper, handing it to the guard. He glanced at it briefly before nodding and allowing you to pass.

Stepping inside, you were immediately struck by the grandeur of Hyunjin's family mansion. The interior was vast and dimly lit, with the only sources of light being the moonlight streaming through the windows and the pulsating lights from the dance floor.

A sweeping staircase led up to the second floor, where silhouettes of partygoers could be seen mingling and dancing. The sound of music filled the air, accompanied by the occasional cheer or burst of laughter.

You squinted against the flashing lights and spotted the DJ, Changbin, stationed at his booth, dressed as a zombie.

"Come on!" Sunoo's enthusiastic call broke through the noise. He eagerly pulled you and the rest of the group towards a living room area where some guests were taking a break on the couches. As you approached, you noticed Ni-ki sitting on one of the couches, dressed as Luigi, looking somewhat irritated as he sipped on a drink. Next to him sat Jake, dressed as Mario, laughing uproariously at something.

Ni-ki spotted you and waved, a relieved smile spreading across his face. "Finally!" he exclaimed, quickly bouncing off the couch to greet you. "Wow, you guys look amazing!" he complimented, his annoyance momentarily forgotten. You and the rest of the group thanked him, exchanging smiles.

The conversation took an unexpected turn as Jake, clearly a bit tipsy, giggled and made a comment about Heeseung's hypothetical reaction to seeing you. Confusion flashed across your face as you turned to the others, noticing their guilty expressions. "Heeseung is here?" you inquired, surprised by the revelation.

Before anyone could respond, you heard your name being called from behind. You turned around, as you laid eyes on Sunghoon approaching you. Dressed as a vampire, he exuded an air of elegance, his cloak billowing behind him as he walked. "You look amazing!" Sunghoon complimented sincerely, his warm smile momentarily easing your discomfort. "Thank you, you too."

However, it was the figure standing awkwardly behind Sunghoon that made your stomach churn. Heeseung stood there, dressed as a demon, his appearance sending a wave of mixed emotions coursing through you. Simple yet undeniably captivating in his black attire, Heeseung's unbuttoned shirt revealed his collarbones, and a silver chain hung around his neck. Black horns protruded from his slicked-back hair, and a pair of black wings adorned his back, completing the demonic ensemble.

As you took in his appearance, you couldn't help but feel a mix of anger, confusion, and longing wash over you.

With a sharp glare, you directed your gaze towards the boys, who attempted to appear innocent under your scrutiny. However, their guilty expressions betrayed them, and they instinctively backed away from your piercing stare. Clearly, they were responsible for orchestrating this couple costume setup, and you vowed silently to exact revenge on them soon.

"You look good," Heeseung's voice interrupted your silent standoff, drawing your attention back to him. Studying him closely now, you noticed the recent events had taken a toll on him. His eyes were tired, rimmed with dark circles, and he seemed notably thinner. "Thanks... you too," you replied, masking your concern with a polite response. Heeseung shrugged. "Thanks but, it wasn't my idea, Jake got me the costume," he admitted, his gaze dropping to his attire.

Forcing a smile, you turned your attention back to the boys, who now seemed to be squirming under your murderous stare. They were the culprits behind this whole ordeal, and they knew it. You relaxed your expression slightly as you turned back to Heeseung. "It wasn't mine either, Sunoo got me this," you explained, playing with the hem of your dress nervously.

"Well, it's pretty," Heeseung admitted, his nervousness evident as he bit his bottom lip. Surprised by his sincerity, you simply nodded in acknowledgment. Jungwon intervened, suggesting a drink, and you allowed him to lead you away from Heeseung.

Navigating through the crowded party, you and Jungwon eventually reached the spacious kitchen. Bottles of alcohol and snacks lined the long island, and Jungwon wasted no time in fixing himself a drink. You grabbed a drink for yourself and downed it in one gulp before turning to Jungwon with a pointed question.

"Did you know about it?" you asked, your tone laced with accusation. Jungwon stiffened at your tone, attempting to defend himself. "I didn't want to actually participate—" he began, but you cut him off, unimpressed by his excuses. "But you did know about it, and you didn't tell me?" you interjected sharply.

Jungwon pleaded innocence, claiming it was all Jake's idea. Despite his apology, you grumbled in frustration, punching him lightly in the arm. "Ow!" Jungwon protested, rubbing the spot where you had hit him, but you merely shrugged, determined to exact revenge on the boys for their deception.

"Hey Y/n! you're here?" A cheerful voice called out, pulling your attention away from the crowd. It was Yuna, one of your classmates, dressed as Carrie from the horror novel. Beside her stood Giselle, adorned in a witch costume. "Hello," you greeted them warmly, a smile playing on your lips.

"I'm going out," Giselle announced, grabbing a bottle of soju from the fridge before making her exit. Yuna flashed you a friendly smile and poured herself a drink. "I like your costume!" she complimented you. "Thanks, I like yours too," you replied, returning the compliment.

"Hey, a few of us were going out, do you want to join?" she asked, her tone inviting, Yuna's invitation caught you off guard but piqued your interest. You had grown close with Yuna over class, and her offer seemed appealing. With a nod, you accepted, feeling comfortable in her presence. "Yeah, I'll be right there," you confirmed.

"Cool!" Yuna exclaimed, excitement evident in her voice, before heading off to join her friends. Turning to face Jungwon, who looked slightly puzzled, "you're going with her?" he inquired, his expression curious. "Yes, I can't stick with you guys the whole night," you explained. Jungwon nodded understandingly, a smile gracing his lips. "Have fun and be safe then. We'll be around here if you need us," he reassured you before taking his leave.

Taking another sip of your drink, you felt a surge of confidence coursing through you as you navigated your way through the pulsating dance floor. The crowd seemed to part effortlessly as you passed, their gazes drawn to your costume. Some offered compliments as you made your way through the throng, and you graciously thanked them, a smile playing on your lips.

As you reached the back of the house, you stepped outside into the cool night air, scanning the area for Yuna. Spotting her amidst a group of people, she waved enthusiastically, her excitement palpable. Making your way over, you were greeted by the welcoming smiles of Yuna's friends.

"You actually came!" Yuna exclaimed, her happiness evident in her tone. "Guys, you know Y/n," she introduced you to the group, who greeted you warmly in return. Though you recognized them, you hadn't interacted with them much before.

Giselle stood besides Yuna, accompanied by Yuqi, whose fairy costume added a whimsical touch to the gathering. Kazuha, dressed as the hauntingly beautiful Corpse Bride, stood beside them. Momo, adorned in mummy wrappings, mingled with the group. Felix, portraying the spirited Luffy from the anime, engaged in a conversation with Mingi, who was decked out as the iconic Michael Myers. Minghao, was dressed as the beloved superhero Spiderman, and Keeho stood tall, embodying the iconic Batman, while Taehyung, was dressed as the enigmatic Phantom of the Opera.

Meanwhile, as Jungwon joined the rest of the guys, they noticed your absence from their midst. "Where's Y/n?" Ni-ki asked, glancing around the room. "She's with some of her friends, I think," Jungwon replied, taking a seat beside Jay and Sunghoon. But then another realization struck Jungwon. "Where's Heeseung?" he asked, scanning the room. The boys looked around, but Heeseung was nowhere to be found. "Huh? He was just here!?" Ni-ki exclaimed in confusion. "He's probably around here," Sunghoon suggested.

"Was it wrong of us to drag them to this party?" Sunoo pondered aloud, expressing concern. "No, they need to realize that they love each other," Jake asserted confidently, his voice rising a bit too loudly and drawing unwanted attention from those nearby. "Shhh!" Jay quickly shushed him, casting a wary glance around the room. "We don't want everyone here to know!" he admonished Jake. "We can only hope they realize it," he added, the concern evident in his tone.

Meanwhile, you happily engaged in conversation with Yuna and her friends, though you kept your interactions with Taehyung to a minimum, he seemed content simply gazing at you, making you feel a tad uncomfortable, especially with the chill in the air. As Felix proposed hitting the dance floor, you glanced at your phone and saw a message from your brother indicating that he had successfully covered for you and your mother was asleep. Grateful for his assistance, you slipped your phone back into your purse as Yuna pulled you onto the dance floor with her friends.

Lost in the pulsating rhythm and laughter, you suddenly felt a burning stare and glanced around, eventually locking eyes with Heeseung, who stood a distance away, his gaze fixed solely on you. Feeling uneasy, you looked away, only to be swept into the dance by Kazuha and mingling with Mingi, who smiled down at you.

Amidst the joyous atmosphere, you eventually excused yourself to the kitchen for a drink. The quiet solitude enveloped you as you leaned against the counter, the faint scent of nicotine lingering in the air. Lost in thought, you retrieved a bottle of water from the fridge and took a sip. Just then, Heeseung entered the room, breaking the silence. "Hi," you greeted softly, meeting his gaze. "Hello," he replied, his voice equally soft.

A moment of silence passed between you before Heeseung spoke again. "You looked like you had fun on the dance floor," he remarked, attempting to break the tension. "Yeah, I did," you replied, though the unease lingered in your voice. "How are you doing?" you asked, hoping for a glimpse into his state of mind. He seemed surprised by your question. "I'm good. How are you doing?" he asked in return. "Good," you answered, though the strength in your voice wavered.

As you and Heeseung stood there awkwardly in the kitchen, a group of drunk people stumbled in, breaking the tense silence. Quickly, you averted your gaze, feeling the need to escape. You attempted to slip out of the kitchen, but a glance behind you revealed that Heeseung was following closely behind, his expression determined as he prowled after you. Gasping, you navigated through the crowd, each time you turned, he was right on your trail, his presence looming closer.

What was he doing? You couldn't help but wonder as you climbed up to the second floor, weaving past people until you finally stopped and turned around. To your relief, you didn't see Heeseung, feeling victorious as you leaned over the balcony railing, observing the festivities below. A smile graced your lips as you spotted Jake, Jay, and Ni-ki on the dance floor, enjoying themselves.

However, your moment of triumph was short-lived as you sensed someone approaching from behind. Instinctively, you knew it was Heeseung, his cologne lingering in the air as his arms enveloped you against the railing. He had pulled up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing his toned and veiny arms as he gripped the railing, his head resting on your shoulder as he whispered in your ear, "You thought you could escape from me?" Feeling a surge of panic at his sudden presence, you attempted to pull away from his grip, but Heeseung's hold only tightened around you. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, preventing your escape, as he effortlessly pulled you back into his chest. You could feel the warmth of his body pressing against your back, his arms enveloping you in a tight embrace, leaving you with no choice but to surrender to his hold.

Heeseung leaned over the railing, bringing you along with him. You had no choice but to lean over as well, your weight supported by the sturdy wooden barrier. From the corner of your eye, you could see him gazing at you, his intense gaze locking with yours as he whispered, his warm breath grazing your ear, "Running from me like that?" His voice was soft yet laced with a hint of accusation. Your mouth opened in response, but no words came out. You missed this intimacy, feeling safe and secure in his embrace, as if he could alleviate all your stress.

Eventually, you turned around to face him, meeting his gaze as he leaned in closer. Placing a hand on his chest, you tilted your head slightly, whispering, "I thought I could try." Neither of you spoke after that, simply gazing at each other, both feeling touch-starved after days apart.

"Please, angel," Heeseung whispered, his touch sending a warm sensation through your stomach. Before you could respond, however, you heard your name being called. Startled, both you and Heeseung pulled back to see Giselle standing there. "Sorry, did I interrupt something?" she asked innocently. "No, no," you quickly assured her. "Um, what is it?" you asked.

"Mingi is looking for you," Giselle informed you, oblivious to the tension between you and Heeseung. You noticed the subtle clenching of Heeseung's jaw at the news. "Oh, thank you for telling me," you said to Giselle, offering a polite smile as she walked away, leaving you and Heeseung.

Clearing your throat to catch Heeseung's attention, you saw his gaze instantly snap to you. "I'm gonna..." you started talking as you began to walk back down, but with a glance behind you, you noticed Heeseung was still following after you. Shaking your head, you navigated around the thick crowd until you made it to the dance floor. You spotted Yuna and her friends still dancing, but no sign of Mingi. Scanning the area, you tried to find him, but it seemed like he found you first. "There you are!" Mingi said happily, and you turned, smiling at him as he led you to the outskirts of the ground floor where a bar stood. "There's a bar?" you asked, surprised by its presence. "Yes!" Mingi exclaimed. You both settled on the barstools as you ordered a strong drink, feeling like you needed it.

As you and Mingi began chatting like old friends, the bartender prepared your drinks. You both cheered your shots, downing them quickly. Mingi ordered another round of drinks as you looked out at the dance floor, feeling a sense of something pulling you. You made eye contact with Heeseung, who stood by the door, surrounded by other people but with his full attention fixed on you. You quickly turned back to Mingi, who was rambling on about something, and you listened attentively.

As time passed and the shots flowed, you began to feel the buzz of alcohol. Giggling with Mingi, who was clearly drunk as he clung to you, he slurred, "Hey Y/n! You are very beautiful!" "Thank you, Mingi," you giggled in response. "Hey, hey! Are you single?" he slurred further. "Well..." you started to reply, but before you could finish, a scream interrupted. You looked and saw Yuna running towards you. "Y/n! Come on! Come on!" she screamed, grabbing you and Mingi. "This is my song!" she declared as a Rihanna song blared through the speakers.

Wide-eyed, you recognized the song as "Only Girl (In the World)" and Yuna pulled you and Mingi into the middle of the dance floor. Without hesitation, you smiled and danced and sang along with Yuna, Giselle, Yuqi, Momo, and Kazuha. Together, you all screamed the lyrics without a care in the world.

Spinning around, you saw Jake and Ni-ki dancing nearby. When they noticed you, they jumped closer, joining in the fun. Lost in the music and the energy of the moment, you danced with abandon.

⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

As the night progressed, you found yourself fully immersed in the energy of the party. The music throbbed in your ears, the flashing lights painted the room in vibrant hues, and the laughter of your friends echoed in the air. Amidst the chaos of the dance floor, you let yourself go, moving to the rhythm with abandon, your worries melting away with every beat.

But amidst the crowd, amidst the laughter and the music, your attention kept being drawn to him. Heeseung, his presence a constant, his gaze an ever-present force that seemed to follow you wherever you went. You felt his eyes on you, hungry, intense, and filled with longing. Every time you glanced in his direction, you found him there, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

And, if you were being honest with yourself, you couldn't deny the flutter of excitement that his attention brought. It felt good to be wanted, to be pursued with such fervor. Despite the chaos of the party, despite the throng of people surrounding you, it was his gaze that you found yourself drawn to, his presence that you couldn't shake.

Outside by the grand pool, you found a moment's respite from the pulsating energy of the party. Nestled on a plush couch with friends on either side, the night air carried the distant echoes of laughter and music, a backdrop to the tranquil scene. Yuna occupied the space to your left, a comforting presence amidst the lively ambiance, while Mingi sat on your right, his flushed cheeks betraying the effects of the festivities.

As you sat there, the weariness of the night settling upon you, you nursed a drink that had long lost its chill. Setting it down on a nearby table, your gaze wandered to the pool, its iridescent waters shimmering under the moonlight, casting a mesmerizing glow.

Mingi's arm draped around you, pulling you closer, you chuckled softly at his playful demeanor, but as his gaze met yours, a sense of disquiet washed over you. Something felt off, a nagging feeling that this wasn't where you belonged. It wasn't Mingi's touch that you craved, but another's, someone whose absence had left a void within you.

Before you could dwell further on your thoughts, a sudden presence loomed behind you. Turning around, you found Heeseung standing there, his demeanor intense and unwavering. His piercing gaze bore into Mingi, a silent warning that didn't escape your notice.

"Y/n, may I have a word?" Heeseung's voice cut through the air, his tone clipped and authoritative. "Hey, we're kinda busy here," Mingi's voice carried a hint of protest, but Heeseung's response was swift. "Not anymore you are," he snapped back, his tone laced with an edge that brooked no argument. The intensity of his gaze bore down on Mingi, leaving him no choice but to relent. "Okay, okay. Fine, take her," Mingi's words held a tinge of resignation.

With an apologetic smile aimed at Mingi, you rose from the couch, the weight of Heeseung's stare compelling you to follow him.

As you came to him, he wordlessly pulled you along to a vacant room, his grip firm around your waist. The silence between you was heavy with unspoken tension as you searched his eyes for answers, but he remained resolute, his gaze unwavering.

"What did you want to talk about?" you ventured, but Heeseung's response was swift and startling. With a sudden movement, he slammed his hand against the wall beside your head, causing you to emit a small noise of surprise. His eyes bore into yours, filled with a mixture of anger and despair as he unleashed a torrent of emotion.

"Does it humor you?" His voice trembled with pent-up frustration, each word dripping with the bitter taste of betrayal.

"What?" The single word escaped your lips, echoing in the tense silence that enveloped you both. Heeseung's frustration boiled over, his words pouring forth like a rainstorm.

"Does it humor you to break up, leave me to rot, knowing that bastard went after you and not send me a message that you were okay?" His voice cracked with raw emotion, his despair pouring out in waves.

You stood there, paralyzed by the weight of his words, unable to offer any solace or explanation. He continued, his voice trembling with a mixture of anger and despair, each syllable a dagger to your heart.

"…and then show up looking so beautiful?" His voice wavered. The realization of your absence, of the void left in his life, weighed heavily on his shoulders, threatening to crush him beneath its unbearable weight. "And then see other guys look at you? Knowing I can't do anything because you aren't mine anymore?" His words tumbled out in a torrent of despair.

His hand rose to your cheek, a silent plea for understanding, for forgiveness. You felt the warmth of his touch against your skin, a bittersweet reminder of the love that still lingered between you, despite the pain that had torn you apart.

"They don't deserve to look at you." The words slipped from his lips like a whispered prayer, a plea for redemption amidst the chaos of his shattered heart.

As the weight of his words settled upon you, you found yourself speechless.

"Heeseung… I'm… so sorry, but I didn't…" You struggled to articulate your thoughts, but they remained elusive, lost amidst the maelstrom of emotions swirling within you. "I don't know what to say," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Then don't say anything," Heeseung's words were a command, a plea wrapped in desperation. Before you could respond, his lips crashed against yours. A gasp escaped your lips as he drew you closer, his hand instinctively finding its place around your neck. The world around you faded as you went slack in his hold.

You basked in the intensity of the moment, feeling the undeniable rightness of being in Heeseung's arms after days of longing. His touch, his kiss, it all felt like a familiar embrace, a sanctuary amidst the chaos of your emotions. As his hand trailed down to your thigh, hitching it up, you felt a surge of desire coursing through you, igniting every nerve ending in your body.

Heeseung's touch became more fervent, his hands gripping the meat of your thighs through the fabric, sending shivers down your spine. With a sense of urgency, his hand slipped upward, tracing the curve of your thigh, eliciting a soft gasp from your lips. In a bold move, you wrapped your leg around his hip, drawing him closer.

He pulled back from the kiss, his lips leaving a trail of fiery kisses along your neck, marking you as his own with each fervent touch. "Heeseung—" You attempted to speak, to voice the thoughts swirling within your mind, but his lips silenced you once more, his desperation evident in the small, desperate sounds escaping his lips. You felt his hands slide to your hips, pulling you close, while your hands instinctively found their place on his chest.

But before you could surrender completely to the moment, the door burst open, shattering the fragile bubble of intimacy between you and Heeseung. With a start, you pushed him away, both of you turning to see a couple of drunken partygoers stumbling into the room. Heeseung's expression turned murderous, his gaze fixed on the intruders with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

In that moment of chaos and intrusion, you made a split-second decision, pulling away from Heeseung and running out of the room, ignoring his shouts behind you. Tears welled up in your eyes as you fled, overwhelmed by the realization that once again, you had fallen back into the tangled web of emotions surrounding Heeseung.

You felt trapped, ensnared by a love that seemed to have a grip on your very soul, leaving you with no clear path forward. Despite your efforts to break free, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were destined to be entangled with Heeseung, no matter how hard you tried to resist.

The cacophony of the party faded into the background as you burst out of the door, onto the deserted streets, the sound of your heels resonating with each hurried step. It was late, the moon casting an eerie glow on the silent pavement, devoid of any signs of life. Houses stood like looming shadows, their windows darkened, their inhabitants lost in the embrace of sleep. All you could focus on was the desperate need to escape, to find solace in the familiarity of home.

Lost in your thoughts, you failed to notice the ominous presence trailing behind you, the faint hum of an engine echoing in the empty street. The realization struck too late, a sharp pang of pain reverberating through your body as something solid collided with you. The world seemed to spin, your senses overwhelmed by a wave of agony as you crumpled to the cold asphalt, the harsh impact stealing the air from your lungs.

Through tear-blurred vision, you glimpsed a shadowy figure approaching through the haze, a menacing silhouette against the dimly lit backdrop of the night. Your consciousness wavered, as you surrendered to the engulfing void, your body succumbing to the numbing embrace of unconsciousness.

⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

As consciousness slowly seeped back into your awareness, you were immediately engulfed in a whirlwind of agony. Pain coursed through every fiber of your being, a relentless torment that threatened to consume you whole. With a cry of anguish, you attempted to move, only to find your limbs unresponsive, bound by unseen restraints.

Opening your eyes proved to be a daunting task, the world swimming in a haze of disorientation. Through bleary vision, you were greeted by the sight of a gray cement wall. Furrowing your brows in confusion, you attempted to turn your head, only to be met with a wave of dizziness that left you reeling.

As you struggled to make sense of your surroundings, a sinking feeling settled in the pit of your stomach. With a growing sense of dread, you cast your gaze downward, your heart sinking as you beheld the sight before you. You were bound to a chair, your arms and legs immobilized by tight restraints. Panic clawed at the edges of your mind as you writhed against the bindings, each movement met with searing pain.

Your eyes fell upon your left arm, where an IV drip stood, pushing an unknown substance through your veins, dulling your senses and leaving you feeling lethargic and heavy-limbed. Panic surged within you as you realized the extent of your predicament.

Still clad in your Halloween costume, the remnants of the festivities felt like a cruel mockery in the face of your current ordeal. Bruised and bloodied, you were a stark contrast to the playful facade you had worn just hours earlier. Your heels lay discarded nearby, a reminder of the freedom that had been cruelly stripped away from you.

A cloth gag silenced any attempts at outcry, muffling your cries of desperation as you surveyed your surroundings. The room resembled a dark, foreboding cellar, devoid of windows. A single reinforced steel door loomed ominously before you, another chair, positioned a short distance away, served as the only other furniture in the chamber.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you took in the bleak reality of your situation. Bound and helpless, trapped in a nightmare from which there seemed to be no escape. With a heavy heart, you resigned yourself to the chilling silence, the echoes of your thoughts the only company in the darkness.

⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

The news of your disappearance spread like wildfire, igniting a frenzy of panic and despair among those who know and love you. On television screens and newspaper headlines, your face was plastered alongside the words "MISSING."

In the midst of the chaos, your mother's anguished cries pierced the air, echoing through the once-familiar confines of your home. Tears streamed down her face, her sobs a testament to the depths of her despair.

Your brother, haunted by guilt, paced the floorboards with a heavy heart, knowing that his actions had contributed to your disappearance.

Outside, the authorities scrambled to gather information, their efforts focused on piecing together the fragments of your last known movements. Police officers canvassed the streets, questioning witnesses and appealing to the public for any shred of information that might lead to your whereabouts.

Meanwhile, your friends, consumed by worry and fear, clung to each other for support. They replayed the events of the night over and over in their minds, grappling with feelings of guilt and helplessness.

But perhaps none felt the weight of your absence more than Heeseung. As he awoke to the news of your disappearance, his world shattered into a million pieces. With trembling hands, he reached for his phone, desperate to hear the sound of your voice, only to be met with the cold, indifferent voice of an automated message. In a fit of anguish, he hurled his phone across the room.

Dongsik, sensing his owner's distress, approached tentatively. But Heeseung was beyond comfort, his fears consuming him whole as he crumbled beneath the weight of his despair.

⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

As time dragged on in the dim confines of the basement, you felt the oppressive weight of darkness pressing down on you, enveloping you in a suffocating shroud of uncertainty. With no sunlight to gauge the passage of time and no watch to mark the hours, you were left to languish in the void, trapped in a timeless limbo of despair.

Suddenly, the heavy silence was shattered by the creak of the door swinging open, and you blinked against the sudden intrusion of light, your vision swimming in disorientation. As your eyes adjusted, you were met with the chilling sight of Ghostface, your captor, looming ominously in the doorway. A surge of fear shot through you, your heart pounding in your chest as you braced yourself for whatever horror he had in store.

"Mhmh," you attempted to speak, but your words were stifled by the gag, leaving only muffled sounds to escape your lips. Ghostface's voice echoed in the darkness, his tone dripping with sinister amusement as he addressed you.

"Ah, you are awake! Wonderful," he intoned, his voice sending shivers down your spine. The chair creaked ominously beneath you as you struggled against your restraints, the ropes digging into your skin as you rocked back and forth in a desperate attempt to free yourself.

"Ah-ah," he tutted. "Don't do that, my dear. I don't want you bleeding out and dying so early! That would just ruin the fun," he remarked, his words laced with a sickening sense of amusement.

With a grimace of pain, you stilled your movements, the throbbing ache in your body a relentless reminder of your vulnerability. Ghostface's presence loomed over you, his masked visage shrouded in shadows as he studied you with a predatory curiosity. You met his gaze with a steely resolve, refusing to cower before his intimidation tactics, causing his patience to wear thin as he tore the gag from your mouth.

"Now, I finally have you right where I want you," he declared, his voice a low, menacing whisper. "What is so special about you, hmm?" he inquired, his tone dripping with disdain as he awaited your response.

Your defiance burned brightly in your eyes as you locked gazes with Ghostface, refusing to yield. "Oh, don't give me that look!" he exclaimed, his voice tinged with exasperation. "You broke his reigning killing streak, and for what?" he demanded, but still, you refused to give him the satisfaction of a response, your lips pressed together in a line.

"Ah, the silent treatment, hm?" Ghostface chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "But your silence won't save you now, my dear." Yet you offered no response.

"Oh, how you infuriate me," Ghostface sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "But mark my words, my dear, I will uncover the truth, one way or another."

"Fuck you, you bastard," you spat defiantly, which was met with a growl of frustration from your captor. "Why do you have to make this so difficult, sweetheart?" he taunted, his voice dripping with malice as he bathed the basement in harsh light before retreating. You winced at the sudden assault on your senses, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes.

Alone in the oppressive silence, you screamed until your voice grew hoarse, your cries echoing fruitlessly against the unforgiving walls. With each passing moment, the weight of your captivity bore down on you with crushing force, leaving you battered and broken, your thoughts consumed by the memory of Heeseung and the cruel twists of fate that had led you to this nightmarish ordeal.

"Heeseung," you whispered, the name a desperate plea for solace in the darkness as tears streamed silently down your cheeks, your heart aching with longing for the one person who might offer you a glimmer of hope in the abyss of your despair.

⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

The sound of the door creaking open echoed through the dimly lit basement, but you didn't lift your head or open your eyes. Exhaustion weighed heavily upon you, your body drained of strength and your spirit battered by the relentless torment you endured.

"I know you are awake, Y/n," Ghostface's voice cut through the silence as he moved about the room. You grumbled out a response, your voice hoarse and barely audible. Your throat felt raw from screaming, your stomach gnawing with hunger, and your mind clouded with fatigue.

"Don't worry, it will all be over soon," Ghostface's words offered little comfort as you finally raised your head to observe his movements. He had set up a phone to record you, his actions sending a chill down your spine as you realized the gravity of the situation. "How long have I been here?" you managed to croak out, wincing at the harshness of your own tone.

"You've only been here for two days, Y/n," Ghostface replied, his tone laced with mockery. "Don't tell me you're already breaking?" he taunted, his laughter echoing in the confined space. You remained silent, unable to summon the strength to respond as he continued his preparations.

"It won't matter, if this works you won't stay here for long!" Ghostface's words washed over you, your mind numb to the significance of his threats. His voice droned on, the ringing in your ears grew louder, drowning out his voice as you weakly blinked at the camera, your gaze unfocused.

Suddenly, a sharp pain seared through your scalp as Ghostface seized your hair in a vice-like grip, yanking your head back forcefully. Your eyes snapped open in response to the agony, your gaze meeting his behind the chilling facade of his mask. He wielded a knife, its glinting blade poised menacingly against your throat, applying just enough pressure to draw blood.

You grimaced, the metallic tang of blood filling your senses as a single drop trickled down from where the knife bit into your skin.

"Come to the beginning and you'll find your precious little thing," Ghostface's words cut through, his grip relenting as he released you and turned to the phone, ending the recording.

"That's all I need from you. Now you stay here and don't move," Ghostface commanded, dismantling the setup with disregard. "Not like you can go anywhere with how you look!" he mocked, his laughter fading as he exited the room, leaving you alone in the frigid darkness once more.

