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daengtokki · 5 months ago

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part two // serial killer!Kim Seungmin/afab reader

WC: 12.7k

RATING: mature/explicit/mdni—contains: sex, oral sex, brief suicide mention, strangulation, manipulation, death/murder

SYNOPSIS: Seungmin floats through life alone, haunted by his memories—keeping himself under control, and quieting his mind the only way he knows how…killing and watching the life leave his victims eyes. When you cross his path on a morning hunt, something new (something forgotten) starts to move inside of him, leading both of you on a path to confront the unspeakable past.

˗ˋˏ♡ Thank you for the comments and likes and reblogs on part one. It means so much. Please consider reblogging/tagging if you like what you read! ˎˊ˗

And a very big thank you to @thackery-blinks for putting up with me and letting me bounce ideas off of her brain ♡

[ ML — DEITY MASTERLIST ]

Seungmin’s world goes quiet, calm…but it's only been a few hours, and he hasn’t yet left the cold emptiness of his bed. He hasn’t even attempted to crawl out of the hollow feeling he created for himself. The silence of the apartment feels different this time.

Inside of his head is a different story—you’ve upended him in more ways than one, and it may take a while to get himself back on two steady feet.

Nearly dying in his bed, coming back, being held, for hours, against your will…two out of three are new for him. And the sheer terror when he realized what he did, looking at your lifeless body—he hasn’t felt fear like that since he was a kid. There was no sense of relief, and there was certainly no quiet afterward. Right now, like last night, his mind is screaming at him, just not in the usual sense; he can’t figure out what you’ve done, because you’ve done nothing—you kept yourself at a distance, you enticed him (teased might be too unkind a word for you, he decides), and you didn’t deserve what little death you did have in his bed. Somehow, you’ve made yourself as much of a mystery as he’s tried to make himself, but he’s not as much of a mystery anymore...he gave too much of himself, and now he's going to pay for it.

You left your phone behind when you ran from him, not surprisingly, and later that afternoon, he somehow found the energy to leave the apartment. He walked to your building and left it with a note right outside your door. Whether or not you’re still there is unknown to him, but he wouldn’t be surprised if you were gone already—completely gone, on your way home, never to be seen by him again.

Seungmin knows the voice in charge will be returning soon, and he’ll fail if he doesn’t find some focus. He’ll really, truly fuck things up, and as much as he doesn’t want to blame you, it is you. He can’t think about you anymore; not today, not tonight.

/ / /

Showered and wrapped up tight in a blanket, you sit at your desk and stare at a blank computer screen. The email you started and stopped four times is sitting at a whole ten words, because you know you need to quit—you have to back out of this job and get back home. There’s no question about that. Nobody will believe what happened to you last night, so calling the police seems silly, and telling anyone else about it feels impossible right now. There is no proof of anything except that you went home with him, willingly. And you definitely can’t tell anyone you died, or at least stopped breathing, and came back during rough sex, because it’s stupid. It’s not believable. You’re still not entirely sure if it even happened. All you really know for certain is that you were outside yourself before finally taking that breath and seeing his face. You heard voices, but not his. You were in the dark, except for a few pinpricks of light. You felt your lungs fill up, once…twice…three times. And then you were back. You guess that’s what drowning feels like; the burning in your chest, the weightlessness, your brain misfiring and sending all the wrong signals to your eyes and ears and nerves.

It isn’t until later, after shutting your brain off and staring at the tv for hours, that you finally remember that you need to eat. You discover your phone right outside your door (should you be worried that he knows exactly where you live?). You knew that you left it on his bar, but you had no desire to try and retrieve it. It felt, and it still feels, like the least important thing in the world, but you’re relieved to have it back. Seungmin left a note taped to it, and you feel a little twinge of excitement (which you’re still trying to chalk up as leftover adrenaline...a little bit of curiosity) at what he could possibly have to say. That’s easy now, in the relative safety of your own apartment, so as soon as you can sit down with your dinner and a very strong drink, you rip it open and read.

You don’t get very far before something small and purple slips out onto your lap. It looks like a pressed flower. It is, and you know it’s heliotrope because it’s everywhere around your mother’s garden. The unmistakable fragrance is still a little obvious, even in its dried state. The addition might seem corny, but you don’t hate it—it’s an interesting choice of flower on his part. There are more inside the folded paper, and you let them fall onto you as you read…

Thank you for not throwing this in the trash.

I know I won't get to see you again, and typically, I wouldn't care or think much about my passing moments with strangers. Everyone is forgettable, and I can't figure out why you are not. I'm still very confused as I write out this letter —but I don't think I've been very forgettable for you, either. I ruined that last night.

He’s cocky, and he knows he’s absolutely right about him not being forgettable.

You don’t have to see me again, but maybe we can talk, and I can explain myself a little better. You saw a piece of me that you shouldn’t have, in my bedroom…in my drawer, and I know it seems impossible to explain, and that’s because it is. But if you’ll let me, I’ll try.

The letter is signed with a cute, loopy S.

The dried flowers are scooped up and placed next to your untouched plate. Eating, you decide, should come first. After that, you can dwell unnecessarily on the words of your would-be killer. What else could you possibly do? You know how your brain works, and you know how you are when you're alone, and lonely.

However, you do read back through the few texts you exchanged. You also check yourself in the mirror—there’s a bruise beginning to bloom on your shoulder, and two scratches next to your mouth where he held. The soreness in your thighs brings the memory of him to the front of your mind, over and over, and it works backwards from there—Seungmin holding you, touching you; the look in his eyes from the other side of the bar. There was nothing outwardly threatening about him, just strange. Strange, quiet, a little bit awkward. How easily could your mind gloss over something much weirder when a man that beautiful gives you that kind of undivided attention?

Now your mind goes forward to his touch; his hand caressing your aching chest, his soft voice, like if he's not careful, his words might finish killing you. He spoke far too gently, and he kissed much too deeply and eagerly for you to forget. And you haven't exactly forgotten that he never hurt you, at least not after your little journey. Maybe he messed up his original plan, and then had to do damage control...but that makes no sense. Seungmin could've finished the job easily, anytime he wanted to. If he wanted to suffocate you, he'd have done it. If Seungmin wanted to kill you, you wouldn't be here right now.

More memories return to you, very slowly. Slow down? I’m hurting you? He was attentive during sex, initially, even if he was rough...so what happened? He did slow down, tried to make you more comfortable, and he succeeded. You begged him not to stop. You were loud. Seungmin was right there when you woke up, holding onto you. Stay awake...I'm sorry. The frazzled girl looking back at you in the mirror is almost unrecognizable right now. You can't get his face out of your mind; his voice, his kiss, his big black eyes that could swallow you whole. Please don't cry.

Was he convincing enough for a text? Should you call him? Are you really this fucked up right now? You know you're being stupid and irrational, so you decide to be a little bit smart and sleep on it; wait and see how you feel in the morning.

It doesn't help much. You dream about him; his eyes staring into you, through you, eating away at you again...just like when he had you beneath him. You reach out and sweep the hair from of his eyes, and your fingertips pick up the cold, clammy sweat from his forehead. He speaks, but you don't understand a word he says. He holds a dirt-streaked hand out to you, and with no hesitation, you take it, and then you're back in the warm, wet darkness. No voices this time, just muddy, squishy footfalls getting closer and closer.

When you wake, you're damp with sweat, and you've never felt so cold.

It's risky, but he forgoes the tea tonight, and his little white anxiety pill as well. He's almost out anyway, so he should try and save them until he can get more. It's a mistake, and he suspected that as he finally drifted off; there's been far too much on his mind in the last 24 hours to expect a dreamless sleep...

"appa?"

he hushes him. seungmin can feel a hand close softly around his mouth.

"where is—"

"quiet...get back inside, now"

he trips and falls as he runs, and his knee lands in the muddy ground. the effort it takes to get back up is too much, but a hand grabs the straps of his overalls and pulls...and then pushes, and he's in the mud again. rain starts to fall before he can make it to the porch, but as soon as he reaches the steps...

Out of breath, burning chest. The face of his father, and the wet hand covering his mouth, is still there. He can still feel it. The first thing he does is reach for a pill.

But as soon as he swallows it, his mind wanders back to you. Are you still in Seoul? You've had plenty of time to book a flight, repack, and leave. Seungmin wonders if you ever opened your door and found the note, if you even bothered to read it if you did, if you got the dried flowers he took from his music box just for you—the flowers he'll have to return home to get more of. A stupid addition, you probably thought. A desperate attempt at romance.

The phone buzzes under his pillow, and he knows it’s just his usual alarms and reminders. Today he has to get up, get dressed, and work. He has to get his mind back on track—he has to, there is no other way for him. There is nothing else, aside from prison, or ending things on his own. He pulls it out and looks at it with one eye open, flips on his back, and stares. Part of him hoped it would be more than his alarms, and he'd be staring at a new text message from you...an apathetic "okay, I guess we can talk". Seungmin is severely underestimating how much he scared you, though. You were convinced, and you're probably still pretty sure you were going to die in that room. Whether or not he's going to pursue this further is still a big question mark, but he doesn't usually deal in question marks. Everything is either black or white for Seungmin.

If he can't have you, he might just have to kill you.

/ / /

Repacking your things as fast as possible; booking a flight you can afford (work refused to comp you, once you quit with no notice); explaining, or making up a convincing enough story for you mother and sister about the change of plans, has been exhausting, so falling asleep is easy once your head hits the pillow.

seungmin's hand lays softly on your chest, just under your throat. you can feel your slow heartbeat bouncing off of him, you can smell the sweet scent of his room, but that's not where you are. you look up, and then around you...and you see the bedroom of a child, a little boy. there's sunlight coming in through the sheer curtained window, and you can see bushes of yellow and purple flowers poking up into view. he moves closer to you, and speaks quietly...

"i have to go...i have to go take care of things"

"what things?

"you know"

"don't go, please"

you look to him, and he forces a smile. his hand slides up and closes around your throat, but he doesn't squeeze. he moves closer and places a kiss beneath your ear...

This time you wake up slowly, and comfortably. Your hand jumps up to your throat as you work hard to remember every detail, every touch, every word. The dreams you have aren't usually this vivid, and now you've had them two nights in a row—two very different ones; a bad one...well, it could have been worse. You still remember how he looked at you, and the feeling of him under your fingertips; but it was cold and dark. This second one practically gave you butterflies. This dream version of you was in love.

Why is your mind torturing you like this? You come dangerously close to texting him, but all you end up doing is rereading the messages already sent between you.

Seungmin sits and watches right across the street from your building, for hours. He didn't know he had this much patience in him. If he would have done this yesterday morning, he may have had a chance to catch you and follow, but he decided to stay in bed. Still, he has trouble moving.

A few minutes later, it finally pays off. There you are, looking up and down the busy narrow street, arms folded tight over your chest. Seungmin isn't that far from you in this bakery, and if he walks out now, you'll see him, so he waits until you decide what to do. Seeing you right now is actually giving him a nervous stomach, and he hates it...you look uncomfortable, and tired, and sweet; it's difficult keeping his mind where it needs to be. It doesn't help that he hasn't thought of a plan beyond waiting for you to leave your apartment. Should he just follow you, and hope you don't see him and run? That won't work. If he can figure out where you're heading, he can get there first, and run into you like it was just a coincidence.

Before he can finish his plan, you're headed east, and you're walking fast. He just decides to follow as discreetly as possible, which is easy at this time of day, and it only takes ten or so minutes for him to figure out where you might be going. But there's no possible way you're going to his apartment building. You pass by the GS25 where you met each other, and keep going, but you don't make the left turn that would lead to his building. You keep straight, and eventually, Seungmin does figure it out. It's the park he mentioned frequenting, that's where you're going. This is perfect. Even if you're not here to look for him, you're going to find him, but that has to be why you're here. Texting or calling might have felt like too much. Accidently running into him...well, it was an accident. Maybe you won't feel like you're seeking out the man who almost killed you, or purposely bringing him back into your life.

You find an empty bench and sit, look at your phone, look up and around, back to your phone. Still uncomfortable, nervous, tired. Cold, maybe. You didn't dress as warmly as you probably should have. Seungmin tests his patience some more and waits, but you don't move. In fact, you're starting to remind him of himself, sitting and watching, waiting for his next kill. He takes his eyes off of you for a few minutes to get a coffee, and then he prepares to approach. But he's nervous again. He's not used to this feeling. He takes his time walking down the pathway, and when he knows you can see his legs in your downward gaze, he stops.

You look up and keep your face as emotionless as possible, but it's not enough. Seungmin can see your surprise, a little bit of fear, and maybe something else.

"Hi." He keeps his face as neutral as possible, too. "You look cold."

"I'm fine"

"What are you doing here all by yourself?"

"Uhm, I don't have any friends. And isn't this what you do? Sit here alone waiting to pick people off?" You cross your arms over your chest again, and scoot a little further away. "I mean...I'm assuming that's why you come here, if I put the pieces together properly."

"Yes, you're pretty perceptive. But why are you here?"

"Because I couldn't hit send"

"What couldn't you send?" He was right.

Seungmin hears you take in a deep breath and hold it, then slowly let it out in a big cloud of condensation. "I keep having dreams about you."

But he wasn't expecting that.

"Good ones I hope." So you haven't left his mind at all, even in your sleep. You don't reply. "I've been having the same old nightmares. A dream about you would be a nice change."

"One was pretty nice, yeah"

"Is it alright if I sit next to you?"

You nod, but Seungmin still takes his time taking those last few steps and sitting. Once he does, he offers you the hot coffee he's been holding onto, and to his surprise, you take it and sip it carefully. The letter he wrote promised some sort of explanation for what happened that night, and for the things you saw, but he wasn't expecting to have a chance at doing that. He hasn't thought of a single way to explain his drawer, or almost killing you.

“What’s in the syringes, the ones in your murder drawer?”

Murder drawer. Are you reading his mind, or is he just projecting onto you? He looks around, but nobody is close enough to hear the conversation. “A sedative, a light one…for emergencies. That's all.”

“You didn’t use one on me”

“Well, I had…” he stops, and thinks. What he almost says is I had control of the situation, but that doesn’t sound like what you want to hear. It’s also a very obvious lie. “The drug is not fun to come out of, and…what I put you through was bad enough.”

“So who do you use them on? And the knife?”

Seungmin doesn’t know how to answer this. He can’t explain how he picks his victims, because he doesn’t always understand his reasoning. “The ones I can’t control any other way. And I don’t use the knife very often.”

“It’s kind of obvious now that I’m talking to you, but thinking about it yesterday, and the night before…wondering if I was just over-reacting...”

“You’re not, you know what you saw, and you had every reason to be afraid of me”

“So you are…” you can’t finish the question. "This is what you do?"

“Yes”

“Why?”

“It’s hard to explain”

“Why didn’t you kill me?

“I haven’t figured that out yet”

“But you would, if you got another chance…if you had me alone right now, with no witnesses”

“No.” You look around, and Seungmin thinks you’re a little more relaxed now—as relaxed as someone could be in this situation. “I don’t think so.”