Tears welled in your eyes as your body trembled with exhaustion and fear, you cried out, your voice lost in the void as despair threatened to consume you whole.

⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

Heeseung sat on the couch, his surroundings a chaotic reflection of his inner turmoil. The living room was in disarray, scattered with empty instant ramen containers and discarded pieces of paper strewn across the coffee table. His hair was disheveled, a wild mess mirroring the chaos of his mind, and dark circles underscored his eyes, evidence of his sleepless nights.

Just as he was consumed by his overwhelming sense of helplessness, his phone buzzed with a message notification. His heart leaped into his throat as he snatched up the device, his hands trembling. The screen was illuminated with message from Jay:

Turn on the news

The message read, short and to the point. Without a moment's hesitation, Heeseung leaped over the coffee table, his movements fueled by a surge of urgency. He reached for the remote control, his fingers fumbling slightly in his haste, and aimed it at the television.

With a press of a button, the screen flickered to life, bathing the dimly lit room in the soft glow of the news broadcast. Heeseung's heart pounded in his chest as he awaited the unfolding of events, his eyes fixed on the screen.

The news anchor's somber expression mirrored Heeseung's growing dread as she began to speak about the recent disappearance of you, her voice weighted with sorrow.

"We have received a video from an anonymous sender regarding the recent disappearance of Y/N Y/L/N, which has been concluded as a kidnapping," the news anchor announced, her tone heavy with gravity. "What you are about to witness is nothing short of horror."

Heeseung's breath caught in his throat as the video feed started, revealing you, broken and hurt, your eyes vacant as they stared past the camera. His heart clenched at the sight of you, your appearance confirming his worst fears. Matted hair, dried blood staining your face, bruises marring your skin – it was a gut-wrenching sight that threatened to shatter him.

As the figure of Ghostface stepped into frame, clad in the familiar mask that once represented Heeseung`s persona, his rage boiled over. "You fucker!" he shouted, his voice laced with venomous fury. Though he listened to Ghostface's speech, his attention remained fixated on you, his heart aching with the desire to protect you from the horrors you were enduring.

You didn't deserve to suffer, locked away in a basement by a deranged psychopath. He was nothing compared to the true Ghostface, the persona that Heeseung had embodied with a sense of helplessness and thrill. And Heeseung vowed, with every fiber of his being, that he would find you and ensure your safety, no matter the cost.

As Ghostface's sinister actions unfolded on the screen, Heeseung felt a surge of rage course through him like a raging inferno. The sight of you, vulnerable and in pain, ignited a primal instinct within him, urging him to take action, to protect you at any cost. His grip on the TV tightened, his knuckles turning white with the intensity of his emotions, as he fought to contain the tempest of fury that threatened to consume him.

When Ghostface, that despicable figure who dared to lay a hand on you, Heeseung's anger boiled over, reaching its breaking point. The knife pressed against your throat, the blood seeping from the wound, it was all too much for him to bear. With a guttural roar of fury, Heeseung nearly hurled the TV across the room, his muscles coiled like a tightly wound spring ready to unleash its pent-up fury.

"Come to the beginning and you'll find your precious little thing," Ghostface's words echoed in his mind, a cruel taunt that fueled Heeseung's determination to bring justice to those who dared to harm you. As the video abruptly cut off and the news anchor's voice filled the room, Heeseung's gaze hardened into icy determination.

"We can only pray for Y/n to return safely and hope that Ghostface will be taken care of," the news anchor's words were a mere backdrop to Heeseung's seething rage. With a menacing edge to his voice, Heeseung spoke, his tone laced with dark intent.

"Oh, I will make sure he will be taken care of," he muttered, his laughter carrying a sinister edge as he stalked towards his room, the crackling of his knuckles punctuating his ominous declaration. With a sense of grim purpose, Heeseung knew what he had to do. The message had been received, and Ghostface would soon learn the full extent of Heeseung's wrath.

⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

As you struggled against the restraints, your body protesting every movement, you felt a surge of desperation overwhelming you. Ignoring the pain shooting through your limbs, you wriggled back and forth in a futile attempt to free yourself from the confines of the chair. Each movement was met with a chorus of protests from your protesting muscles, but you pressed on, driven by a primal instinct to escape.

Just as you tried to shift away from the IV stand, the sound of the door opening halted your movements. Your heart raced as you watched Ghostface enter the room once more, his presence casting a chilling shadow over the already dimly lit basement. His cold, calculating eyes locked onto yours as he approached, a syringe in his hand.

"Changed position, eh?" Ghostface remarked casually, his voice dripping with malice as he closed the distance between you. "Hey! Hey! No, keep that away from me!" you shouted, your voice trembling with desperation. Your screams of protest fell on deaf ears as he ignored your pleas, swiftly injecting the foreign substance into your arm with a zero disregard for your well-being. "There, was that so hard?"

The effects washed over you. A woozy sensation washed over you, your vision blurring as spots danced before your eyes. Your body felt weightless, disconnected from reality as the world spun around you. You tried to resist, but it was a losing battle. Before you knew it, consciousness slipped away, leaving you adrift in a sea of black.

Ghostface stood over your limp body, a cruel smile twisting his lips as he surveyed his handiwork. With a rough tug on your hair, he ensured that you were thoroughly incapacitated before cutting you loose from the chair. Hoisting your unconscious form over his shoulder, he carried you upstairs to a dimly lit living room, where he deposited you into another chair.

Methodically, he bound your wrists together behind the chair with thick ropes, ensuring that you were securely restrained. Your legs followed suit, bound tightly with more rope until any hope of escape was extinguished. With a strip of duct tape pressed firmly over your mouth, he silenced any potential cries for help, leaving you gagged and helpless.

Finally, he placed a bag over your head, shrouding you in darkness as he left you alone in the silent room.

⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

You stirred groggily, your senses slowly coming back to you as you regained consciousness. Pain radiated through your body, a constant reminder of the ordeal you had endured. You tried to blink away the darkness that surrounded you, but your vision remained obscured by the bag over your head. Panic welled up inside you as you realized you couldn't see, couldn't speak, couldn't move freely.

Your limbs felt heavy and restrained, bound tightly by the ropes that held you captive. With a muffled groan, you attempted to shift your position, but the bindings held firm, rendering your efforts futile. You could hear the faint murmur of a television in the background, the sound of a horror movie echoing through the room.

Suddenly, his voice cut through the silence, sending a shiver down your spine. "Ah, you're awake!" he taunted, though you couldn't see him. You made an attempt to respond, but the tape over your mouth silenced any words that tried to escape, all you could do was make sounds of frustration and discomfort, hoping to convey your distress. "Be quiet," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. You huffed in frustration but complied, knowing that any resistance would only lead to further punishment.

As the minutes stretched into hours, hunger gnawed at your stomach, a reminder of your long captivity. "You hungry?" he asked, his tone dripping with mockery. You nodded, a futile gesture. "Aww, that's too bad. I haven't gone shopping at all," he taunted, his words a cruel reminder that he held all the power.

Time seemed to blur together as you sat in that uncomfortable position. The absence of sound and movement only served to amplify your sense of helplessness, leaving you feeling isolated and vulnerable. Anger simmered beneath the surface as you struggled against your restraints, the frustration of your situation boiling over with each passing moment.

⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

The oppressive silence was shattered by the sudden flick of a switch, followed by a deafening crash that reverberated through the room. Startled, you strained against your restraints, your heart pounding with a mixture of fear and hope. "Show yourself!" a deep voice bellowed, the authority in its tone sending a shiver down your spine. Without a doubt, you knew it was Heeseung. He had come for you.

As you listened intently, another voice joined the fray, equally deep but tinged with a sinister edge. "Ahh, such an honor to finally meet you, Ghostface," the other Ghostface purred, his words laced with malice. "I have waited long for this opportunity for us to meet. I just wished it was under different circumstances."

"Where is she?" Heeseung's voice demanded, "She's around here," Ghostface replied cryptically, sending a chill down your spine. "But I won't let you get to her, at least not yet."

"I don't give a fuck. I don't follow your rules," Heeseung retorted, his voice dripping with defiance. "I don't want you to follow me! I want to follow you!" Ghostface exclaimed, his desperation palpable. "Please! For months, I have followed your career, seen the massacre you have left behind! And you suddenly leave all that behind for what?! For a woman that isn't worth your time?!"

You couldn't help but feel a surge of disbelief at Ghostface 2's fanaticism. "She is worth everything to me," Heeseung stated firmly, his unwavering devotion evident in his voice. Suddenly, a cry rang out, followed by the sounds of chaos—a cacophony of things falling and breaking. "I killed for you! Is this how you treat your number one fan?!" Ghostface`s voice cracked with desperation.

But Heeseung's resolve remained unyielding. "I don't care! I never asked you to do this! You simply acted out and now you hurt my girl? Yeah, I don't think so!" His voice thundered with righteous fury, punctuated by the sounds of struggle and a shout of pain.

As the chaos unfolded, you could only listen helplessly, caught in the midst of a battle between two forces—one driven by love, the other by madness.

You strained against your restraints, the muffled sounds of struggle echoing around you. Suddenly, a loud thump reverberated through the space, followed by the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the floor. Your heart raced, and you tried to scream through the gag, unable to discern whose body had fallen.

In a swift motion, the bag covering your head was ripped away, and you squinted against the sudden onslaught of light, blinking rapidly to adjust. As your vision cleared, you found yourself face to face with the Ghostface mask, but a surge of relief washed over you when you realized it was Heeseung behind it.

"Are you okay, angel? I mean… of course, you're not okay! But like, I mean… oh, forget it," Heeseung's words tumbled out in a rush, a mix of concern and relief evident in his voice. Tears welled up in your eyes, as you spoke through the gag.

"It's okay, I'm here, angel. I'm here," Heeseung reassured you, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. With gentle hands, he removed the tape from your mouth, allowing you to draw in a shaky breath. As you gasped for air, Heeseung retrieved a knife and began cutting through the ropes binding your wrists.

However, your relief was short-lived as you noticed Ghostface stirring. Panic surged through you, and you tried to warn Heeseung, but your voice came out as a hushed whisper. Sensing your fear, Heeseung swiftly rose to his feet, positioning himself protectively in front of you. With a swift movement, he placed the knife in your hand.

The room reverberated with Ghostface's chilling laughter as he rose to his feet, his deranged chuckles echoing off the walls. His laughter turned more sinister as he threw his head back, his gaze fixing on you and Heeseung. "That was a good move! Really, Ghostface! You have such raw talent… don't you agree?" he taunted, but Heeseung remained silent.

Taking advantage of the distraction, you focused on cutting yourself free from the ropes binding your wrists, the knife Heeseung had given you proving to be your lifeline. With each precise cut, you felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins, driving you to free yourself as quickly as possible. Meanwhile, Heeseung brandished a switchblade, as he prepared to defend both himself and you.

As Ghostface lunged towards Heeseung, the two engaged in a fierce struggle, their bodies colliding with force. Heeseung skillfully parried each blow, his movements fluid and calculated, but his priority remained protecting you from harm. With a sense of urgency, you worked feverishly to cut through the ropes binding your legs, your heart pounding in your chest as you pushed through the pain.

Suddenly, Ghostface managed to tackle Heeseung to the ground, raining down punches upon him as he writhed beneath the onslaught. In a desperate bid to intervene, you finally succeeded in freeing yourself from the ropes and staggered to your feet, your body protesting every movement.

Your eyes widened in horror as you witnessed Ghostface raising a knife, poised to strike Heeseung. Without a second thought, you screamed out in defiance and lunged forward, driving the knife into Ghostface's back with all your strength. The assailant let out a guttural scream of agony as you twisted the blade, causing him to stumble backward in shock and pain.

Heeseung wasted no time in seizing the opportunity, swiftly rising to his feet and catching you in his arms, pulling you close to him as you leaned against his chest. "I refuse this betrayal!" Ghostface roared in fury, wrenching the knife from his back with a cry of rage. Shifting his gaze between Heeseung and you, his twisted words dripping with hatred. "This whore is nothing compared to me!" he spat, his voice dripping with venom.

"She is not for you to compare, asshole!" Heeseung retorted, his voice ringing with defiance as he stood protectively in front of you.

Ghostface clutched the knife you had used to stab him, his eyes burned with fury as he lunged at Heeseung once again. But Heeseung was prepared this time. With lightning reflexes, he tackled Ghostface, the two adversaries crashing to the ground in a tangle of limbs and rage. They grappled fiercely, exchanging punches and kicks as they fought for dominance, the sound of their struggle echoing through the house.

Meanwhile, you stood frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do amidst the chaos unfolding before you. But Heeseung's urgent command snapped you out of your daze. "Y/N! Go!" he shouted. Responding instinctively, you scrambled to comply, your heart pounding with adrenaline-fueled urgency.

"Oh no you don`t!" Ghostface said, refusing to relent, lashed out with a vicious punch, striking Heeseung before seizing your ankle in a desperate attempt to impede your escape. You stumbled, falling to the ground under the force of his grip, but you refused to submit.

With a surge of determination, you kicked out fiercely, connecting with Ghostface's face with a resounding impact. He cried out in pain, his grip loosening as you scrambled away, seizing the opportunity to break free from his grasp.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you scoured the nearby rooms, the sounds of the struggle in the living room serving as a sign that you were in the clear. You moved quickly, until you found yourself in the kitchen. When suddenly, the sharp report of a gunshot rang out, causing you to startle and whirl around in alarm.

Before you could react, Ghostface appeared before you, brandishing a gun. "Come on!" Relief flooded through you as you realized it was Heeseung under the mask.

Ghostface's enraged shouts reverberated through the living room, with thundering steps echoing behind you, you and Heeseung hastily retreated, seeking any means of escape from the relentless pursuit.

Turning to face the approaching threat, you and Heeseung found yourselves confronted by Ghostface, his figure bearing witness to the injury inflicted upon him by Heeseung's well-aimed shot. Despite his wounded state, Ghostface pressed on, driven by a fanatical determination to capture his prey.

"Go!" Heeseung's urgent command sliced through the chaos, accompanied by the unmistakable click of a gun being aimed. You darted forward, seeking refuge as Heeseung lifted the weapon, his steely gaze fixed on Ghostface's retreating form. But the masked assailant found cover behind the kitchen island, evading the imminent threat of gunfire.

Scanning your surroundings frantically, you dashed through the family room, your heart pounding with adrenaline-fueled desperation. Your hopes were dashed as you attempted to open the balcony door, only to find it locked tight, sealing off any chance of escape. Frustration bubbled within you as you cursed under your breath, your mind racing for an alternative route to safety.

With no time to waste, you bolted into a nearby bedroom, seeking refuge within its confines. Turning to Heeseung for reassurance, you watched as he faced Ghostface, his ammunition depleted and his stance poised for combat. In a split-second exchange, Ghostface lunged forward with a vicious stab, aiming for Heeseung's form.

"No!" Your anguished cry echoed through the room as you witnessed the violent clash between the two adversaries. Heeseung's swift reflexes saved him from a direct blow, but the knife still found its mark, leaving a deep gash across his arm. With a pained grunt, Heeseung retaliated, delivering a forceful kick that sent Ghostface sprawling to the ground.

As the intense struggle continued, Ghostface seized Heeseung's leg, causing him to stumble and fall to the ground. With swift precision, Ghostface climbed on top of Heeseung, raining down a barrage of punches upon him. Heeseung grunted in pain, his muscles straining as he attempted to defend himself against the relentless assault. In a desperate bid for control, Heeseung managed to reverse their positions, landing a series of powerful punches of his own before Ghostface retaliated, once again gaining the upper hand.

Meanwhile, you scanned the room for any potential weapon to aid in your escape. Your eyes landed on a wooden cutting board nearby, and without hesitation, you seized it, preparing for action. With determination fueling your movements, you swung the cutting board with all your strength, striking Ghostface squarely in the head. A sharp cry of pain echoed through the room as Ghostface staggered, momentarily stunned by the unexpected blow. Seizing the opportunity, Heeseung swiftly extricated himself from beneath Ghostface's grasp, urging you to flee with him.

Racing toward the front door, hope flickered within you as the possibility of escape loomed tantalizingly close. However, your relief was short-lived as a sudden jolt of agony pierced through your body, sending you crashing to the ground. As you struggled to comprehend the source of the pain, Heeseung turned back to you in alarm, only to be met with the chilling realization of your plight.

"I did it!" Ghostface's triumphant declaration pierced the air, his sinister presence looming behind you. You were violently pulled upright, as a surge of pain shot through you. With horrifying clarity, you realized that Ghostface had thrown a dagger at you, the searing pain in your back confirming the deadly accuracy of his aim. Tears welled in your eyes as you cried out in anguish, the agony of the wound searing through your senses.

"You motherfucker!" Heeseung's enraged voice reverberated through the room. Yet, the threat of the dagger pressed against your throat silenced any further action from Heeseung. Frozen in place, Heeseung stood helplessly.

Heeseung's trembling hands betrayed the fierce restraint he exercised, his entire being a coiled spring of tension as he struggled to contain his mounting fury. "Take off the mask," Ghostface's sudden command sliced through the air, demanding compliance with chilling authority. "What?" Heeseung's voice wavered with disbelief his gaze locked with Ghostface's behind the menacing mask.

"You heard me. I wanna see you. I wanna see my idol," Ghostface persisted, his grip tightening on your arm as he began to pull you along. With each step, the ache of your injuries throbbed relentlessly, but you forced yourself to endure, your resolve unyielding even as pain threatened to overwhelm you. As Ghostface ascended the stairs, dragging you along in his wake, Heeseung followed closely behind, his every movement fraught with tension.

"I went through all this effort! I mean, the bitch stabbed me, I had to quit soccer, kill my parents when they started to suspect! And the dot over the i was I had to hit your little angel here with my car! I mean, that car costed more than herself!"

His words hung heavy in the air, a chilling testament to the lengths he had gone to fulfill his twisted desires. But it was his admission of hitting you with his car that sent a shockwave of horror coursing through your veins. The memories flooded back in a torrent of images and sensations, the screeching tires, the sickening impact, the overwhelming darkness that followed.

Heeseung's reaction was visceral, his incredulous rage boiling over as he struggled to comprehend the depths of Ghostface's depravity. "You what!?!?" his voice rang out.

In a fit of unbridled fury, Heeseung lunged forward, his muscles coiled with tension as he prepared to unleash his pent-up wrath upon Ghostface. But just as his outstretched hands reached for Ghostface's throat, the masked assailant yelped in genuine fear, his reflexes kicking in as he swiftly pulled you with him, narrowly evading Heeseung's vicious assault.

The sheer velocity of his movements sent a shiver down your spine as you watched the scene unfold before you, the knife held perilously close to your throat. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Heeseung's gaze snapped to the spot where Ghostface now stood with you, after barely managing to dodge his attack, his fists clenched.

With a sharp intake of breath, Heeseung reeled back. Though the urge to lash out still simmered beneath the surface, he knew that his priority now was ensuring your safety, no matter the cost. And with a heavy sigh, Heeseung reluctantly acquiesced, raising his arms in resignation as he shed his hood and removed the mask, revealing his bruised and bloodied face beneath. Relief flooded through you at the sight of his familiar features, a stark contrast to the chilling facade of the Ghostface mask he wore.

But any semblance of comfort was shattered by Ghostface's chilling words, his laughter a haunting echo in the empty corridors. "Well.. well... well. If it isn't Lee Heeseung..." His voice dripped with malice, each word laced with contempt. "You know! Now that I think about it! You are really the perfect Ghostface! I can't believe I didn't see it before!"

Heeseung's response was a silent glare, his features twisted in a mask of restrained fury. But as Ghostface's attention remained fixed on Heeseung, you seized the opportunity for action. With a surge of adrenaline, you launched a swift kick at Ghostface's shin, causing him to yelp in pain and drop the knife he had been brandishing menacingly.

As the knife clattered to the ground, a familiar glint caught your eye—a flash of recognition amidst the chaos. It was the butterfly knife that Heeseung had gifted you, now tarnished with blood. Without hesitation, you snatched it up in your hand, gripping it.

Heeseung wasted no time with you free from Ghostface`s grip, he seized your hand. propelling you forward as he led the charge down the hallway. Behind you, Ghostface's enraged cries echoed through the corridors, a cacophony of curses and threats that fueled your desperate flight to safety.

Your feet stumbled over the uneven floor as you raced to escape the looming threat of Ghostface. The hallway stretched endlessly before you, the walls seeming to close in with each passing second, amplifying the urgency of your flight.

Finally, Heeseung burst through the door of an open room, dragging you inside before swiftly slamming it shut behind you.

As the room fell into a tense silence, broken only by the sound of your pounding heart, Heeseung swiftly moved to lock the door, his hands trembling with urgency. The metal handle rattled violently as Ghostface exerted force from the other side, his relentless assault threatening to breach the flimsy barrier between safety and chaos. Heeseung's shock was palpable as he stared at the quivering door, his eyes reflecting a mixture of fear and determination.

While Heeseung grappled with the imminent threat at the door, your gaze swept across the room in search of any means of escape. The bedroom offered little in terms of refuge, its modest furnishings offering no sanctuary from the looming danger. You glanced out the window, but the sight of the daunting drop to the ground below dissuaded any thoughts of escape via that route.

Suddenly, the thundering assault on the door ceased, replaced by an eerie quiet that sent a shiver down your spine. Heeseung's instincts kicked in, and he swiftly retreated, pulling you close as a deafening gunshot echoed through the room. The door handle shattered under the force of the bullet, sending wooden splinters flying as the door swung open, the lock rendered useless by Ghostface's firepower.

Heeseung's gasp of alarm prompted swift action as he dove, dragging you with him, to take cover behind the bed. The bed provided little protection from the onslaught, and you screamed as each shot rang out, the sound reverberating in your ears.

As the gun clicked empty, Ghostface cursed under his breath, the frustration evident in his voice as he fumbled for more ammunition. In that fleeting moment of respite, you blinked, and with a sudden burst of movement, Heeseung launched himself over the bed, his form a blur as he collided with Ghostface in a whirlwind of violence.

The two figures grappled on the floor again. Punches were thrown with reckless abandon. Rolling and tumbling across the floor, they fought tooth and nail, locked in a deadly dance of survival.

In a desperate bid for freedom, you seized the fleeting opportunity and bolted out of the room, your heart pounding in your chest as adrenaline surged through your veins. But as you raced down the hallway, the sudden eruption of gunshots and Heeseung's unmistakable yell pierced through the chaos, freezing you in your tracks. You whirled around in shock, only to find Ghostface charging towards you with menacing determination, his voice echoing with malice as he closed in.

"There's no escape, sweetheart!" His taunting words echoed through the air, sending shivers down your spine as you continued to flee. But despite your efforts, Ghostface swiftly caught up to you, his iron grip seizing hold of you and slamming you forcefully onto the unforgiving ground. Panic surged through you as his hands closed around your neck, squeezing the life out of you with merciless force. "You've been a thorn in my side for too long! This ends now!" he growled.

Desperation fueled your fight as you kicked and thrashed against him, your cries muffled by the crushing pressure of his hands. Tears blurred your vision as you gasped for precious air, the suffocating grip of Ghostface tightening with each passing moment. "Get off!" you choked out, your voice raw with anguish as the world spun around you. "I can't wait to see the life draining from your eyes," he hissed.

Just when it seemed all hope was lost, a sudden roar echoed through the air, and the weight of Ghostface was abruptly lifted from you. Gasping for breath, you watched through tear-streaked eyes as Heeseung launched himself at Ghostface, the two figures crashing through the railing of the stairs down to the first floor, the sound of their bodies hitting the floor echoing in your ears.

"Heeseung!" you rasped, your voice barely a whisper as you staggered down the stairs, your limbs trembling. At the bottom, you found them both lying motionless amidst the wreckage of shattered wood, their bodies battered and broken from the fall.

With trembling hands and a racing heart, you made it down beside Heeseung, the urgency of the moment driving you forward. You checked his pulse, relief washing over you as you felt the reassuring thump under your fingertips. He was alive. Alive and here, with you. "Please, Heeseung, stay with me! Stay with me, baby!" you pleaded, your voice quivering with fear and desperation as you caressed his cheek, willing him to awaken.

Your attention shifted to the bleeding wounds from the gunshot, adrenaline surging as you swiftly removed the Ghostface costume from his body. Beneath the facade of terror, Heeseung was clad in simple jeans and a bloodied sweater, his peaceful face a stark contrast to the chaos surrounding you. Thinking quickly, you applied pressure to his wounds, your mind racing with fear and determination.

Just then, groans pierced the air, and you looked up to see Ghostface slowly rising. Panic surged through you, your heart pounding as you clung to Heeseung, shielding him with your body. As Ghostface turned toward you, his chilling words sent a shiver down your spine. "Well… I have to give it to you, Y/n… you not only survived Heeseung, but you also made him risk his life for you… good job," he remarked, as he stepped away from you.

Your shock quickly turned to terror as Ghostface returned quickly with a kitchen knife in hand, his intent clear. "I'll make this quick while Heeseung is still down," he declared, lunging forward in an attempt to grab you. With a surge of adrenaline, you evaded his grasp, your instincts driving you to flee. "Don't make this harder, Y/n!" he shouted after you as you dashed away, his menacing presence lingering in the air like a chilling specter of doom.

As you bolted down the dimly lit hallway, your heart thundered in your chest, each beat urging you forward in a frantic bid for escape. Behind you, the echoing footsteps of Ghostface followed ominously, driving you to push your trembling legs to their limits.

With every turn, you found yourself met with locked doors and barred windows, each obstacle serving as a grim reminder of your dire circumstances. Panic clawed at the edges of your mind as you desperately searched for any means of escape.

In a blur of motion, you careened into a deserted living room, the musty air heavy with the oppressive weight of fear. The dim glow of moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting eerie shadows that danced across the walls like specters of the night.

As you scanned the room for a way out, your eyes fell upon a set of double doors leading to a balcony. With a surge of hope, you rushed towards them, your fingers grasping at the cold metal handle in a desperate attempt to break free from the suffocating confines of the house.

But your hopes were dashed as you found the doors locked tight, the cruel reality of your situation crashing down upon you like a tidal wave. Frantically, you rattled the handle, the sound of your pounding heart drowning out the desperate pleas for salvation that echoed in your mind.

Behind you, Ghostface drew closer, looming like a specter in the darkness. With each passing moment, the gap between you narrowed, his chilling laughter ringing in your ears like a death knell.

Forced to abandon the balcony as a means of escape, you turned and bolted down another hallway, your footsteps echoing in the empty corridors as you fled from the encroaching darkness that pursued you relentlessly.

As you ran, you could feel the tendrils of exhaustion creeping in, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as your muscles screamed in protest. Yet, driven by sheer instinct and the primal urge to survive, you pressed on.

With every passing second, the house seemed to close in around you, its labyrinthine halls twisting and turning like a maze designed to ensnare the unwary. Yet, through sheer grit and determination, you fought against the suffocating grip of despair, refusing to succumb to the darkness that threatened to consume you whole.

In a desperate bid for survival, you ducked into a cluttered study, the musty scent of old books filling the air as you scanned the room for a means of escape. But before you could react, Ghostface burst through the doorway.

With lightning reflexes, you dodged his initial lunge, the sharp edge of the blade grazing your shoulder as you stumbled backward. Ignoring the searing pain, you seized upon the nearest object—a heavy desk lamp—and swung it with all your might, the metal base connecting with Ghostface's arm with a sickening thud.

With a cry of pain, he recoiled, momentarily stunned by the force of the blow. Seizing the opportunity, you darted past him, racing down the hallway, the echoes of his enraged shouts echoing in your wake.

But Ghostface was relentless, his footsteps thundering behind you as you rounded a corner, you stumbled upon a small alcove, its shelves lined with an assortment of knick-knacks and trinkets. Without hesitation, you seized upon a porcelain vase, its delicate form offering little resistance as you hurled it at Ghostface with all your might.

The vase shattered upon impact, sending a spray of ceramic shards cascading through the air as Ghostface recoiled, you darted past him once more, heart pounding in your chest as you raced towards the nearest exit.

As you ran towards the front where you had left Heeseung, your heart pounding with a mixture of fear and anticipation, you heard a sickening crunch from behind you. With a jolt, you turned around, your eyes widening in shock as you witnessed Heeseung swinging the wooden cutting board with all his might, striking Ghostface squarely in the face. The force of the blow caused Ghostface to stumble backward, dropping the knife in the process.

Frozen in place, you watched in disbelief as Heeseung grabbed a machete from seemingly nowhere, his expression resolute as he raised it high, ready to deliver a fatal blow. Before you could react, you shouted out, "No!"

But it was too late. With a swift motion, Heeseung brought the machete down, aiming directly at Ghostface. However, instead of slashing, the blade pierced through the cloak of Ghostface, slicing through the fabric and embedding itself into the wooden floor below.

Your eyes widened in shock as Heeseung collapsed, the exertion of the fight taking its toll on him. Without hesitation, you rushed to his side, holding him close as you called out his name desperately. Heeseung's breathing was slow and labored, his gaze still fixed on Ghostface with a fierce intensity.