“You wanted to before, though. That’s why you spoke to me, and helped me get home.”

“Yeah, that was my original plan”

“I’m assuming you’ve done this before”

“Killed? Yes. Accidentally killed someone and brought them back in a panic? That one is new for me.”

“When’s the last time you did it…killed someone?”

It feels like a regular conversation now, regardless of the subject. Most of the tension is gone from your voice, and you stopped fidgeting with the coffee cup. You still look cold, though.

“The day we met”

Everything goes silent after that. Even the people around you become strangely quiet, as if everyone decided to listen in. Seungmin can see your mind working behind your eyes, but you’re not rushing to speak again. He slides out of his jacket and sets it over your shoulders, and you leave it there.

“Before, or after?”

“After”

“To make up for me?” You fold your legs up onto the bench and disappear into his jacket a little more, and Seungmin smirks.

“Sort of. That's why I was out that morning, things just didn’t go exactly as planned. I’m still glad you showed up, though.”

“Are you saying that because you think it’s what I wanna hear, or because it’s true? I don’t wanna turn you into a cliche, but are you capable of that much…well, liking someone enough to not kill them. I guess you are.”

“I like things. And I feel a lot, maybe too much sometimes.”

"Things?"

"Not people, typically"

"Sorry.” Why are you apologizing to him? Your assumption was a little bit hasty, and rude, but being a murderer is pretty rude, too. The look on his face is just that, though…full of emotion, full of sadness, and confusion. This is exactly how he looked at you that night before you both fell asleep, he just doesn’t know how to express it properly. Maybe he's just mimicking. “Uhm, did I actually die? What happened?”

“I’m not sure, but you weren’t breathing. I talked to you, slapped you…lightly, and panicked a little. After I panicked, I…” he sets his fingers on his lips, and tries to remember what it’s called in English. “…I blew air into your lungs.”

“Three times?”

Seungmin thinks for a second. “Yeah, three breaths…I kissed you after the third time.” Why did he tell you that?

“You kissed me? Why did you kiss me?”

You’re nothing but questions, and Seungmin is not used to getting interrogated like this. He wants to tell the truth, but he also needs to be careful and not scare you off, or be too truthful. It’s a little exhausting.

“I thought that might be my last chance while you were still warm.”

There’s another long silence. Too long. Maybe Seungmin said the wrong thing, even though it is the truth. He wonders if he should get up and leave you alone for a few minutes. But what if he comes back and you’re gone? Was the kiss that strange? Why is he assuming it was the kiss that’s making this awkward? Everything about this is strange for you.

“I think I felt your breath filling my lungs, but I was still somewhere else. Somewhere really dark, and wet. I could feel…outside air around me, it was so heavy."

“Completely dark, like the bedroom?”

“No, there was some light, like little streams of light coming in through holes punched into the walls, between the slats of wood. It was weird, and I remember it very vividly now that I’m talking about it.”

Seungmin doesn’t mention it feeling like his nightmares, but it does. And it can’t be, obviously. Just a coincidence. It was probably the darkness of his bedroom, and your eyes trying desperately to find something. “I’m sorry”

“Thank you for bringing me back”

“I’m glad I could. And I hope you don’t leave Seoul because of me.”

"There's nothing for me here." You quit your job, and you can't take that back. You booked a flight, and you packed up most of your things.

"When are you leaving?"

"Thursday"

“Do you have plans today?”

“Are asking me out?”

“You can tell me no, I won’t be surprised”

“No, I don’t have plans today"

“I just figured I’d take a shot while we were still here. I don’t expect a second chance. You really shouldn’t be involved with someone like me, and I shouldn’t be pulling someone into my fucked up life. But this is all new for me.”

“What is? A relationship? Friendship? An acquaintance?”

Seungmin nods, “all of those, and speaking openly—not lying about everything. That’s new, too.”

“Does that make me special?” You’re not sure if you’re being facetious, or if something inside of you wants to be the thing he needs to keep alive. A bad romance novel come to life. That’s why you’re here right now, obviously, because of every little gesture Seungmin has extended to you—everything aside from his complete loss of control. Being a murderer doesn’t mean he’s incapable of the truth, or sincerity. Right?

Seungmin smirks at the question, “Maybe.” He moves his hand closer to yours, but stops when you pull it away. "So why did you kiss me?"

Why did you kiss him? Because you needed to—because he's beautiful, and he was right there, sleepy face inches from yours. Because you've read too many bad romance novels. Because clearly, you're messed up, too, since you're even sitting here right now. And because, like him, you were sure it was your last chance. "I figured it made a good distraction."

"Oh...yeah, I guess it did"

"And I wanted to. I wanted to as soon as I saw you, but I forced myself to keep some distance. So maybe there was some fear of regret mixed with my fear of being murdered. How stupid is that?" You watch his mouth twitch as he tries to hold his smirk back. “I feel that a lot. Regret.”

“I don’t typically feel it...the regret, the remorse, and the empathy most people are used to. I guess that does make me a, uhm...what was that word?"

"Cliche?"

"Yeah. Sometimes I wish I could feel the regret, or a little bit of empathy. But lately, I think I have felt it a little."

“You feel regret? About what?”

"Fucking up what was very close to a good night. I didn’t even get to make you come."

Seungmin loves the blush slowly rising up your neck, and now, being out in public, he likes it even more. He meant it, the regret about not getting you off when he was eating you out, but it’s your blush, not the memory, that makes his cock twitch in his jeans.

“No, I guess you didn’t.” You close your palms over your warm cheeks for a moment, and stifle a laugh. He's actually making you laugh. Something about him really is messing you up.

"Let me make it up to you"

The dark blue of the room is calming. Everything is soft, and unusually warm. The smell is the same as you remember. It doesn’t feel strange being here again, like it should. Not uneasy, and not scary. Maybe there’s something wrong with you, too.

“Are you alright? I thought you left me.” Seungmin hangs onto the door jamb and clicks on another lamp. You can hear the relief in his voice.

/ / /

This new view of him is nice—on his knees, head down, lips marking your stocking covered thighs. He’s gentle, and probably nervous that he’s not being gentle enough. “Seungmin.”

He looks up, cheek still resting on your thighs, and you’re struck by how innocent he appears, how sweet and puppy-like his eyes are. You smile, and he gets back to work. His hands slide up and underneath your skirt, and down come the stockings, very slowly. Now he kisses your bare skin, and his warm, wet lips send a shiver through you. You can feel how soaked through your panties are as they pull away from your body. He seems to stop and admire them, just like last time, before tossing them to the side.

“Are you comfortable?” Seungmin pulls until you’re at the very edge of the cushion, sending the hem of your skirt up and out of his way. He doesn’t wait for an answer.

The entire ride back to his apartment, you were ready for him. The memory of last time, how good he felt, is still very real. It was excruciating, having him so close and not touching—keeping your cool, not letting him know just how badly you wanted him. But the elevator doors closed, and he backed you into the corner, held you softly by the neck, and kissed you. The entire ride up, 25 floors and luckily no interruptions, he kissed, pulling back occasionally to let you breathe.

You fall back against the couch, and let him know how good it feels to have him there. “Yes,” you sigh, whine his name, and he likes that. He gives a deep, satisfied groan as he sucks you between his lips, and he stays there, savoring the taste as it pours out. But he can’t keep himself from teasing, and he slows down when your moans become erratic, focuses on your entrance, spreads your lips apart and licks, a little selfishly. But it feels so good, and you taste so good. Seungmin can’t get enough, and as badly as he wants to make you come, he isn’t ready to stop yet. He needs as much as you can give, and has to hope you’ll stay with him and keep your legs open all night.

“Seungmin, please…I need it”

He looks up and runs his tongue slowly over every part of you before stopping at your clit—so sensitive, his warm breath is enough to set your hips in motion.

“I know,” he kisses, “I’m being greedy.” He kisses again, sucks hard, and his thumb slides gently over the rest of you, making your hips jump against his mouth. He does it again, gathering some arousal, and slowly circling your entrance before sliding it in.

You close your eyes and relax, let it wash over you. He doesn’t stop this time. It’s intense, slowly pulsing through every single nerve his lips are working on—“oh…god…fuck,” you roll your hips up, needing more, needing him. Every muscle relaxes, and you sink into the couch, but the waves of pleasure keep coming. You watch him work, softly flicking his tongue between your lips, so swollen and so hungry for him—his mouth, his hands. You need it again, his cock stretching you to your limit. Barely down from this high, and you can’t wait for the next one. After a few more slow, selfish licks, Seungmin gives his mouth a break, and breathes.

“Thank you,” you laugh, feeling a little delirious. The room spins above you, but you feel his hands push your knees together. This is definitely the first time you’ve thanked someone for making you come, but it seemed appropriate. “Is it my turn?” There are still memories from that night trickling in, and you get another when the question leaves your lips—the cocktail, and Seungmin’s comment that put everything in motion.

“Your turn?”

No, you don’t always go down easy…

“Oh,” smiling wide, eyes shining, dick threatening to escape his tight briefs as he rises. “But you don’t have to, if…” he looks down, then back at you, “if it’s uncomfortable.”

It’s intimidating to look at, but finally touching him, realizing how much of a handful he really is, “I don’t mind trying,” you pull the fabric until his head appears, and immediately close your mouth around his pre-cum soaked tip. “Or just…” you lick slowly, letting your tongue slide up and onto his stomach before going back to do it again.

“Take your time”

“Sit”

Seungmin listens, and frees himself a little more before hitting the couch. He knows what you want, and he watches as your mouth patiently explores him—you kiss and lick every inch as your hands stroke softly. You desperately want to make him feel good—return a little bit of what he just gave you. And Seungmin does let you know what he likes: everytime your tongue slides over his head, the deep moan from his chest soaks you again. “I want you.” Your heart races at the thought of it. It beats so hard you think you might pass out…again, this time on your own.

He rolls his hips and pushes himself in a little further, “I know you do, get down…on your back.”

You release him, a little reluctantly, but you let yourself fall backwards until you’re flat on the soft carpet. He follows, hovers, and eyes every inch of you before unzipping and discarding your skirt. “Are you alright?” The perceptiveness shouldn’t be that surprising to you, but the concern takes you back to that night. His voice feels far away, but it’s because of your heart pounding in your ears, you think. It’s not until now that you feel outside of yourself again. Why does he keep doing this to you? You’re weightless again, floating, watching everything happen in slow motion—slipping away.

“Hey, look at me,” he sets his palm just beneath your throat, but he quickly moves it down. “Can you hear me? Your heart feels like it’s about to explode.”

The sound of him pulling a blanket from the couch, and the feeling of it draping over your half naked body brings you back, just enough to open your eyes and find his worried face. “I can hear you.” A moment later, he’s gone. “Don’t go.”

“I’ll be back”

You sit up and look around, but vertigo hits and you shove your face into the blanket. The feeling of passing out is still threatening you, and it takes everything to keep it at bay.

“Here, drink some water. And if you’d like…” in his open palm is one tiny white pill, “but you don’t have to. They help with my panic attacks. And my nightmares.” Seungmin just stares softly, still worried.

“I’m okay.” An obvious lie—you’re still on the edge of a cliff, dizzy, and very much on the verge of throwing up. “Water is good.”

“You should lie down on the couch,” Seungmin doesn’t move, and he doesn’t touch you. Not yet. He assumes his touch is the reason why you’re fighting for your breath on his floor right now.

“Where’s your bathroom?”

“Right behind you”

/ / /

“Are you alright? I thought you left me.” Seungmin hangs onto the door jamb and clicks on another lamp. You can hear the relief in his voice, and you could hear the nervousness in it when he called out your name the first time.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just wanted to see the room again.” But you did check the front door, and found it unlocked. He also didn't hover when you shut yourself in the bathroom for ten minutes, because you managed to sneak into his bedroom when you finally emerged. It put you a little more at ease after the panic attack.

“We can stay in here, if you want. I can bring our drinks in.”

“No, just you”

“Just me?” He takes a few steps toward the bed. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sorry, I don't know what happened.”

Seungmin stops just short of where you’re sitting, “I do.“ He looks nervous—he is nervous. “This is probably a bad idea."

“I should leave?”

“No, no, I want you to stay, but I'm aware that I set off your panic attack. That was my fault."

It seems like he’s more empathetic than he realizes. Or maybe he’s faking. He is a killer, after all; a psychopath—one that gets his way by being handsome and charming, and right now might not be any different than his other seductions. Maybe he’s taking the long way around to get you where he wants you, and you’re stupid and blind enough to fall for it. “We could just enjoy each other’s company.” It’s a silly suggestion, and you realize that as it’s coming out of your mouth. “For now. If that’s not too much.”

He smirks. “Enjoy each other’s company?" He isn't exactly sure what you mean, but he wants to find out.

“Stupid idea?”

"Depends on what you mean by it. I don't typically enjoy anyone's company. I hate it, actually."

You know he's not trying to be funny, but something about him is accidentally humerous, and you assume it's because you're here with him right now...because he wanted you here, keeping him company. "That doesn't seem completely true."

The look on his face speaks volumes. You can tell he feels a little bit exposed, and a little bit confused. Seungmin turns to hide, his arms fold over his chest, and he takes a few steps toward the balcony. "I like sex. I have to deal with someones company if I'm going to get it."

"Is that why I'm here? You need to finish properly?"

"No"

"No? You made me come, but you haven't, have you? Did you finish when I was passed out?"

Seungmin doesn't answer.

"You've been far too patient with me, and it's weird"

"Weird?" Now he turns back to you, "...isanghan?" And takes a step toward you again. “Considering what sex tends to do to me, and considering I like it so much, you should be grateful for my patience."

“What exactly does it do to you?” One more step. Now you can reach out and touch him if you want. You don't.

“Mm, that’s when I do it, usually…after sex. At least when things go to plan.”

“Are you trying to scare me off again?”

Seungmin’s face doesn't change. “No, just trying my hand at more honesty, I guess.”

“When is the last time you had sex without killing the person afterward? Aside from me.”

The silence as he thinks stretches out far too long, and he sits at the edge of the bed, keeping some distance between you, “I don’t remember.”

You rise from your spot, and Seungmin probably assumes you need more distance from him, but that’s not the case. “We don’t have to talk about it.” He watches as you round the bed, pull at his pile of covers, and climb in.

/ / /

Seungmin just stares, tucked tightly under the covers, for most of the evening. He only moves closer when you reach out and brush the hair away from his forehead, run your fingers through it. He seems to relax under your touch. This kind of interaction with another person is definitely unusual for him, and with the attitude he gave earlier, you're surprised he's still sharing the space with you. Sleep comes easily, though, and hours later, you wake up. It’s not quite morning yet, but you can see sunlight trying to break through the curtain. Seungmin’s breath bounces steadily off of your neck, warm and pleasant. His leg is pushed between your thighs, moving a little in his sleep, and his arms are pulled tight against him, almost as if he’s hugging himself. Keeping your hands to yourself is a challenge, and it’s made even more difficult when he stirs a little—a soft, sleepy groan escapes him, and when your fingertips slide across his cheek, he sighs deeply, and settles again. In his sleep, he looks a little different; his face looks younger and softer, his brow isn’t furrowed, like it seems to be almost constantly, and his lips form into a perfect heart shaped pout. The real him, maybe.