Turning your attention to Ghostface, you watched as Heeseung stretched out his trembling hand and tore off the mask, revealing the face beneath. In that moment, everything seemed to freeze as the weight of the truth settled upon you.

It was Taehyung....

How could you have been so blind? How could you have missed the signs, the subtle clues that now seemed glaringly obvious?

With a mix of relief and horror, you held onto Heeseung, gently cradling his head, your heart aching at the sight of him wounded and exhausted.

As you slowly helped Heeseung up, his weight leaning heavily on you, you both made your way to the front door, as you reached out to try the door handle, the cruel reality of your situation slammed into you. Locked.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath, frustration and desperation clawing at your throat. Casting a quick glance around the house, your eyes settled on a room, a potential source of salvation. "I'll be right back," you promised Heeseung, guiding him to a corner where he could rest against the wall.

Limping toward the room, every step a painful reminder of the ordeal you had endured, you scanned the space for something—anything—that could break down the door. Just as you were about to return with your makeshift weapon, the air was pierced by the sound of yelling and shouting, a cacophony of rage and desperation.

Heart pounding, you hurried back to the scene, but what you found was beyond your worst nightmares. Both Taehyung and Heeseung were gone, leaving behind only pools of blood and the gleaming machete on the floor. "Heeseung?!" you cried out, the word tearing from your throat like a desperate plea.

Instead, the sound of glass shattering drew your attention to the back of the house. Racing through the living room to the family room, you skidded to a halt at the shattered backdoor, where Taehyung and Heeseung were locked in a vicious struggle amidst a sea of broken glass.

Taehyung's face was a mask of fury and pain, his features twisted with anger and resentment, while Heeseung's own visage bore the marks of battle, blood trickling from a wound on his head. They traded blows, each punch a symphony of violence and determination, as they fought tooth and nail for their lives.

"You are not worthy of bearing the mask!" Taehyung's voice echoed through the chaos, his words dripping with venom. Heeseung's response was swift and furious, his own voice ringing out with defiance. "It's not about being worthy! It's about coverage, you son of a bitch!"

As you tried to make your way through the chaotic opening, your eyes widened in shock as you witnessed Heeseung's desperate move. Gripping a jagged chunk of broken glass, he drove it mercilessly through Taehyung's stomach, the latter's cry of surprise piercing the air. Taehyung staggered back, clutching the shard tightly in disbelief, his eyes darting between the blood-soaked glass and Heeseung's face, a mixture of shock and fury contorting his features.

Frozen in place, you watched in horror as the scene unfolded before you, the violence and brutality of it all threatening to overwhelm your senses. But in the midst of the chaos, you failed to realize the danger looming perilously close to you.

Taehyung, his gaze ablaze with a twisted resolve, caught sight of you out of the corner of his eye. "I may never be worthy of your praise… but I'm at least not going down alone," he spat, his voice dripping with venomous intent.

With a sudden whirl of motion, Taehyung pulled out the glass shard, his movements fueled by a primal desperation, and lunged toward you with a bloodcurdling scream. The other end of the shard found its mark, plunging into your stomach with a searing pain that radiated through every fiber of your being. "No!" Heeseung's anguished cry echoed in your ears as he rushed to your side, catching you before you could collapse to the ground.

"Y/n! Baby! Stay with me, please!" Heeseung's voice was raw with emotion as he cradled your head in his trembling hands. Through the haze of agony, you struggled to focus, your vision blurred as tears stung your eyes. All around you, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the cold, indifferent gaze of the night sky above.

As Heeseung desperately pleaded for you to stay awake, his words echoed faintly in the recesses of your mind. "Please, baby! Angel, don't close your eyes!" His voice trembled with anguish, each syllable a desperate plea to keep you tethered to consciousness. But the world around you seemed to blur into an indistinct haze, and you struggled to focus through the fog of pain and exhaustion.

The chill of the night air seeped into your skin, a biting reminder of the harsh reality surrounding you. With a delirious gaze, you tried to meet Heeseung's eyes, but the blurriness that clouded your vision thwarted your attempts. All you could manage were shallow breaths, each inhalation laced with a searing ache that radiated from the wound in your stomach.

In a feeble attempt to alleviate your suffering, you weakly pushed against Heeseung's hands as he sought to tend to your wound. "No, please!" His voice cracked with emotion as he persisted, hastily wrapping the wound with his sweater, the fabric stained with a grim mosaic of dirt and blood. The pristine white of your angelic dress had long been tainted, obscured by the grim realities of the night's ordeal.

The last semblance of awareness flickered within you as you registered a primal snarl echoing through the darkness, followed by the sensation of Heeseung's warm hands slipping away from your skin. And then, like a veil descending over your senses, darkness enveloped you, swallowing you whole in its unfathomable depths.

In that silent void, devoid of sensation or perception, you floated in a state of limbo. Time ceased to hold any meaning, and you drifted aimlessly, suspended between the realms of life and death. Was this the end, the culmination of your journey? In the quiet expanse of the void, you pondered the elusive nature of mortality, wondering if this was indeed the final chapter of your existence.

⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

As consciousness gradually seeped back into your being, you felt the weight of your entire body, as if every limb was burdened by a heavy weariness. Slowly, tentatively, you blinked your eyes open, greeted by the sterile whiteness of a ceiling. Confusion clouded your thoughts momentarily, casting a veil over your senses as you struggled to comprehend your surroundings.

Your gaze drifted downward, and to your astonishment, you found yourself confined to a hospital bed, ensnared by a web of tubes and IV lines tethering you to the medical apparatus. An oxygen mask obscured part of your face, its presence a reminder of the fragility of your existence. Squinting against the harsh glare of the hospital lights, you turned your head slightly, your eyes alighting upon the heart monitor stationed beside you.

But amidst the bewildering array of medical equipment, your gaze was drawn to a familiar sight—an unmistakable tuft of hair that stirred a surge of recognition within you. Heeseung. The name reverberated through your mind, a whisper of clarity amidst the fog of uncertainty. He lay beside you, clad in hospital attire, his form relaxed in slumber as he clasped your hand in his, a silent vigil of unwavering devotion.

A swell of emotion welled within you as you beheld his peaceful countenance, a silent guardian standing sentinel by your bedside. Despite the chaos that had besieged you both, he remained steadfast in his resolve, a beacon of strength and solace in the midst of turmoil. The sight of him stirred a profound sense of gratitude and affection within you, flooding your heart with a warmth that transcended the sterile confines of the hospital room.

As you attempted to move, the realization dawned upon you that you were restrained, bound by invisible chains that restricted your movements. A soft groan escaped your lips, a testament to your frustration and discomfort. However, that small sound was enough to rouse Heeseung from his slumber. Blinking his eyes open, he stirred and sat up, his gaze immediately fixating on you.

Fading bruises adorned his face, serving as a reminder of the extended time you had spent in this hospital bed. It became evident that you had been confined here for a considerable period.

Heeseung's eyes filled with tears of relief as his gaze locked onto yours. His whole face seemed to light up at the sight of you awake, his emotions overflowing as he reached for your hand. "Y/n!" he exclaimed, his voice trembling with emotion as he pressed gentle kisses to your hand. It was as though a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders, his relief palpable as he visibly relaxed in your presence.

Struggling to find your voice, you attempted to utter his name, but your throat felt dry and parched. Heeseung seemed to understand your silent plea, and with gentle care, he rose from the bed, his movements fueled by a sense of urgency. Finding a bottle of water, he quickly opened it, offering you a reprieve from your thirst.

With tender precision, he adjusted your oxygen mask, allowing you to drink. The cool liquid washed over your parched throat, a refreshing sensation that brought tears to your eyes. It had been days, perhaps weeks, since you last had a drink, and the simple act of quenching your thirst felt like a luxury.

As you drank, Heeseung watched you with a mixture of love and concern, his gaze softening as he witnessed your relief. Once you had finished, he carefully replaced your oxygen mask, settling back beside you with a smile. His eyes were filled with an overwhelming sense of adoration as he regarded you.

"My strong angel," he murmured, his voice filled with reverence as he praised your resilience. You returned his smile, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that existed between you. However, as the memories of your time spent unconscious flooded back, a question lingered on your lips.

"How long have I been here?" you inquired, your voice tinged with uncertainty. Heeseung's expression darkened slightly, a grimace crossing his features as he scratched his neck in discomfort. "Three weeks," he muttered, his tone heavy with regret.

"And Taehyung?" you asked, the name leaving a bitter taste in your mouth as you uttered it. Heeseung's expression mirrored your unease, his features tensing slightly in response to the mention of Taehyung's name. "He's… gone," he replied somberly, confirming your suspicions. "He… is?" you questioned further, seeking confirmation from Heeseung. With a solemn nod, he affirmed Taehyung's fate.

"Did you kill him?" you inquired, surprised by your own nonchalant tone. Heeseung seemed taken aback by your question, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before he nodded silently in response. A sense of calm washed over you, a strange relief settling in your heart. Under normal circumstances, you would never condone taking another's life, but in this instance, Taehyung had brought you nothing but suffering and pain. The thought of his demise brought you no remorse.

Heeseung had been your salvation, your protector amidst the chaos. His actions, though violent, were driven by a sense of duty and love for you. In contrast, Taehyung had succumbed to darkness, consumed by his relentless pursuit of approval from Heeseung. His descent into madness had left him irredeemable, a shadow of the person he once was.

In that moment, as you locked eyes with Heeseung, you knew that you had found your sanctuary, a haven from the storms that had ravaged your life. And as he returned your gaze with a love-struck expression, you felt a warmth spread through your being.

"What about Ghostface?" you inquired, seeking closure on the ordeal that had plagued your life.

Heeseung's response was swift and confident, his voice laced with assurance. "It's all taken care of, angel. They have no evidence," he assured you, his words bringing a sense of relief to your troubled mind.

As you nodded in gratitude, Heeseung's gaze softened, his thoughts drifting to a conversation you had shared earlier. "I was thinking about what you said… at my house," he began, prompting your curiosity.

Instantly, the memory flooded back to you, and you understood the weight of his words. "I do trust you, Angel… it's just, I didn't have much control over my life when my mother was around," he confessed, his voice tinged with bitterness. "And my father wasn't much help… I was at my limit, I couldn't take it anymore. Everything was too much, but I found my solace by hiding behind a mask… like a coward," he admitted, his tone heavy with remorse.

He let out a sigh, his gaze falling momentarily before meeting yours once again. "And I thought… why should I be the only one to suffer? And my road took me down a dark path which I regret… and I thought there was no saving me. Until you came," he confessed, his voice softer now, filled with vulnerability.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, prompting Heeseung to continue. "You became my new solace, Angel… and suddenly life was worth living," he admitted, his words carrying the weight of his emotions. "Without you, I'm helpless, lost, misguided. I need you in my life. You are my oxygen, without you I'll go crazy," he confessed, his lips pressing gently against the back of your hand as he spoke.

As Heeseung gazed into your eyes with an intensity that made your heart flutter, he uttered those words that you had been longing to hear. "Y/n… be my girlfriend, please? Officially? Let me be your boyfriend, my love," he pleaded, his voice soft yet filled with sincerity.

Your heart ached with a mixture of joy and relief as you nodded in response. "I will be your girlfriend," you confirmed, your voice barely a whisper as emotions surged within you.

Heeseung leaned over you, his movements gentle and deliberate as he lowered your oxygen mask, allowing you both to share a kiss that was filled with all the love and devotion that had blossomed between you. It began slowly, a tender exploration of each other's lips, but soon ignited into a passionate exchange as the depth of your feelings poured into the intimate gesture.

As you pulled back, breathless and overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, Heeseung's eyes held a silent question, one that you answered with a nod of consent. "May I?" he asked, gesturing towards the bed beside you.

With a nod, you granted him permission, and Heeseung carefully climbed beside you, settling himself close as he wrapped his arms around you protectively. He adjusted your oxygen mask with gentle hands, his touch comforting and reassuring as he leaned his head against your chest, finding solace in the rhythm of your heartbeat.

You began to play with his hair, relishing in the softness of his locks beneath your fingertips. You noticed the stitches on his head, with a pang of guilt for the pain he had endured on your behalf, you traced the lines of his stitches with tender care.

As the rhythmic sound of his breathing filled the room, you felt yourself drifting into a peaceful slumber, cradled in the warmth of his love. And as you surrendered to the embrace of sleep.

⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

After weeks of healing in the hospital, your miraculous recovery became the talk of the town. News of your awakening spread like wildfire, making headlines in newspapers and capturing the attention of the entire community. The tale of your survival, coupled with the bravery of your boyfriend, Heeseung, captivated the hearts of many.

Within the span of a single day, the story of your ordeal unfolded across social media platforms and news outlets. The community rallied behind you, celebrating your resilience. The truth about Ghostface's demise emerged, revealing that you and Heeseung had acted in self-defense, bringing an end to the reign of terror that had plagued your lives.

As the days passed, the mystery surrounding the original Ghostface's disappearance and apparent retirement only added to the intrigue of the tale. Speculations and theories abounded, but one thing remained certain—Ghostface had become a mere legacy, a chapter in history buried beneath the weight of your survival and newfound strength.

⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

Under the somber light of the setting sun, Heeseung stood in the forest. In his hands, he held a small wooden box containing his Ghostface costume. With a solemn expression, he carefully dug a hole in the earth, the shovel scraping against the soil.

With a heavy heart, Heeseung placed the box into the ground, covering it with soil as if burying the ghosts of the past. He stood there for a moment, silent and contemplative, bidding farewell to the shadows that had haunted him for so long.

Meanwhile, you stood a little distance away, giving him the space he needed to say his farewells.

After a moment, Heeseung walked back to where you stood, his expression softened by the warmth of your presence. As you held out your hand to him, he took it without hesitation.

"Ready?" you asked softly, your voice a gentle reassurance. Heeseung nodded, his gaze meeting yours with unwavering resolve. "Ready," he affirmed, his hand tightening around yours as you walked away from the gravesite.

⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅

You laid comfortably on the couch, munching on popcorn as the horror movie played on the TV screen. When a jump scare startled you, you instinctively hid your face in your boyfriend's shoulder, seeking comfort from the sudden fright. Heeseung, lying beside you, wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer to him.

"Are you okay, angel?" he asked, concern evident in his voice. You looked up at him, pouting slightly, as he smirked back at you. "I'm fine, thank you very much," you replied, turning your attention back to the movie. But Heeseung gently lifted your chin, making you meet his gaze. "You sure?" he pressed, refusing to let you off easily.

You nodded, trying to reassure him, but he held your jaw firmly. "Words, princess," he insisted. With a sigh, you repeated, "I'm fine." He hummed in response, leaning in as if to kiss you. Anticipating the kiss, you leaned forward too, but he merely snagged some popcorn kernels from your bowl, earning a playful protest from you.

"Hey, my popcorn!" you exclaimed, trying to snatch it back. He dodged your attempts, prompting you to climb onto his lap in pursuit. "Woah!" he exclaimed in surprise as you succeeded in reclaiming your snack, eating it with a smug expression.

But your victory was short-lived as you felt Heeseung's hands on your hips, causing you to look down and realize your position on his lap. His gaze was appreciative as he leaned back, admiring you with a lazy expression. "You look so good like that, angel," he murmured, his hands tracing patterns on your waist and hips.

"Don't get used to it," you warned, attempting to climb off his lap. However, Heeseung had other plans, easily pulling you back down with a playful smirk.

You looked down at Heeseung, confusion evident in your expression as you wondered what was going on in his mind. "What is this?" you asked, unsure of his intentions.

Heeseung's gaze softened as he looked up at you, a fond smile playing on his lips. "Nothing, just thinking about how lucky I am to have you as my girlfriend," he replied, his voice filled with sincerity.

Feeling your cheeks flush with warmth, you looked away shyly, unable to contain the flutter of emotions in your chest. But before you could gather your thoughts, Heeseung suddenly pulled you close to him, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace.

Giggles bubbled from your lips as you both rolled on the couch, caught up in the playful moment. Heeseung showered you with kisses, peppering your face with affectionate gestures that elicited more laughter from you. "Stoooop!" you protested between giggles, squirming in his grasp as you tried to escape his playful onslaught.

But Heeseung showed no signs of relenting, his laughter blending with yours as he continued to shower you with affection. "Never!" he declared playfully, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he held you close.

You managed to wriggle out of Heeseung's tight grip and quickly scrambled to the other side of the couch, putting some distance between the two of you. But when you glanced back, you saw Heeseung following after you with a mischievous glint in his eyes, his lips curved into a playful smirk. "Trying to run from me, angel?" he teased, his voice laced with amusement.

With a laugh, you climbed over the armrest of the couch and dashed through the house, the sound of your laughter echoing in the air.

Boxes from your recent move lay scattered around, adding an obstacle course-like challenge to your playful chase. "Just try and catch me, babe!" you called out teasingly as Heeseung chased after you, the thrill of the chase filling the air with excitement.

The house was soon filled with the cheerful melody of your laughter as Heeseung finally managed to catch up to you. With a mischievous grin, he began tickling you, eliciting joyful protests and giggles from you. "Heeseung!" you laughed, squirming under his touch. "Stop, please! I yield!"

Heeseung relented, pulling back with a satisfied grin, but then he lifted you up and settled back onto the couch, holding you close in his arms. "I caught you, I deserve a prize, don't I?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he tapped his cheek playfully, silently requesting a kiss.

"I think you do," you replied with a grin, leaning in to kiss his cheek. But he turned at the last moment, catching your lips in a sweet, unexpected kiss. You smiled at his playful behavior, returning the kiss with equal affection as you melted into his embrace.

As Heeseung maneuvered you effortlessly, you found yourself lying on your back on the couch, with him hovering over you, his lips never leaving yours. Your hands slipped up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as the intensity of the kiss deepened. With one hand supporting his weight above you, Heeseung's other hand began to explore, trailing a path from your chest down to your waist, then to your hip and thigh, mapping out every curve of your body with a gentle touch that sent shivers down your spine. As his hand returned to grip your waist, you couldn't help but gasp, granting him permission to deepen the kiss further.

Heeseung's lips moved against yours with a hunger that mirrored your own, his kiss a tantalizing blend of passion and desire that left you breathless. Eventually, he pulled back, allowing both of you to catch your breath. You took in deep lungfuls of air as you gazed up at him, your eyes filled with a mixture of desire and affection.

"Stop looking at me like that," you told him, your voice breathy and soft. "Like what?" Heeseung asked innocently, his eyes glinting mischievously. "Like I'm food," you explained, a hint of playful annoyance in your tone.

A smirk played on Heeseung's lips as he bit down on his bottom lip, his gaze dropping to your lips before returning to meet your eyes. "Well, maybe I'm hungry," he replied, his voice low and husky with desire.

As Heeseung's lips melded with yours in a fervent embrace, the world around you seemed to fade into oblivion. His kisses grew increasingly desperate, a reflection of the burning need that coursed through his veins, igniting every fiber of your being with an intensity that left you breathless.

With each tender caress of his lips, Heeseung worshipped every inch of your body, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His hands roamed with a purposeful urgency, tracing the curves of your form with an almost reverent touch as he whispered words of adoration and praise against your skin.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he pressed kisses along the curve of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "I can't get enough of you." His words sent shivers down your spine, igniting a primal desire within you that threatened to consume you whole.

In the heat of the moment, all inhibitions melted away as you surrendered yourself completely to the intoxicating allure of his touch.

"You're my one and only," Heeseung confessed, his words a solemn vow that resonated deep within your soul.

As you and Heeseung shared passionate kisses on the couch, little did you know that nestled within his sock drawer lay a small velvet box, its contents a secret that he held close to his heart. Inside rested a symbol of his deepest commitment, a ring that he planned to reveal to you at the perfect moment, a moment that would signify his unwavering love and devotion to you.

For now, the box remained hidden, a precious treasure waiting to be unveiled when the time was right. As you melted into each other's embrace, lost in the bliss of the present moment, Heeseung's thoughts drifted to the future, to the day when he would kneel before you and ask for your hand in marriage, sealing your love for eternity.

But until then, he cherished these stolen moments with you, savoring every kiss and every touch as a testament to the deep bond that they shared.

Part 3

[marshedmallowes]

Like anything miles 1610. I feel like everyone is writing for miles 42 and forgetting about the og!

midnight cravings - miles morales

SUMMARY: texts at 3am + a mcdonalds notif = a recipe for chaos

WORD COUNT: 561

A/N: i love midnight snacking. mcdonalds always hits harder at 2 in the morning! also sorry i keep writing miles in like situations where he isnt usually 100% Himself (sleepy, sick) so um,.. i will get to a proper one soon

WARNINGS: nothing seriously bad just fluff, food i guess, reader doesn't know miles is spiderman, reader is highkey a simp

"Ugh..." You wake up with a groan, rubbing your eyes and assessing your surroundings. Noticing the still-dark environment surrounding you, you reach out for your phone which was on the bedside table.

2:42 AM. The phone lights blare onto your face, causing you to squint. As you scroll through your notifications, two catch your eye— a text bubble from Miles sent a few minutes ago, and a promo from McDonalds for their new meal.

Miles’ message was rather cryptic, and a normal person wouldn’t understand what “ruawkkekkrkx” meant. But a few months of these kind of typos (which meant Miles was either on patrol or barely awake), and one learns the language.

On the other hand, the McDonalds notif… if it was a propaganda technique, it was definitely working on you. You click on the advertisement, and damn did that chicken burger look good…

You decide to go back to Miles’ text. After opening the app and keyboard, your fingers feel too heavy to type… so you tap on the call button instead.

After exactly three rings, he picks up; in place of his normally spunky voice was a low, raspy one.

“Hey. You good? What’s with the random call?” Damn, his voice was unintentionally sultry as hell. Would it be weird if you started screen recording? He wouldn't know, right?

Ahem. Anyway.

"Oh, I'm fine, a little hungry though. I just didn't wanna type. Um, nice voice by the way." You hear a chuckle through the screen.

"So, you hungry? I mean, I could like, get you a snack or whatever."

"It is literally 3 in the morning right now." Though you expressed disapproval at what he said, your facial muscles tugged into a smile.

"Whatchu want?"

One link to a McDonalds meal later, you're patiently waiting in a now dimly lit room, phone in hand and still in bed. You decide to watch a show while waiting.

You're midway through your show, engrossed in a particular fight scene when you hear your window open with a click. Your fight or flight senses kick in, and you jump out of your bed and grab your phone and lamp (it's the nearest weapon, so...).

You watch as a dark figure comes out of the window in fear, you are ready to swing your lamp and dial your nearest police station when the figure raises both their hands in the air, to signify peace...?

The person pulls up their mask to show their face, one that you'd instantly recognize anywhere.

"Miles!"

You drop everything and sprint to his arms— literally nothing, not even a meteor, could stop you at that moment from wrapping yourself around his lean figure. Miles places his hands on your back, and the two of you relish in each other's presence.

You wish the two of you could stay like that forever, but the enticing smell of a chicken burger and drink eventually draw your attention towards it and you pull away from him.

"Can we talk about how the hell you got to my window with me living in the 21st floor? I seriously thought that the moment you clicked open the window was going to be my last for a few seconds."

Miles smiles and slightly bites his lips, and God forbid the kinds of things you would do for this man.

"Maybe over a chicken burger?"

a/n: to be completely honest i cringed so hard typing this fanfic but i just need to finish it so i hope none of you umm.. feel what im feeling rn at my own writing...

[mvltisstuff]

hello again!! im the anon who requested sweet nothing (also, saw the edit note and don’t worry it was a fantastic fic and i love it, thank you so much for writing it ❤️) i was wondering if i could request another fic for buck where reader is like athena’s protege and she’s a lot like athena so athena and bobby basically play match maker for them, thinking they’d compliment each other very well but buck and the reader have secretly dating since they met bc they hit it off so well and athena and the 118 end up finding out and are shocked they had no idea. thank you if you get to this, no stress if you don’t. i hope you have a lovely day and remember to take breaks and drink water!!

the feels - e.b

summary: above :)

evan buckley x reader

a/n: i love seeing these requests so much, please leave as many as you want, this one is so sweet 🫶🫶 i wanted to recreate the funny scene when may walked in on athena in bobby’s turnout 😭

the grants were sitting in the kitchen waiting for another delicious meal from bobby to be ready to eat. athena was sitting down, playing a card game with her two children as bobby was stirring a boiling pot. sharing stories about their days, athena begins her own.

“the station welcomed a new recruit today,” athena starts while cleaning up the cards. “i think i was telling you about her.”

“y/n? i remember you told me she was going to be working there, i just didn’t know she’d be with you.”

“she’s not riding along with me, but we’ve spoken a lot. she reminds me of myself. she’s young but one of the most determined ones i’ve seen. i think she has a lot of great potential.”

“maybe you should bring her along one day,” bobby suggests. “she sounds cool, you should bring her to the station one night for dinner there.”

“i’ll have to check her schedule. she’s trying to get more comfortable in LA, so that could help her. give her some friends,” athena says. “i know she came here to get away for a bit, i’m not sure why but i think something at home.”

“might wanna be careful bringing her, now that i’m thinking about it.”

“what makes you say that?” she asks.

“i’m worried someone might take a liking to her. buck loves you, and he reminds me of myself. and if she’s really similar to you…” athena walks over to bobby, giving him a light kiss before beginning again. “i’ll see what her timing is, i’ll let you know so you can tame the lion.”

the next day at work, y/n walks in uniform with her chunky belt with her gear. she sweetly says good morning to the people at the front with a cup of coffee before returning to her bosses office. “y/n?” she hears someone say from behind her.

“sergeant grant! hello, i was just about to go get started,” y/n says politely to her superior.

“you can call me athena, officer.”

“ok, athena,” y/n has a bright smile that could be the source of light to the room. “is there anything i can do for you?”

“no, you’re all set. just making sure things are good for you here,” athena knows that she’s strong despite the kindness act she puts on. she’s seen she’s not afraid to stand up for herself against all the men at the station. similar to herself, she’s ready for anything god throws at her. “if you get off earlier tonight, i was going to the 118. my husband is bobby nash, and he’s having dinner. i thought it would be a good place for you to settle in.”

“that sounds great, athena. i get off a bit earlier today.”

“good,” athena says with a thin grin. “i’ll see you then, y/l/n.”

they both walk away, going to do their paperwork and jobs of the day. on the first call, they had to deal with a specific threat, making two arrests as y/n shoved them back into the car.

she had easily clicked into her workplace, impressing everyone with her skill and ease with the job. her quick thinking came in extreme need, and athena knew she was going to be one of the best eventually.

after another call, the fire department had been at a site of a crash with drunk driving robbers. the police had been called to observe the suspects and ask them questions about the accident and even before that. after some of the crash on the street was cleaned up, y/n had been on the side, informing dispatch on the current nature of the situation. she was hanging around near one of the trucks when a man, couldn’t have been over 30, walked over to her.

“hey,” he says with a seducing smile, looking her uniform up and down. “i haven’t seen you around yet.”

“i’ve just started working here, i was a cop before but i recently moved here.”

“you liking it? LA can be a lot,” he tells her. “i’m evan buckley, 118. buck.”

y/n smiles and shakes his hand. “you’re from 118? athena and bobby invited me over for dinner tonight.”

“y-you’re y/n?” buck asks, a little surprised. she’s gorgeous, her hair was done back in neat braids. her uniform complemented her well, making her look like a boss, but also looks sweet with her bright smile and laugh. buck noticed her beauty and grace in handling herself.

athena and bobby stood to the side, meeting up at the end of the shift. “i think it’s too late,” bobby says, pointing to y/n and buck flirting very clearly to everyone but themselves. athena would never admit it, but she was actually happy. she thought buck needed woman like her, and she needed one like buck, and after a whole night of convincing each other before bed, they finally decided to take up a new career in match making.

the dinner had gone well, the team asking y/n about her past and why she wanted to become a cop. someone in particular was mesmerized by her stories. “so, y/n, where did you grow up?” eddie asks.

“i was raised in boston, and i went to suffolk for criminal justice,” y/n says. “i knew i wanted to help people, and i came to LA as an escape honestly. just try something new.”

they all nod and smile as they finish their food, laughing about shared stories and the two spend the night eyeing each other.

a couple months had gone by, and buck and y/n had been better close. very close. they were seeing each other almost every day, meeting up outside work to see each other. for being a bad liar, buck was hiding their relationship very well. they started dating a few weeks after the dinner, and no one had any idea. or at least they thought.

buck was definitely head over heels for y/n. she was a person who dominated wherever she was, but carried herself around with respect and a soothing personality. coming home from work, she was always a person to talk to. her sweet and gentle words were always a comfort to him. he thought she was the most lovely person ever.

y/n was obsessed with buck after she met him. he was incredibly charming, being able to light up a room at any time. being able to spend time with him at the end of their shifts was truly the highlight of her day, and she hadn’t felt this happy in a long time. he helped her get settled in the new city that she was venturing. he was always a shoulder to lean on during the bad days, and one to celebrate with after the good ones.

chimney and maddie had been driving over to bucks apartment. they had all agreed to have dinner together so she could spend time with her little brother.

buck on the other hand, had been too preoccupied to remember the plans.

y/n was dressed in a lace bra and panties set, wearing bucks work shirt with his name and badge on it. she was sitting on top of the counter with buck standing between her legs.

when chimney and maddie walked in, they saw bucks bare back, and both of their half-naked bodies. luckily, buck still had his boxers on, and y/n had his shirt. her arms were wrapped around his shoulders, a pair of handcuffs in her hands. “oh my god! evan!” maddie shouted and buck turned around.