As soon as you close your eyes, you’re gone, but it feels like only moments pass when you hear his faint moans, and a string of slurred words. He’s flat on his back, chin up, head pushed hard into the pillow, and the look on his face is his usual worried one. Your graze your knuckles against his cheek, but he doesn’t feel it. Whatever has him in his sleep is holding tightly.

"Seungmin?”

no, I won't help you

His words are clear now, but in Korean, so you don’t know what he’s saying.

please look at me

A tear is squeezed from the corner of his eye, and it trickles slowly across his temple. You wipe at it, and this time his eyes open. He catches his breath before looking around and remembering where he is, and why he’s not alone bed.

You reach for him again, but he turns away and stares absently at the wall. “Nightmares?”

Seungmin is quiet, but he nods.

“You were sleeping well when I woke up earlier, I hope it was enough.”

He remains still, head down, hands clenching and unclenching as he thinks, or clears his mind, or maybe he’s putting his nightmare back together in his head. Maybe he needs one of his pills. Would it be strange to treat him the way he treated you…gently, like you might shatter at the smallest touch? “Can I get you anything?” You whisper.

Silent still, but he shakes his head.

“Should I go?”

This time he turns and looks at you with sharp, sad eyes—a look brimming with the unspoken emotions trapped inside of his head. And he isn’t sure how to answer. Yes, you should probably leave, is Seungmin’s first thought, because he knows where this is going; the noises in his head are slowly returning, and getting to this point was difficult enough when his mind was quiet. “It’s coming back.”

“What is?”

Aside from the noise, the voices…the itch that doesn’t stop until it’s done, Seungmin doesn’t know how to put it into words. He’s never had to put it into words, now that he’s thinking about it, because why would he ever tell anyone? This is all he’s ever known, and sometimes he still forgets that most people (you, he assumes) can make up their own minds, and follow their own train of thought every single day. He doesn’t have that option. “Nothing, never mind. I just…need to wake up, I think”

Going out of his way to get to you again, and to see you, was a stupid mistake. Seungmin thinks the only option is you leaving and saving yourself from him. Why did he disrupt his perfectly comfortable, routine existence? Comfortable might be stretching it, but whatever he managed to create was working. There is nowhere that you fit into this, and he knows that. He hasn't forgotten...black or white. You’re here now, yes, but you haven’t seen the worst of him—nowhere near it. If you leave now and go back home, you’ll be spared the real Seungmin, and a possibly death by his hands. He needs that, because he still doesn’t want to hurt you.

“I need to find someone, and I need to do things right this time.” Seungmin forces himself to look at you, “so I can have some peace for a while.”

“Oh, okay...I think I understand”

“I need to be alone”

“So I won’t see you again,” you’re up out of the bed, adjusting your clothes, and heading toward the door.

“That’s probably for the best. You should pack up and go home.”

“I will”

“I’m sorry I fucked everything up, but if you leave, you’ll be happier, and safer”

“Safer from you?” Once again, you’re stuck in this room, only this time, it’s your own fault. The door is wide open, but you can’t move.

“Maybe”

“So you lied to get me here. Why didn’t you just kill me when you had the chance? You had several…you still have one more, I’m right here.”

“I don’t want to kill you, I want you to leave and never have to look at me again”

The step back is easier now, but the empty feeling creeping up your stomach and chest is making you sick. Your heart is pounding wildly again, but you don’t know if it’s panic, or anger, or something else. It seems like only a few hours ago you were struggling with the idea of communicating with him, and now he’s pushing you out. “Good luck with your—“ you stop and look at him. He isn’t looking back, “your work.”

The blank face staring up at him; the dead eyes, and blue-tinted lips, feels like a reflection of himself. His fingers remain laced around her neck, tangled in the shoulder-length hair and delicate silver necklaces. It was too much—the force he used this time; the crack, and the crunch of her trachea as it collapsed under his hands was unusual for him. It felt good, though, and it was exactly what he needed. But now he's more exhausted than he can ever remember feeling. Seungmin is careful as he loosens his grip, because the necklaces cut right into his skin as he squeezed. The imprints of his hands are still there, red and angry, and a slow trickle of blood starts to drip from her nose.

There won't be any sleep tonight. He has to dispose of this body now, and he has to do it well, because his perfect handprints, and the DNA all over her jewelry won't do him any favors if she's found.

He looks down at her and sees you for the briefest moment. There is no resemblance, at all, and that he did on purpose. Still, you continue to invade his every thought.

Thursday arrived and passed quietly. No message. Expecting one more goodbye from you was a little bit stupid. Seungmin started things, fucked them up, started them again, and then ripped the rug from beneath you...any normal person wouldn't want to deal with his shit anymore, even if he wasn't what he is. You should truly want nothing to do with him, and you’re now out of his reach. You’re safe. You found his gray area.

"Maybe I should burn you," he says out loud. Also not his usual MO, but he's done it before. Not sticking to the same kill, same demographic, same dumping ground, is one of the reasons he hasn't been caught. At least that's what he assumes. "Or maybe I should just leave you in the hallway so they can find me."

Seungmiiin

He jumps, but he knows he's hearing things. That doesn't keep him from listening.

Minnie...please be careful, you know how clumsy you are sometimes

It's not really there, but he knows where it's coming from. If he follows it, it'll lead to the same spot it always does.

I love you so much, and I want you to be happy

"Stop it." Seungmin shakes his head, as if that will wake him up and quiet things again. "Stop, I know...I will be careful. I promise."

You're so clever, and talented, and full of love...nobody can take that from you, not even him

"Okay..." Seungmin flexes his sore hands, and carefully removes himself from the body. He'll burn everything on this bed, too, he decides. The sheets, the blankets, the bedspread...maybe the pillows. "Did you hear that, too?" He looks to Daengmo, sitting perfectly on the bedside table, watchful as ever. "I know you did."

/ / /

Fourteen hours; that's how long he sleeps. When he wakes up, he has no idea where he is, or what day it is. He hardly remembers what happened in the last 24 hours, or that he spent longer than he ever has disposing of a body. Seungmin is in pain, though—his hands, his shoulders, back...hips. The moment he flips onto his back and stares up at the ceiling, he starts to recall what he did, and why he's so sore, but he immediately starts to doze again. Fourteen hours wasn't enough.

He forces his eyes back open and picks up his phone; almost 9:30. "Did you really leave?" He says, and pulls up Thursday's flights from Seoul back to North America. Seungmin has no idea where you're from, or where you were headed, but he looks anyway.

"Air Canada...to Toronto, cancelled. Korean Air, to New York, arrived on time, to Chicago...delayed four hours.”

Why is he dwelling on this? His mind is finally clear for nothing but his own thoughts, and his own thoughts go right to you.

That’s a stupid idea, he thinks, and looks around, "isn’t it?" His eyes fall to his stuffed dog, still sitting quietly on the table. "Is it? She’s either there, or she’s not." Eyes back to the ceiling, "you liked her, didn’t you?"

The streets are still busy and loud, even at this hour, in this cold, but Seungmin feels good. Black coffee and a few painkillers perked him up, and the sharpness of his mind is doing wonders for his mood. It wasn’t until he finally crawled out of bed that it hit him; the last few weeks have actually been a nightmare, mentally. It was the worst rut he’s been in for a long time. He hasn’t quite been himself.

But he’s out of it now, finally. For a while.

He stands in front of your apartment building, and waits. It takes a few minutes before the crowd dwindles enough, but as soon as it does, he goes for the door, and it’s open. No buzz-in needed. Three floors up, he remembers (but there are only four floors anyway), three doors down, on the right. The hallway is deserted, and so quiet that it actually unnerves him a little—it almost makes him turn around. Seungmin stands there, and waits, listens. Still quiet. Your apartment isn’t your apartment anymore, he knows that, but he rings the doorbell anyway. He can hear it echo through your deserted living room.

Nothing. Seungmin knew you were gone. He digs in his coat pocket and pulls out the lock picking set he wasn’t sure he would even need, and he still doesn’t know why he’s using it. Maybe you left something behind. He works on the deadbolt for a few seconds, but even taking his time, and working quietly, he hears the click. The doorknob is next, and that one is even easier. Inside, the scent of your perfume, or shampoo…whatever it was, still lingers—a sweet, deep floral scent Seungmin can’t quite place. He shuts the door behind him, and breaths deep. It’s empty inside, and dark. No boxes, or clothes; just the couch, the armchair, the coffee maker. All the things that were here before you. Still, he walks around and looks, doing his best to keep quiet, and doing his best to adjust to the dark. His eyes don’t do well with no light, even with his glasses.

A creak stops him in his tracks and puts him on edge…gets his heart pumping, and he stays there frozen, ears perked. He likes this type of adrenaline rush.

“Seungm—“

It’s only a whisper, but he knows it’s behind him. The faint outline is human, but that’s all he can make out. As soon as his hand finds something to grab, it grabs, and pushes, hard, and their back finds the wall. The sound is so loud in the silence, and the neck he’s gripping is so small and soft…

“Ss…stop”

His eyes adjust, and he can see more clearly as he stares into your terrified face. They drop to his hand still wrapped tight around your neck. Seungmin’s body goes numb.

“It’s me, please”

“Fuck…I’m—” his grip finally relaxes and frees you, but he grabs your arms as your knees give out, “I thought you left,” he whispers to himself, and holds you up. “You’re still here.”

“Yeah, I’m here”

"Are you okay?”

“Let go,” you push him away, and finish falling to your knees. “Don’t touch me.” A panic attack is forcing its way in, and you can’t get enough air. This can’t be happening again—this shitty astral projection. Every time he’s around you, something bad happens. Why didn't you just stay at the airport?

Seungmin’s hand runs slowly across your back, “you scared me."

“Why are you here?” You shake his hand away from you again, but he doesn't take it off.

“I could ask you the same thing. I rang the doorbell before I broke in.”

“I figured it was a drunk neighbor”

“Look at me, let me see your neck”

You lift your head for him, but he doesn’t look at your neck. One hand cups your cheek, and the other moves the loose hair from your eyes. He looks at you, stares so hard it makes your stomach hurt, but you can't look away. "You didn't leave."

"No"

"Why didn't you leave?"

"My flight got cancelled, three times. I got tired and begged my landlord for a few more days." It's catching up to you; the exhaustion, and the stress, and you start to feel tears brimming. You really don't want to cry right now, though. Your brain always chooses the worst times to do it. "They lost my luggage, or someone stole it, I don't know...I don't have anything."

"Nothing?"

"Just what I have in my bag"

Something he can fix, that's the only thing running through his mind now. Seungmin is useless, and he knows that—the world wouldn’t change at all if he was suddenly gone. He takes and takes, and he never gives. He doesn’t fix things.

“Why are you here, Seungmin?”

Why is he here? He thinks you probably know why he’s here, because you’ve proven yourself to be very perceptive. But you’re also upset. You’ve been here with nothing, Seungmin assumes, since at least Thursday; two nights, three if you count tonight.

“I, uhm,” he can answer two different ways, or he can lie. “I thought you might have left something behind, so I didn’t think it would hurt to check.”

“Left something behind…like what?”

Maybe a letter, like he wrote for you. An article of clothing, or a piece of jewelry. Something tangible he could hold onto. “I needed to know if you really left”

“Keep telling me the truth”

Seungmin’s heart thumps in his chest, and in his head, “okay.”

“Do you want me leave?”

“No”

“Why?”

“I don’t know…” he watches as you stand and head toward the bedroom, “wait, wait.”

“I’m tired”

“Come back with me”

Finally, he gets it out. His heart still thumps, and it shakes his whole body, but he did it, he spit the words out. He isn’t ready for the let down.

“You sent me away, didn’t want me to look at you again.” He stares blankly, avoiding you completely. “You told me I’d be safer away from you.”

“And it might still be true.” Seungmin shakes his head, like he’s trying to clear more voices out of it. "But..."

“Okay”

The only possession you have left, your backpack—not even completely full, hangs on Seungmin’s shoulder as he works on his locks. Four of them, two different keys, plus one digital lock; you’d think he had something to hide in here. “Sorry, this one always sticks.” He gives you a half smile. His demeanor changed drastically after your okay.

“It’s alright”

“You can shower, if you’d like. Are you hungry?”

Yes, you’re starving. You still have money, but you were preparing for a hotel bill come tomorrow morning. Canceling is an option now, you suppose, but you’re hesitant to do it. “I am.”

“What are you in the mood for? Unless you’d rather sleep first, maybe you’re more tired than hungry. A bath might be nice, though. Maybe—”

“How about I shower while you…make something, or order it?”

“I can cook”

/ / /

The last time you used this bathroom, you were mid-panic attack. Now you’re comfortable in the tub Seungmin insisted you soak in, and you’re very glad he did. You watched him pick out his favorite bath salts so you could try them—he filled the tub, poured them in, and made sure you approved before leaving you…”take your time.” He gave you his full smile this time, but it was a little hesitant.

This is the most relaxed you’ve been in weeks, and you hate thinking it now, but Seungmin has given you nothing but terror, anxiety, anger, and overwhelming emptiness. It’s been a struggle finding anything positive in your short time in Korea, and it’s because of him. Leaving was supposed to fix this, but you couldn’t do it. A cancelled flight was nothing, but a second cancelled flight felt like a sign. After the third one, you gave up on rebooking, but you had no clue what your plan was from there.

Ten minutes into your bath, he knocks softly before cracking the door, “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to make anything too spicy unless I asked”

“No spice”

The door closes softly, and you can’t hold back a stupid grin. He’s out of his element right now, again, and you wonder if he’s ever cooked for anyone before; a date, if that’s what you can still call yourself; a friend, an acquaintance. No, you know he hasn't; Seungmin doesn't like company. You’re messing him up, just like he’s messing you up.

/ / /

Seungmin can cook, he’s just not very good at it. He’s hoping you’re hungry enough not to care. Focusing on the food in front of him is difficult, though, when your half-unzipped backpack is right there on the couch. There isn’t much in it, but there is something in there; your most important things, probably—the only things you felt the need to keep with you for the long trip home. He can’t help it, he has to look. It’s not even close to the worst he’s done to you already.

A phone charger, earbuds, a jewelry case. Seungmin opens that, but there’s not much inside: two small silver rings, a necklace with a medallion hanging from it. He recognizes it right away, because his mother had the same one in her jewelry box; St. Michael, vanquishing the devil.

He digs a little further. A pill case, a sweatshirt…he pushes that aside and wraps his fingers around a tightly folded piece of paper, and he recognizes it as soon as he pulls it out. He barely unfolds it before a familiar dried flower slips out and onto the floor, and then another.

“Be careful with those”

Seungmin jumps, but doesn’t drop anymore, “sorry,” and he bends to pick them up.

“So you’re a murderer, and a snoop”

“Snoop? Like the little dog?”

“Yeah, like the beagle. Did you find anything good?”

“I thought you would’ve thrown this away.” He gently opens one side and slides the flowers back inside. “I mean, I’m not usually this—”

“Nosy?”

“I was going to say rude”

“Nowhere near the worst thing you’ve done, it’s okay”

Right. Not even close. “Oh, let me get you something to wear,” he says, but he takes an extra few moments to scan over every part of you, tightly wrapped in his towel. “A shirt, and maybe something else of mine will fit.”

You follow him into the bedroom, and his curtain is pulled back as far as it goes. The view is nicer now than it was when you stood there during the day, and much nicer than it was when you ran out in a panic, looking for an exit. Seungmin is on his knees, rifling through the bottom dresser drawer, and he’s a nicer view, too. You still think you should hate him, and you do, a little bit, but the longer you’re near him, the easier it becomes.

“Here, try this,” he holds up a black t-shirt, a little faded, and definitely big, even for him. “It’s comfortable.”

“Did you dye your hair?” The way the light hits it in here, it looks darker.

He hands you the shirt, and watches carefully as you pull it over your head. “I did, it just didn’t take very well.” The towel doesn’t shake loose until the hem falls below your hips, and he's a little disappointed. Still, he looks for whatever shape he can find under all the fabric. His eyes move down your legs, and back up slowly, stopping when he gets to your thighs.

“The glasses suit you, I like them”

“You do?” He lights up a little at the compliment, and smiles when you nod. “My shirt suits you.”

Seungmin hopes, he really hopes…he’s not sure where you’re at right now, as far as trusting him, and feeling comfortable…but he hopes you won’t take a step back when he takes one toward you, or when he reaches his hand out to touch your shirt sleeve. And then, very cautiously, your arm. Goosebumps jump up on your skin when he runs his thumb down to your elbow, but you don’t shy away. “You’re hungry…we should eat.”

“We should,” you move forward, and pull him down until you can almost reach his lips. “What did you make?”

Are you teasing him on purpose? “Spam fried rice…and eggs. I'm sure I have something sweet, if you’re in the mood.”

“That sounds good, yeah.” He’s pulled a little closer, but your lips land on the apple of his warm cheek, “sex is supposed to be better after you eat.”

/ / /

“Did we enjoy each other’s company?” Seungmin smiles to himself as he pours you more tea.

“You certainly did, considering how wrapped up in me you were that morning”

His face drops a little, “I was?”

Wrapped up is a little exaggerated, but you do tell him exactly how you woke up to him, and he blushes. “I can be a little noisy in my sleep, sorry.”

“And I was on your side of the bed, so maybe you were just migrating back to it”

He laughs, and getting that out of him feels like an accomplishment you didn’t know you needed. This version of Seungmin looks, and feels, different than any other you’ve met, but there are bits and pieces of each one still hanging on. The worry still sits in his eyes, but it’s subtle—every time he looks into yours, you can hear him wondering when you’ll leave again. He’s still nervous, just a little on edge, as if whatever he’s doing is wrong, or just not completely correct. When he asked how the food was, you told him the truth; it was perfect, and exactly what you needed, but you also told him, jokingly, that his onion chopping needed some work. He seemed to take it to heart, so it took some convincing to get his mind off of it. And whatever feelings come back when it’s time—the thing that sits on his shoulder, always seems to be there in some small way. Maybe it’s just the memory of it.

But he’s different. Seungmin did what he needed to do to feel normal for a while, and you see it. He looks at you easily, with much less intensity, and laughs a little bit louder. This must be the real Seungmin.

“I’m much more comfortable here,” Seungmin sits and hands you a mug, “and warmer.” Because you asked him to turn up the heat, and he apologized several times for not doing it sooner. “Thank you for having me again. Don’t make me regret it.”

He tilts his head to the side, and raises his eyebrows. You think you see a smile trying to tug at his lips, but he keeps it to himself, “no, I don’t want to do that. But I have a question.”

“Go ahead”

“Do you think being on top would make you more comfortable?”

“On top?” You stare at him blankly for a few beats, sip your tea. “Oh, on top. Of you. Maybe.” You keep your face neutral. He looks a little dejected, but when your eyes wander down, you can see how fast he’s getting hard, and a wave of pleasure runs all the way through you. “Won’t hurt to try.”

That’s all he needs to hear. Seungmin goes right for your waist and pulls you to your feet, “if you need me to stop…” he waits for your nod before leading you back to the bedroom.

“You changed your bedspread, you changed everything…well, almost everything.” Seungmin sees your gaze land on Daengmo. “Tell me about him later?”

He nods, sits comfortably and unbuttons his jeans, unzips them carefully, and groans when he can get them away from his erection. His sweatshirt is next, and when he gets it over his head and tosses it aside, you’re half kneeling on the bed, hem of your tshirt clenched in your fist. Seungmin laughs, and then pats his bare thigh, “right here.”

You listen, and carefully straddle him. “Oh,” you jump when his dick, still confined to his briefs, rubs against your aching clit. “Don’t tease,” you reach down and pull at the fabric.

“Not tonight,” he finishes freeing himself and rubs his head over your wet, silky entrance. “No teasing.” The groan he makes comes out so deep, and so needy, “are you ready? You feel ready.”

Two fingers slide down and up, disappearing deep inside of you, and the pressure he gives makes you whine. His free hand gently squeezes your hip, holds you still—the other slides out, “mm, yeah…so wet for me.” Before he does anything else, he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean, “I’m all yours…” and lies back on the pillow.

You’re not sure you can get him in like this, but you take him in your hand and spread yourself open, slide your knees further and further apart so there’s nowhere else to go but in. The pressure is intense, but you know how wet you are, and how wet he’s still making you as you look at his calm, smirking face.

“Yeah, that’s good,” his hips jump, but he keeps himself under control. He wants you doing all the work right now. “A little more, I know you can take it all,” he moans when you stop and pull yourself up, and then slowly slide back down, “fuck.”

Back down, little by little, and the stretch hurts until you start to move up and down, gently, working your thighs to the point of burning. But you want to take him all. You’re still all here, no panic, no overwhelming memory of what happened before. Seungmin is so content just lying there watching you, and you want this now. All of it. You slow down and relax before setting both palms against his stomach. He flexes, and you feel every muscle hold you steady; you feel his hips twitch as you take another inch…and then another. And one more, all of him, stretching you to your limit.

“Good?”

“Good,” you roll your hips and stretch yourself even more, “so good.”

Seungmin wets his thumb on his tongue and finds your clit, teases it as you start to bounce again, “fuck,” his free hand slides over yours, “fuck, I might get there first…you feel so good,” he whines and moves faster, rubbing in tight little circles as you lose yourself and start to fuck him harder.

It hurts, in the best way—you can’t stop, and you can’t slow down until you come His heavy eyes and parted lips, tongue just barely poking out of the corner of his mouth…slowly licking across his teeth, is getting you there fast. His smile grows as you stare, and he moans again, just for you, “you feel so fucking good,” he whispers, and his exaggerated whine sends you over the edge. It starts building, fast, and you need to touch more of him. Your palm slides up to his chest, over his hard nipple, and back down his side. It tickles him, you can tell, but he doesn’t miss a beat rubbing your orgasm out of you.

You move faster, fuck him harder, and let the feeling overtake you. Seungmin keeps going, and his hips start moving now, thrusting up into you with enough force to knock the air out of your lungs, but it doesn’t phase you this time.

Seungmin is loud when he comes. The bed shakes, and your body screams at you. He grips you tight, fingernails digging deep into your hips. The mess of cum starts running down your thighs and onto him. When he finally slows down, it’s because he’s out of breath, but his hips continue to move, softly, in and out.

/ / /

It was fast, but you’re exhausted. Racing heart, burning hips, and mess working its way out between your legs—you lay yourself onto the pillow and look to him. He’s still flat on his back, hands splayed across him, fingers moving against his tight stomach. His mouth is slightly parted as he catches his breath, and his eyes are closed. You take a second and try to read his mind.

But you can’t figure it out. You can’t begin to guess…you only hope he’s having good thoughts.

“Hm?” Seungmin looks at you, eyes mostly open, “did you say my name?”

“No, just looking at you”

Again, his eyes close, and you hear a quiet, exasperated what? come from him.

“What’s wrong? Seungmin?”

His hands move to cover his face, and he keeps them there as he mumbles a little to himself. You catch a word here and there, but you can't make anything of it until he finally uncovers his mouth...

"You shouldn't be here...you shouldn't be here right now"

Not again. He can't be doing this to you again, not after the trouble he just went through getting you here. "What do you mean?" Your heart is still pounding from the sex, and now it's mixing with the sick feeling in your stomach. "Seungmin?"

"What?" He sounds irritated. He looks irritated.

"You want me to...no, you don't, do you?" You sit up and pull the blankets up to your chin. The slow, uncomfortable feeling of his cum dripping out of you is making this so much worse. "No, you can't." The last part you whisper, because you don't know if you want him to hear. Your throat tightens, and your eyes water, and you think you feel him staring, but when you check, he's not.

Seungmin's eyes are closed, and his jaw is clenched tight. "Please, just leave me alone right now."

It was stupid to expect him to just be okay, but he was okay. He was himself when he brought you back, and when he made you a bath. When he cooked for you. It also seemed stupid to expect yourself to be okay, but you were, and still are. Sort of. You decide to just stop talking, tuck yourself deep into the covers, and wait for whatever this is to pass. Leaving isn't really an option for you anymore. You don't want to leave.

/ / /

A hard kick straight to your shin wakes you from your sleep. You were in deep, dreaming like before, only this time Seungmin wasn’t there. The darkness, the cold wet ground, the sound of footsteps in the mud…that was all still there—loud, desperate cries from a child, barely audible, but that sound sticks with you even after waking up. It rings in your head as the spot just below your knee throbs in pain.

“Seungmin," a gentle shake of his shoulder brings him out of his sleep, and his face relaxes almost immediately when he realizes he’s in his bed. “You didn't wanna be in that dream anymore, did you?”

He takes a few deep breaths before sitting up and rubbing at his cheeks, “was I talking?” And then he moves his hands to just below his eyes, as if he's feeling for tears, “or—”

“No, you kicked me. And you looked very unhappy.”

“Kicked you?” Seungmin folds his legs up to his chest, and he looks like a kid. A very tired, very confused kid. “Hard?”

“Hard enough, but I’m fine”

“I’m sorry”

Reading him is difficult, maybe because you’re still tired. Last night feels like it couldn’t have happened—all of it; Seungmin coming to find you, bringing you home with him…what that came after. Everything feels like a fever dream you’ve been floating through, half awake. “No, it’s okay. I was in the middle of a dream, too. Being awake is better.”

“Were you comfortable, did you sleep well?" He’s looking at your legs as they move around under the blankets, “let me see.”

“I’m okay, I promise." He clearly doesn't remember.

Seungmin nods, but pulls at the blankets anyway. He keeps pulling and reaching until you finally give in and show him your leg. “Thank you,” he touches the red spot, and the slightly broken skin.

“Do you remember last night?” You ask, and he doesn’t move, but his gaze does. “After, I mean.”

Yes, he remembers laying next to you, and trying not to doze off too fast—still so tired after so much sleep. He lost that battle, though. “Yeah, I fell asleep. I should have stayed awake with you.”

“You don’t remember talking to me before that?”

He shakes his head, and sets his warm hand over the sore spot. If he doesn't remember it, then maybe it doesn't matter. "What did I say?"

You watch his face as you speak, "uhm, you told me I shouldn't be here. And you asked me to leave you alone."

There is no change in his face, so you suspect he isn't very surprised by what he said. His hand slides down your shin, to your ankle, and then back up...very slowly. It's gentle and sweet, but something about it is unnerving at the same time. That doesn't stop a chill from running up your body, and goosebumps to run up your arms. His warm hands feel good, and when he squeezes your thigh, you have to stifle a moan.

"Don't believe everything I say"

The softness of his voice, and another squeeze of his hand almost distracts you from what he tells you. "How do I know what to believe?" You pull yourself back a little, but Seungmin's grip on your thigh tightens. "How do I know when you're telling me the truth?"

"I didn't mean that last night"

"You sounded like you meant it"

"I didn't, I promise." He pulls you closer, "look at me." He waits until you do, but whatever he's trying to say hasn't come together in his head yet. Seungmin is feeling very overwhelmed, very suddenly, and he wants to scream. He wants to squeeze your thigh until his nails dig in deep enough to break the skin. "I don't know how to make you believe me."

"Please, let go"

He looks down at the hold he has on you, and it's too much, just not quite enough to make you bleed. His grip loosens, and the mark left behind is red and angry.

"I need to go clean up"

/ / /

The strong smell of coffee comes through the bathroom door, so you know he's up, and probably out there waiting. You check the marks on your thigh. It stings, and you can see the perfect crescent shaped indentations he left behind. It could be much worse—the cool washcloth takes away most of the pain. You rinse it under warm water and clean up the mess you should've taken care of last night; the mess you really shouldn't have made at all. But you try not to think about it. You try not to think about what he just outright told you about himself. And this hold he has on you—it's not the best idea, but you shove that down for now, too.

You crack the door and peek out, take in the smell of the coffee, and head for the kitchen. Sitting on the counter is a mug, already filled, two pieces of warm toast, and a jar of plum jam.

But Seungmin isn’t here.

Cold air hits you where you’re standing, and you follow it back to his bedroom—to the slowly moving curtains covering the sliding door of the balcony. The bed is empty and made, and there’s a fresh tshirt and pair of sweatpants sitting at the corner. You’ll have to assume they’re for you, and you're thankful for them. It's freezing in here again. You change before returning to the curtains, and very carefully, very quietly, pull them aside just enough to look out.

Seungmin is sitting cross-legged on the ground, hands neatly in his lap. He’s leaning a little, so his head is resting on the wall closest to him. You know he must be cold, because he’s only in the tshirt and shorts he wore to bed, and you also know he’s out there because he wants, or needs to be alone. So you leave him alone. You return to your coffee and the breakfast he made, and you wait.

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euphemiaamillais · 1 year ago

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favourite crime - coriolanus snow

coriolanus snow loves you… but when he learns that he’s being sent back to the capitol—well, he can’t have any loose ends left back in district 12.

dark possessive!coriolanus snow x district 12!reader

cw: 18+//dead dove do not eat!!!//snuff//mentions of loss of virginity//mentions of murder//coriolanus snow’s disgusting inner monologue//murder//strangulation//piv sex//mentions of guns

reader discretion advised!! i do not condone any of these themes, this is merely a work of fiction

IB: @shellxrls

when you’d first laid eyes on private snow at the hob, you never would’ve thought you’d end the night with your lips wrapped around his cock. no, you were a good girl. you didn’t do things like that, and certainly not with strange men in darkened corners. but coriolanus was different. he made your core burn with desire, and your heart skip a beat every time his icy eyes flicked over you.

you spent many evenings with him—friday nights especially—legs spread, letting him touch you in ways you’d never known before. he liked that you had been a virgin; the thought of corrupting this stupid little district girl and turning her into his whore. you belonged to him now, and he’d have you whenever he pleased. you were nothing more than a hole to fill his desire with.

you were head over heels for him—so when he told you he’d been given a discharge to return to the capitol, he’d thought his pretty little doll would be delighted for him. you’d had fat tears streaming down your cheeks, mascara running—you’d worn it just for him, to look pretty—clutching at his arms and begging him to stay.

you couldn’t leave district 12, no. you didn’t belong in a place like the capitol.

the way you were begging was so pathetic; getting on your knees, weeping, voice strained with frustration. he couldn’t believe how he’d done this to a girl—lucy gray was never like this. when he’d left her for you she’d simply resigned herself to singing not-so-subtle tunes about how much of an asshole he was. well, at least before he killed her.

you were different. you were his little doll. his and his only. that’s why you had to return to the capitol with him—he’d have packed you into his bag if there had been enough room. it was a shame they didn’t allow for pretty whores to travel with the peacekeepers.