“jesus, maddie!” he yelled and his immediate instinct was to cover up y/n. “what are you doing here?”

“some of us had dinner plans,” chimney adds, watching in a humorous way.

“you had dinner plans?” y/n asks.

buck throws his head back in frustration. “im sorry, guys, i completely forgot.”

“clearly.” maddie and chim say, together. “we’re going to go in the hall, give you a minute. while i call bobb-“ chim starts.

“no! do not call bobby because then he and athena will hate me!”

“i think athena would fire me,” y/n says.

“are you kidding? they’ve been trying to force you two together for months!”

y/n and buck give each other a confused look because they both thought they’d want them separate. surely, they weren’t stopping it but they especially didn’t think they would encourage it. they start laughing at each other hysterically at the thought of their superiors trying to get them hooked up. maddie and chimney exit in a hurry, leaving to the hallway.

“well, wanna continue?” buck asks and y/n gives him a questioning look.

“we have like 2 minutes, babe,” she smiles. “i don’t know if we have time.”

“you doubting me?” he says, leaning back in and kissing her again.

“prove me wrong, then,” she smirks and they spend their few minutes not wasting a second.

“bobby! sorry to bother you tonight, but you’re gonna want to hear this!” chim says after calling the captain.

bobby hangs up the phone, and is sitting next to the athena on their couch. athena hears the whole conversation. “i’ll quit my job if you quit yours, and we can start our own business.”

“agreed,” athena says, giving bobby a high-five at their dating app skills. “i will say i’m surprised they kept it a secret. she did seem a bit more upbeat though.”

“so what’s next? getting them engaged?”

“ok, woah. let’s not get too ahead of ourselves. we’ll give ‘em a bit i guess.”

“fine, but i’m getting every detail about this tomorrow from him.”

“i’ll get it from y/n, we will reconvene after a short recess.”

[alwaysmoncheri]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐋

pairings ❧ steve harrington x reader

summary ❧ a plan is put in place to ensure the creature invading hawkins is eliminated for good

warnings ❧ female!reader, swearing, shit writing, implications of anxiety

word count ❧ 2.7k

additional notes ❧ none ´･ᴗ･`

After being taken to the police station, I sit next to Jonathan, my leg constantly bouncing and my fingers nervously picking at my cuticles, waiting for something to happen next. When Nancy returns, she sits on the other side of Jonathan with an ice pack in hand and we all wonder what the consequences are going to be.

"Found some ice." Nancy says to the boy.

"Thanks." He replies before Nancy gently holds it up to his forehead. Jonathan stares at the girl as she looks slightly uncomfortable, "Everything okay?" He asks.

"Yeah." She responds unconvincingly, "Everything's fine."

We all let out exhausted sighs before sitting there in silence once more.

With a few more moments of quiet I look up, noticing Nancy and Jonathan gazing at each other with lingering eyes. A light smile crosses my face, as I know there is something special going on between them. I'm happy knowing both of my friends have found comfort in each other.

The doors to the station suddenly slam open, revealing Chief Hopper and Joyce, who rush inside with worried looks on their faces.

"Hey, Jonathan?" Joyce says, walking up to the three of us, noticing Jonathan's bruised face, "Jesus, what... what happened?"

"Ma'am..." The officer, Callahan grabs her attention, trying to calm her down.

"I'm fine..." Jonathan whispers quietly, looking down.

"Why is he wearing handcuffs?" Joyce asks accusingly as she points towards her son's hands.

"Well, your boy assaulted a police officer, that's why." Callahan says calmly to the woman, standing from his seat.

"Take them off." Joyce demands firmly.

"I am afraid I cannot do that." Callahan says again.

"Take them off!" Joyce cries, once again with a demanding tone.

"You heard her." Hopper says from behind Joyce, "Take 'em off."

"Chief," The other officer, Powell, pipes in finally, "I get everyone's emotional here, but there's something you need to see."

Hopper and the other officers march back into the station, and set our box of weapons and shit in front of us on the table. I look up nervous, only to be met with pointed looks in their eyes.

"What is this?" Joyce asks, looking in the box first.

"Why don't you ask your son?" Hopper says, staring at Jonathan, "We found it in his car."

"What?" Joyce says shocked.

"Why are you going through my car?" Jonathan mumbles annoyed.

"Is that really the question you should be asking right now?" Hopper asks, leaning down with a threatening look, "I wanna see you in my office.

"You won't believe me." Jonathan replies instantly.

"Why don't you give me a try." Hopper responds firmly.

The three of us make our way to Hopper's office where he and Joyce are waiting patiently. Jonathan hands Hopper the paper we'd been looking at the funeral.

Sitting in my seat, I can't help but fiddle with my fingers, unable to sit still in the tense situation. I notice Jonathan is also nervously biting his nails, while beside him, Nancy sits calmly, her gaze firmly fixed on the chief.

"You say blood draws this thing?" Hopper finally says, looking up at us.

"We don't know." I say, "It's just a theory."

|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆|

Jonathan, Nancy, and I sit patiently in Hopper's car, watching curiously as mysterious men enter Nancy's house. Coming back out, carrying boxes of items that they stuff into their own vehicles. With our bodies leaning out of the windows to get a good view of what's happening, I wonder what kind of things they're taking from that house. And if it could be related to the strange things that have been happening in the small town.

"I have to go home." Nancy says to Hopper as she steps out of the car desperately.

"No, you can't." Hopper replies, eyes still searching the scene in front of us with binoculars in hand.

"My mom... my dad are there." Nancy says firmly at the chief, clearly worried for her family.

"They're gonna be okay." Hopper responds simply bringing his binoculars down from his face.

Nancy starts walking towards her home, determination on her face, before Hopper grabs her arm.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey." He says to the girl.

"Let go." Nancy says attempting to shrug his hand off, "Let go!" She yells this time.

"Hey! Listen to me. Listen to me," Hopper says, turning Nancy towards him, "The last thing in the world we need is them knowing you're mixed up in all this." He's referring to her parents.

"Mike is over there—" Nancy gestures towards her house frantically.

"They haven't found him." Hopper replies, "Not yet, at least." He finishes, pointing to the helicopter flying in the sky.

"For Mike?" Nancy asks, her mouth wide open, in complete shock.

"Come on, get in the car." Hopper says, dragging her back to his car.

The two hop back into the car beside, Joyce, Jonathan and I, shutting the doors behind them.

"Look, we need to find them before they do." Hopper states, turning to us in the backseats, "Do you have any idea where he might have gone?" He asks.

"No, I don't." Nancy responds.

"I need you to think." Hopper says sharply.

"I don't know," Nancy responds again, "We haven't talked a lot, I mean lately..." She explains.

"Uh, I don't know where they are." I pipe in quietly from my spot beside Jonathan, making everyone turn toward me, "But I know how we can find out."

|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆|

Hopper, in record time, drives us to the Byer's home, where we hop out and run into the house. I immediately grab the radio flipping it on before speaking into it.

"Dustin? Mike? Guys? It's (Y/n), I need you guys to pick up. This is a code red. Please, pick up." I say quickly into the walkie-talkie, before Nancy snatches it from my hand.

"Mike? Are you there, Mike?" She says repeatedly into the mic, "Mike, it's me Nancy." I grab it back from her.

"Dustin, if you're there, we need you to answer." I say firmly, "This is an emergency, I repeat, an emergency." I say again before Hopper yanks the radio from my hand, bringing it up to his mouth.

"Listen kid, this is the chief. If you're there, pick up. We know you're in trouble and we know about the girl." He explains to the boys on the other end, "We can protect you, we can help you, but you gotta pick up. Are you there? Do you copy? Over."

The radio goes silent and Hopper sets the radio down on the table with a sigh.

"Anybody got any other ideas." Hopper asks, facing the group and we all look around unsure what to do.

"Yeah, I copy." We all hear through the radio, "It's Mike. I'm here. We're here."

|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆|

We all sit in silence, nervously awaiting the arrival of the boys at the Byer's house. Unable to contain my anxiety, I bite my fingernails and bounce my legs restlessly. We strain our ears, as the minutes tick by, for even the slightest sound from outside. Finally, the sound of a car pulling up catches our attention, and we all stand up in one smooth motion. We rush out of the door to greet the arriving kids.

"Holy shit, Dust." I say quickly walking towards my brother as he gets out of the car, "I'm so glad you're okay." I immediately wrap my arms around him, squeezing him tight, letting out a relieved sigh.

Dustin reciprocates my hug, before I let him go. I notice Lucas and El behind us and rush over to give them hugs too. Lucas graciously accepts it while Eleven is a bit more hesitant but still manages to hug me. All the while Nancy is busy hugging a shocked looking Mike in front of us.

Nancy holds Mike's shoulders and looks back at El with a confused look on her face, "Is that my dress?"

|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆|

"Okay, so in this example, we're the acrobat. Will and Barbra, and that monster, they're this flea." Mike explains to us, shaking us a drawing as we sit on the couch, "And this is the upside down, where Will is hiding. Mr. Clarke said the only way to get there is through a rip of time and space."

"A gate." Dustin states plainly.

"That we tracked to Hawkins Lab." Lucas adds.

"With our compasses." My brother says and we look at him confused.

"Wait, so the gate has a really strong electromagnetic field and that can basically change the directions of a compass needle...?" I say, trying to figure out what he's saying.

"Yeah, exactly," Dustin says happy to know someone else understands.

"Is this gate underground?" Hopper asks, leaning on the armrest of the chair.

"Yes." Eleven says simply, making us turn our heads in her direction.

"Near a large water tank?" Hopper asks the girl.

She nods, "Yes."

"How do you know all that?" Dustin asks Hopper confused.

"He's seen it." Mike realizes.

"Is there anyway that you could... that you could reach Will?" Joyce leans forward, desperate to find her son, "That you could talk to him in this—"

"The upside down." El finishes.

"Down. Yeah." Joyce whispers. Eleven nods in confirmation that she can find the boy we've all been searching for.

"And our friend Barbra?" Nancy asks hopefully, gesturing between me and her, "Can you find her too?"

|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆|

Setting the radio down, we turn it on, letting the static run, and place it by Eleven who sits at the end of the table. With everyone gathering around her, we turn off all the lights, leaving only the one directly above her. El closes her eyes and seems to be in some sort of trance, as we all anxiously wait for her to locate Will and Barbra by using her powers.

The light above the table flickers before El opens her eyes, "I'm sorry," She whispers sadly.

"W-What? What's wrong? What happened?" Joyce questions worriedly.

"I can't find them." Eleven says, tears forming in her eyes.

"Hey, it's okay." I say ushering the girl to the nearby bathroom, "I'll wait out here, okay?" She nods, before I walk back over to the group.

"Whenever she uses her powers, she gets weak." Mike explains.

"The more energy she uses, the more tired she gets." Dustin adds.

"Like she flipped the van earlier." Lucas says, and I stare at him with wide eyes.

"She flipped a van?" I ask proud of the girl.

"Yeah, it was awesome," My brother says excitedly.

"But she's drained." Mike continues, explaining to the rest of us.

"Like a bad battery." Dustin adds again.

"Well... How do we make her better?" Joyce stammers, trying to find a solution to our problem.

"We don't," Mike says, "We just have to wait and try again."

"Well, how long?" Nancy asks her brother.

"Yeah, we can't wait much longer." I say, thinking about even the possibility of Will and Barbra not making it out alive.

"I don't know." Mike says softly, looking down.

"The bath." Eleven whispers after emerging from the bathroom.

"What?" Joyce asks as we all turn to the girl.

"I can find them," El explains softly as we all look at each other in confusion.

"In the bath."

|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆|

"Mr. Clarke? It's Dustin." My brother says into the phone after his teacher picks up.

We're now gathered around the telephone hanging on the wall, as Dustin calls his science teacher at ten o'clock at night.

"Yeah, yeah, I just I... I have a science question." Dustin stammers.

I look around nervously biting my lip, only to be met with everyone's gaze to be fixed on my brother in front of us.

"Do you know anything about sensory deprivation tanks?" Dustin asks simply, getting straight to the point, "Specifically how to build one?"

"You always say we should never stop being curious. To always open any curiosity door we find," Dustin explains to his teacher with urgency, "Why are you keeping this curiosity door locked?"

With a gesture from Dustin and the snapping of his fingers, I quickly locate the nearest notepad and pencil, grabbing them and handing them to my brother. He sits down in a chair, still pressing the phone to his ear as he rapidly writes down information that Mr. Clarke is telling him.

"Uh-huh. Uh-huh, how much? Uh-huh. Yep, alright. Yeah, we'll be careful. Definitely. Alright, Mr. Clarke. Yeah, I'll see you on Monday. I'll see you on Monday, Mr. Clarke. Bye." Dustin finishes before abruptly hanging up on his poor oblivious teacher.

Dustin points the pencil in his hand directly at Joyce, "Do you still have that kiddie pool we bobbed for apples in?"

"I think so, yeah." Joyce replies confused.

"Yeah." Jonathan confirms quietly.

"Good. Then we just need salt. Lots of it." My brother says.

"How much is "lots"?" Hopper asks the boy.

Dustin looks down at his paper before replying, "1500 pounds."

"Holy shit." I breath out, looking around at the group's shocked faces before continuing.

"Where the hell are we going to get that much salt?"

|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆|

Turns out, the school has lots of salt.

We pull up to the school all shoved into two cars, before getting to work.

Everyone splits up to get the job done as quickly as possible. Mike, Dustin and Lucas go to set up the kiddie pool, while Jonathan and Hopper go find the salt. Joyce and Eleven look for a cover for her eyes, and Nancy and I head for a shed, with the intention of grabbing hoses to fill the pool.

"Hey (Y/n)?" Nancy asks hesitantly as we haul the hoses and supplies back to the school.

"Hm?" I say, not turning my attention away from the walk ahead of us.

"Do you... do you think Steve is an asshole for what he did?" She asks finally, turning her head towards me.

I scoff as we approach the school and begin the process of screwing in the hoses, getting them started as they fill up the pool.

"He's been a real asshole lately, Nance." I say, glancing towards her, "I don't even get why you're still with him.”

"But you like him." She states simply.

"W-What?" I reply, heat rising to my cheeks, "No."

"Don't lie (Y/n), I see the way you look at him." She looks at me with a soft smile, "I've always been jealous..." She admits, glancing at me sheepishly.

"Colder!!" We hear Lucas yell from the gymnasium and I turn the knob to the cold side before responding to Nancy.

"What, why?"

Seeing my confusion, Nancy sighs before explaining, "Because Steve talks about you like you're his whole world. Everywhere we are, he looks for you. Every time someone walks into the room, he not so subtly glances up, hoping to see your face.

"Warmer!!" Lucas yells.

I turn the knob.

"He's so infatuated by you and you don't even notice." Nancy finishes with a sigh, "He might not even know himself, but you two are so oblivious in lo—"

"No. No, we're not, Nance." I cut her off sharply, "He loves you."

"Right there!!" Lucas yells finally confirming we've found the right spot.

"But Jonathan..." Nancy mumbles to herself, clearly not meaning for me to hear.

"You like Jonathan?" I ask, a soft smile making it's way to my face. As we make our way into the gym.

"What?" Nancy blushes slightly, "No, it's not like that. We're just friends." She explains quickly.

"Now, where have I heard that one before?" I ask with a small smirk as we approach the bath and all becomes serious.

We all watch in silence as Eleven strips off her green and yellow socks and hands Mike's watch back to him.

She looks nervous.

I walk over to her, placing my hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, you're a brave girl," I whisper, rubbing her shoulder reassuringly and she nods with a smile, "You got this."

She then places the duck-taped goggles over her face and sighs before Hopper and a Joyce guide her into the pool.

Here goes nothing.

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[z1mmie]

Just finished Wednesday and I have so many thoughts--especially about our love interest boys--so I'm just gonna blab them all here:

(Spoilers!!)

I guess I'll just start with how frustrating I find xavier's character. Not from a writing standpoint--his charactization works perfectly for a teenage boy with a crush--but just how unable he was to understand Wednesday. That girl never said she was gonna be his friend and he KNEW she suspected him of being the monster

But he does NOTHING to change her mind!!!

I mean, correct me if I'm misremembering but all he did was get pissy and butthurt when she accused him and didn't give her any evidence to the contrary. She's only known you for what--a month? Maybe? How is she supposed to know what you're capable of??!

He just cant see stuff from her pov and it drives me crazy.

And now on top our actual monster tyler!

I got spoiled for this before I watched the whole show but I...am still hesitant to think that hes a full bad guy in this situation. The whole master-pawn situation leaves a lot of wiggle room when it comes to actual blame. And I wanna say that tyler is entirely faultless and never wanted to commit those murders.

Now the biggest evidence to the contrary is what he told Wednesday in the police station, but as someone else already pointed out--we don't know to what extent the master has control. Watching the scene closely I almost feel like theres a moment afterward where he snaps back after--like he was *ordered* to say that so Wednesday would lose faith in him.

However I have trouble coming up with *why* laurel would want him to do this. The only thing I can think of that she gains is that she prevents Wednesday from trying to split their connection or reach out to tyler specifically.

(As an aside I genuinely think that he liked her and that she liked him--i saw chemistry there! (tho I'd understand if he lost feelings considering she tortured him))

I just want to know more about the hyde situation and how it works in general and I'm hoping we will learn more considering one of the ending scenes in the finale.

Considering its direct connection to mental health, a further explanation could go really really poorly. We dont need anymore vilifying of bipolar disorder or traumatic stress, which is why I'm more inclined to believing that tyler is innocent of intention (relatively speaking).

But overall I really liked the show! I know theres been a lot of complaints about the Addams family portrayal and how it's not accurate and i can't say much on that since I never watched the originals. However, new adaptations will always have changes and as someone looking at this with almost no prior knowledge (I've watched the Addams family broadway musical) I think it achieved what it wanted to do. Wednesday was a fascinating protagonist, the story was interesting, and they introduced us to a new world that they can now further expand in s2. No complaints.

(I am hoping for more mooning for Wednesday tho because I think it's very amusing when she shows almost no interest in return (excluding tyler))

(I just wrote more in the last half hour for a damn tumblr post then I did for the 3 project I have due before Monday >w<)

[gummybugg]

Imagine a bunch of your OCs going to the movies. What kind of movies would your different OCs end up watching? (Nothing specific, just genre/vibes.) Do they go to the same flick, watch different stuff? How do they behave once in their seats? Basically, I wanna know what going to the movies with your OCs would be like.

Hi hi hello!

I kept this ask for far too long and planned to write an Entire Scene out using the cast of Crater City, except it never came to fruition! But I can try to describe to the best of my ability what I had in mind, hehe!

...

For sure, Frasier would pay for everyone's tickets (except for Darcy because he's mean), and they would probably go watch the Lego Batman movie together because I said so.

Blair and Elijah would sit in the very back, top row. Blair would talk and giggle the whole time, making crude jokes or references while Elijah tries so hard not to laugh or encourage him, but he can't cant really help it. There's a 90% chance Blair winds up making coke shoot out of Elijah's nose after a batman x joker ship comment.

Darcy and Frasier would sit closer to the front/bottom row of the theater to get away from those idiots. Darcy is pissed Blair said something potentially spoiler-y before the movie started by Frasier is like, "Chill tf out, man, it's literally just a kid's movie." But Darcy wants his money's worth, goddammit.

Frasier is also busy trying to tell Blair and Elijah to stfu (via glares/hand motions) and to let them enjoy the movie and that they don't need security kicking them out of a flick again.

Meanwhile, Darcy has trouble with a teenager kicking his seat (totally not based on a true story). Frasier is like bro chill tf out, you're being louder than Blair and Elijah rn, stop fighting with a teenager. The teens just call Darcy old and that he looks like a poorly AI rendered image of Timothée Chalamet, which he takes offense to.

"Forty is not old, I'm not even close middle-aged yet!" Darcy is agitated.

"You have about 10 more years." The teen retorts.

"Oh, you wanna argue about the sudden spike in average human lifespan over the past fifty years? Because we can go there—"

"Darcy! Are you really arguing with a kid about your age in a movie theater? Stop being so immature." Frasier is so close to pulling the "idk who this man is but he's not mine" card but decides he's the only responsible adult here and can't back out.

Anyway, security has been called, and Darcy is definitely not having it. He wages a verbal battle with security, disturbing everyone else in the cinema, and embarrassing Elijah and Frasier in the process. He goes on about his hardships as mayor and having to deal with an impudent worm kicking his seat from behind (which security couldn't give 2 shits about). Darcy says something along the lines of "We paid for this movie and you'll have to fight my lawyers and I'm the mayor dammit," and so security backs off. Now everyone else in the Lego Batman movie theater is disgruntled at the disturbance. You can cut the tension with a super sharp knife.

Darcy turns to Blair and Elijah, who promptly stfu bc of his death glare. Frasier is concerned that Darcy raised more hell than it's worth all for a shitty movie, but tbh Darcy just likes to use his mayor card.

After the movie ends, they get up to leave, with all eyes on them until they make it to the parking lot. It also turns out that that thing Blair said off hand ended up being a spoiler, and Frasier almost beats the shit out of him, but this time Darcy is the one who has to hold him back. "It's ok, Frasier! We all saw it coming anyway!"

The teens who bullied Darcy come out of the theater to mock him again, but Fraiser flips them off, then security is called once again. And now all 4 of our characters are stuck at the police station with Darcy trying to bail them out, all the while Frasier glares at all three of them with disappointment. Blair is like, "This is definitely going on my 'pissed authority off' bingo board." Elijah rolls his eyes. At least they weren't in any mortal danger, he reasons.

...

🚗 Want to rot your brain with each sporadic Crater City post? Join the taglist! Maybe I'll finish this wip someday, who knows! (ask to be added/removed): @writeouswriter @lyra-brie @digitalsatyr23

[casspurrjoybell-17]

Heart’s Choice - Chapter 6

*Warning Adult Content*

- Carlos -  

Clutching the plastic evidence bag containing my belongings, I shake my head.

"I'm not working with him."

We stand under the harsh fluorescent lights in the station's lobby, which except for a few dusty fake plants and a row of plastic chairs along the wall, is empty. 

It's nearly midnight.

The chief of police angles a hawkish gray brow at me. 

"Standard consultation fee."

"I think you have me confused with someone else," I say.

"I don't consult with the police. You should contact Julian Hart if you want a psychic."

She puts her hands on her hips, reminding me of how Aunt Toni used to look when she wanted me to do something and there was absolutely no way I was getting out of it.

"First thing I did when I saw those symbols at the crime scene," she says. "He's busy. Out of town with Hunter on some thing."

"Hunter, as in the former detective?"

This comes from John Turner, who hasn't stopped scowling since his boss rescued me.

"One and the same."

"He works with a psychic now?" 

The tiny lift at the corner of his lip reveals his disdain for the idea.

"Well, he married one, anyway. Speaking of, don't you go stealing this one on me, Martinez," she nods at Turner. "I can't afford to keep replacing them."

The flush and look of horror on the detective's face tells me there's a better chance of a snowstorm in Hell.

"Don't worry," I say. "I'll tell you what I know but that's it. I was just tryna help Kyle, not play cop."

The chief eyes me critically. 

"All right. Answer two questions for me, Martinez. Is this some warlock wannabe who found those symbols on the internet somewhere or is this the real deal?"

I swallow. 

I'd rinsed my mouth out in the bathroom but the taste of vomit lingers, stirring my nausea anew. 

"It's the real deal," I say and she nods. "And is this the end of it? Or should we be worried?"

"It's just the beginning," I whisper.

She releases a heavy breath and smooths a hand over her gray hair, which is bound in a neat, single braid. 

"Listen, Martinez. There are indications that Kyle knew his killer. I can't reveal more details until you're onboarded as a consultant but it might shed light on things. Meanwhile, you've got expertise my team needs. You wanna help Kyle, don't you?"

"Yes but..."

"Think about it. Call me when you change your mind." 

She turns to the detective and nods. 

"Take him home."

Turner blinks, taken aback. 

"What?"

"Do you need your hearing checked? I said take him home."

Turner bristles. 

"With all due respect, Chief, I've got a long report to write up and I don't have time to play taxi driver."

Chief Coleridge is a good twelve inches shorter than Turner but as she draws herself up, she seems to grow taller while he shrinks. 

"With all due respect, detective Turner, tell me if I've got the facts straight. According to the statement that you yourself took, Martinez left his vehicle on the other side of town. His phone is dead. The buses stop running at eight and it's past midnight. The man has no shoes, his clothes are wet and it's forty-eight degrees outside. Am I wrong?"

No, but..."

"So, take him home."

Without waiting for a reply, she turns and marches up the stairs to the second floor offices.

Turner mutters a word under his breath. 

"Bitch."

I shift awkwardly from side to side. 

"It's okay, really. It's not that far. I can walk."

The detective looks at me and rubs the back of his head, making me accidentally appreciate the sculpted bulk of his shoulder and biceps. 

His expression softens a little, as if he's seeing me for the first time without his cop glasses on.

"Nah. I fucked up big time tonight and the Chief's got both our balls in a vice. Least I can do is give you a ride. Come on."

He leads the way outside and I follow, wincing as my sore feet encounter freezing concrete. 

I got scraped up pretty bad when Prince Charming here hauled me out of the stream. 

He glances over his shoulder at me and frowns, probably annoyed that I'm not keeping up.

"Wait here," he says. "I'll bring my car around."

He strides off at triple speed and I sigh. 

Yep, he's annoyed.

A moment later, a black, unmarked sedan pulls around the side of the building and comes to a stop. 

The passenger side door pops open and I see Turner at the wheel. 

I get in, shut the door and shiver with relief as I feel warm air blasting from the vents on the dash.

I reach for one, intending to angle it more towards myself and for some reason Turner reaches for the same vent at the same time. 

His hand brushes mine and he snatches it back as if burned.

"It's not contagious," I say, rolling my eyes and hunching in my seat.

"What?"

"The Gay or whatever it is you're afraid of. You're not my type." 

The only lie I've told so far. 

"Besides, you're married, aren’t you?"

He clears his throat. 

"Divorced."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

He turns his attention to the road and I figure the conversation is over. 

He startles me when he speaks again.

"I'm sorry, too. I crossed a line, showing you those photos. I'll be lucky if the chief doesn't write me up for it."

I shake my head. 

"You were just doing your job."

"Not very well, it seems," he sighs. "So, what's the deal, anyway? What did you mean when you told the chief this was 'just the beginning?'"

I glance at him but he's facing forward, eyes on the road. 

He's got a sharp jaw and a strong chin and his nose looks like it's been broken at least once. 

A thin scar bisects one brow and a shadow darkens his hazel eyes, as if he's seen too many things he can't un-see.

"I don't know. I'll have to verify some things with my aunt."

"Your aunt? What, is she a ghostbuster, too or whatever you are?"

"Asesina. My family are 'asesinos.'"

"I thought you said you weren't a murderer?"

I glance at him again in surprise. 

"You speak Spanish?"

"Just a few words. I know that one."

"Oh. Well, yeah, it means killer or murderer. In this case it's 'slayer.' Asesinos de espíritus malos, killers or slayers of evil spirits. That was the, er... the 'family business,' traditionally. My aunt's the last one and she's given it up. She still knows all the shit, though."

"And?"

"And..." I take a breath. 

I recognized the symbols and given what happened to Kyle, there's almost no doubt in my mind as to what they are and yet it still feels like a dream and like saying it aloud will make the nightmare real. 

"It's part of a ritual," I say. "A ritual to summon a powerful demon and gain it's favor."

"A real demon?"

 "No, an imaginary demon."

He glances over and narrows his eyes at me. 

"Fine. Let's say I believe in demons. You said 'part of a ritual.' What's the rest of it?"

A traffic light changes and he comes to a stop, engine idling. 

I stare at the bright red signal, as if it can burn the memories of what I'd seen in those photos from my mind.

"There are three parts," I say. "Three 'feasts' or offerings held at specific times. That was the Feast of Pain. Next is the Feast of Blood. Finally, the Feast of Betrayal, in which the demon possesses and takes the life of a human host."

I shiver so violently i bite my tongue. 

Turner notices and turns up the heat.

"Okay. So what I'm hearing is this killer isn't done."

I shake my head.

"What's he get out of it, anyway? I mean, assuming this 'demon' is real."

I shrug.