‘please, coryo,’ you cried out, hands clutching at his trousers. ‘don’t leave me, i- i love you!’

your attempts at flattery were ridiculous, but in a way he knew that you did love him. he didn’t love you, exactly. he loved knowing that he possessed you, that your heart entirely belonged to him. but he could never love a whore from the districts—especially not 12 at that.

‘is my bunny sad that i’ll be going home?’ he cooed, clutching your chin with his large hand. you were so small. he could break you if he wanted to…

‘mhm. gonna miss you so bad, coryo,’ you gazed up at him with wide-eyes—they looked so innocent as they glistened with the tears of your upset.

‘gonna miss your cock, and your tongue…’ you sighed wistfully. ‘gonna miss riding you and having you fuck me full of your cum.’

your lips are turned into a pretty pout, and he wonders then and there whether or not he should get his cock out and shove it past them. make you drink up his seed one last time. or perhaps he could bend you over his bunk and put a baby in you—then you’d always have something to remember him by.

no—that would make you a loose end. and he can’t have loose ends. you can’t know that he shot the mayor’s daughter because she pissed him off too much—or that his songbird, lucy gray, now lay somewhere at the bottom of the lake by the cabin.

he decides he can spend one last night with his little bunny. just one night. but then he’s clearing up loose ends. you’d never assume what he had been planning, no, you’re far too dumb to understand that. you see the good in everyone; and that made his chest burn with fury. how could you be so fucking innocent?

‘bunny…’ his voice trailed off. you nod, awaiting him to tell you something, anything—did he love you too?

‘i’ve got an idea. one last special night, just the two of us, hm? down at that cabin by the lake,’ he stroked your cheek. how sweet you looked like this, all red in the face. ‘i’ll give you a night worth remembering. let you sit on my face.’

you gave him an eager smile, and he knew his little bunny was just too stupid to know she was falling into his trap.

—

this was where he’d killed lucy gray, too. that had been a cold, rainy day. just like this one. you’d been so easy to lure into his trap; meeting him by the hanging tree in your prettiest dress—one with tiny pink flowers that came just above the knee. you’d even tucked a flower behind your ear. how sweet.

you couldn’t wait to spend your last night with coryo. you’d been singing all day, and practically skipped to meet him with a little bag full of some food and your toothbrush. you’d flung yourself into his arms, not caring about the consequences of being caught with a peacekeeper. he’d be gone by tomorrow morning anyways.

the walk to the cabin had tired you out considerably, and so you clung to coryo like a pathetic little bunny, letting him lead the way. you’d miss clutching his biceps, feeling the taut muscle beneath his shirt, the way his dog tags slapped against your face as he pounded your cunt raw.

he delighted in the way he’d get to have you one last time, tonight. that at some point, the only thing warm in your body would be his cum, leaking out of that tight cunt of yours. even though you were stupid, he did have to admit that your willingness was something he adored. the way he could just fill you up at any time, and in any hole—you never complained.

he’d corrupted you, watched you bleed as his big cock stretched you out that first time. he loved the way your eyes swelled up with tears and you begged him to stop—‘it hurts, coryo!’ you had clawed your nails into his back. ‘too big!’—but he didn’t stop. he knew you had to learn to take it, and that you did. you had such low self-esteem, you would practically grovel at his feet everytime you so much as made him frown. you’d do anything for him, and that was the way he liked it.

complete control.

the cabin was warmer than the tender breeze outside, and you were so grateful to get in there, shivering in your little dress. coryo had dressed more appropriately, in his day clothes, and he watched as you shivered. god, you were so helpless.

he set his things down, and when you had laid down on the bed to rest your eyes for a while, bundled up in the ratty old blanket, he checked under the floorboards. there it was—one last gun, wrapped in a green cloth. if you tried to run, he’d use it on you. he’d deliberated over which way to kill you, which way wouldn’t damage that pretty little face of yours.

he thought that one simple shot to the chest would do it—it would be instant too. but he wanted to watch the life drain out of you, watch as you whined and begged for him to save you. watch how your brows would furrow and your eyes would grow wide with fear and realisation that you were just another loose end to him. he’d never loved you. he’d loved the control.

but coriolanus had also debated choking you out—maybe he wouldn’t remove his cock from your throat while he fucked it, and pinch the tip of your nose so you’d stop breathing. how pretty you’d look, trying to take his cock and at the same time, fight for your life. he’d shoot his hot load down your dead little throat once you’d stopped breathing. a reminder that you were his, and no one else’s.

no, he couldn’t let you live.

he shut the floorboards when he heard you stirring—you must’ve fallen asleep. how sweet. in a few hours you’d go to sleep one last time—but it would be an eternal slumber. he wanted nothing more than to bring you back to the capitol and make you his little whore—you couldn’t be his wife; think of the shame and embarrassment that would bring. but you could be at his every beck and call, be there to relieve any tension he had. it was just so unfortunate that he wasn’t allowed.

he’d put your body to rest with lucy gray’s, down in the lake to let your pearly white bones be the fishes’ dinner. he couldn’t bury you out in the woods; they’d find you there, one way or another. instead, he’d let them think you’d just disappeared. people disappeared out in the districts all the time. especially stupid little girls. who would care if a pathetic runt who took peacekeeper cock vanished? he doubted you had many friends, and your parents were both dead.

you wouldn’t be missed.

it was some time later that you woke, and your stomach grumbled. coriolanus was sitting in the rickety old armchair, carving what looked to be a spear with his pocketknife. you watched his muscular arms move back and forth as he stripped the stick of its bark. something about his strength made your thighs burn.

you got up, bare feet cold against the wooden floorboards, and peered into your bag. you’d made enough food for the evening; you had even splurged and gotten yourself a precious block of cheese. you figured it was only appropriate, what with it being your last night together and all.

he looked up from his makeshift weapon—though it wasn’t all that, really—and gave you an award-winning smile. your heart leapt at his sweetness. you couldn’t believe he wanted to spend one last night with you.

‘you’re so pretty, bunny,’ he remarked, watching as you laid out the food.

there was bread, a few flimsy butter knifes—you’d not be able to defend yourself with those; besides you were just so weak. you’d even snuck a bottle of wine at the market when the peacekeepers weren’t looking. you wanted it to be special, to send him off happy and thinking of you.

your chest twinged with a heavy sadness. you wished you could go with him, follow him to the capitol and maybe, stupidly, marry him. you wanted to be his forever. you’d give him lots of children and they’d have white-blonde hair and icy blue eyes. you’d make sure he was satisfied every day, and cook and clean and whatever he required of you.

but you were to remain here, in district 12. marry a man covered in coal who worked himself to the bone in the mines. have skinny little babies who starved from the lack of food, struggle tooth and claw just to put dinner on the table every night. your time with coriolanus had been your only taste of luxury, of richness. he’d told you how in the capitol, there were buildings that reached the sky, and that every night people would feast on the finest food from the districts. you were reminded, with your own hunger pangs, the sacrifice that you had to make.

no, you’d never be good enough for him. future president of panem.

‘coryo, come eat,’ you said, standing proudly beside your food which you’d laid out neatly on the table.

he obliged—he was hungry, after all. he’d not eaten since last night. the food looked tolerable too, and the bottle of wine tempted him to be more considerate. just so his little bunny wouldn’t be suspicious. he doubted you were clever enough to figure out his intentions anyways.

‘i hope you like it,’ you remarked meekly, sitting down beside him and beginning to devour the food.

he opened the bottle of wine, and although it was completely uncivilised, he took a large swig. it was terribly sour, not like the good stuff they had in the capitol. he reckoned you’d never even tasted real wine. how pathetic.

‘how lucky did i get, with my little bunny,’ he smiled, stroking your head fondly.

‘i’m the lucky one,’ you said in your saccharine tone. he wanted to roll his eyes—you were so sickeningly sweet. ‘you’ve been so good to me, coryo.’

‘yeah?’ he asked. he liked how much you sought to stroke his ego. it made his cock hard the way you were just so utterly desperate to please him in every manner.

‘mhm,’ you said, chewing on a piece of bread. the cheese made it taste so delicious; sweet and creamy.

‘does bunny like the way i always give her whatever she wants? fill her up with my cum just like she asks?’ he watched as your cheeks burned red with abashed shame.

‘coryo…’ you whined, pressing your thighs together.

he loved the way you were already squirming, just from the mention of being fucked. what a fucking slut. he bet you had soaked through your panties, just waiting from him to bury his cock deep inside you as you whined for him to go harder. he’d show you harder. perhaps he’d wrap his big hands around your tiny, little neck, and squeeze too hard. god, you’d look so pretty with the air sucked out of your lungs, gasping and panting as he filled you up one last time.

‘oh bunny, don’t tell me you’re wet already?’ he cooed, standing up from his chair.

whatever, he didn’t really need to eat anyways. he couldn’t possibly be hungry when he’d been feeding himself with the own sick ideas in his head. food could wait—he’d need to tend to his little bunny first.

you nodded dumbly, clenching your thighs as the slickness pooled in your panties. you couldn’t help it, it was your last night with coryo. you wanted him more than anything else, more than you ever had done before.

‘p-please,’ you whimpered pathetically.

‘does bunny want me to fuck her? make her cum?’ he laughed, stroking your smooth arm. you were so warm. so full of life.

‘mhm, yes,’ you moaned, slipping one hand between your thighs to rub at your aching clit.

seeing this, coriolanus yanked your hair, causing you to gasp and sputter. how dare you touch yourself? you were his! his to have and do as he pleased with! you felt a few tears spring to your eyes, and he laughed, seeing how stupid you looked, weeping because he pulled your hair. he wondered how much you’d cry when he squeezed at your airways; watching them constrict between his big hands.

‘you know my rules, bunny,’ he clucked his tongue in disapproval. you glanced up at him, his icy eyes singed with coolness.

‘i’m sorry, sir,’ you replied. that name made his cock stir. he couldn’t keep himself from devouring you for much longer.

he dragged you from the chair and shoved you down against the bed. you were giggling and gasping like a little fool—it made his blood boil. you wouldn’t be laughing when your heart pumped with its last beat and your legs went still.

‘be a good girl, bunny,’ he commanded, trapping one leg between your thighs to stop you from grinding against the mattress.

you watched as he unbuckled his pants—he was never one for dawdling, preferring to get straight to the point—and eyed his bulge hungrily. you wanted to use your mouth on him, feel him stretch your lips out and fuck your throat as you gagged on his length. you’d miss how big he was—so big that you often ached for days after he fucked you.

he cupped your chin in his hand again, and pressed a kiss to the corner of your jaw. he had no intention of being gentle with you, this final time. you were merely his to use for pleasure. a little fuckdoll to fill up with his cum.

you moaned as he pulled his boxers down and his cock sprang free. you would never get used to the sight of it—the huge, throbbing thing. you couldn’t wait to have him bury it inside of you, feeling it nudge against your most sensitive spots.

‘need you, coryo,’ you panted. ‘need you in me.’

you pulled your panties off, feeling your own slickness pressing at your inner thighs. coriolanus grabbed the base of his cock with one hand, and pushed you down against the bed with the other. he wanted to take you like this, so he could watch the life drain out of your eyes, one last time.

‘gonna fuck you so good, bunny,’ he mused, hiking your dress up and sighing at the sight of your wet cunt. he would miss it, he did have to admit. what a shame it wouldn’t get wet for him anymore in a few hours. but if he couldn’t have you, nobody could.

‘mhm,’ you gasped as he pressed the tip of his cock at your sopping entrance.

god, you were so pathetic. so wet for him, so fucking desperate for his cock. he knew you probably wouldn’t have even let anyone have you, after he left. but he couldn’t bear the thought that somebody could take advantage of you, coax you into their bed and let them bury their cock in you. no, your cunt was his only. nobody else could dare touch his bunny.

he groaned as he pushed himself all the way in, feeling your walls stretch around him. you were still so tight, even after all the abuse to your hole with his big cock, the way he stretched you out, you were still tight as the first time he’d had you. you didn’t complain as much anymore though, not like you had that first time—weeping for days after with the dull ache of being fucked.

coriolanus began to thrust, grabbing your hips with firm hands, bucking into you with lusty vigour. your tits bounced in your dress, and you couldn’t help but gasp and mewl each time his cock bucked into your tight hole. his cock throbbed, feeling you clench around him, the way you sucked him in with your slick want.

he’d never forget this night. the last time he’d have you. the way you were so utterly perfect.

‘taking me so well,’ he grunted, watching as you moaned at the pleasant feeling of his big cock burying itself deep inside you, brushing against your cervix.

‘harder,’ you gasped, clutching at the sheets. you wanted to know you were his.

coriolanus couldn’t resist this, of course. he wrapped your legs around his waist, and plunged himself deeper into you. his balls were slapping against your perineum now, and the cabin filled with the reverberation of skin against skin.

you kept gasping and begging as he drove himself into you. you could feel yourself edging closer—you’d been so wet the whole way here, you were soaking at the thought of him having you one last time.

it was beginning to piss him off, though, the way you were being so loud. normally, he loved it, your moans letting everybody know how well he was fucking you, branding you as his own with his cum. he wondered what you’d do if he choked you right now—would you attempt to run? if you did, he’d get that rifle and shoot you. he couldn’t risk having you running about district 12 when somebody else could get their hands on you.

no more loose ends, he reminded himself.

he reached his free hand out, caressing your cheek, and then trailing them down to your neck. you giggled as he wrapped his fingers around your neck—it was so little that his whole hand could fit you inside of it. he’d choked you before, and so you didn’t assume anything of it. he pressed lightly, and you let out a sigh, body humming with want.

‘good girl,’ he mused, pounding you with his cock at the same time.

you let out a pretty moan, pussy clenching just right around him; he couldn’t help but grunt at how pleasant it was. you’d probably still be tight for a few hours after he kills you. maybe he’d fuck you again, but you wouldn’t be warm, or wet. just cold. he decided against it. he’d fill you up with his cum just as the life drained out of your eyes.

he pressed harder, and you feel your breath catch in your throat. it hurts, and you glance up at him with a worried look, eyes stretching wide. he doesn’t pay heed to this, and merely keeps thrusting, moving your hips closer to his to hit at a new angle.

he saw your breathing go rapid, and your eyes dart about the room in panic. poor bunny. he really didn’t want to have to kill you, but you can’t be his forever, and how can he accept that? if you’re dead, you’re nobody’s but his. especially since he’ll fuck his cum deep into your stiffening body; you’ll have part of him in you forever.

he could hear the sounds of your vocal chords straining as he clasped tighter at your throat. it would be a shame that you’d be left with a rosy imprint of his fingers around your neck, but it made him smile a little, that you’d be branded with his mark until you rotted.

‘coryo!’ you whimpered, clawing at his chest.

‘shhh, be quiet, bunny. take my cock like a good girl,’ he murmured, slamming into you.

it hurt—the way he was crushing your neck, your tendons beginning to strain around his touch. it felt like there was no air left in the world; you were beginning to grow tired, your breaths haggard.

‘p-please,’ you felt tears spring to your eyes, and watched as he laughed, a maniacal grin creeping across his lips.

he shook his head, grunting as your walls contracted around his cock. he was so close, but you were being a bitch and taking too long to die. he clamped down on you harder, causing a gasp to escape your lips. you couldn’t speak—your hands were clawing about desperately, legs flailing about.

you were terrified—what was he doing?! why did he want to hurt you? just minutes ago he was telling you how much he wished you could come back to the capitol with him and be his wife. he wanted to dress you up like a pretty doll and make you grow fat with his children.

‘don’t cry, bunny,’ he laughed, watching as your legs stilled.

you were so tired. it felt like there was no blood in your legs; they grew stiff and numb. your head spun.

‘you’re all mine bunny, forever,’ he smiled as your body grew limp.

you were terrified—eyes beginning to lose their shine, lips trembling with fear. you couldn’t feel your arms now, or the way he was bucking into you. his thrusts were slower now—he was close. watching the life drain out of you made his blood course through his veins with a delicious speed.

you mouthed out a ‘why’ as your body went completely frail. in one last act of betrayal, your cunt gushed around him as he squeezed your neck; airways completely constricted. your lips were beginning to blue now, and he frowned—he had really liked how plump and red they were when you sucked him off.

coriolanus felt himself finish; cock shooting thick loads into your still-wet cunt. he couldn’t help but grunt as he spurted himself into your pretty hole. the way you’d finished just as your heart had stopped beating and your lungs had given out. your final breath wasted on cumming. you really were a whore.

he ran his hands over your body, frowning at the ugly ring around your neck. at least he didn’t have to deal with your blood. that would’ve been so fucking messy. having to mop it up, and the way you would’ve screamed. at least you couldn’t scream when his hand was clamped around your neck.

when he pulled out, he watched with sick delight as his cum spilled out of your pussy. the thick, pearly loads trickled down your thighs. your limbs would be pliable and floppy for another two hours, but he couldn’t bring himself to fuck you again. that was too far, even for him.

he looked at your face, which was stretched into one of fear. your eyes were still, but wet with the tears. so were your cheeks—they still retained that innocent rosiness which he so loved.

he wished lucy gray had looked so pretty when he’d killed her. she’d screamed when his bullet pierced her chest cavity, and she’d bled all over his jeans as he’d held her. you were so docile, even in death. you’d given him one last thank you when you’d came, and he knew you’d be his forever.

darling, dearest, dead. the words rang clear in his head. he’d read them in an old novel. they were fittingly appropriate for the situation. it was so sad that he had to kill you, but it was a bitter and necessary pill to swallow. he had to return home to the capitol, marry that bitch livia cardew, and set his sights on what mattered most.

you were just a little doll he’d had his fun with on his summer vacation—you were just a poor district girl. what did you matter? nobody would miss you, and when he became president, nobody would know that he’d watched the life drain out of three pathetic girls.

that would be terrible for his image. he did what needed to be done. his pretty bunny would be his forever, and he’d secure his place in the world.

no more loose ends.

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adragonsfriend · 9 months ago

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Padme was not a Witness

I will never join the “Padmé was stupid to go to Mustafar” parade—she had valid reason to believe in the possibility of Anakin’s redemption—but there’s something awful in the fact that she didn’t have to witness either of his massacres.

Obi-Wan and Yoda walk past the bodies of their people—of their people’s children. Bail Organa goes to the temple and sees a kid get shot down trying to escape (more clones than Anakin, but still).

Padme hears about the second massacre after sitting in her apartment while the Temple was on fire. She’s told about them in vague terms. “I killed them like animals,” “he killed younglings,” She has a touch of denial when she goes to Mustafar partly because of her belief in Anakin, but partly because—I think—the Tuskan Massacre was never fully real to her. She understands it intellectually of course, but violence on that scale is difficult to conceptualise without seeing it, especially if it’s easier to just let it go. If she’d seen the bodies? Or seen Anakin kill them? She watched that one refugee kid die slowly, not at all violently, when she was working with the refugee organisation, and it affected her for the rest of her life. It is not a lack of caring on Padmé’s part that’s the problem.

Imagine being Obi-Wan listening to Padme saying “there’s still good in him,” after walking through the Temple, seeing the lightsaber marks on knights and children alike—not even to mention seeing her get strangled. It sounds not only wild, but honestly deeply offensive on more levels than one (besides the obvious issues it’s another, “train the boy,” prioritise Anakin over everything moment, except this time Obi-wan’s entire world has been torn apart, rather than just losing his Master)

If Padmé had actually been a witness to Anakin’s violence? If it was made present and visceral to her?

I think her opinions and her actions would’ve been different.

Thematically, it is crucial that when Luke goes to the second Death Star, he is under no illusions about who Anakin is or what he’s done, and in his most desperate moment he chooses to ask Anakin for help anyway. Padmé goes to him still a bit in denial, still a bit convinced things can return to how they once were. When she starts to push at the illusion, Anakin accuses her of betraying him and strangles her to shut her up, attempting to preserve the illusion (the difference between Anakin’s state at the time of his confrontations with Padmé and Luke is a whole other, very important topic). In part, her illusion allows Anakin to believe he can preserve the past (to be clear—he is the only one responsible for the choice to strangle her; Padme being imperfect is not an excuse for domestic abuse).

Side note, but if anyone is not sufficiently freaked out by Anakin strangling Padmé, it's important to know that strangulation is one of the flashing red warnings that physical abuse is doing to turn deadly, very, very quickly.

Luke’s complete and honest knowledge of Anakin’s worst self means there is nothing for Anakin to lose except his son, exactly as he is. No illusions, no wonderful past, not even any good memories together. Just his son.

To me, that’s one of several reasons (both thematic and logistical) why Padmé’s plea fails where Luke’s succeeds. None of those reasons has anything to do with her being stupid to go in the first place.

(There are some wonderful fanfics out there that show Padmé actually making her disapproval about the Tuskan massacre—both despite and because of her love—actively known during their marriage, and I think that interpretation of her is a stronger character than ROTS gives us, and more in line with what we’re shown in the first movie)

#star wars #padme amidala #obi wan kenobi #yoda #anakin skywalker #bail organa #luke skywalker #tw child death #tw violence #tw abuse #tw abuse mention #tw physical abuse #krayt meta

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digitalmidnight · 13 days ago

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Project Eden's Garden Predictions

This is meant to be silly. Spoilers in post and in tags

There's a really big influencer light and Kai just walks right up to it and gets fried like a moth. Kai is a victim.

An area opens up with remote controlled RC cars. During the race, everyone hits the sand bags at least once. The sand bags start leaking pink. They open it like a cocoon. The butterfly was broken upon the wheel. Kai is a victim.

Toshiko forces Kai to watch teen rom-coms with her. Kai is a victim.

Grace goes "Screw you Damon. The man I shared a bed with is gone, so I'm killing the man you share a bed with." Kai is a victim.

Damon was supposed to die in Chapter 4. Kai becomes aware of the plan, but ends up dying himself to save Damon. This kickstarts a series of events (like the butterfly effect) that lead to Damon finally being fully into being part of the group and ending the killing game. Kai and his killer are treated as martyrs. Kai is a victim.

Same thing as above but Damon commits a murder instead. He gets away with it. It doesn't matter anyways. Kai was a victim.

Damon goes: "so how did the victim die?" Kai says: "Like this!" Kai is a victim.

Eloise is training late at night and sees Kai acting odd. A misunderstanding happens where she doesn't know it's Kai specifically. Still, she believes whoever she saw, which just happened to be Kai, was a horrible, irredeemable person. She makes him suffer. Kai is a victim.

Jean kills Kai for his attempt at French. Jean is a bigger victim. Kai is a victim.

A big plot involving handwritten murder notes pops up. Except the handwriting is atrocious (in trial, there's confusion whether it's Damon or Demond. Also Mark vs Ultimate Marksman). Kai ended up getting killed because the killer confused his last name with Grace's. Kai is a victim.

Diana gets Kai because chameleons eat butterflies and she was hungie. Kai is a victim.

Kai does a little hip bonk to get an item out of the machines. The machine falls over and breaks. Mara gets him. Kai is a victim.

The casts gets it into their heads that this situation is like V3. They totally consented, this is a television show, and all their fans are routing for them. Cassidy and Kai end up fighting to the death for the sake of their fanbase. Kai is a victim.

Someone pops Kai's pool inner tube. He does not float like a butterfly. Kai is a victim.

Ingrid knocks Kai upside the head with a horny jail hammer. And by that I mean sledgehammer. Kai is a victim.

Kai makes it to the very end where the garden itself is starting to crumble. They come across a statue of two men. The boulder that the Cain statue was holding falls. Kai is a victim.

Wenona wants to get out and somehow clocks Damon, Ulysses and Kai to be the only people smart enough to rat her out. Theres a sleepover between a lot of people in Ulysses room to try and research about where they are. The room fills with gas that Ulysses can't smell. The gas is denser than air. Kai, who was sleeping on the ground, is found before anyone else can be affected and the attempt at getting him to fresh air gets everyone else out of danger. Kai is a victim.

Jett goes "I like cars" and suddenly a car appears out of nowhere and hits Kai. Kai is a victim.

Kai begs Mark to listen to his super cool music idea. "Trust me it's so cool and you just have to make it but it's a billion dollar idea. I'll pay you in exposure. It'll totally pay for itself-" Kai is a victim.

"A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush". Two strangulation victims are found. You would think it would be the two women with bird motifs, but only one of them is. Kai is a victim.

It's a simulation. Kai is a bug in the program. Tozu removes him. Kai is a victim.

Kai discovers Mukuro Ikusaba. The sixteenth student, lying hidden somewhere in Eden's Garden. The one they call the Ultimate Despair. He didn't watch out for her. Kai is a victim.

Kai gets really messy in a bathroom with his hair dye. The pink smears make him look like the killer. The class gets it wrong and everyone is a victim. Kai is a victim.

Desmond is dared to hit a target. This triggers a trap which kills Kai. There is a debate over if whoever set the trap is the killer, or if whoever hit the target was the killer. Doesn't matter to Kai what the answer is. Kai is a victim.

Damon is too comfy cozy to get up. There is nothing containing Kai except for Damon sleeping on top of him. Kai starves to death. Kai is a victim.

#project eden's garden #Project eden's garden spoilers #kai monteago #kaimon #THIS IS A JOKE #I WANT HIM TO LIVE #But narrative wise? This man has such a big target on him #like a super hero's significant other #He is now the one Damon is closest to #this means that killing him would be the most audience angst and most likely to get a reaction #BUT it also means the audience will stop being as emotionally invested if everyone close to the protagonist dies #So he is probably safe until about Chapter 4 then all bets are off #I do have actual predictions but I won't say them #I don't want one of them to be true and then it ends up not being done because of a correct prediction #p:eg #p:eg spoilers #project edens garden #Damn I wish I knew what tag is most commonly used #fanganronpa

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mothwingwritings · 8 months ago

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Animal Magnetism

F!Reader X Yujiro Hanma (Omegaverse AU)

Well folks, here is my first ever attempt at a true Omegaverse fic. I wanted to start out with something little to get a feel for it, but since I don’t know how to chill it ended up being a bit longer than anticipated. ^^; I’m still getting the hang of it all, but I hope you enjoy it regardless! Thank you so much for reading!!!

Also, I have a rather busy end of May-June coming up, so I’m not sure how much I will be able to write and update during that time. I apologize in advance. That being said, I wrote this pretty fast and edited it even faster so that I could get it out before I get swamped, so I apologize if it reads a bit rushed. (シ_ _)シ

THIS FIC IS NSFW, SO 18+ ONLY PLEASE!!!

WARNINGS: Noncon/dubcon, yandere vibes, ABO/Omegaverse AU (reader is the omega ofc), death, strangulation, brief mentions of stalking, reader is degraded and treated like an object by Yujiro Hanma. You know how it is. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯"

You considered yourself lucky to have found the love of your life.

That wasn’t always the case for Omegas. Since your childhood, you’d heard countless horror stories from your parents and friends, tragedies and cautionary tales of the horrors Omega’s faced when looking for a mate. Many of your kind faced dismal futures as breeding factories or were forgotten and neglected by their partners whenever they weren’t in heat. It was a lonely, painful, and unfulfilling existence, but a sad reality that many Omega’s endured nonetheless.

Because of this your parents sheltered you, doing their best to keep you from the cruel power imbalance of the outside world. Your father made sure he was the only alpha allowed near you on the property, the rest of your friends and acquaintances consisting of either other Omega’s or Beta’s. Not that you much minded, after all the negativity you heard surrounding Alpha’s you figured this was for the best. You weren’t missing out on anything, and as long as you took your suppressors accordingly, you were sure you could live out the rest of your life just fine without Alpha influence and still feel completely fulfilled.

That was to say, until a certain bodyguard was hired as the family escort, specifically YOUR escort. You had heard he was an Alpha and were quite shocked that your father would allow such a person so close to you, especially with all his previous warnings. But as time passed and your curiosity grew, you would eventually introduce yourself to the man of your own accord, excited and nervous to see what manner of individual he truly was. At the time, you would have never ended up guessing that one meeting would end up turning your entire world on its head, bringing more joy to your life than you could have ever imagined.

You were smitten the moment your hands joined in the initial shake, taken in by his easy smile and sparkling eyes. He had respectfully kept his distance from you at your father’s request, but you could tell he was elated to finally speak with you, a small blush gracing his cheeks as soon as you said ‘hello’. He was a kindly man, mild mannered and soft spoken, but strong where it mattered and protective to a fault. Were it not for the unmistakable scent that exuded from him, you wouldn’t guess he was an Alpha at all, or at least he certainly didn’t fit the description of most of the Alpha’s your father warned you about-all full of machismo and brutality, ready at a moment’s notice to tear you apart to satisfy their own base urges.

This man was the opposite of that, and when you fell for him, you fell hard.

Years past in a whirlwind, from the initial awkward first dates, to buying your own place together, to his heartfelt proposal to you. Through it all he always remained respectful, giving you all the space and time you needed to adjust to your life with him, never pushing his boundaries or showing any untoward aggression or advances. Because of this, even after spending years together, you were able to remain pure, saving yourself for the day the two of you would join as one, marking each other to truly solidify your union.