"Power, youth, longevity, wealth. Something along those lines, usually."

Turner grunts, but says nothing more.

 The light changes and he drives on, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

A few minutes later, we arrive at the garage. 

He pulls around the back, close to the stairs that lead up to my apartment and parks.

"Thanks for the ride," I say, opening the door. "And don't worry. I'll let you know if I have any helpful information to share but otherwise I want nothing to do with this. In fact, I want to stay as far away from it as possible."

He nods. 

"Good. I respect the chief but I've already got a partner and no desire to run around playing Scooby Do."

I get out, wincing as my bare feet encounter cold, sharp gravel. 

Turner reaches over and opens his glove box, rummages within and extracts a business card.

"Call me if you've got something real for me."

I resist the urge the flip him off 'barely' and take the card, slamming the door shut with a little more force than needed. 

He drives away.

Wearily, I climb the stairs, unlock my door and let myself in. 

Then I toss his card in the trash, take a shower and fall into bed.

I wake, early the next morning, to something tickling my face. 

I brush it away. 

I'm tickled again. 

I brush it off again and roll over.

Spiders don't bother me, little eight-legged freak can go fuck itself.

Meanwhile, my alarm hasn't even gone off yet and I had a late, traumatic night.

A sharp slap has me wide awake and bolt upright in bed.

"What the fuck?"

I peel something off my forehead. 

It's Detective Turner's card. 

Meanwhile, my phone, which I didn't take the time to plug in the night before, is fully charged and placed helpfully beside my bed.

"Are you fucking with me, Kyle? You want me to work with the cops? Is that why you led me under the bridge?"

The temperature in the room drops a good ten degrees and the light in my closet flicks on.

"Are you kidding me?"

The light fizzles and pops and I raise my hands in surrender.

"All right, all right. Don't burn the house down. I'll call him. You happy now?"

The light flicks back on.

Great.

I make a mental note to pick up some warding supplies in town, set some basic roommate bounds. 

I don't mind Kyle sticking around but I don't want him watching me sleep.

In the meantime, I study the name on the card.

"Well, Mr. John M. Turner," I sigh. "Looks like you and I get a second date. Set up by a ghost. Too bad you don't bat for my team."

The light in the closet goes out.

I admit defeat and reach for my phone.

[metaldragoon]

410/2023 KM done for the year Lots of events have happened over the past two days! Mostly bad, but, oh well.  You may notice I have done but a baby’s run, which is what I’ve done both days since last I run, as I managed to somehow gain 15 pounds in the two days I was visiting my mother so it’s just, not feeling great to run.  I already lost 3 pounds since yesterday so I’m certain I’ll shed it off quickly especially since I’m going to be conscious of it for a bit.  Anyways! I almost hit a wolf going 120km/h, he ran in front of some car going the other direction, and then picked up speed to avoid that by running directly in front of me.  Definitely did like a 40 foot skid and was turned like 20 degrees sideways, but, at least for those few seconds the wolf managed to live.  Who knows if the next care didn’t just drill it.  I went for my fat run yesterday and it’s a shame since the weather has been so beautiful the past two days, I wanna go fast!  Anyways, today I woke up and my mom informed me her brother died, which is very sad.  I didn’t see her other message until lunch time since I mute my emails, but she emailed me last night about it saying “doctors say he’ll make it through the night” and then to already know the result was a bit of an oof.  I am not particularly heartbroken, I was not very close with him, I met him twice.  Once I went to his place, he lived in Niagara Falls so I was there for three weeks between Gr.7 - Gr. 8 summer break, but I didn’t really talk with him.  He had 2 daughters I mostly hung out with there and he was just old man spending time with my mother, but truthfully it was at worst the 2nd best holidays of my life.  The other time, his daughter happened to be moving west and driving through Winnipeg, which is where I was living at the time, so he picked me up along the way so that I could also move west.  He then told my mother I was ungrateful so I assume he didn’t like me.  But! that said my mother has not had parents for over 45 years so it’s just been her and her two brothers for most her life, and so for that I am sad that she is suffering and without someone so important to her.  After work today, driving home, two lanes, light turns red, and the guy stopped beside me got rear-ended! That is... accident #4 I have witnessed in real life I believe.  Some old white lady in a minivan rammed in to him, I could see her slamming the wheel after in frustration and then, y’know, cars were just sitting there, light changes green, and she speeds off.  A hit and run, folks!  Well, of my three other accidents I have observed one of them happened to me, in not-a-particularly-similar situation, but a hit and run none-the-less! And I was such an idiot and deleted the license plate I wrote down so I never was able to get my revenge... but not today! I took chase after our criminal!  I made sure to keep my distance so she wouldn’t panic, we were in the city and I am but a normal grey sedan... the most unassuming predator.  I followed her for like 3 minutes until I got close enough to read her license plate, pulled over to write down the information in my NOTES APP, and then returned to the scene of the crime.  Our blue subaru would be so happy to know I tracked that witch down and his insurance would not have to take the hit! And then he wasn’t even there anymore! Good grief.  So I headed to the police station, ready to file a witness report, I only know where one station is from my previous hit-and-run experience, and I don’t have data on my phone, so I’m not sure it was the closest but it was like 10 minutes out of my way.  Get out my car, and some fella tells me police station’s shut down today on account of two officers were murdered today.  How inconvenient for me personally.  So, now it’s the weekend and we have to wonder if I even care enough to return by Monday when the station will re-open.  RIP to Uncle Cameron!

[bananaink]

KeGo December Day 13 - Window

Izuku crossed his arms in front of his chest, a slight sting shooting through his ribs, and stared after a woman on her bike down the street. She had too many grocery bags on her stupidly colorful bike and swayed dangerously from side to side. Someone tried to help her but she just smiled and kept on. She made it out of Izukus field of view safely and left him bored again.

He sighed against the window and looked over his shoulder to check on Aizawa. He was still sitting with his back to Izuku at the kitchen counter, either reading or scribbling something down. His mug had stopped steaming so he would probably refill it soon but otherwise it was quiet in the apartment with almost no movement.

Boredom was something he wasn't really used to. Usually he would either hide from his brother, avoid his father or work with/for Kurogiri. If these didn’t apply, he would care for his wounds, scavenge for food or write in his journal. But all of the above were just... gone. Not an option. His fingers itched for a pen and his notebook but to get it he’d have to leave the apartment which – as the police, Aizawa and reluctantly Izuku had agreed on – would not be possible for a few more days. Maybe weeks. Just to be safe. Just until they were sure he was safe, his mom was safe, his wounds had healed and they had decided what to do with him.

Nervously, he eyed Aizawas back. The underground hero hadn’t exactly offered to take him in, just told the police to call him when questions would arise, herded him away from the station, into a car and then drove back here. Then he had proceeded to dump Izuku on the couch and empty the storage room of any and all storage. And now Izuku was trapped in a very weird limbo, unsure about anything. What would happen to him?

And to make matters worse, he had never felt so full of energy. His muscles didn’t ache, bones didn’t creak, his stomach wasn’t cramping with hunger and the few restless hours of sleep gave him so much more focus to work with. So much more he could observe, analyze. And no notebook to write it down. Great.

Well, he was supposed to be resting, lying down and letting all that energy work out his lingering injuries which were still stinging and burning and pulsing here and there - but that just wasn’t an option with Aizawa so close. And every time he closed his eyes, his brother loomed over him.

He paced in front of the window again - four steps, turn, four steps, repeat - and eyed the plant on the little table outside. It looked even sadder with only one green leaf remaining on its dried and frozen body. Izuku found himself guessing how long someone had to ignore a plant for it to reach this state of more-dead-than-alive. Maybe days? Weeks? But it would get water from rain and direct sunlight, wasn’t that supposed to be the only thing for plants to grow? How could it still die? Frowning, Izuku bit down on his lip to keep his bubbling words down and when he heard Aizawa standing up to refill his mug, he stopped and watched him over his shoulder.

But the adult just sat down again, sighing and popping his shoulders, stretching his arms over his head. Izuku grimaced in sympathy at the sound. Sitting hunched over a table did bad things to a back and Ereaserhead hadn’t moved for hours. Aizawa scratched his head, ruffling his already wild black hair and turned to look over his shoulder. Immediately Izuku swiveled his stare outside again, crossing his arms and pretending to be very engrossed in something down the street. His skin prickled a little bit and he started pacing again as soon as the hero's attention wasn’t on him anymore.

He managed ten minutes of mindlessly staring outside with glances at the clock in-between before he looked over his shoulder again. Aizawa was still sitting there. With his back turned. Working or something. Izuku took a deep breath and quietly let it out again, before scratching the side of his head and glaring at that back. This was dumb. He was bored out of his mind. And Aizawa just sat there. Being busy.

“You’re annoying.”, he said with sudden vigor and flexed his hands, waiting for a reaction.

“Okay.”, came the deep answer, obviously distracted.

“And stupid.”

“Mh-Hm.”

Izuku lifted his hands to phantom-strangle Aizawa from across the room, barely stopping himself from hissing in frustration. The adult had been nothing but quiet and nonconfrontational for the duration of Izukus stay and it started to get on is nerves. Especially if he had nothing better to do but stare outside a window and worry his head off.

He paced for two minutes more, grumbling under his breath and watching a cloud, looking like a muffin, move over the sky before he glared at the hero again. He seemed so aloof in these walls. As if he had nothing to fear, presenting his back to Izuku, napping defenselessly slumped on a chair or carelessly handling Izuku knives to chop vegetables.

He could have attacked Ereaserhead by now easily. Yeah, Izuku would probably spectacularly lose but not before inflicting enough harm to scar the hero. Not that he wanted to fight but this indecisive situation, this fear of the unknown, the question of would he be allowed to stay or send away...

Rubbing his scarred cheek, he made a decision. Probably a stupid one, reckless and born from spite but it would be better than smashing his face against the wall or staring at the vulnerable back or waiting and giving another person the power to decide.

Making sure that his pacing went on for a few more seconds, he slowly made his steps quieter, lighter until he was sure Aizawa couldn’t hear them anymore. Then, he chose a path that would avoid that one creaky floorboard beside the couch and keep himself out of Aizawas line of vision, if he decided to turn the same way he had done before. That should give him a few seconds if push came to shove. He tip-toed to the big bookshelf and its inhabitants, zeroing in on the well-used ones and buzzing with anticipation.

It only took him ten, maybe fifteen minutes of nerve-wrecking silence and hyper focused movements to not drop anything, but once he was done, he quietly went back to the balcony-window and made his pacing slowly audible again. Then he threw some huffs and sighs into the mix. Aizawa just sipped his cold coffee.

Izuku crossed his arms in front of his chest and eyed the bookshelf. Inconspicuous and not the biggest inconvenience he had made but still annoying enough. That should show the pro hero to leave him alone to his own devices. And maybe jog his decision...

An annoyed but slightly impressed Shouta stood in front of his bookshelf, holding “How to live like your cat” in one hand and “Well, you are Single - How to cook for one” in the other. Neither had been the one he needed.

Gazing up at his shelf he frowned at the turned picture-frames, his cat-figurines and books facing the walls and that dumb Present Mic action figure Hizashi kept sneaking into his home delicately balanced on its ridiculously accurate hairstyle.

He turned to look at the boy currently highly interested in the window, tapping the glass and fidgeting on the spot. After ten silent seconds of staring at the back of his head, Midoriya even squished one cheek against the window and hummed an innocent tune. Shouta turned back to the shelf, eyeing the turned books. Even the highest figurines he himself struggled to reach were turned - how in the hell had Midoriya managed to reach them without Shouta noticing?

And – more importantly – why?

“Midoriya.”, he said, voice unexpectedly loud in the silence surrounding them. The kid almost jumped out of his skin and up the ceiling, but he still turned around with the most clueless expression Shouta had ever seen.

“Why?”

The boy eyed Shouta intensely first before glancing at the bookshelf.

“I’ve asked myself the same thing. Seems impractical to store them like this, Ereaserhead. You can’t even read the labels or see the pictures.”

“No... Why would you do that?”

“Do what? Improve your mind with casual memory tasks? Save you from thousand dead cat-eyes staring into your soul?”

“That’s not an answer to my question.”, Shouta tried to say without exasperation and put the two books back were Midoriya had sorted them. Backs facing the walls.

“And I told you to call me Aizawa when I’m out of costume.”

“Sure beans. You’re welcome by the way.”

The pro hero rubbed his forehead, sighed and then put his hands on his hips, turning fully to look at Midoriya. The kid flinched hard again despite his confident voice and the impressive defiance in his eyes.

“Alright, undo all of this. And get me my books on the history of quirk manifestation back in order please, I need them.”

Midoriya stared at Shouta for a few seconds with an unreadable expression. Long enough for it to almost get uncomfortable. But then the kid shrugged and walked over. Stiff and tense but he made sure to sound as carefree as he tried to move.

“A shame, this is so much more exciting. Which book will you get? Cats, cooking, history or even more cats? You never know.”

With that he shuffled close and started picking specific books out and piling them at his feet. Shouta eyed the covers and quickly realized that he was sorting them by genre. The kid had memorized the books and their placement which wouldn’t be that impressive if it weren’t for the fact that Shouta had a whole wall of books. He himself never cared about a specific order or sorting system since he only used a handful of them regularly. One section for school-related books and one for his favorite cat-themed-ones. But other than that, he just stuffed them somewhere in hopes of forgetting them. Most of them weren’t even his since he usually had no time to read anyway.

Midoriya pulled out a ‘teaching for dummies – part 3’ book and Shouta sighed at the memory of that specific birthday party. Hizashi had been oh so funny...

Shouta sighed, watched the kid and wanted to cross his arms over his chest to get comfortable, but suddenly Midoriya ducked into a crouch and swirled around, eyes wide and face ashen. He knocked a small pile of books over and Shouta froze with his arms halfway in the air. The boy in turn froze with his shoulders curled, eyes jumping all over Shoutas body and lingering on his hands. He looked scared. Prepared. As if expecting a hit.

They blinked at each other – one surprised and one expectant.

Okay.

So, that happened.

The kid took a measured breath, awkwardly saying something about being startled by a spider and quickly tried to play his own reaction off by grabbing the knocked over books. As he stood up to sort them back into the shelf in alphabetical order, the pro hero carefully lowered his hands again, stuffing them into his pockets. Right. Traumatized kid. Not fond of hands. He carefully observed his forcefully relaxed body movements and how he always had Shouta at least halfway in his vision. His back never fully turned towards him.

He gripped the books a little bit too tight.

“Midoriya-”, he said and the kid startled bad enough to let the book go, frantically trying to catch it before it hit the ground and knocked three more to the floor in the process. He winced and tucked his flailing arms back in before presenting Shouta with another very innocent look over his shoulder. The underground hero sighed.

“Is there something you maybe want to let me know?”, he asked and Midoriya – for a very hot second - looked trapped. But he quickly caught himself, fiddling with the sleeves of Aizawas borrowed pullover that looked entirely too big on him and made his face as expressionless as possible. His cheek twitched and he tried to hide it by scratching his scar. Unnecessarily hard, digging into the skin. Aizawa suppressed a frown at that because the boy looked on edge and ready to bolt. His attempt at a casual shrug looked stiff and forced.

“Your plant is dying. Pretty negligently for a pro hero.”, he said, surprisingly sure of himself and Shouta couldn’t shake the feeling that the boy was deflecting. He hummed in thought, eyes roaming over Midoriya and his posture. He was obviously still in pain, holding himself a little lopsided and tense but at the same time he had managed to rearrange his whole bookshelf as quiet as a trained professional.

And it had taken him a lot of focus to pull that off.

Midoriya eyed him from under his long and unruly curls, still very expectant and tense. As if waiting for a sentence. A verdict. Shouta sighed and let his eyes wander to the balcony. The door was still open a small gap because Midoriya really didn’t like closed doors and tended to flee to the open when anxious. Shouta would have to keep that in mind, especially regarding the costs of keeping his home nice and cozy. Maybe more blankets? That’s when a thought entered his head and he would have face-palmed himself if not for the fact that the boy was still fidgeting right beside him.

“I must apologize. I haven’t been as openly with my communication as I promised I’d be.”, he started and Midoriyas face fell a little bit, devoid of color before he swallowed and ridigly turned to the bookshelf. He fidgled with a cat-figurine in stiff hands and had his shoulders up to his ears.

“Whatever.”, he hissed, tightly.

Shouta sighed again, feeling dumb and sheepish and not like someone ready to decide something so big for a boy with a history as complex as Midoriyas. He had talked with Inko Midoriya about this, with Hizashi, with Tsukauchi and with the principal, but not even once with the kid in question. Had wanted to wait until he’d have the paperwork read, until he’d have everything planned out, thought out. He had wanted to make sure he knew what he was doing and showing the anxious, traumatized and scared kid that he could take care of him and his needs, that he’d have a plan, that he’d make sure he’d get the help he and anyone in his position deserved. But that seemed to have backfired.

Midoriya had his eyes on his work, diligently putting the books back in order, but his eyes were dull and tired. His whole frame seemed to have sunken in.

“I am in the process of getting full custody over you.”, Shouta said and watched again how the kid let go of everything he had held in his hands. Surprised he twirled around, eyes wide but quickly tried to stifle his reaction and looked at the ground, gritting his teeth.

“There is a lot of paperwork tat needs to be filled out but I am confident that I’ll be able to take care of you.”, Shouta said and tried hard not o sound like he was selling himself too much. The kid jus scrunched up his nose and Shouta – for a short second – feared that he had made the wrong decision, but then the kid rubbed his arm and leaned to the side. Unconciously closer to Shouta.

“Why?”, he asked and Shouta found green eyes starin caustiosly up at him. Shouta knew he had to be honest with the kid right now, so he took a deep breath and met the gaze head on.

“Because...”, he started “... I won’t hand you off to some kind of orphanage or rehabilitation system provided by the hero-society. With your history, people will treat you differently, unfair and cruelly. I’ve seen it happen, have dealt with the outcome. It will happen and that’s horrible, but under my guard I can protect you, prepare you, help you. I won’t let people make you into a villain.”

Immediately Midoriya jerked up, eyes blazing with fury.

“I’m not a villain!”, he seethed and Shouta met his fury with calmness.

“I know that. Still doesn’t change the fact that people might think differently when they find out and act on that.”

Midoriya sagged and looked to the ground, frustration and sadness rolling off him in waves. He absentmindedly touched his scarred cheek, tracing the handprint-shape and then frowned miserably.

“What... what about my mom?”, he asked, voice small and finally sounding like the young, scared boy he really was. Shouta felt the urge to reach out and put a hand on the boys head, offering comfort like he used to do with kids. But he stopped himself and instead leaned a little bit down to catch a better look off his face.

“She is still your mother and nothing will change that. As soon as you decide that you want to live with her again, you’ll be able to-”

“No, I- I don’t-”, Midoriya interrupted him and then looked mortified by it. But Shouta just waited until he had gathered his words.

“She- is she going to be fine? People- if people find out about me and the-”, at this he scratched his cheek harshly again, ”-won't she suffer, too?”

Shouta felt his chest give a painful little twinge at the pure raw feelings in that freckled face, laid bare and obviously terrified by it.

“She’ll be fine. I’ll make sure of it.”, he said with as much conviction he could give and held the green-eyed stare for as long as he could. Midoriya broke it off with a little doubtful frown. And Shouta supposed that he could do nothing about it for now. So he looked at the books again.

“Now that we clarified this... finish with this and then we can go over the paperwork together. I asked of you to be honest and open with me as much as you could. It’s only fair I offer you the same.”

Midoriya stifled a sniff and went silently to work.

___________

Who is behind almost four days in their own challenge? This Idiot! ᕕ(◉Д◉)ᕗ 

Well, the temperatures in germany suddenly spiked and so I got hit with a migraine ready to burn a whole in my skull so... I blame the new lost day on that :’D

However! I made it and that’s all that matters :D

As usual, check out @banashee, wo is so much more disciplined than me and I crossposted this chapter on AO3!

Also, check out the kego prompts! :D

[selfignitingimagines]

Stiles- If I Can’t Have You, No One Can (Obsessed Part 4)

A/N: When I was initally writing this series I had a set plan for where I wanted it to end and how. I was recently rewatching the last few episodes of season 2 and I got struck with some inspiration. Let me know down below if you guys want a part 5 so I can continue the series!

TRIGGER WARNING: Stalking, kidnapping

Here are the links for Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3.

“Right there!” Stiles cried, frantically gesturing toward the computer screen on his dad’s desk. “Stop! Stop! See? There he is again.”

They were scrolling through hours of security footage recorded at the hospital the night one of Matt’s victims was killed. So far, all they had managed to capture were shots of him with his back turned. This tape was no different. 

“You mean there’s the back of his head again,” the Sheriff told him. 

“Okay, but look. He’s talking to someone!”

Scott followed Stiles’ gaze. His eyes widened. “He’s talking to my mom.”

He hastily pulled out his phone out of his jeans and called his mom, hoping she would be able to confirm that it was Matt. Stiles tapped his foot nervously as they talked. His shoulders slumped in relief when he heard her say that Matt was the one she had seen. 

“Alright,” the Sheriff said when she hung up. He picked up a manila evidence folder from his desk. 

“We’ve got shoe prints alongside the tire tracks at the trailer site...”

“And if they match, that puts Matt at the scene of three murders,” Stiles said. “The trailer, the hospital, and the rave.”

“Actually four,” the Sheriff told him, flipping through the documents in the folder. “A credit card receipt for an oil change was signed by Matt a few hours before the murder.”

Stiles let out a sigh of relief. “Alright, Dad, if one’s an incident, two’s a coincidence, and three’s a pattern, what’s four?”

“Four’s enough for a warrant.”

Stiles curled his fist in triumph. “We can find Y/n.”

“Scott, call your mom back. See how quickly she can get here. If I can get an official ID, I can get a search warrant. Stiles, go to the front desk. Tell them to let Scott’s mom in when she gets here.”

 “On it.” Stiles nodded hastily and turned down the hall. 

His whole body was humming with adrenaline now. He had spent the whole night terrified, wondering what Matt was doing to you. Stiles knew you were probably betting on the fact that they would find you. After all, it was what he would have done in your situation. 

You have saved each other plenty of times before, and now it was his turn again. He knew he could do it, he just wasn’t sure what Matt would do to you in the meantime. 

Stiles had tried his best to protect you, but he knew it hadn’t been enough. He should have pushed harder when he suggested you go to the police the other night. He should have kept a closer eye on you at the party, but he had been too caught up in his own issues. 

He tried to shake off those thoughts as he walked down the halls of the station, telling himself that he still had time to make up for it. He had told you the other night that everything he did was to keep you safe, and that was still true. 

As he rounded the corner of the hall, Stiles realized that the officer on duty was no longer standing at the front desk. 

“Hello?” he called, looking around for her. 

That was when he noticed her black combat boot sticking out from behind the corner of the desk. He felt a shiver run down his spine, and he realized she was lying on the floor among a mess of fallen papers. Her eyes were wide open, but they weren’t moving, and her tan uniform was stained dark red with blood.

She was dead, but as Stiles took in the horrific sight, he also noticed another chilling detail. The holster on her hip was empty. Someone had taken her gun. 

Stiles stumbled back, turning around, only to come face to face with you.“Y/n?”

Tears were slipping from your eyes, and your lip was trembling. You looked terrified, standing there in your disheveled dress. It was the same one you had been wearing at the party last night.

Matt was standing behind you, one hand one your shoulder as he pressed the dead officer’s gun into your back. 

“If you make one move I’ll shoot her,” he told Stiles. 

Stiles reluctantly held up his hands. “Okay. Okay, fine.”

“I’m sorry,” you mouthed, but he shook his head. You had to know this wasn’t your fault. 

Matt kept the barrel of the gun pressed against your back as Stiles led you further into the station. He turned into his dad’s office, and you realized that the Sheriff and your brother were also there. 

“Y/n!” Scott cried. 

He started forward, but Matt ordered him to stop, waving the gun so he and the others could see it. 

“Matt,” the Sheriff said slowly. He held up his hands. 

“It’s Matt, right? Matt, whatever’s going on, I guarantee there’s a solution that doesn’t involve a gun.”

Matt’s lips curled into a sick grin. “You know it’s funny you say that, because I don’t think you’re aware of just how right you are.”

“I know you don’t wanna hurt people-”

“Actually, I wanna hurt a lot of people. You four weren’t on my list, but I could be persuaded...and one way is to try calling somebody on your cell phone like McCall is doing.”

Scott ripped his hand out of his pocket, looking between you and Stiles apologetically.

“That...that could definitely get someone hurt.”

“Everyone?” Matt gestured with the gun, and you knew he was telling them to give up their phones. “Now!”

“Come on,” the Sheriff told the boys calmly. 

Stiles looked back at you. 

“Pretty sure he tossed mine out the window last night,” you muttered. 

Matt led the four of you to the tiny jail at the back of the station. There, he made Stiles handcuff his dad to a bench. You felt your stomach drop. Now the three of you were completely on your own with Matt.

He waved the three of you in front of him and forced you to walk up to the front of the station. As you passed by another hallway, you gasped.

Three other officers were lying in the hallway and all of them appeared to be dead. Their chests had been ripped open so forcefully that every wall around them was splattered with blood. 

You looked away, fighting the urge to vomit. 

“What, are you gonna kill everyone in here?” Scott demanded.

“No,” Matt said with a scoff. “That’s what Jackson’s for. I just think about killing them...and he does it.”

He forced you back into Stilinski’s office, where he made Stiles log into his dad’s computer. Matt had him delete every bit of evidence, including the video footage of him at the hospital. Scott was destroying the paper evidence in the shredder, including the shoe prints that would have matched Matt’s boots. 

Stiles glared at Matt from behind the desk, wanting to rip him apart as he stroked his fingers down your hair. He had forced you to sit next to him on the couch, and you were currently staring intently at the tiled floor. 

Stiles had already seen the bruises Matt had left on your throat. The only thing keeping him from jumping across that desk was the knowledge that Matt would have Jackson rip all of you to pieces at a moment’s notice. 

“Deleted,” he told Matt bitterly, gesturing toward the computer. “And we’re done. So, Matt, since all the people you brutally murdered deserved it, because they killed you first-whatever that means-we’re good here, right? I’ll just get my dad and we’ll go. You know, you continue on the whole vengeance thing, enjoy the Kanima.”

Before he could respond, the glow of headlights swept through the windows. You could hear tires crunching on the gravel of the parking lot outside.

“Sounds like your mom’s here,” Matt told you and Scott.

“Matt, don’t do this,” you begged. 

“When she comes to the door, we’ll just tell her to leave,” Scott added. “I’ll tell her we didn’t find anything! Please, Matt.”

The sound of the metal door creaking open echoed through the station, and Matt grinned. “If you don’t move now, I’m gonna kill Y/n first, and then your mom.”

He pressed the gun up against your back, and Scott glared at him. Matt pulled you up by the back of your dress and gestured for Scott and Stiles to go first. 

“Open it,” he ordered Scott, when you had made your way back to the front lobby.

“Please,” Scott begged one more time.

“Open. The. Door,” Matt told him, enunciating each word carefully. 

Scott reached out, shaking his head regretfully. When he turned the knob, the door slowly creaked open to reveal the person standing there. It wasn’t your mom, but Derek Hale. 

“Oh thank god,” Scott breathed. 

But Derek simply stared at him. Then, he pitched forward and slammed straight onto the floor below. Jackson was standing behind him, half transformed. He held up one scaly hand, still dripping with clear venom, and stalked into the lobby.

Matt walked over and knelt in front of Derek, flipping him on his back. He was now completely paralyzed.

“This is the one controlling him?” Derek asked from the floor. “This kid?”

“Well, Derek, not everyone’s lucky enough to be a big, bad werewolf.”

Matt straightened up, glancing between you, Scott, and Stiles. “That’s right! I’ve learned a few things lately. Werewolves, hunters, kanimas...it’s like a freakin’ halloween party every full moon.”

He smirked. “Except for you Stiles. What do you turn into?”

Stiles glared at him. 

“Abominable snowman,” he snarked. “But it’s more of, like, a wintertime thing. You know...seasonal.”

Matt rolled his eyes, and in seconds, Jackson was swiping his claws across the back of Stiles neck.

“Hey!” you cried. 

“Bitch,” Stiles swore at Matt, before his knees went out from under him. He crashed onto the ground, right on top of Derek’s chest. 

“Get him off of me,” Derek growled. 

Matt laughed. “Oh, I don’t know, Derek. I think you two make a pretty good pair. It must suck though, having all that power taken away from you with just a little cut to the back of the neck. I bet you’re not used to feeling this helpless.”

Derek glared up at him from the floor. “Still got some teeth. Scoot down here a little closer, huh? We’ll see how helpless I am.”

“Yeah, bitch.”

Stiles’ voice was muffled from being facedown against Derek’s chest, but you couldn’t help but smile. 

For the second time that night, headlights flashed through the windows of the sheriff’s station. You could hear another car pulling to a stop outside. 