And so time marched on, moving so fast that on more than one occasion you wished you could stop the clock altogether, just to steal a few more moments with him.

But now, you would never enjoy his company ever again.

His corpse had been tossed aside, discarded several feet from where you lay. It was so bloodied and broken you could barely recognize it as human, let alone as someone you once loved. Your chest rose and fell with erratic breaths punctuated by fear, the desire welling inside of you momentarily quelled by this sudden nightmare.

Minutes ago he was atop you, peeling the clothing from your aching, hot body. Moving painfully slow, he took his time enjoying your first heat with him, no longer constrained by the suppressors you had taken your whole life. You were scared of the process, worried about losing control of yourself and becoming mindless, driven by only your base needs. Not to mention the pain it would entail, the endless torture of emptiness, and the desperation you would experience relying solely on him for release from your torment.

But he had been patient and understanding through the whole process, explaining how it would all go down and how he would help you through it, alleviating any rogue fears that still remained. He even went so far as to help you prepare your nest, purchasing you any and everything you may need to make it comforting and inviting for when the time finally arrived. Meticulously helping you arrange everything while gushing about how excited he was, how lucky he felt having you as his mate, the one he would be eternally bonded too. He seemed more into the prep work than even you did.

Now, the nest that was to be used to consummate your love was stained in crimson, his blood splashing across it in vibrant streaks the moment he was knocked off you, flung across the room like a rag doll. No matter how badly you wanted to, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the lifeless body that used to be your beloved. Everything that had made him shine had been stolen in the blink of an eye, leaving only a husk remaining.

Above him stood his murderer, Yujiro Hanma, looming with a bestial sort of feral energy as he stared at the carcass by his feet. Before this moment, you had never interacted with the man they called ‘The Ogre’, but that didn’t mean you didn’t know all about him. It was hard not to-the strongest man in the world was a celebrity in his own right, renowned the world over for his ferocity and ruthless nature. He had started and ended wars by simply existing, going wherever he pleased and doing whatever he wanted because there was no one who could stop him. He ruled countries from the shadows, amassed wealth and respect from the most influential men in the world. Truly, he was not a person to be reckoned with.

All that aside, you knew him best as the man your father despised the most. A once respected comrade from your father’s military days, you were aware that Yujiro had done something unspeakable to your father in the past, therefore disgracing him from your entire family. Your father had always been an amicable and fair man, someone that you couldn’t imagine having any enemies (even with his military background), let alone ones that used to be dear friends. And while the mystery of what Yujiro may have done to your father to receive this treatment gnawed incessantly at your brain, you kept your questions to yourself, not wanting to open any old wounds that may hurt him in the process.

Now you wished you had pressed the issue more, maybe then you would have a clue as to why this mythical family villain had abruptly entered the scene, irrevocably changing your life in the process.

The slaughter happened so quickly that Yujiro didn’t even break a sweat. Not that he would have anyway-the differences in ability were clear as day, you didn’t need any fighting prowess to realize that. Your mate never stood a chance.

The ogre’s fiery hair danced wildly around his head like a halo as he turned his attention your way, his figure both terrifying and awe inspiring as he took his time stalking towards your vulnerable form. There was no need for him to rush- the power of his presence alone was enough to root you in place.

Splayed out in your nest, you were completely exposed. Your nude chest heaving as a thin layer of sweat coated you, anxiety and confusion mingling with the raging heat your body was going through. Even after watching the execution of your mate before your very eyes, your body was still yearning, causing a horrible, all-encompassing burning that scalded you from the inside out. It made you desperate for release as your mate was in the process of marking you, taking his time exploring the body of the woman with whom he was destined to spend the rest of his life with before carrying out the duty.

And while his drawn out advance was driving you to the point of madness, amplifying the throbbing ache in your core with each teasing touch of his hands and sensual kiss of his lips, you knew the sluggish pace was for your benefit-to prepare you properly. It was your first time, the start of your forever with him. He wanted to make it special, for your pleasure to be immeasurable when he finally entered you, making you feel so good that when he bit down to mark you as his, the pain would be nothing in comparison, if felt at all. You had a life time of love ahead of you, but that was no excuse for him to give in to his desire and rush your first union.

But he was gone now, and his kindness had left you feverish and wanting-so desperately wanting- release. Craving your alpha, needing him so badly you could barely stand it, you writhed pathetically on the ground, whimpering in agony at the absence of fulfillment. Unable to control yourself, your hand traveled to your privates, tears flooding your eyes when stuffing your fingers deep inside of yourself only seemed to hurt you more. It was hollow and empty, not what you needed, not what you craved.

Were you in your normal mindset, revulsion would have washed over you at your actions-the love of your life had just been slain and here you were making a sorry attempt at masturbation while his body lay decomposing beside you. What kind of woman does that? How could you live with yourself after this? How could you tell yourself you truly love him, when now that he’s gone the only feeling your addled brain can conjure is disappointment over the fact that you won’t get the fucking you have become so desperate for?

How had you become so disgusting? You lightly shook your head, trying to dispel the thoughts of self-loathing. Perhaps the blame did not lie fully on your shoulders, but to another culprit, one who was stalking his way closer and closer to you with each passing moment, hunting you as a wolf does livestock.

In any other scenario, this heart-rending moment would have been enough to crack the shell of haze your heat had left you in, no matter how worked up you had become. But the man who was now standing above you, Yujiro Hanma, was dangerous in ways you hadn’t even begun to fathom. His smell of his musk was so overbearing you nearly choked on it, the lust it sent coursing through your body turning you into something unrecognizable. You honed in on Yujiros scent long before his arrival, at first mistaking it for your own mate’s scent that had been amplified by your combined heats. And while it disgusted you to admit it, this new, intoxicating scent excited you far more than your own lover’s ever had, turning your mind to mush the longer you inhaled its aroma.

Yujiro’s cruel eyes bore down upon you, a look of mild amusement displayed on his face as he took in your weakened state. The smirk he wore as he killed your lover began to grow, his lips spreading into a full on smile, baring his teeth in a look that could only be considered as malicious.

“Well what do we have here,” he leered, the mere sound of his husky voice enough to make you moan, “Feeling a bit neglected, are we?”

He bent down on his knee, kneeling beside you as his eyes flicked across your body. After a brief once over, his large hand reached out towards your head, thick fingers knotting themselves into a fist as they gripped your hair. Roughly he yanked you up, dangling you mere inches from his face as he continued to stare at you with his horrible, ravenous eyes.

You scrambled to get your bearings, perching yourself on your knees to help alleviate the pressure on your scalp. Positioned so closely to him, his pheromones became even more intense, slick starting to seep from inside you from the proximity alone. Bright red bloomed across your body, a mixture of extreme arousal and embarrassment, as you wriggled in his hold.

Yujiro scoffed, “Look at you, I haven’t even touched you and you’re already leaking,” He swiped his fingers briskly against your weeping pussy, making you cry out as he gathered the evidence of your intoxication on his hand. Holding the glistening fingers up to your face, his smile returned as he goaded you. “Bet your little boyfriend lacked the power to make that happen, didn’t he?”

Any anger that may have welled inside you over the slight against your beloved was instantly quelled, eaten by the tumultuous feeling of frustration the situation ensnared you in. All you could do was stare at Yujiro with pleading eyes, any words you attempted to speak dying out the moment you tried to voice them, becoming little more than whiny, petulant mewlings. Rubbing your thighs together in an attempt to create friction, you prayed he would show an ounce of mercy and grant you release soon, fretting over how much longer your body could handle waiting.

Yujiro sighed, chuckling softly under his breath, “Your father is a damned fool, you know that? I told that stubborn bastard that his cute little Omega daughter was meant to be mine, knew it the moment I saw you. I warned him that he could try and pair you off with some other lesser Alpha, but it would be a waste of time. You were fated to be mine- made to take my cock. Trying to make you anything other than my bitch was both asinine and disgraceful.”

He shot you another wicked smile, “Idiots like him may not realize what a fucking honor it is to be my cumdump, but surely you do, right sweetheart?”

You squeaked as he tugged you closer, his breath fanning your face while he stared down his nose at you, “Or maybe you don’t, given the situation I found you in. Looks like my ravenous little whore just couldn’t contain herself, could she?”

His lips curled into a snarl, his booming voice reverberating through your bones as he continued to address your misdemeanor. “Nesting with some weak piece of shit like that, have you no pride in yourself? I’m embarrassed you even gave him the time of day, let alone bared yourself to him. Who do you think you are, trying to fuck basic trash when you belong to me?”

Without giving you a chance to respond, he released his grip on your hair, shoving you roughly to the ground in the process. Hearing him move behind you, you attempted to push your feeble body into a sitting position, trying to reacclimate yourself. However before you could achieve this simple goal, his hand latched to the back of your head, shoving it down until it was smothered in the soft blankets beneath you. His free hand yanked your legs out from under you, pulling your ass up in the process. Though you couldn’t see him, the power radiating from him was immense, his aura so domineering you felt as if it alone was steadily crushing you. Were you in any sane frame of mind you would fear for your life, struggle and fight against the oppressive hardness that slotted itself against your dripping entrance.

But the slave you had become welcomed the intrusion, and as he tightened his hold on you, growling in your ear like the wild animal he had proved himself to be, you couldn’t stop your body from shuddering in anticipation of what was to come.

“It’s time for some corrective action.”

He entered you violently, his thick cock impossibly hot as he sheathed himself inside of you. The initial pain tore a scream from your throat, your vision dotting as you felt blood trail steadily down your shaking legs. He gave you no time to adjust, continuing his brutal assault as he pounded into you, uncaring of the damage he was inflicting upon you. The smack of his skin against your was punctuated by your cries, at first full of pain, but slowly morphing into expulsions of pleasure.

When the abruptness of his entrance fully subsided, you began to focus on the feel of him inside of you. Each slam of his hips ignited you, creating a feverish frenzy within that blocked out all other sensations and judgment. He filled you so completely, easily reaching all the spots that your fingers tried so desperately to reach just moments ago, satisfying all the areas that had been so urgently in need of attention with each stroke of his cock. You wanted more, needed more, moving in time with him as you chased after your pleasure. Wanton moans spilled from your lips, muffled by the bedding that was being shoved into your mouth with each thrust.

Even in the uncomfortable position he had locked you in, unable to breathe properly or escape from his grasp, all you could find yourself caring about was the alpha behind you and how he was making you feel- a strange sense of pride bubbled inside you the longer he went at you. The most powerful man in the world was doing little more than using you, and yet it was the fact that he chose you to begin with that filled you with flattery. A nobody like you being sought out by an alpha like him... Isn’t that what all Omegas dreamed of? To be desired by a dominant Alpha, having the honor of bringing them pleasure and receiving pleasure in turn, wasn’t that your only purpose, your reason for being?

You never dreamed you would feel that way before, but now you were finally starting to understand. The delirium of your desire had launched you into a state of inescapable euphoria, rebirthing you as nothing more than a shell of a woman who had finally realized her purpose, completely giving herself over to her unquenchable cravings while her Alpha’s assault molded her destiny.

Yujiro was a monster. Any man who did what they had done to the love of your life, any man whom your father had hated to the point of excommunication, any man who would violate you in such a way without so much as batting an eye, was an abomination-the remaining rational part of your mind understood this.

Yet as this demon, deserving of nothing but your scorn and hatred, spilled himself inside of you all you could feel was thankful. Thankful that the ungodly heat was starting to subside, happy that the pain the experience had brought you was alleviated, and blissed out over the feel of him nestled deeply inside of you, convulsing as the twitch of his cumming cock rained pleasure down upon you.

Finally, you felt complete.

After pumping you full of his hefty load, he hoisted you up in his arms, repositioning you so that you were facing him, straddling his lap. Gasping the moment you gained access to fresh air, a distressed groan croaked from your throat as his incisors latched to your neck, sinking deep into your scent gland. Your body shuddered at the sensation, fresh waves of pain and rapture coursing through you as he marked you decisively as his.

The cock that was still stuffed inside of you remained rigid, showing no signs of softening as your walls fluttered around it, the next round of your heat coming far sooner than you had anticipated. His hand wrapped securely around your throat, replacing where his lips had just been. He clamped down hard, pain pulsating from the open wound your scent gland had become, struggling once more to breath. His other hand grasped your hip, both limbs working in unison to bounce you on his dick-using you as if you were a human fleshlight.

“Don’t forget your place again,” he grunted, pulling you down on his cock so harshly, you saw stars, “You’re mine now.”

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wangxianficfinder · 5 months ago

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I'm in the mood for...

Aug 13th

~*~

1. Any wangxian fanfics with straight wei wuxian having a sexuality crisis over lan wangji?

ao3 has been erroring out for me when I try to get to my bookmarks , maybe because I have so many? but for #1 , there is a tag "straight boy wei ying" /"Wei wuxian in denial about sexuality" that will give great fics. when I can get to my bookmarks I'll add my faves

show me how you do that trick by ilip13 (E, 70k, WangXian, Modern Setting Porn with Feelings, The Porn Is the Plot, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, straight boy wwx, with an aspec twist, Sexuality Crisis, Voyeurism, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Masturbation, Anal Sex, Switching, Top/Bottom Versatile | Switch WangXian, Slow Burn, Except for the sex that part is on fire soooo fast, sexuality realization, Feelings Realization, Happy Ending)

The Cause Of This Fair Gift In Me Is Wanting by Alliandra (E, 47k, WangXian, LQY/QS, Modern AU, High School, College/University, Time Skips, Slow Burn, Pining, LWJ POV, LWJ Fucks, WWX dates, "Straight Boy" WWX, Homophobia, Non-Graphic Violence, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Reference, d Suicide, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Overstimulation, Light Bondage, Blow Jobs, Masturbation, Getting Together, Ableist Language, WWX Has ADHD, Autistic LWJ, Queer Themes)

I search myself (I want you to find me) by ilip13 (E, 22k, WangXian, Modern AU, Fluff and Smut, The Porn Is the Plot, Compulsory Heterosexuality, Self-Discovery, Adolescent Sexuality, Slight Gender Feels, Masturbation, Fantasizing, Voyeurism, (sort of), Exhibitionism, (also sort of), Lingerie, Explicit Het Content)

~*~

2. Hi! Do you have any fic recs for fic where wwx come back as someone else other than mxy? I remember seeing one where he ends up as Qin Su @fysmiin

You still sound like a song by Moominmammashandbag (M, 64k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Ghost!WWX, Mystery, LWJ plays inquiry, AU from after the Wens came to Lotus Pier, Most people lived, not everybody died, Angst with a Happy Ending, river spirit!WWX, Angst and Feels, description of murder, imminent smut, Execution, Dogs, Poisons, Discussion of Attempted Murder, BAMF WWX, Family Feels)

To Deserve So Much More by renysen (T, 19k, wangxian, getting together, one big happy family, no angst, getting engaged, family feels, female bodied WWX) ofc summons wwx to defend her family's besieged manor.