“Is that your mom?” Matt asked. “Do what I tell you to, and I won’t hurt her. I won’t even let Jackson near her. 

“Scott, don’t trust him,” Stiles mumbled into Derek’s shirt.

Scott remained frozen in front of the door, but Matt was impatient. He reached forward, snatching you by your hair and tugging you back against him. He wrapped his arm around your neck, squeezing against your windpipe and cutting off your breath.

“This work better for you?” he asked Scott.

You reached up, scratching at his arms, but he didn’t even flinch. 

“Okay, stop, just stop,” your brother begged. 

“Then do what I tell you to!” Matt spat. 

“Okay, alright, stop!”

Matt finally let you go, right as you were on the verge of blacking out. You hit the floor on your hands and knees, gasping and dizzy from the lack of oxygen. 

“You,” Matt said, gesturing to Jackson. “Take them in there. You two, with me.”

He yanked you up off the ground by your arm, and gestured for Scott to open the door as Jackson hauled Derek and Stiles out of the lobby. 

When the door finally opened, Matt pulled you behind the corner of the hallway. You could hear the door squeaking open, and your mom asking “Scott?”

You were trembling as Matt held you back against his chest. What would he do to your mom?”

“You scared me,” you heard her say. “Where is everyone?”

That was when Matt shoved you out in front of him. Your mom gasped your name. As far as she had known, you were still missing. 

When she saw Matt come out behind you and press the gun against your back, she froze. 

“Mom,” Scott told her nervously. “Just do what he says. He promised he wouldn’t hurt you.”

“He’s right,” Matt agreed. 

Then, he raised the gun, and shot Scott in the stomach. You and your mom both screamed, but as she rushed forward, Matt pointed the gun at you. 

“But I didn’t say I wouldn’t hurt him.”

Scott was holding himself up using the wall, just barely managing to not fall to his knees. He had one hand pressed against his side, and blood was beginning to pool through his shirt. You knew he would heal from the gunshot wound, but your mom didn’t.

She tried to step forward, but Matt waved the gun.

“Back! Back!” he ordered. 

“Mom,” Scott choked. “Mom, do it. Please mom.”

You could hear Stiles' dad from all the way at the back of the station. He had undoubtedly heard the gunshot. 

“Matt! Matt, listen to me-!”

“Shut up!” Matt roared. “Shut up! Everybody shut the hell up!”

He gestured to Scott before training the gun back on you. “Get up, or I shoot your sister next.”

“Please,” your mom begged. Tears were running down her cheeks. “He needs to see a doctor.”

Matt tilted his head. “You think so?”

“It’s alright,” Scott insisted. “I’m okay.”

“No, sweetie, you’re not,” your mom insisted. 

She began to babble about how he was just feeling the adrenaline, how he needed to get to the hospital. You looked over at your brother, and he met your eyes. There was no way he was going to be able to keep his secret after this, provided you all made it out alive.

“They have no idea, do they?” Matt asked you. 

You didn’t answer him. Your mom was still trying to convince Matt to let her take Scott to the hospital. 

“Lady, if you keep talking, I’m going to put the next bullet in her head.”

He raised the gun to your skull. Your breath caught in your throat when you felt the barrel of the gun against your skin.

Your mom took a deep breath, and held up her hands. Tears were streaming down her face, leaving wet lines of black mascara. “Okay...okay.”

Matt shoved you in front of him, pushing you down the hall. He paraded you back through the station, and locked your mom into the cell next to the bench Stilinski was cuffed to. 

When Matt shut the cell door, your mom reached out through the bars, grasping your hand tightly. “You’re okay?”

You nodded, tears slipping from your own eyes. “I’m okay. Stiles and Scott made sure I was safe.”

“Back to the front McCall!” Matt barked. “Both of you!”

You glanced back at your mom reluctantly as Matt shoved you in front of him. He walked behind you and your brother as you headed out into the hallway. Then, he herded you into the station breakroom. 

There were a few tables and some chairs, but even though you were exhausted, you were too afraid to sit down. Scott leaned against one of the tables, still grasping his bloody side. You guessed the wound wasn’t fully healed yet. If the bullet hadn’t exited, it wouldn’t be able to close unless someone pulled it out. 

“The evidence is gone,” Scott told him. “Why don’t you just go?” Matt raised his eyebrows. “You really think the evidence mattered that much? No. No, I want the book.”

“What book?” Scott asked him,

“The bestiary!” Matt snarled. “And not just a few pages. I want the entire thing.”

“I don’t have it. It’s Gerard’s. You told him that, didn’t you?” He was looking at you now. You shrugged. “I tried.”

Scott glanced back over at Matt. “What do you need it for, anyway?”

“I need answers.”

“Answers to what?”

Frustrated, Matt yanked up the edge of his shirt, revealing his scale-covered side. “To this!”

Scott’s eyes went wide. If Matt was turning into another kanima, there was nothing stopping him from killing whoever he wanted. When you looked at your brother’s face, you had the sneaking suspicion that you two would be next on his list. 

------

Stiles laid on the floor of the station, staring up at the ceiling. The tiled floor was cold against his back, which was a welcome relief considering sweat was dripping down his neck. He wasn’t sure whether it was just hot in the station, or if he was nervous. If he was being honest, it was both. 

He and Derek had been lying there for what felt like hours, but Stiles knew it was probably only thirty minutes. 

“Hey,” he said, breaking the silence. “Do you know what’s happening to Matt?”

“I know the book’s not gonna help him,” Derek said grimly. “You can’t just break the rules. Not like this.”

Stiles tried to look over at him from the corner of his eye. 

“What do you mean?”

“The universe balances things out. It always does.”

“Is it because he’s using Jackson to kill people who don’t deserve it?”

“And killing people himself,” Derek added.

Stiles thought for a moment. “So if he breaks the rules of the Kanima, he becomes the Kanima?”

“Balance,” Derek agreed.

“Will he believe us if we tell him that?”

“Probably not.”

Stiles sighed. “Okay, he’s gonna kill all of us once he gets that book, isn’t he?”

“Yep...except for maybe Scott’s sister.”

Stiles gritted his teeth. “I’m gonna kick his ass the second I can move again.”

“That’s a great way to get her throat ripped out too.”

Stiles didn’t respond. He knew Derek was right, but a part of him wanted to go after Matt without thinking about the consequences. He knew he had left those bruises on your neck. He knew that the minute you shattered Matt’s fantasy, he would kill you too. He had to do something before that happened. 

“I know you’re in love with her.”

Stiles swallowed at Derek’s words. “Maybe.”

“I can tell. I know you’d do anything to save her, but right now, we need to be smarter.”

“Alright,” Stiles relented. “So what do we do? Do we just sit here and wait to die?”

“Unless I can figure out a way to push the toxin out of my body faster, like triggering the healing process.”

“Wha-”

He glanced down, only to realize that Derek’s claws were now protruding from his fingers. They had grown into his jeans, right into his skin, where blood was beginning to ooze.

Stiles gagged. “Oh, gross.” 

-----

Back in the breakroom of the station, Matt shook his head, letting his shirt fall back down. He glanced between you and Scott.

 “You know, I feel sorry for you guys. Cause right now you’re probably thinking ‘How am I gonna explain this when it heals?’. And the sad part is, you don’t even realize how incredible it is that you are healing. Cause you know what happens to anyone else when they get shot? They die!”

You and Scott exchanged uneasy glances.

 “Is that what happened to you?” your brother asked.

Matt was silent. He was staring at the ground, but he didn’t look as vicious as he had earlier. He actually seemed kind of tired. Scott seemed to notice this too, so he continued to press. 

“You drowned, didn’t you?”

“He shouldn’t have let them drink,” Matt muttered, still staring at the floor.

“What?” you asked. “Who? Matt, what do you mean?”

“Lahey!” He suddenly exploded. “He shouldn’t have let them drink.”

You flinched back, closer to your brother.

“What?” Scott asked. “Who was drinking?”

“The swim team, you idiot! I didn’t know what was happening. I didn’t know they had just won State…”

You and Scott listened to Matt as he went on and on. He explained how, when he was in eighth grade,  he had been heading over to Isaac’s to trade comics. Mr. Lahey was throwing a party for his swim team and letting them drink around the pool. All of Matt’s victims had been there. Tucker, Cara, Bennett, even Jessica and Shawn, the married couple.

 They were joking around when Matt came into the backyard, tossing each other into the pool. Isaac’s brother Camden decided to throw Matt in too. They didn’t know he couldn’t swim.

“And the next thing I know, I’m lying by the pool,” Matt explained. “And Lahey’s standing over me, and he’s saying ‘You don’t know how to swim? What little bastard doesn’t know how to swim? You say nothing. You tell no one.’ And I didn’t.”

He let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “I would wake up every night, gasping for breath. My parents thought I was an asthamatic. They even got me and inhaler. They didn’t know that everytime I closed my eyes, I…I was drowning.”

He was silent for a few moments, and then he looked back at you and Scott. “And then came Kate Argent’s funeral.”

His lips began to curl into a smile as he explained how he had realized he and Jackson were bonded. 

“I was taking some photos, and then, purely by accident, Lahey gets in one of them. I looked down at my camera, and I just had this unbelievable rage that filled up inside of me. I looked at him and I just...I wanted to see him dead.”

Matt let out a disbelieving laugh. “And the next day, he actually was! You know, Einstein was right. Imagination is more important than knowledge. It was like something out of Greek mythology, like...like the Furies coming down to punish Orestes.”

He looked over at Scott, who was staring at him, dumbfounded. Matt rolled his eyes. “You have no idea what I’m talking about do you?”

Scott swallowed. “Was that...was that the guy that stabbed out his eyes.”

“That’s Oedipus, you dumbass!” Matt barked. 

His gaze snapped over at you. “You know what I’m talking about don’t you?”

You nodded carefully. “The furies were deities of vengeance, weren’t they?”

 Matt nodded. “Their tears ran of blood and they had snakes for hair. If there was a crime that had gone unpunished, the Furies would do the punishing. Jackson is my Fury. You know, when I saw him the next night, I knew he had killed Lahey for me, and I knew he would do it again.”

Matt began to smile to himself again. “So I went to Tucker’s garage. I even paid for an oil change, and guess what? He didn’t even recognize me! So when he wasn’t looking, I took a shot of him with my camera...and in a few hours, he was dead. So I took more pictures. All I had to do was take their picture, and Jackson would take their life.”

You glanced over at Scott, who looked just as concerned as you were. Matt was giving no indication that he would stop the killings. You were pretty sure that he and Stiles were next on his list. 

Scott opened his mouth, maybe to try and convince Matt to let you all go, but he never got the chance to speak. The thick, acrid smell of smoke filled the air, and suddenly the room was engulfed in a white cloud. 

Sirens began to wail, echoing through the halls of the station. They let out a sharp, bleating sound that hurt your ears.

“What is this?!” Matt demanded. “What’s happening? What’s going on?!”

He suddenly reached out, snatching you by the arm.

“I don’t know!” Scott cried. “Y/n, where are you?”

“I’m right here!” 

He reached out, trying to see if he could grab you, but Matt yanked you backward against him. He pressed his gun against your side and forced you out the nearest exit.

Bright yellow emergency lights began to flicker, illuminating the breakroom. Jackson passed you and Matt as you left the room. He was headed right toward Scott. You tried to pull out of his grasp, but he dug his nails into your arm. 

“Scott!” you screamed.

“I’ll have Jackson rip your mom apart next,” he snarled. 

He dragged you through the halls of the station, keeping the gun pressed tightly against your side. The smoke was starting to dissipate now, and the flashing lights ensured that Matt knew where he was going. 

He shoved open a door and hauled you into a darkened garage. The long room was bordered by bay doors on one side. A few desks littered the room, but it was mostly filled with police squad cars or transport vans.

Matt dragged you past tool carts and spare tires, and you struggled not to trip.

“Please, Matt,” you begged. “Just let me go.”

“Shut up!” Matt snapped. He looked around frantically until he spotted a door with a glowing, red exit sign. He pushed you toward it and forced you outside. 

Cool air hit your face as you stepped out into the night, but you didn’t have time to appreciate it. He broke into a run, keeping one hand on your arm as he pulled you further from the building. Panic began to build in your chest.

  A couple hundred yards ahead, the clearing you and Matt were running through ended with a line of trees. There was a small creek running at the edge of it. Farther downstream, a bridge crossed over the water. Matt began to pull you in the opposite direction. 

Suddenly, you stumbled, falling onto your knees in the grass. Matt reached down to haul you up, but when his guard was down, you knocked the gun out of his hand. It landed somewhere in the grass, and he was unable to see where it went in the dark. 

You scrambled onto your feet as Matt felt for the gun in the grass, but when he realized you were running, he abandoned it. 

“No!”

He tackled you to the ground before you could even make it five feet away, and the impact knocked the wind out of you. 

You squirmed, but he quickly pinned you down into the grass. 

“Get off me!” you gasped, but his hands were pressing your wrists into the grass. 

He smiled down at you, but there was an empty look in his eyes. Your heart began to pound even harder against your chest.

“Do you remember when I said that I’m not the type of guy that’s gonna say something like ‘If I can’t have her, no one can.’?”

You writhed under him, but your exhaustion had caught up with you. He was much stronger, and now that he was turning into another kanima, you didn’t have a chance of fighting him off.

Matt didn’t wait for you to respond to him. He just kept talking and grinning down at you with that sick look in his eyes. 

“See, that’s not entirely true,” he mused. “Because, Y/n, if I can’t have you. No one can.”

Then his hands were on your neck, squeezing. You fought him, gasping for air that wouldn’t come. He was going to kill you. 

You reached up, scratching at his hands and wrists. You could feel his skin peeling away under your nails and the warm, wet blood you were drawing. Still, it wasn’t enough. 

Your vision was beginning to cloud. Your attempts to fight him off were growing weaker by the second. All you could think of was Stiles. 

The two of you always seemed to be saving each other in one way or another. This time, you had hoped he would be able to rescue you, but it looked like that wasn’t going to happen. You knew there was no use in hoping for anything else. 

Instead, you tried to think about something good. As your mind wandered, you thought of Stiles’ honey brown eyes. You thought of the surprise and delight on his face when you said something funny that he hadn’t expected. You remembered the way he had kissed you the night at the rave, his hands warm on your cheeks. 

Everything was beginning to go dark, but you were content. You swore you could hear Stiles’ voice, warm and soothing...and then it was gone. 

You opened your eyes, taking one painful, gasping breath. Matt’s weight was no longer on top of you. You rolled over onto your side, desperately sucking in air as you struggled to lift yourself up into a sitting position in the grass. 

You looked around, wondering what had happened. That was when you saw Matt being dragged down the hill by Gerard Argent, of all people. You didn’t understand what was happening at first, but then, Gerard threw him down into the bed of the creek. 

Gerard waded out until he was knee-deep in the water. Then he grabbed Matt by his t-shirt and thrust his head under water. You watched, horrified, as he drowned him in the creek. 

That was when you ran, occasionally glancing over your shoulder to make sure Gerard wouldn’t follow you. He didn’t even look up. Either he would come after you later, or he just didn’t care.

You sprinted past the bridge, only to have a pair of arms reach out and snatch you back. You opened your mouth to scream, but a hand clamped down over your lips, muffling the sound.

You were pushed up against the side of the bridge, the rough stone scraping against your back. When you saw who had grabbed you, your eyes went wide. It was Peter Hale.

It suddenly crossed your mind that maybe you hadn’t escaped Matt in the clearing. Maybe you were dead. Maybe that was why you were face to face with Peter, whose throat Derek had slashed open last month. 

He held one finger to his lips as he stared down at you, and while you should have been terrified, you had the odd feeling that he wouldn’t hurt you. 

“Watch,” he said quietly.

He grabbed you by the shoulders and spun you around, forcing you to look back at Matt and Gerard. You could see Matt’s motionless body floating in the water. Gerard was now standing up on the bank of the creek, his clothes still dripping wet. His lips were moving, but you couldn’t hear what he was saying. It didn’t seem to matter, because what you saw next told you everything you needed to know. 

The Kanima was creeping out from the shadows, wandering toward Gerard on its hands and feet. Instead of running, Gerard lifted one arm and raised his palm. The Kanima moved closer, hesitantly. Then it lifted up one scaly, clawed hand, and touched its palm to Gerard’s.

He was now its master. 

“Go,” Peter urged in your ear. “Tell your brother what you saw.”

You blinked up at him, confused. “Why?”

A smile played at the edge of Peter’s lips. “I have a feeling we’re all on the same team now.”

He let go of your shoulders and you slowly backed away from him, keeping your eyes trained on his shadowy form the entire time. When you were a few yards away, you turned your back and took off running toward the station.

Your chest was burning as you raced back toward Scott and the others. When you pushed open the doors of the station, several officers whirled around and trained their guns on you. You guessed Stiles’ dad had called for backup at some point. 

As you threw up your hands, you were able to see the Sheriff, your mom, and Stiles all standing in the lobby.

“Y/n!” Stiles cried. “Oh thank god.”

The officers lowered their guns, and Stiles rushed over. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tightly against his chest. You froze in his arms, not quite sure how to handle his touch. The feeling of being caged against him made your skin crawl. Though you hated to admit it, it reminded you of Matt.

He pulled away suddenly, realizing you weren’t reciprocating. 

“Hey...are-are you okay?”

You shook your head, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. The lights of the station were too bright, and the sound of the deputies’ boots thumping on the floor caused you to flinch. You didn’t even know where to start.

Stiles watched in shock as you suddenly burst into tears. He wanted to reach out and hold you, but by the way you had just reacted, he was afraid to touch you. 

“Oh, uh…”

Before he could think of anything to say, your mom rushed over and put a hand on your back. “Let’s get you somewhere quiet, Sweetheart.”

She cast a sympathetic glance in Stiles’ direction and led you down the hall. The Sheriff followed after the two of you, no doubt planning to take your statement. Matt was nowhere to be found, and Stiles was willing to bet you knew what happened to him.

He wanted to follow, but he knew if he did, his dad would just kick him out of the room. You were a witness now, and they would need an official statement from you. 

Scott came jogging down the hallway. Stiles realized he must have heard you come back.

By then, the door to the office you had disappeared into was shut. 

Scott headed over to Stiles. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Stiles admitted. “But I don’t think your sister’s okay.”

[oliviayamaoka]

The Roseville Murders (Chapter 2)

Hi, just wanted to say I adjusted the plot slightly and will go into more detail with the story next chapter! This was a bit experimental and I wanted to write the growing relationship / rivalry between Y/N and Danny. I also wanted to write Y/N as a girlboss and to be just as witty as Danny!

Anyways, please comment any ideas or suggestions you may wanna see in future chapters! I have this planned out but would love any ideas or stuff I can add into the story! Tysm for reading!

It rained softly outside as you took a seat at your workplace. The desk was a bit cluttered with your art, notes, junk, and your papers regarding your current investigation.

One of the drawings on your desk was a sketch of Ghostface’s mask, attached to it was a few notes regarding the origin of the mask. Did Ghostface care for the history of it, anyways? You already theorized he was a narcissist who took pride in his work. Perhaps, he admired Edward Munch and his infamous “The Scream” artwork? Or maybe he based his persona off of it? You weren’t too sure but you did research the distribution and the company that made the masks. It wasn’t a particular popular company but it only distributed to the USA, Canada, and Brazil.

Ghostface didn’t seem too caring when it came to where he stabbed victims. As long as there was a lot of blood and something only he could perceive as art. And maybe you too. You felt excited, you already had a three year timeline. Maybe, you could get ahold of other states and ask if there’s been similar killings. Maybe even Brazil and Canada? You had to pinpoint a location and see if you could find just one name, any name.

Three years. Three countries. A part of you doubted he was Brazilian. Maybe Canadian? You weren’t so sure, you were pretty sure he was American. Y/N would probably have to go to the library tommorow to do research and use the slowly growing internet. Your research was suddenly halted when you knocked your sketchbook over.

Our slid a page. You kneeled down to pick it up, holding it as you examined the dark sketch. On the paper was a sketch of claws? No, they also looked like tentacles. Ever since the incident, you had dreams of these tentacle claws grabbing you and pulling you away from life as you know it. It must’ve been a sign of trauma or maybe it represented what happened through the nightmares? You slid it back into your sketchbook, deciding not to dwell on it. It would only make your room feel more depressing.

Beside your sketchbook was your leather journal. Y/N wrote everything in there, for mental health reasons. You included the incident and what Jonathan did for you. Your previous therapist said journaling your thoughts helped the healing process. It worked but journaling about how you killed your abuser was hell.

Your thoughts were suddenly interrupted when your phone rang. It was a chunky, black mobile phone you got about a week ago? Y/N reached for it and answered.

“Hello?” You answered, using your other hand to organize your desk.

“Hello?” A voice answered, it was a male by the sound of it.

“Hi, who’s this?” Y/N asked, paying no mind to the phone call as she started to put some of her stuff away. Art supplies.

“Who’s this?” He replied.

“Y/N L/N, am I who you’re trying to reach?” You asked, sitting back down.

“Ah, you’re no fun, detective.” He chuckled as you stopped, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. Who was this?

“My apologies but, this is my personal phone. Can I ask who gave you this number?” You questioned him.

“Why does it matter, gorgeous? I know it’s you now.” He responded.

“Please don’t call me that. And yes, I am indeed a detective but I’d feel more comfortable discussing anything with you on my work phone.” Y/N said sternly.

“Oh, yeah… Detective L/N, huh? Think you’re some sort of hotshot because you’re new? Where did you come from? Washington? Gonna take more than the feds to catch me.” He said to you.

You listened intently and stopped for a moment. Catch him? Must be a stupid prank. Although, not a funny one since he had your personal phone number. An eyebrow raised as you looked at your notes on Ghostface.

“You still haven’t told me your name. Let’s not be rude, yeah?” You responded, being a little more cocky since you were off-duty.

“Awe, don’t tell me you forgot my name. I’ll give you a hint… I’ve been quite famous lately. In fact, I think you’ve taken quite the interest in me, Y/N.” The man teased. It was 100% Danny.

“I asked for a name, not an alias.” You said.

“Maybe after dinner, hotshot.” Danny said to you as you furrowed your eyebrows.

“I’m not in Roseville to play games. Either verify you are who you claim to be or quit wasting my time.” Y/N spoke with a stern tone.

“My last victim had three stab wounds to the throat. It was going to be two but their scream wasn’t as satisfying as I thought it would be. And they had a tattoo on their upper thigh. Bella Smith.” He said as you froze for a moment.

It was true. The latest murder victim was a middle-aged woman named Bella Smith who worked at a convenience store. She had multiple stab wounds but it was pretty much impossible to see she had three wounds on her throat just looking at photos of the crime scene.

“Okay and how did you get my number? I imagine the infamous Ghostface doesn’t have access to these types of things. How do I know this isn’t some sort of elaborate prank orchestrated by my coworkers?” You questioned.

“Honey, I am Roseville. Also sounds like you have experience with these kinds of things. You ever get humiliated like that?” Danny asked, grinning widely.

“No, it’s just a very logical conclusion. And why would you be talking to me anyways?” You asked him.

While you spoke to him, you quickly wrote down what he said and what he sounded like. You quickly speculated what his age may be, maybe 25?

“I keep tabs on the cops who are investigating my work and to be honest? They’re all stupid, it’s pathetic. Although, I noticed something about you. You come from one of the big cities, don’t you? You’re actually smart compared to those other pigs.” He said.

“Those pigs you speak of have tried their best in pursuing you. They have families too.” You responded.

“Really, huh? You’ve only been here three weeks? I think you should just trust me on this one because those other officers really don’t know what they’re doing. If you actually find out who I am, are they gonna give you credit? The newbie? A woman?” He asked.

“I don’t understand why gender is an issue. And why would they try to steal credit?” You questioned.

“They’re stuck in this shit hole city and I bet they could just really use a promotion right now. They want so badly to be the hero that arrests me… but first, they’ll let the freshly graduated detective do the work. It’s so easy to overshadow women in this world.” Danny said.

“Well, I don’t care. As long as you’re put behind bars.” Y/N responded.

“The bars at this station? I must say, your desk is quite cute. A bit plain but I like your style… interesting files too.” He mused.

“Huh?” You responded, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Your lil’ office at the station, I like it. This place has always been easy to break into. You noticed it too, didn’t you? Their security sucks and their morgue is just too damn small.” Danny said as you frantically looked around, shoving your shoes on.

“I’m going to call them right now and tell them you’re there. That was a stupid move on your part.” You said, practically yelling.

“So young and naive. I’ll be long gone.” He responded, chuckling as you hung up.

“Fuck, shit!” You said, quickly dialling the number to the police station.

You practically flung your door open, sprinting down the hallway and out through the front doors of the apartment complex after three flights of stairs. Your heart rate increased as you continued running down the sidewalk, feeling more frantic when there was no answer.

“Answer…!” You yelled, calling the emergency number.

“911, how can I help you?” A staticky voice answered as you continued running.

“I’m Detective Y/N L/N! Please inform the police station that there’s an intruder! He might be armed and dangerous! Do not touch anything since there may be forensic evidence!” You instructed.

“Oh—yes, right away, ma’am!” The dispatcher answered as you hung up, continuing to focus on your running towards the station.

Back at your apartment complex, there stood Danny with his own mobile phone. It couldn’t be traced back to him since it was stolen and he didn’t leave any DNA on it. If anything, it had the previous owners. Bella Smith. Your apartment complex had fire escape stairs outside your window. Easy enough, he thought. His outfit was black and had some stuff hanging off it. Strings? Ribbons? Danny was quite quick and extremely quiet when it came to climbing the set of stairs.

He reached your window, pulling it open gently and hoisting himself through, landing gently whilst kneeled down. For precaution, he had his knife gripped in one hand. This was purely for investigation and to see what you truly had on him. His head tilted curiously as he noticed your desk. Your art and notebook. His gloved hand reached out to your sketch of him.

Danny was truly impressed at how detailed and good it was. He read through your sticky notes and theories. Other than the fact he was blown away, he knew you were a threat since you successfully guessed his age range and height. Wait, his height? You did a careful examination of the footage he was in, looking at objects around him and his boots to correctly guess a height.

“What the fuck…?” Danny muttered as he looked at your notes.

The Scream by Edward Munch and a costume company? He skimmed over your notes and the psychological profile you built on him. He felt somewhat panicked since you were indeed no joke. His gaze averted towards your leather notebook. Eagerly, he grabbed it and opened it. Most of it was your thoughts and causes of your stress and anxiety. He stopped flipping through when he saw a darker page. It was dark because of the writing and how crumpled it seemed.

December 23rd, 1992

I was walking down an alleyway two weeks ago. It was cold so I had a jacket over my uniform. I suppose that’s why the man didn’t know I was an officer.

At first, I thought that he was going to try and rob me. It took me a while to realize that my money and belongings wasn’t what he was after. I suppose it would be appropriate to say that I was in shock for a moment. He never finished what he started. Despite being in shock, I was able to feel everything and the adrenaline only helped my rage.

Why? Why did this have to happen to me? After getting him off, I pulled my gun out and he stopped. I still remember the look on his face after I shot him. He was scared and pathetic, as he was in life. I don’t regret killing him. I never will. I just feel utterly violated. Never once have I been touched like that so violently. Is this what this fucked up world has come to? What if I didn’t have my gun and training?

He definitely did this to other women… he deserved to die. And I would do it all over again to him and to other men just like him. Of course, I had to call the police. They were going to charge me with manslaughter but they said that they would push this all under the rug, just as long as I never tell anybody. Did I contribute to corruption in the police force? This getting out would ruin everything. I don’t know but I do know that this was my gift.

Freedom was my gift for killing that man. It felt oddly exhilarating. I hope nobody remembers him, I hope his family know what kind of monster he was. Anyways, I’m being reassigned somewhere. They said they’ll give me my first investigation. In a smaller city.

Danny’s fingers trailed over the page. He felt angry and sad for you. That this happened to you. But, something arose in him when he kept re-reading that paragraph. You… enjoyed it? Behind the mask, he had a soft expression on his face. He imagined your beautiful face full of blood with you and your gun. He smiled gently as he kept the notebook.

He did indeed feel bad for you but he wasn’t satisfied with his limited knowledge of you. Danny decided to use this notebook of incriminating evidence to hold some leverage over you. Not only that but he figured he’d get to know you better if they had something interesting to talk to you about. Danny couldn’t help but grin when he thought about your journal entry and the sketches you made of him. So smart yet so naive.

Danny quickly took a look around your apartment to see all points of entry. He took a peak into your bedroom, it was neat and tidy. He seemed somewhat paranoid so quickly went back to your living room window, making his swift little escape. Not without taking some of your notes on him and your sketchbook.

About two hours later, you rubbed your eyes in frustration as another officer came to talk to you. There was a forensic team still investigating your little office space. Apparently, there was nobody here and your office seemed untouched. For about thirty minutes, you inspected any points of entry and tried to look for out of place shoe marks since it rained outside.

“Detective, are you certain it was the killer who called? We get prank calls a lot.” He said as you nodded.

“Yes, I’m certain. It was him, he knows I’m going to catch him soon.” You said as he nodded a bit.

“Okay, well, we’ll take it from here. Come early tommorow.” He said as you sighed.

“I will but please, don’t miss anything. I’m starting to think he was lying. It was him though.” You said as you turned, walking down the hallway towards the exit.

It seemed to be evening at this point and the rain stopped pouring. It was slightly humid but the city looked oddly beautiful when it was wet? You couldn’t stop thinking about your phone call with Ghostface earlier. Y/N already had some tech professionals try to track the number he called from and all of the information regarding the phone company. You’d have to wait two days at the latest for the results to come back.

As you walked through light puddles, you felt more and more tired. All the running and frantically searching for him was enough to just make you exhausted. It was all last-minute too. Y/N stopped dead in her tracks when she felt her mobile phone ring. You pulled it out of your pocket and answered it.

“Hello?” You asked, tired.

“Hey, gorgeous. Just wanted to apologize for my little deception trick earlier.” He responded as your eyes widened.

“Ghostface…” You responded, shocked that he had the courage to call you again.

“God, hearing that from you…” He said with a slight husk as you took a deep breath quietly to calm yourself.

“You know I’m close, don’t you?” You questioned him as he chuckled.

“Of course, I do… only these hands of mine can do wonders for you.” Danny said to you as you scoffed.

“You’re disgusting.” You say to him.

“Don’t lose your temper now, detective. There’s… things we should discuss.” He cooed.

“Things? Seriously?” You asked him, already tired of his bullshit.

“Yeah! Like, this lil’ notebook of yours! Really deep stuff… Victor Houston, was it? The serial rapist? Must’ve felt real good to put him down, didn’t it? Did it feel as good as you said it did in this thing?” He asked as you froze.

You probably let out a small whimper of shock as your hands trembled. Your heart pumped hard and fast. It was all you can hear as you felt your face heat out of pure embarrassment and shock. He… read your journal? This wasn’t good, this wasn’t good.

“W-What…?” You asked as he cackled.

“God, you’re so hot when you sound scared. Don’t be offended though, babe. You still sound real sexy in your cop tone.” He said as he continued.

“Yeah, I read all about the guy you killed. And how it was all covered up to accommodate you. Are you a star student or something? It’s hard covering up murders… or has it always been easy for you?” He asked.

“I-I, um… how did you get that…?” You asked him, trembling.

“You see, Y/N… we’re the same. You and I are too smart for Roseville. It’s just that I got the upper hand this time. While you rushed to the police station, I took a quick trip into your apartment.” He said as you let out a light gasp.

“Yeah, that’s right! I know where you live, I know where you’re from, and your number. I know who you truly are, Detective Y/N L/N.” Danny said mockingly.

“And what are you going to do with it?” You asked him.

“Always so straight to the point. I might give that annoying little journalist Jed Olsen. You’re trying to work with him, aren’t you? You mentioned in one of these notes… you also think he’s handsome.” He said as you covered your eyes.

You fought tears.

“Why? Why would you do this?” You ask.

“I should be asking you that. I’m a bit jealous you find someone like Olsen… attractive. He’s so boring, so normal, so… ugh, I hate talking about him. Still though, nice to know I have another fan besides him.” He said to you.

“Where are you going with this?!” You snapped as he chuckled darkly.

“I won’t tell anybody. Just as long as you halt your investigation for a while. I still want to have fun in Roseville here and well… get to know you.” He said.

“Go to hell.” You muttered.

“How original… so what’ll it be? I kinda need to know now since I’m also on a bit of a time crunch.” Danny asked you.

“W-What the fuck do you want me to do? Sit back and watch as you kill more innocent people?! I won’t let you.” You said with a venomous tone.

“What are you gonna do? Stop me behind bars?” He asked mockingly.

“Fuck you.” You said.

“I’m sure we will. But first, I just want you to sit back and not do anything stupid. We’ll see each other eventually. I’ll call you from another phone soon.” He said, hanging up.

You held your phone in disbelief and quickly made sure you had your gun. How the hell could you have been so dumb?! It was genius, leading you away from you apartment and finding such leverage against you purely out of luck. Your breath trembled as you walked back to your apartment, having your gun ready in your pocket as you did so.

[slowburnsunsets]

saiouma phantom thief + soulmate au where you can temporarily see the prints of wherever your soulmate touches once you turn the age of 18.

when saihara’s 18th birthday comes up, all his friends are excited for him. the chances may be slim, but there’s still the possibility that his soulmate even goes to their school! wouldn’t that be something?

unfortunately, no such thing seems to be the case as a few days pass by and saihara has yet to see any prints of his soulmate’s. undeterred by this, though, his more hopeful friends assure him that he’ll find his soulmate eventually.

-

about a week after his birthday, a museum is reportedly robbed by none other than the infamous phantom thief. saihara’s uncle ends up being called to the crime scene to investigate, and brings his nephew along as well.

you can imagine saihara’s confusion when he sees that the crime scene is littered with dimly glowing footsteps, already starting to fade. the signature sign of a soulmate’s touch.

he tries to chalk it up to maybe it being one of the other examiners or forensics on the scene? but that wouldn’t make any sense, because they’re all way too old for him . . . and the footsteps are pretty small for any of the ones closer to his age. not to mention they’re already starting to fade, meaning they’ve been here a while . . . but it’s 9 in the morning, so that would mean the footsteps would have to have been made at least a couple of hours ago. who would’ve been here near the dead of night?

he ends up filing it to the back of his mind, because his uncle is starting to notice his distraction, and for some reason he can’t really explain, he feels as though this discovery might be something that’s best to keep to himself for now.

-

a day passes by, and true to the phantom thief’s M.O., a letter is sent to the police station. their pattern has always followed the same M.O.:

first, a robbery is committed; the tricky part is trying to figure out the location, because it never seems to stick to one type of place—sometimes it’s a regular old jewelry store and the next time it’s a high-end established business company that delves in tech, etc.

next, the following day after the robbery, a letter is sent by with an encrypted message (they’ve only ever managed to solve 1 out of the 7 coded letters sent, the 1 being solved by detective prodigy kirigiri kyoko).

then, the letter is always accompanied by some random object; this part at least sticks to a slightly more understandable pattern, because it’s almost always some object that one would associate with a kid—ex. one time they received a rubber duck, the next time it was a lone crayon, and the time after that was a plushie in the form of a horse.

and lastly, the most crucial part of it all that differentiates the phantom thief from so many previous masterminds of criminology: the object that was stolen is always sent back, and if it isn’t sent to the police station, it’s returned directly back into where it came from, as though it was never taken in the first place— doesn’t matter how guarded the crime scene may be, because somehow, no one ever sees anything (but why? and how?)

-

a few days pass by again, and saihara—really, he didn’t mean to, it just kinda happened—manages to actually decipher the encryption on accident. the letter reveals the location of the next place to be robbed.

he reports to his uncle that he’s accidentally solved the letter, only leaving out one important detail: the letter was covered in glowing fingerprints that only saihara could see. the theory of the phantom thief being his soulmate is so impossible, and yet, the only explanation for those prints to be on the letter would require that to be true:

the letter and objects are always sealed in an envelope, inside a package. the prints were on both the inside and outside of the box, and all over the letter and objects, which no one else could have touched directly.

all evidence is sealed into plastic bags and are never touched without the usage of gloves to avoid tainting of a crime scene or clues.

even the mail service wouldn’t have been able to touch the inside of a sealed shut package and an unopened envelope.

so naturally, just to prove that he’s just being unreasonable and that his theory is definitely not possible, saihara decides to test it.

protection units are assigned to the next targeted location, and saihara goes with his uncle to check up on the scene and once and for all debunk his theory.

it’s a gallery most known for its exhibition dedicated to a famous photographer prodigy, but saihara has never really been one for that type of art, so he can’t recall the name of them.

when his uncle isn’t looking, saihara quickly takes the opportunity to put his plan into motion. he doesn’t know where exactly the thief will strike, nor what will they take, so he opts for the entrance to one of the larger exhibitions that’s more open and bare. impossible to miss or not pass through.

then, as best as he can without really being able to tell, saihara traces his finger along the wall to write out a single question:

can you see this?

it’s a long shot, because saihara doesn’t know if his soulmate’s even 18 yet, or if the letter was even telling the truth at all and this location was just a red herring. but it’s all he’s got. and if the phantom thief truly is his soulmate, and all the circumstances are right, then they should see it, right?

saihara hopes he’s wrong.

-

he is not wrong, he finds out the next day, when he returns to the newly created crime scene and finds—much to his absolute internal shock—a response written in the form of glowing prints:

duh, of course i can! i have eyes, y’know?

-

and just when saihara thinks things can’t possibly get any more complicated, another letter is sent to the station—same M.O. and all. except this time, there’s one thing very different about this one.

on the back of the letter, in fading, glowing writing, another address is written. with it, a note.

what a coincidence that we’re tied together! life’s funny like that, so i’ll give you a freebie just this once, my detective. but if you’re gonna be my soulmate, you’ve gotta be able to keep up with me, okay? so after this, no more freebies. you wanna catch me, right? then you’ve got to work for that!

i look forward to our future chases.

-the phantom thief

saihara nearly faints as the sudden revelation that only he can see, his uncle—who’s standing right next to him—none the wiser to this development.

. . . you’ve got to be kidding him.

this ended up being longer than i meant for it to be, sorry.

[hardestgrove]

Last Season on Stranger Things:

Rating: E/PG Warnings: canon appropriate violence Length: 9,333 Author’s Note: I’m working a fic that starts in S2 and I ended up needing to write a “previously on” so I could track where the ocs had been. Things like which plotlines were they apart of, which major events were they there for etc. It’s basically just the most bare bone writing of scenes following the plot of season 1 so you and I both know enough about what happened then to be getting on with lol. I’ll be posting this on AO3 too once I decide on some things about how I wanna post this series so idk consider this an exclusive preview.

When the word got officially out that Will Byers had gone missing Emily King had felt a stone of dread settle in her stomach. She didn’t know Will — or any of the Byers really — but he was in her sister Stacy’s class and she knew enough to be pick him out of a crowd by sight. She couldn’t imagine the kind of terror Ms. Byers must be feeling right now.

When they asked for volunteers for the search she’d signed up right away, Jackson and David had too even though they were only 15. She didn’t like the idea of them out on a school night for god knows how long but they wouldn’t taking no for an answer. And honestly any teacher who’d give you shit for opting to look for a lost kid over doing homework could choke. With their parents out of town on another of their trips to somewhere great that they never took their kids on and the twins coming along Emily had ended up doing some desperate phone calling to other parents for someone to watch Stacy and Alison while they were gone.

After a few no gos she struck gold on the Wheelers, apparently their son Mike was Will’s friend so they were more than happy to look after her sisters while they helped look for him. It probably helped them feel like they were doing something to help since neither seemed to be in the search party but she wasn’t about to say any of that out loud. She’d just thanked Mrs. Wheeler, dropped the girls off and drove over to where she’d been told to go by the lady at the police station.

The longer they were out there looking for Will the more the dread seeped into her bones. It was like there was a miasma over parts of the woods. Emily liked to think she was sensitive, maybe even psychic, though she didn’t have much to prove it past her own fascination with the paranormal and a few scattered events. But now was one of those times she was terribly sure of it.

She walked, trying to remember what Will looked like and hold that in her mind as she walked, almost as if to dowse for him with her thoughts as her brothers called out his name into the dark. Her hunch led her deeper into the feeling of miasma, of something deeply wrong with the world. She’d read an article in FATE about the Pine Barrens in New Jersey and how the whole area just had a bad vibe, like it was in the ground, how much it didn’t want you there. The more sure she was that she was on the right track to Will, the more she felt that kind of bad vibe. Like she was walking towards nuclear fallout and her body knew it was there even if she didn’t. Even worse was the feeling that it didn’t matter how much she weathered the discomfort, they weren’t going to find him. Not like this. Whatever that meant.

“We’re not going to find him.”

David turned to her. “Come on don’t talk like that, we’re gonna find him eventually we just gotta keep looking.”

“No I mean— not here.”

Jackson walked over from where he’d been looking over to the left.

“You think we should look somewhere else? Like where?”

Emily shook her head, shrugged. There was no way to explain this, she didn’t even know what this was.

“I don’t know. I just know that this isn’t going to work. We’re not going to find him like this.”

Jackson and David exchanged a look.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Stacy hadn’t wanted to get dumped on the Wheelers so they could help look for Will but now that she was sitting in the Wheelers’ basement in front this random girl they were hiding like it was ET she was glad Emily had left her here and that she’d decided to be nosey.

For one thing the boys were so dumb and insensitive for the most part. Maybe it was because her family was different, less happy, or because she was a girl too but she could see things in Eleven that she recognized and some that she kind of understood. The more Eleven talked she became more and more worried that something very bad had happened to her before the boys had found her.

Stacy had seen things on TV and read in some of Emily’s psychology books from their aunt that she probably wasn’t supposed to read. Stuff about what some people did to kids and about how bad stuff can mess with your brain. Everything about how Eleven was wasn’t like any other kid she’d ever known and if there really were

bad people after her, well she kinda had an idea of that meant. She knew what it meant to live with monsters, something only she and Eleven probably understood.

She’d only known her for like, an hour tops, but she felt fiercely protective of the strange girl. Eleven didn’t know what friends were and Stacy wanted to show her. The boys had all gone off to be weird in the corner, probably talking about how much she and Eleven had contaminated their guy cave with cooties or something. She was tempted to go over there and give them a piece of her mind about how they were talking to Eleven and tell them to knock it off and be nicer, but she didn’t want to do that in front of Eleven herself. So she’d sat down at the table with whatever game they were playing on it and Eleven had sat beside her.

When Eleven’d touched the board and closed her eyes like she was concentrating Stacy felt like she was holding a breath though she didn’t know what for. When she’d flipped the board she’d felt the same kind of dread she did sometimes when dad was home. When he’d smile too much but not in his eyes and she knew he was dangerous. Wherever Will was it was bad. It was bad and there were monsters there too.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Jonathon would probably be angry if he knew she was coming over with an ouija board but honestly she didn’t care.

Emily had never been to the Byers house until earlier that day. Had never really known or spent time with anyone in their family, even Jonathan who was only a grade below her. But Will’s disappearance was too close to home to her. She couldn’t imagine how she’d feel if Stacy or —god forbid— Alison had gone missing. Just the thought made her throat close shut. She didn’t know Joyce Byers very well but she didn’t need to to believe her when she’d claimed Will was somehow communicating through the lights.

She’d stopped by to bring over food and ask if there was anything she and siblings could do to help and overheard Joyce talking about it and suggested maybe she could help talk to Will. Now she had the sinking suspicion she was right and that she probably would regret that in the long run.

The closer she had gotten to the Byers house the more the sense of dread and wrongness grew again, the more her skin crawled. It wasn’t the sense of negativity or dread you’d imagine having coming to a house in grief, it was more like feeling that you were about to see a fresh murder scene. Or confront a demonic possession.

There was nothing wrong with the house once she was in it of course. But the sense of wrongness was almost palpable, like cold sweat blanketing her body. It dawned on her as she stood in their living room talking to Joyce she had felt something like this before as a child. It was that experience that was one of the foundational things that made her so sure she was psychic. It had been a Saturday when she was 12, just after they’d moved to Hawkins from New York City. She had been playing in the yard when it hit her, the sense of utter horror and wrongness, and then she remembered walking up at the hospital. She’d fainted, everyone just said it must have been low blood pressure or sugar or something like that since everything about her was fine but she had known. Known with utter certainty that something viscerally wrong had happened in the world and she had felt it. She’d had nightmares for weeks after.

When Joyce Byers said her son was alive and talking to her through the lights she believed her because to Emily it was the only logical conclusion to the wrongness she was feeling. The sense that Will was alive and was here even when he very clearly wasn’t. Like somewhere near the Byers house the guts of the world had been flipped inside out.

In mythology and folklore there were stories about beings like the Fair Folk of Ireland and the British Isles who stole people away to their own dimension, a world just a membrane of reality away from ours. There were all kinds of theories about dimensions and reality and how the universe worked that all agreed a little boy could get stolen away and end up just beyond the curtain that none of them could see. It’s just most people didn’t want to think those theories were real.

She was likely going to regret using the Ouija board later — she always did, despite being made by the Parker Brothers it wasn’t a fucking toy— but she also had the sinking feeling that Will didn’t have much time. And at the end of the day, his life was more important than her discomfort.

She turned off the truck and grabbed the box off the passenger seat.

Joyce turned to her as she reentered the house, eyes huge, cigarette in hand. Emily smiled tightly and went to the coffee table to set up.

“So- So how does this work?”

Emily talked as she got comfortable on the floor and set things up.

“Okay well, the usual way would be to have us both put our hands on the planchet and ask questions but I find that never really works super well for me and there’s always the risk of people nudging it where they want subconsciously. So I’m going to be the only one on the planchet. But I’m going to have my eyes closed so I can focus on trying to connect with Will. It’ll help me connect if you’re touching me, so it’d be best if you could sit next to me on whichever side lets you touch me and write what letters we get on the note pad. I might also just get stuff from connecting with him in general so I might write it or say it out loud myself.”

Joyce nodded, putting out her cigarette and came to sit on her right side, taking the pen in her right hand and putting her left on Emily’s shoulder blade looking at her uncertainly. Emily nodded at her and tried to smile reassuringly and got ready for what was undoubtedly going to be a hellish experience.

---------------------------------------------------------

School had been hell itself, just waiting to get out so they could go and hunt for Will. She’d felt like she’d only just survived the wait but she did and she didn’t take any of the boy’s bullshit when they tried to tell her she couldn’t help. She already knew about Eleven and it didn’t matter that she wasn’t Will’s friend. He was nice and he was missing and more was eyes were better so that was that.

She didn’t have really any idea where they were or where they were going, just a loose concept of where they were in regards to Hawkins in general. Her family lived up around Loch Nora and she didn’t have many friends who lived in this side of town so she just followed the group. Dustin and Lucas were ignoring her, obviously still not happy about having another girl — especially one without superpowers — intrude on their little group. Mike was paying attention exclusively to El, but he was probably the nicest to her out of all the boys, so Stacy didn’t feel the need to butt in and protect her.

Eventually she got bored of all the biking and walking in stubborn silence or conversations that purposely didn’t include her so she figured she’d bother Dustin and Lucas right back. Give them a reason to not like her so dang much. Somehow that had backfired though and ended up with them explaining Dungeons and Dragons to her in insane detail. Honestly she was sort of interested, it sounded fun. Also like it had a bazillion rules and dumb stuff to remember and care about but she liked the idea of everyone working together to make up a story and fight monsters. It seemed more fun than a normal board game.

It was dark when they got to Will’s house. She’d never seen it before and even in the dark it looked shabby. Mike was busy trying to explain to El that it was Will’s house when the three of them had walked up. Then Lucas and Dustin ganged up on her for like the 80th time and Stacy watched as El’s face crumpled and her eyes go huge and shiny. Didn’t they get it yet that whatever those psychos did to her made it hard for her to talk, like, at all?

She immediately dumped her bike and put herself between all three of them and Eleven, her hands on her hips.

“Can’t you guys can it for a second?! You know she’s psychic and in danger but you’re still gonna be massive jerks to her even when she’s trying to help you?! How about instead of jumping down her throats like the biggest dickheads on earth you treat her like a person! She didn’t have to help you! She’s doing it because she’s nice and Mike helped her! If she took us here then she took us here for a reason.”

Lucas sneered at her, unimpressed. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

Okay well hell. Now she had to think of something and fast, before she was hiding El in her basement. She thought about all the weird stuff El had done so far, tried to look at them like clues and be all Sherlock Holmes about it.

“Okay so— back in Mike’s basement she flipped the D&D thing and said he was hiding from the monster guy right? That meant something… Like it was a different place…” She was thinking out loud, her tone uneven with uncertainty. “I mean she knew the little wizard guy was Will, and she changed where he was and not like in like a ‘he’s super far away’ kinda way…” A thought struck her and she gasped so sharply it actually kinda hurt. “What if it’s like A Wrinkle In Time!”

All the boys looked at her like she was crazy too.

“It’s a book, do you not read those? Or like only the ones with elves? In the book their scientist dad goes missing and it turns out he’s like trapped on the other side of the galaxy or something because he figured out how to use a tesseract and got imprisoned by the bad guys when he made it to the other end. Then his kids had tesser too to go and save him from the Black Thing. What if it’s something like that? Will’s here but he’s not. Like he’s out of sync with time or got kidnapped by aliens to another dimension or something?”

Lucas looked unimpressed. “That’s just some stupid shit from a book. None of that is impossible.”

She glared at him hard. “You’re stand here with a girl who can lift things with her mind which, last I checked, everyone thought was only possible in fiction and you wanna look me in the eye and say that aliens aren’t a viable option at this point?”

Lucas made a face like he wanted to argue that but hadn’t quite come up with the right wording yet.

He never got to. The sirens broke up their fight.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Emily knew in her gut that the body they’d found wasn’t Will and her fear was with this people would stop looking for him. Then it really wouldn’t matter they’d had a funeral because it would just be a matter of time before he really was dead.

Her seance or whatever with Joyce had been cut short by a literal fucking demon busting through the wall. She was terrified, for herself, for Joyce and Jonathan who were still living in the home, and for Will who was stuck in whatever place that thing originated from. Even so, she knew she couldn’t just sit around and do nothing. She understood better what was going on now. The analogy of nuclear fallout and the guts of the world being pulled inside out made sense now. Somewhere near the Byers house, maybe somewhere in the nearby woods, a rift in reality had opened and the energy of that leak or of the place it connected to was flooding the area, making it feel almost toxic.

Either Will accidentally stumbled into that rift on his way home or was dragged through it by that thing and now he was trapped there. There wasn’t any search party that would find him there, the only person who could was her. Theoretically. She wasn’t an expert on astral projection or anything like that but she had read about it and thought she might have done it a few times when she was younger, though not like this. Still it was her best option — her only option — and she was going to do it regardless of the potential danger because there was a boy who needed help and the door to his coffin was about to shut.

She opted at least to not try anything in her own house. If something went wrong like with the seance she didn’t want any of her siblings to get hurt or traumatized or something. She drove out towards the Byers place but once she started to get that bad feeling she pulled off the road and didn’t go closer. She turned off her truck, grabbed Will’s missing poster and her walkman and turned on her Siouxsie and the Banshees cassette. She went through the process her books had explained, working to relax herself and protect herself before she made the leap into actually traveling. She opened her eyes to stare at Will’s picture, staring into his photocopied eyes as they stared back into hers until she once again felt a sort of unquantifiable Essence of Will Byers and closed them again. Like a dog with a scent, she stepped out of herself and began her hunt.

The place she went, the place where Will was, was dark and she did not need to be there physically to know it was hostile to life. As she walked down the familiar terrain of Hawkins she dimly thought of Elric, walking through familiar places now ravaged by chaos. It was familiar but… infested… destroyed, invaded. Tentacles hugged everything like choking vines and she avoided them like the plague, scared of what they could do. She didn’t know much about Will so she couldn’t think of places to start looking for him but she trusted her “scenting” and followed where her gut took her.

The most terrifying thing was that there were things living here. She didn’t know if they could see her. If it was like Elric and they were creatures of chaos and this was some mirror dimension of her earth, like its jungian shadow self, that they’d invaded and begun to return back to its primordial chaos state, then they would be able to see her. But for now it didn’t seem like they could, or if they did they didn’t care. So she kept walking. Her feet lead her to the arcade and she went inside, simply shifting into it like you sometimes could in dreams. She went behind the counter and found him huddled there looking exhausted and terrified. She was relieved that he seemed healthier than she would have expected for being stuck in a world that most definitely didn’t have anything safe to eat on top of the sense of corrosiveness that pervaded it.

“Will?” She didn’t know if he could hear her but it was worth a try.

He looked up, wide eyed and terrified.

“Are you here to rescue me?”

“I don’t know if I can, I’m not really here right now you know? I’m astral projecting, like Professor X would. Kinda like how I talked to you earlier with your mom. But I’m going to do whatever I can to help you. Can you tell me what you remember of how you got here?”

Will nodded hesitantly.

“I was coming home from D&D at Mike’s when everything got really scary. The light on my bike went out and I saw a monster in the road. I fell off my bike and I ran all the way into my house and I locked the door but then the monster undid it. So I ran to the shed and got the shotgun. I was pointing it at the door to shoot the monster when it came up behind me. I-I don’t really know what happened next— it was so fast. I was screaming and trying to get away and then it dragged me through something weird and cold and slimy and I was here. I got away and I ran and I hid. I just keep running and hiding from it.”

Emily tried to give him an encouraging smile.

“That’s good. That was all really, really helpful Will. Keep hiding as best as you can. It sounds like it took you through some kind of portal and with that description I think I’ll know one when I see it. I’m gonna tell your mom all of this and we’re gonna figure out how to get you out of here okay? Just keep hiding and try and let your mom know you’re still okay when you can alright?”

Will nodded, terrified but hopeful. She prayed to anything that was even there that she wasn’t just giving him false hope. She couldn’t live with it if she was.

“I’m going to have to go soon Will. I don’t think I can’t stay too long outside of my body and I have to tell people what you told me so we can look for a portal to get you out through. I’m really sorry, I don’t want to leave you but I have to okay?”

Will looked like he was about to cry but he nodded again.

“Please just hurry.”

“I will. I promise I will.”

There was no better way to do it and she was genuinely concerned about staying here too long like this, even if she wanted to try to trace the portal on this end. So she just decided to “wake up” and snapped into her body again her tape long over and the cab of her truck now full of early November chill. As though the cold desolation of that Other Hawkins had followed her out.

Part of her was scared that it had.

She turned the truck back on and turned the heater up on blast, visualizing the growing heat purifying the cabin of the toxic energies of the Other Hawkins as she drove.

She knew she should probably head over to Ms. Byer’s house right now and tell her everything but as the adrenaline and fear of what she’d seen and done wore off the exhaustion hit her like a freight train. She only made it home in one piece via sheer willpower (and some pinching) keeping her awake. If she tried to explain any of this to someone in this state she’d be lucky just to form a coherent sentence let alone what she’d actually learned.

Stacy was playing with the ends of her dirty blonde hair as they all mulled over Will’s message on the radio.

“What was Will saying?” Mike asked to none of them in particular. “Like home... Like home… but dark?”

“And empty.” Lucas supplied.

“Empty and cold.” Dustin added. “—Wait did he say cold?”

“I don't know!” Lucas replied, exasperated. “The stupid radio kept going in and out!”

Dustin sighed “It's like riddles in the dark.”

Mike was pacing. “Like home. Like his house?”

“Or maybe like Hawkins!” Lucas said.

“Upside down.” Eleven replied, she was practically face down in the cushions of the couch. She must be exhausted.

“What'd she say?” Lucas asked.

“Upside down.” Stacy answered.

He gave her a look. “What?”

“Upside down.” Mike looked like he’d just figured something out and he rushed over to the D&D table where she was already sitting.

“When El showed us where Will was, she flipped the board over, remember?” He mimicked the act himself. “Upside down. Dark. Empty.”

Lucas looked over at her and Dustin. “Do you understand what he's talking about?”

Dustin shook his head. “No.”

But Stacy was leaning in over the table, nodding aggressively at Mike who smiled at her.

“It’s like I was saying before about A Wrinkle In Time. He got tessered away to somewhere else. Somewhere bad like the planet Camazotz.”

Mike pounded the table. “Exactly.”

His friends looked at them like they had two heads and she heaved a huge sigh of disgust. What hard heads. Did they need to explain it to them like babies?

“Guys, come on, think about it.” Mike implored, looking between them.“When El took us to find Will, she took us to his house, right?”

“Yeah.” Lucas said. “And he wasn't there.”

“No but he was.” Stacy butted in. “He just wasn’t where we could see him. Like in another dimension or something. You know like the little girl in Poltergeist?”

The other boys looked at each other alarmed.

Mike tapped on the board again, drawing their attention back to it.

“What if he’s here? Not Hawkins, the normal side. But the bad side, The Upside Down.”

“Like the Vale of Shadows.” Dustin exclaimed.

Not it was finally Stacy’s turn to be completely baffled.

“What’s the Vale of Shadows?”

--------------------------------------------

She never anticipated her first meeting with the town sheriff would be debugging Ms. Byer’s house and talking about interdimensional portals. She’d always thought it would be because they’d finally caught her dad committing murder or her mom had overdosed. She didn’t really know how to feel about that not being the case.

It was a surreal conversation to have but she was glad that she had an audience that would actually believe her. She didn’t now how to make this not sound utterly insane to people who didn’t get it. But she told them everything she’d learned from her trip and her talk with Will. She stopped in her recounting both to give as detailed an account as she could about Will’s condition and to give Ms. Byers the chance to recollect herself a bit.

Joyce had seen him again after Emily’s talk with him earlier that day, apparently taking her suggestion to try and let his mom know he was alive to heart. Emily was glad for that but she was more interested Hopper’s discovery of the portal. If they could figure out a way in there they could go through that and get him out. Or maybe she could lead him there via astral projection, or at least tell him about it so he could get there himself? She didn’t know what they could do but they had something now and it was better than nothing.

She hated to leave it at that but she still had responsibilities to her own family she had to see to. She had to get Alison and her brothers from school, get dinner going and make sure Stacy didn’t overstay her welcome with the Wheelers and she still had homework to do. It was kind of galling to her that the town expecting the world to go on as usual while a boy was missing— but then to them he was dead now, they didn’t know what was really going on. Hopper and Joyce would keep working on the plan while she did all the mundane things she had to do. Will’s rescue wouldn’t languish just because she wasn’t there. It wasn’t fine per say, but it was bearable.

---------------------------------------------------

The fight in the Junkyard had been a disaster, she and Dustin had tried to get them to stop fighting but nothing they could say was getting through. Lucas just turned on her too, like she was also somehow evil for the crime of being a girl and being sympathetic to Eleven. He didn’t get anything about Eleven, or her either. None of them really did in the end. She would have done the same thing herself. The only reason she’d agreed to look for the Gate was so they could tell someone else, some adult who could actually do something with it, about the Gate.

The boys had never been scared— truly scared-for-your-life scared— not like her and if she was right, like Eleven probably had as well. They didn’t really get what they were doing, how dangerous this could be or the consequences. Stacy did. She knew what it was like to be scared that bad and she’d already learned consequences. They didn’t even really ask Eleven anything about herself. She was just a weird girl with powers who they could use to find their missing friend. And sure, yeah, she wanted to help find Will too. Stacy didn’t want him to die in there and if Eleven could help then great! But she was a person too and that still mattered.

It had been a snap decision to chase after Eleven but she figured there was nothing she could really do to help Lucas and Mike and Dustin wouldn’t abandon him. Eleven had no one and Stacy had already decided she was going to show El what friends were. She managed to catch up with her in the woods.

“El wait! I don’t think you’re a monster! I know you’re trying to help and I know you’re scared! You’ve been super brave helping us find Will so far and I understand why you didn’t want us to find the Gate. It’s dangerous. We’d get hurt or die right?”

El stopped and looked at her on the verge of tears. She nodded.

“I understand. Really I do.” Stacy walked closer cautiously. “The boys just don’t understand your situation very well and they’re all just really scared for Will.”

“Situation?”

“How things are for you or how things are in the world right now. They don’t get what life must have been like for you with wherever you came from but I bet it was really scary.”

El shifted uncomfortably and nodded. “Scary. Sometimes.”

Stacy nodded too, keeping up her slow advance. “I bet it was.”

Eleven looked down and seemed to be thinking very hard about how to say something.

“Papa. Wanted me to… find the monster.”

“You’re papa doesn’t sound very nice.”

El shook her head again. Finally close to her, Stacy took Eleven’s hand in hers and gave it a squeeze.

“My dad isn’t good either so I understand. He and my mom are away on a trip right now so you can stay at my house tonight. It’s just me and my siblings and they’re all nice. We know what it’s like to have bad parents.”

El smiled at her, all small and wobbly. “Okay.”

Stacy smiled back and started the million mile trek back to civilization. Maybe she they got lucky could call for a lift?

-----------------------------------------------------

It was always god damn something wasn’t it? Emily pulled over and brought the truck to a jerking halt. Getting the groceries back could wait.

She jumped down out of the truck and rushed into the alley where Steve and Jonathan were fighting. She didn’t know what the fuck was going on or why they’d decided to duke it out. She just knew that Ms. Byers didn’t need anymore shit to deal with and no one else seemed to be actually doing anything to stop them so it was apparently up to her. Hurray.

“Hey! HEY! Knock it off!” She yelled as she ran.

The boys themselves didn’t seem to notice her, just the peanut gallery. She hadn’t thought it would do much, fights really only broke up when you got in there bodily, or at least that had been her experience.

This was not going to be fun but maybe she could at least mitigate the damage Ms. Byers would have to deal with. Emily got in between them just in time for Steve to clock her, leaving her seeing stars as he looked on horrified as Jonathan’s returning blow that had been meant for Steve got her in the ribs. Emily gasped as the wind got knocked out of her and she crumpled, her vision still dancing.

Steve it seemed had stopped with that, but Jonathan wasn’t. He muttered “sorry” to her as he went around her to keep at Steve. What the fuck had these kids said to him that had him so mad?

“Whoa hey dude stop! We gotta see if—“

Steve tried to reason with him but Jonathan wasn’t having it. She heard the THWACK and impact with the pavement beside her. She took a another gasping breath and shook her head, trying to clear it before she turned to the boys. Jonathan was on top of Steve beating the shit out of him she shuffled over and tried to pull him off. All the other dumbasses were just fucking standing there doing nothing. God she hated every fucking person in this podunk little town.

“Jonathan stop! You’re making shit worse!”

He didn’t reply, just shrugged her off and kept hitting.

Finally she just hugged him from behind and tried to heave him back with her off of Steve as the police sirens wailed. Jesus fucking christ just what they needed. She was gonna kill both of these assholes.

She’d practically done half the work for the cops breaking it up by the time they were grabbing Jonathan. One cuffed him while the other chased after Steve and his band of dipshits. Nancy Wheeler looked like she was on the brink of tears. Emily leaned back against whoever’s car it was in the alley, her head and ribs killing her, catching her breath.

What an absolute fucking goddamn mess.

-------------------------------------------------

She, Dustin, Mike, Eleven and her brothers David and Jackson were all sitting in their living room “like the Council of Elrond” as Dustin said. Whatever that meant.

Mike and Dustin had come over in the morning to ask her if El was with her, which she was and she said so after she made them tell her why they wanted to know. So they were all sitting here hashing things out or whatever. Eleven was wearing some of her clothes, a pretty pastel sweatshirt and some acid wash jeans and pink socks. Eleven had been insecure about being around her, or in her room, when she first came over. She’d thought it was just like, new place jitters until she saw Eleven staring at a picture of her mom and heard her say “pretty”. Then she got it. It probably would be hard to deal with girly stuff when weird old guys shave your head and kept you like a lab rat.

It helped that David also had his hair buzzed, though his was shorter. He’d complimented her on the look and said it was “totally cool” to see a girl their age rocking it. Eleven had smirked a little at that.

Her brothers were acting as referees and like, advice givers — which was hilarious since they were both idiot losers — mainly to the boys since really at the end of the day with was a problem in their friend group. Stacy and Eleven were newbies who didn’t know crap about their weird friend rules.

Seriously who had like? Laws about how friendship stuff worked? So weird.

Somehow though, they were actually doing a really good job of reconciling Eleven and the boys? Who knew her bonehead older brothers were like, sensitive or whatever.

Everything went to shit when Lucas’ voice came over the radio.

“They know about Eleven! Get out of there! They know about Eleven! The bad men are coming! All of them! The bad men are coming!”

Her brothers looked between the boys and the girls like they’d all grown heads.

“Stace, what the fuck is going on?” Jackson asked.

“El escaped from the Hawkins Lab the same night Will went missing. They were doing weird psycho experiments on her and they want her back and we can’t let them do that!”

“Shit!” Jackson exclaimed as he got up.

Suddenly they are all scrambling. It struck her as odd in the moment that her brothers didn’t question that explanation but there was too much going on to focus on that. Instead David rushed up to Alison’s room and brought her back down under his arm. Then they were pelting out of the house to get on their respective bikes. David put Alison on her bike with her. Ally squeezed tight and whimpered. Emily was gone with the truck to run errands so they couldn’t get a lift from her which probably would’ve been better even if it meant explaining everything again.

As they left the neighborhood Stacy caught a glimpse of the man who had to be El’s “Papa”. She hated him on sight.

They got in contact with Lucas again not long after and agreed to meet up on Elm and Cherry.

“Got it!” David called as wordlessly he and Jackson took the front and back of their crazy bike train. Like they were trying to put themselves between them all and the bad men.

She really hoped it didn’t come to that.

They were all peddling like crazy and taking shortcuts she’d never even known about. It made her glad that she was behind David, Mike, El and Dustin in the train so she had some time to see what the heck was coming up. It was like a suburban kid James Bond chase scene.

They made it to the meet up spot in one piece which Stacy was considering a miracle at this point.

“Lucas!” Mike exclaimed.

Lucas was gasping like he’d come from the other side of town at full speed. Okay he probably had.

“Where are they?”

“I don’t know” Mike replied.

“I think we lost them.” Dustin said.

“Like fuck we did.” Jackson said as he looked around. “Come on, we gotta keep moving until we can think of somewhere to hide.”

Sure enough, as if to prove him right, the vans showed up again. They started peddling again only to have another van show up, clearly to block their escape.

Until Eleven fucking flipped the damn thing right over their fucking heads.

“WHAT THE FUCK—” David roared as Jackson hooted in amusement behind her.

Stacy agreed with both sentiments.

---------------------------------------------------------

So apparently Jonathan and Nancy knew about the monster so that was nice to know. Pity she’d had to get like half a concussion to find that out.

She was glad that she wasn’t present for the Byers family conversation that was going on in the hall right now. Though sitting awkwardly in a room with the Chief and Nancy wasn’t ideal either.

“Can I use your phone? I just wanna call home and let my siblings know why I’m taking so long.”

“Uh, Yeah. Yeah sure.” He turned the phone towards her. “Siblings though. Not your parents?”

“No. They’re out of town.” She replied as she started dialing.

Her concern mounted as no one picked up, not even Ally.

“Uh hey guys? It’s Emily. No idea why you’re all out right now. I just wanted to say I’m gonna be a while. Something came up while I was doing errands. I’ll try and get back ASAP.”

As she put the phone back her eyes locked with Hopper’s as he leaned in.

“Something wrong?”

“Yeah just, no one is home even though I know no one had plans and there’s a rule that someone always has to stay home with Alison since she’s six and even she’s not there. Usually she answers the phone if no one else does, especially if she hears it’s me on the answering machine.”

“Okay anything you can think of as to why they’d all head off somewhere together?”

“Maybe? They could’ve gone to the movies? Stacy had a new friend over from school last night for a sleep over so maybe Jack and David took them all out?”

Nancy’s brow furrowed. “Are there any new kids at the middle school? Mike hasn’t mentioned any.”

Emily shook her head. “I don’t know if she was like new new or anything. I didn’t get the full story, just what the twins told me when I got back from work. The girls were already in bed so I didn’t get to see her. David said she was pretty cool, she had a buzz like him. I just figured that meant she’d had lice or an operation recently you know?”

Hopper was about halfway over his desk now.

“ You said she had no hair?”

“Yeah he said she had a buzz—“ The realization struck her like a freight train. “Oh fuck me. ”

-------------------------------------------------------

It turned out that Emily really was concussed and that had not been just a funny joke back at the police station. She tried to communicate with Will again and ended up almost blacking out and giving herself an almost nightmarishly bad migraine. Thanks Steve! You prick!

So everything was all on Eleven now as much as she really didn’t like that. She was just a kid. She didn’t deserve this shit.

But here they were, making a bootleg sensory deprivation pool in the Hawkins Middle School gym.

Okay so it was everyone else was doing it and she was sitting on the bleachers waiting for her brains to unscramble. She tried to comfort El as best she could and offer her support, saying she knew from experience that it was scary but she’d be there for her but in all honestly, she was glad Ms Byers had gone into full mom mode. The reality of it was that Emily was exhausted and not exactly firing on all cylinders at the moment. She didn’t really think she’d be much help to El right now honestly.

Watching El in the pool had been torture and she had taken her first opportunity to get out of the room when it was done. She was sitting on a bench in the hall outside of the Gym with her head behind her legs when Nancy came out and slid down the wall not too far away. Neither of them said anything. What was there to say? Sorry about your dead friend who probably got eviscerated by a demon? They sat in silence until Jonathan came out and sat beside Nancy.

Nancy finally spoke up “We have to go back to the station.”

Emily lifted her head just enough to look at Nancy in utter confusion.

“What?” Jonathan asked.

“Your mom and Hopper are just walking in there like bait. That thing is still in there. And we can’t just sit here and let it get them, too. We can’t.”

Jonathan sighed and started to nod. “You still wanna try it out?”

Nancy replied. “I wanna finished what we started. I want to kill it.”

Emily got up. “Yeah sure, alright.”

They both looked at her in confusion. And she looked down at them unimpressed.

“What come on. Like I’m gonna let you two idiots do this all by yourselves?”

“But your concussion—“ Jonathan started.

“Is bad enough to keep me from seeing into the next dimension, not from hitting shit with an axe or whatever. Lemme tell the twins they’re in charge and give em my keys. We can take Jonathan’s car.”

“Can your brothers even drive?” Nancy asked.

Emily shrugged. “We’re working on it. It’ll be fine.”

---------------------------------------------------------------

The prep for their big monster mash felt like it really needed a montage set over the A-Team theme in her opinion though she didn’t voice that to the other two. The whole thing honestly had the feeling of like, working on the weirdest group project ever. Jonathan had even been like “nice shirt by the way” about her Bauhaus tee in the most “awkwardly trying to get along with someone I need to work with for a grade” kinda way.

Jonathan and her both had their lighters ready so they’d have two shots at that bit and Emily had ended up with an old axe the Byers had for chopping wood out in the shed. On the whole she had no confidence really in this plan to kill it, her hope was just that it distracted the monster long enough that it made things for Ms Byers and Hopper easier. And that they you know… survived it.

All three of them cut their palms like they were doing a ritual blood sacrifice and waited.

Okay so they bandaged their hands right after and then waited. Nancy and Jonathan kept making puppy dog eyes at each other the whole time. It was a exactly the kinda thing she did not want to be party to. Steve might’ve given her a concussion and was kind of a prick but she didn’t really wanna be here for what kinda felt like the start of an affair or whatever. Or at least his girlfriend being weird with some other guy. She didn’t need that kinda shit getting put on her. Because it would.You were there so why didn’t you? You could’ve—Blah Blah Blah. Like their love lives are her problem.

And speak of the devil Steve had shown up! That the worst possible time! Love Steve!!!!!

This was literally the most frustrating shit. Points for being a cool dude and coming over to apologize and shit man, but his timing? God awful. Did Steve work on a clock literally built to fuck up her life?

Then Nancy pointed her gun at Steve and Emily damn near lost her shit. Their dad had guns in the house and sometimes he liked to have them out. Loaded. Just you know, on his desk or whatever while he was hanging out. One time after a deal or something went really well he’d gone on a complete bender when he got back home, cocaine and booze and when she’d come into the living room he’d cheerfully waved it around at her like it was a toy. A loaded gun.

She was gonna fucking scream.

Emily sank back out of the way, closer to the hall. Not sure if she should tell Nancy to put that fucking thing away for fucks sake or just kinda… you know… let this be Steve’s problem. It was his girlfriend soooooooooo—

Then the lights started flashing than the bad energy vibes went from “horrible” to “oh god we’re going to die”. Jonathan went for the bat and he and Nancy starting looking around for where it would come from.

Emily came back out from the hall, axe in one hand and with the other pulled Steve behind her. Her gaze not leaving the ceiling as she did.

“Ceiling! Right corner!”

“Hello? Will someone please explain to me what the hell is going—“

Nancy and Jonathan turned to face the right direction just as the ceiling started to crumble like an eggshell.

Nancy shot at it a few times before it was completely out but it didn’t seem to do shit and they bolted down into the hall. She grabbed Steve before she went, poor guy probably would’ve stood there with his brain short-circuiting until it ate him. He even managed to dodge the bear trap so that was nice.

Nancy slammed Will’s door behind them as they made it inside.

“Jesus! Jesus! What the hell was that?”

“The demon that kidnaped Will to another dimension.” Emily replied.

Steve opened and closed his mouth in rapid succession.

Emily joined the others in watching the door, the old axe raised.

Only nothing happened.

“I think it left.” She said after a moment.

Nancy looked at her nervously. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah the vibes are only bad, not you know… terrifying.”

They all shuffled back out cautiously to make sure. Steve did not need being told twice to get the fuck out and like, yeah she didn’t blame him.

It came back almost immediately, too quickly for her to shout from where it coming. As it went for Jonathan it knocked Emily over, the axe flying out of her hand. She scrambled up to her knees to retrieve it as Nancy started firing. Just as she made it over to the axe where it had landed in the hall Steve came back and started going to town on the monster, maneuvering it with shocking skill she had not anticipated out of Steve fucking “The Hair” Harrington towards the bear trap. She pushed herself deeper into the hallway behind her, the opposite end from the trap to give Steve room to work. The thing howled as its leg was caught.

“It’s in the trap!” Steve yelled.

“Jonathan! Emily! Now!”

Right. Lighter. Emily started to fumble for hers in her back pocket. If there was one thing she was good at that she absolutely shouldn’t mention it was arson. She could already picture how the flame would catch in her mind. The whole hall was soaked in gasoline, a heady familiar smell. It would all go up almost instantaneously in a huge blaze. A blaze she desperately wanted to see. She was going to make this happen and if she didn’t they were probably all going to die because there was no way the bear trap would keep this thing for long.

And then her head exploded in pain like it had before, when she tried to contact Will earlier that night. Her vision went black then technicolor as the pain increased and suddenly stopped. There was a piercing inhuman shriek and a wave of heat rolled over her like she was only feet from a bonfire. Her lighter was still in her hand when she brought her arm up to shield her face as her vision returned.

“HOLY SHIT—” she heard Steve yell from somewhere far away.

Had Jonathan done it…?

She thought fuzzily. But he was just coming over now, with an extinguisher?????

Uh, wasn’t the whole idea to burn it to death dude?

People’s legs kept bumping her and she groaned, feeling like she was a boat getting knocked around at sea. The smoke made them all cough and it only made her head hurt worse. As the legs around her moved to examine the remains or whatever she lost the power to sit upright and opted instead to lay crumpled up on the Byers’ floor.

“Where did it go?” Nancy asked.

“No. It has to be dead. It has to be.” Jonathan said.

“It doesn’t have to be shit.” She called from the floor. “But it is gone. Probably back home to lick its wounds I dunno. We definitely made a dent in it though I think.”

Steve came over to her, taking a knee and placing a hand delicate hand on her shoulder. She groaned but didn’t do much else. Her head was throbbing and she was pretty sure she had a nosebleed. Gross.

“You okay?”

“Probably?”

“How the hell did you do that King?”

“Not super clear on that right now Harrington but it looks like I’m a regular Charlie McGee.”

----------------------------------------------------

The soldiers fell down dead and not even a second after El passed out. She’d never seen anyone die before and she tried hard not to think about it. They were all fighting against the soldiers holding them back from El when the lights started to go crazy. She looked around wild eyed at everyone and everything, trying to figure out where it was coming from, what direction the demogorgon would be coming from. Alison let out a piercing scream.

David and Jackson didn’t waste any time shaking off the soldiers holding them. David who was bigger picked up El like she was nothing and Jack picked up Alison who wouldn’t be able to keep up.

“Cmon!” Jackson yelled and they all started off in the opposite direction of the soldiers and the sounds of the demogorgon’s arrival.

The school was immediately full of the sound of gunfire. Stacy had never been so scared in her life. Tears were starting to blur her eyesight and she hastily scrubbed them away before they could get worse.

They went into a science room and locked the door behind them. The twins put both their loads down. Mike went right to El’s side while David barked at them all to barricade the door and Jackson started all but attacking the window, trying to get it open enough they could get out.

Stacy screamed when there was a THUMP on the door just has she shoved another table over in front of it with Lucas.

“How’s that window comin’ Jack?” David yelled as he pulled them both back.

“Yeah! Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah! ” Jackson called back. “Stacy get over here now!”

Stacy ran over and Jackson helped her up onto the counter then dumped Alison next to her on the countertop.

“Take Ally and run okay? Head for the truck but if— if we’re not behind you in second just take her and run and don’t stop.”

Stacy started crying for real now along with Alison too, shaking her head wildly.

“No! No no no no! I’m not leaving you!” She screamed back.

“JUST DO IT!” He yelled, slamming his hands down on the counter so hard she flinched.

Still crying Stacy grabbed Ally and got her out the window and on to the ground below as best she could without hurting her.

David had put himself between the rest of them and the monster’s slow progress into the room now that their pitiful barricade was broken. The boys were trying to hit it with a slingshot, like that would do anything from behind him. Jackson was grabbing Dustin and yelling at him to get to the window while Dustin yelled back. She was sobbing as she put her leg over the sill to join Ally. She didn’t want to abandon them, she didn’t want her brothers or her new friends to die. She felt like a coward. A useless stupid coward. But there was nothing she could do and Alison was her responsibility. She was only six.

Then there was a huge crash and silence and she looked back, still half out the window. Eleven was getting up and the demogorgon was pinned to the front wall of the classroom.

Mike yelled at her to stop but she ignored him and threw him back against the cabinets when he tried to grab her.

“Kid…” David started but tapered off.

He ran a hand over her head as she went by, like he had when they met, but she didn’t stop and he didn’t stop her.

Eleven turned and said goodbye and Stacy sobbed, vision almost totally destroyed by tears.

“No! No! El!” She begged.

Then the room was filled with the sound of the demogorgon — and El — being vaporized.

[emtornado]

Miraculous but make it Squid Games

Inspired by https://www.instagram.com/p/CUm02T7BCGr/?utm_medium=copy_link

Do I know why I keep making Miraculous posts? Nope. But here we go with another one~

(Also this takes place in Korea cuz I don't know any French children's games and didn't wanna complicate my own life so just roll with it)

Let’s introduce our characters first.

Marinette Dupain Cheng— A French student studying fashion in Korea who has lost all her money and is in severe debt.

Adrien Agreste— Marinette’s friend from France, and a former model who left his father and his company behind to travel the world ending up in Korea where he gets a very interesting offer.

So let’s start with the fact that there are obviously no miraculouses here. Both were two normal students who used to be friends but drifted apart, not even knowing that the other was in the same country, years later.

Marinette, who used to study in Sungkyunkwan University, is completely broke and the only reason she could afford school is because of her parents. Now, with a degree and no jobs (Korea is hard to foreigners, and even after years, that’s what she is to everyone), she's lost all motivation in life. Her sketchbooks, once full of life, now lie empty.

At her lowest moment, Marinette sits at a subway and contemplates what to do with life when a dude comes and offers her money, and all she has to do is play a Korean game. Ending with a stinging cheek and 40,000 won in her hands, the man offers her a card and tells her to think. She gets a lot of money, and all she has to do is play some games.

On the other side, we have Adrien. Adrien, who is more like Chat— confident, witty and VERY flirty. He left his father’s house when he was 18 and has been travelling ever since. He and Nino went to the states, travelled Europe by car, went to India (cuz yes) and currently makes a stop in Korea, where he is approached by a man. This man asks them if they’re up for a job, where they gets a decent amount of money and all he has to do is follow the rules and keep his mouth shut.

Adrien has experienced many things in his life so far, and his money supply is depleting. Thinking of this as some drug shit, he agrees and signs the contract (fucking idiot. After staying with his father and being a model for so long he should’ve known to at least read things properly smh). Seeing him, Nino does too.

Fast forward to the very first game. Adrien has been training for almost a month now and has a little idea of what he’s working for here.

He knows not to ask any questions, to only take the head mask off when he’s in his room and do whatever the man in the black mask tells him to.

He doesn’t ask a single question cuz he’s seen what happens to those who do. What happened to Nino, as his best friend’s brains splattered all across his mask. (sorry, but like. People had to die.)

When the participants play their first game, he doesn’t even flinch at the absolute massacre happening on his screen. He thinks about how nothing can faze him anymore when he catches sight of two pigtails on the screen. Two pigtails that look almost blue under the sun’s glare.

And that is when his stomach DROPS.

Let's yeet back to Marinette. Our sis is dying inside but she WILL NOT die outside. She came here for the money and now she has a greater motivation to survive— her life.

She is the last person in the game— number 467, and all that goes on in her head as three people beside her are shot due to the creepy doll’s eyes is the fact that she will remain the last one standing. It’s not about the money anymore, it’s about survival.

After the first game, when given the option, she presses her hand on the cross without a second’s hesitation.

As she makes her way home, she is relieved, that the torture is over.

And then she meets Adrien.

Back to Adrien. When all the participants head back, he uses two of his precious leave days from this fucked up organisation to track Marinette and meet her. When they do, they fucking collide cuz he saw her almost die and she almost died. They have reason to cling onto one another shush.

And then Adrien tells her. He tells her everything. He tells her what is happening, how many people have died, how Nino had died, and how he needs her help to shut all this down.

Marinette runs away. She doesn’t wanna be there. And then she starts looking at all the chats and pictures of her and Nino. How he was one of her very first friends. And so she goes back to the same cafe and meets Adrien again.

They make a plan. They will make sure she survives, for which she will need allies in the game (not outside the games, cuz she will always have him there).

And so armed with knowledge, Marinette goes back into the game and meets a naïve Korean man who teams up with everyone, a bitch who will survive somehow (and will kill anyone to do so— yes I mean Lila) and a young man who seems so fucking familiar.

And so the games go on and Marinette keeps surviving. And as that happens, she starts to spend her nights in a secluded area with Adrien, where they talk, they reminisce and they find a reason to live in each other.

And then the marble game happens. She partners with the boy, Luka, who turns out to be another face from back home. She partners with him because she trusts him and she is afraid nobody else will partner with him because of the growing bloody wound on his head courtesy of the thugs trying to kill him.

Adrien is the guard assigned to her and Luka, and he watches as Luka slowly and steadily grows more and more out of it and Marinette starts full-on sobbing. Right when the time is about to end, Luka gives his marbles to Marinette and begs her to survive this game and live, and go back to Paris and tell Juleka about all this, as his final goodbye. He looks her in the eyes with a smile until the very last second when Adrien shoots him.

That night, the VIPs arrive and both Mari and Adrien know that they need to move on with their plan, but they spend the whole night by diving tanks they know won’t be used anymore, cuz the Black Mask Man made an example out of everyone who tried to betray him. Marinette is curled into Adrien and in the silence, she vows to end them. That morning (night?) when they are sneaking back, they come into contact with one of the black-masked dudes who would serve the VIPs and Adrien knocks him out and switches outfits.

He kisses Marinette before making his way to the VIP chamber.

Imagine his surprise when after almost half a decade he hears his father’s voice behind the mask of a man wearing an elaborate gold butterfly headset.

He watches in rapt attention as Marinette thankfully chooses number 15, with Lila right in front of her. Now we don’t like Lila (here specifically) because after Tug of War she started to turn people against Marinette, because of whose strategy their team won the game. Marinette was almost killed by many of the thugs in the nighttime because of Lila, and when there’s 30 seconds left and one step left to be determined, Marinette pushes Lila off one and scores victory for her and number 16, Alya Cesaire. (Who is in Korea for journalism internships or some shit and got roped into this because of lack of money, and became Marinette’s greatest ally)

They both know that one of them will die at the end, and so Marinette tells Alya of hers and Adrien’s plan to end this thing once and for all, and so they go and play the final Squid Game, where at the end, Alya very convincingly stabs herself, making Marinette the winner.

On the other side of the glass, Adrien, who has gotten the interest of a disgusting old VIP, puts an idea into his head about how the VIPs should really go and really be in the scene and see what has happened, and that old man, fascinated by the idea of being in the zone, convinces his 'friends' that they should go.

And so they all go, surrounding a blood-soaked and sobbing Marinette and start laughing and congratulating her. (cue Gabriel recognising her and being condescending as fuck. Imagine dialogues like "you had so much potential and now are just reduced to this", which cements the fact that he really is Gabriel Agreste).

That is when Adrien, who was escorting them along with the Black Mask, pulls his gun on them, Alya pulls the knife “out” of her and takes the old fat man who liked Adrien hostage and Marinette pulls out her own knife to Gabriel.

They try to make a deal, and when Gabriel almost gets the better of them (cue seggsy fight scene which I don’t have the words to describe rn) Marinette stabs him in the neck.

After threatening the VIPs and getting all of their identities, as well as the black mask dude’s identity, they go to the nearest police station and give all of their gathered evidence.

Due to the physical and psychological trauma and torture faced by Alya and Marinette, as well as part of a settlement plea from the VIPs, they both get all the money.

The two girls plus Adrien fly out to France and reconcile with their families. Adrien and Marinette visit Nino’s family, Juleka and Rose and as many of the people as they can.

The two of them get a small apartment together, unlike the huge mansion that Adrien was left after Gabriel’s death (which he sells and uses the money to be given to all the victim's families)

He also becomes the owner of Gabriel, and with Marinette turns it over into a completely different company (cuz Gabriel was one corrupt bastard)

And so they live happily with weekly therapy sessions and a traumatic, but happy ending.

Gods I need help, I wrote almost 2000 words for this lol. Maybe I'll write this properly someday hahaha.