🔒Femme Fatale by coffeepie (E, 76k, WIP, WWX/WC, WWX/WRH, WWX/WZL, WWX/JGS, Porn, Smut, Possession, Crack Treated Seriously, Humor, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Penis In Vagina Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Aphrodisiacs, Rough Sex, Minor WangXian, Canon Divergence, Oral Sex, Pre-Sunshot Campaign, Strangulation, Object Insertion, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Blood and Injury, Somnophilia, Belly Bulge) WIP. wwx wakes up in wlj's body before the sunshot campaign. cw lots of sex with wc.

the problem with authority by isabilightwood (M, 139k, wangxian, qingli, Canon Divergence, Sacrifice Summon, slightly dark!JYL, wq lives because i said so, Angst with a Happy Ending, Chronic Pain, Mild Sexual Content, Top/Bottom Versatile | Switch WangXian, manipulative relationship (background xiyao)) qs summoning jyl-centric but includes someone else summoning wwx as well

patching the road with vague intentions by loosingletters (T, 39k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Humor, Developing Friendships, WWX Resurrected By Others, Trans WWX, Case Fic, POV WWX, POV LQR, Family, Good Uncle LQR, Hurt/Comfort, Golden Core Reveal, Slow Burn, Canon-Typical Violence, MXY Lives) WIP. ofc lwj was arranged to marry after wwx's death summons wwx. lwj hasn't appeared yet.

The Housewife's Guide to Causing Chaos by dvasva (M, 127k, WIP, WangXian, Canon-Typical Violence, Functionally Trans Character, Mild Sexual Content, Domestic Fluff, Love Confessions, Transphobia, Good Parents LWJ and WWX, Pining, WWX is a Tease, Grief/Mourning, Body Dysphoria, Fake Marriage, Canonical Character Death, Misunderstandings, Doting LWJ, Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, WWX is not in MXY's body, Misgendering, Mild Angst, Assumptions, Comedic Elements, non-sexual nudity, Blood, Discussion of Various Bodily Functions, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, 4 years of mourning instead of 13, Méishān Yú Sect, POV Multiple, Corporal Punishment, Trans WWX, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, pregnancy mention, Timeline What Timeline, Sexual Harassment Threats) WIP. ofc lwj was arranged to marry after wwx's death summons wwx. wangxian starts early.

Friends, Sabers, and Other Essentials for Solving a Conspiracy by MeridianGrimm (T, 50k, NHS & WWX, LWJ & NHS, WangXian, Humor, Friendship, Love, Mystery, Canon Divergence, Smart NHS, WWX doesn't stay dead, LWJ gets a new friend, Happy Ending, Fix-It, To be clear the WangXian is mostly background, This fic is about friendship) NHS does a modified summoning

Karma's a Bitch (It's Me, I'm The Bitch) by loosingletters (T, 8k, SS & OC, WWX & OC, Minor Character Death, Canon Divergence, Suicidal Thoughts, Resurrection, Moling Su Sect, Cultivation Sect Politics, Body Dysphoria, WWX is NOT in MXY's Body, Unreliable Narrator, Assassination) Su sect oc summons wwx.

❤️ Beauty and the Boot by PTchan (T, 44k, wangxian, summoned by f!oc, Canon Divergence, Romantic Comedy, Genderbending, Denial, Fem!WWX, WangXian kids, Crack-ish, WIP) seemingly-abandoned WIP. OFC summons wwx.

So You Want to Start a War by JaenysBloodcourt (T, 41k, WIP, MY/QS, MY/WWX, WangXian, Reincarnation, Half-Sibling Incest Mention!, QS does the ritual instead of MXY, WWX as a woman, MY Is His Own Warning, Canon Divergence, Impersonation, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Please check the notes before reading a chapter, Timeline What Timeline, WWX Has PTSD) WIP. qs summons wwx.

sweet hay and the flowers rising by Shializaro (T, 4k, WangXian, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mentions of Violence, Alcohol, Humor) qs summons wwx.

Crowded by nirejseki (G, 1k, NHS & WWX, wangxian, LWJ/NHS/WWX, canon divergence, different body offering ritual, atypical relationship dynamics, sentient sabers) NHS does a modified summoning (short fic)

❤️ The Book’s Cover by Eudoxia (E, 50k, wangxian, canon divergence, WWX not in MXY’s body, canon retelling, humor, demisexual LWJ, genderqueer WWX, smut) OFC summons WWX. this is probably my favorite one of all these.

Everyanything by deliciousblizzardshark, lingeringdust (E, 46k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Franken-canon, Gender Identity, Gender Dysphoria, Trans WWX, Protective LWJ, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Canon-Typical Misogyny, Fluff and Angst, Vaginal Sex, Canon-Typical Major Character Death) Qin Su summons WWX.

Chapter 1-23 of The Tales of Despereaux by stiltonbasket (T, 36k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, (when applicable)) Chapters 1-23 are "What if Qin Su summoned Wei Wuxian?" A prologue is linked in the author's note.

Wei Wuxian keeps / gets his OG body / Resurrected by someone other than MXY Comp

Five People Who Never Summoned Wei Wuxian by EHyde (G, 3k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, 5+1 Things, Angst, [Podfic] Five People Who Never Summoned Wei Wuxian by sisi_rambles)

~*~

3. Hey! I have only once asked for a fic before but this is for a Itmf , can you recommend any dark lwj fic? Not just after wwx’s death but lwj protecting wwx or joining him in demonic cultivation, even better if wwx runs yiling wei sect^-^

A Matter of Time series by mrcformoso (E, 84k, wangxian, time travel fix-it, graphic depictions of violence, underage, LWJ pov, JC pov, dark LWJ, manipulation, grooming, teen body adult mind for LWJ, happy ending for wangxian, problematic consensual underage sex, blood & violence, insane LWJ, manic LWJ)

🔒 Flawed and Free by Vrishchika (E, 18k, wangxian, major character death, time travel fix-it, dark LWJ, dark LXC, dark gusu lan, temporary character death, not JC friendly, angst, hurt/comfort, WIP)

🔒 At heart by apathyinreverie (M, 36k, WangXian, WIP, Dark LWJ(Ish), Amnesia, WWX gets to be Not Okay after the BM, Hurt WWX, Recovery, Caring, Protective LWJ, Possessive LWJ, some definite manipulation, but not everything is as it seems, not nearly as dark as the tags make it sound, Canon Divergence, Golden Core Revea, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, kind of, Domestic WangXian, Fluff, WWX Goes to Gusu, Possessive WWX, WWX happily atticwifing away, Sunshot Campaign, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ)

Until The World Embraces Me Home by azri (T, 5k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, YLLZ LWJ, LWJ Has No Golden Core, Role Reversal, Not LXC Friendly, Not JC Friendly, Not cultivation world friendly overall tbh, Sunshot Campaign, Friends to Lovers, Temporary Character Death, WangXian Get a Happy Ending)

Corrupted Core by The_Gourmet_Gamer (M, 16k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Golden Core Reveal, Grief/Mourning, Blood and Injury, Character Death, Sad with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Post-First Siege of the Burial Mounds)

~*~

4. Hello 👋

I'm in the mood for Twitter wangxian fic threads,i don't mind it if it's modern or not, but I don't like bottomji or switch wangxian

You might enjoy our Twitter comp

~*~

5. Hello! Thanks for your work. Are there any Wangxian fics set at the Olympics? @chalionkat (previous ask moved to FF - mod C)

Our Sports AU Compilation has a Olympics au section you can check out 😊

and so my heart beats wildly by lily_winterwood (E, 106k, WangXian, JYL/JZX, Modern Cultivation, Rivalry, Competition, Competition-Set Fic, Athletes, Multimedia, Miscommunication, frenemies to lovers, Rivals to Lovers, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Seemingly One-sided But Actually Mutual Pining, Oblivious WWX, Competitive Cultivation, Anal Sex, First Time, Angst with a Happy Ending, Olympics, Inappropriate use of an Olympic gold medal, Breathplay, Rough Sex, Food Porn, Tanabata, Lily’s back on her Qixi bullshit, Switching, Bottom LWJ) this has cultivation Olympics

🔒 Dance Me to the End by venagrey (E, 35k, WangXian, Modern, Skating, 2021-2022 Figure Skating Season, No Pandemic, teammates to friends to lovers, Eventual Smut, mixed signals: on ice, Oblivious WWX, Bisexual WWX, mortifying ordeal of being known, slightly nonlinear timeline, Unreliable Narrator, gratuitous descriptions of skating, first time nudes, Accidental Phone Sex, WWX is Very Flexible, YOI homage, not actually a crossover, IRL skating homage, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, a little gnc for added zest, inappropriate use of medals, Rimming, Winter Olympics)

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6. Hi! This is for ITMF where WWX is a king maker/advisor/spy master or something like Foot on the brakes, screaming there's a red light by Lookingkindofdumb or Copying Scriptures by chiyukimei

Thank you! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

🔒 Half Agony, Half Hope by queenklu (T, 105k, WangXian, LXC/JGY, JC/WQ, JYL/JZX, LXC/NMJ, Jane Austen Fusion, persuasion au, Pining, Broken Engagement, Secrets, Espionage, Child Injury, Terrible Parents (YZY & JFM), Past Child Neglect) maybe? Wei Ying was a spy during the war.

~*~

7. Hello!!. i need need need to know if theres any more fics like A Street Kid Named Wuxian where wwx isnt adopted by any sect and just grows up on the strrets/ poor or an orphan @yesibest

A Thousand Things by tickertape (M, 108k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, WWX Isn’t Adopted by the Jiāngs, Developing Friendships, lots of OCs, miscommunication and misunderstandings (they’re idiots your honor), Nightmares, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, Slow Burn) fits but Wei Ying lived in Yiling until he's around 17 and then gets invited to train with the Lans for a year. It doesn't go into a lot detail about his life on the streets but he is poor throughout his childhood and into his teens.

Ad Oblivione by Baph, HikariNoHimeWriter (M, 70k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, POV Multiple, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Identity Reveal, Golden Core Reveal, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Abusive YZY, Angst with a Happy Ending) link in #14 Not sure if this fits as while WWX does grow up on the streets without being adopted into a sect, it's down to time travel, with his soul being sent back to his child body, so he has knowledge of the future & cultivation, so he gets to cheat a little & be more than a normal street kid

~*~

8. Hello, I was wondering if you and the lovely community could help me find selkie-style creature fics? In myth, a selkie is a seal creature who can shed its fur and walk on land as a human. Whoever holds the fur has control over the selkie because they cannot transform back without it. So I am looking for similar themes in WangXian fics! I just read Burn It All Down by nekojita which suggested this would happen with Jiang Cheng holding one of Wei Wuxian’s dragon scales, but the wip hasn’t been updated to finish that portion of the story! So I come to you, looking for more “I control you as long as I hold this part of you captive” stories. Thank you for any recs you can suggest! <3

never love an anchor by tardigradeschool (T, 31k, WangXian, Selkies, No Powers, Historical, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Pining, Angst, Happy Ending, The Inherent Eroticism of the Sea, PTSD, Presumed Dead, Drowning)

💙 this river runs to you by sundiscus (T, 53k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Mutual Pining, Dragons, Literal Sleeping Together, Tender wound tending) this might work? It has Dragon!LWJ whose dragon is missing. While no one actually uses it to control him in the story, the possibility that someone could is a major driver of the plot.

Lanterns To Guide You Home by cuttlefeeeeeeeeesh (T, 7k, WangXian, Mutual Pining, Mythology, Selkie AU, Fisherman LWJ, Selkie WWX, Sorta Established Relationship, Fluff, Soft (tm)) might like Lanterns to Guide You Home? It's a bit of a twist on the selkie trope, being less about captivity and more about wangxian reuniting/mutually pining years after being married, but I think it would still appeal to a reader who likes selkie stories. And it's a lovely fic!

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9. Hi! For the ITMF, I was wondering if there are any fics where WWX knows a bit more about MXY when he wakes up in his body? By viewing MXYs memories maybe, or something like that? Just, I want him to be able to act like MXY better and understand his situation better. Is there anything like that? Thanks in advance! @hikato-chan

~*~

10. Hi! This is for ITMF. Is there a fic where WWX tells JYL (or someone else really) that he trust LWJ but not his clan/sect? Thank you! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

~*~

11. ITMF a fic that takes place during the Cloud Recesses study arc, in the scene where WWX gets LWJ drunk. Something goes different: a kiss? A love confession? A fist fight? @luliaka

Cartwheels In Cloud Recesses Series by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 23k, WangXian, CSSR/WCZ, CSSR and WCZ Live, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans)

You Are My Euphoria by orphan_account (M, 17k, wangxian, canon divergence, fluff, making out, 5+1, pining)

it’s just (aah) a little crush (crush!) by sweetlolixo (T, 9k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Romance, Fluff, Pining LWJ, Humor, Courting Rituals, Teen Wangxian)

~*~

12. itmf some concubine wwx, following canon as mich as possible? something along the lines of the concubine mo series by enigmatree

~*~

13. Itmf:

A) some wwx realizing that he's been abused as a child (for example: Madame Yu) and having to accept that actually the adults in his life kind of suck (no Jiang Yanli bashing pls ♡)

B) wwx being raped and his recovery

Thank you 💕

13A)

🔒💙 Holding shreds by barisan (T, 5k, WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, No Sunshot Campaign, Body Swap, Not for sexy shenanigans, Chronic Pain, Hurt WWX, Hurt LWJ, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abusive YZY, Bad Parent YZY, Bad Parent JFM, Good Uncle LQR, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Inaccuracies, POV WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, Jiāng Family Bashing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Getting Together, Smart WWX)

🔒 in the shadow of moonlit flowers by Reverie (cl410) (T, 56k, wangxian, LXC/NMJ, Cloud Recesses, LWJ & NHS Friendship, Developing Relationship, POV LWJ, Minor Injuries, Autistic LWJ, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, aka the Madam Yu warning, Genius WWX, Light Angst And Hurt/Comfort, WWX Protection Squad, Gusu Lan Sect, Slow Burn, Protective LWJ, LWJ-centric)

🔒 Warming up (to him) by barisan (T, 9k, LQR & WWX, WangXian, Hypothermia, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Temporary Character Death, Medical Inaccuracies, YZY Abuses WWX, JFM Bashing, pre-wangxian, Good Uncle LQR, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort)

so i cut the shackles and changed my name by MichelleFeather (T, 9k, WangXian, LQR & LWJ, LQR & CSSR, LQR & WWX, CSSR/WCZ, WWX & The Lan Clan, WIP, WWX Leaves the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, WWX is a Lan, Good Uncle LQR, Supportive LQR, Protective LQR, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, JFM & YZY Bashing, Jiang Family Bashing, Abusive Jiang Family, Running Away, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Hurt WWX, Genius WWX, No Sunshot Campaign, Gusu Lan Sect Rules, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Cultivation Sect Politics, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Canon Divergence, Protective Gusu Lan Sect, WRH isn't a power hungry tyrant, mostly)

Just go forward like you mean it by tawaen (M, 101k, WangXian, WWX & WN &WQ, WWX & JYL, NHS & WWX, Canon Divergence, WWx does not attend the Wen indoctrination, WWX saves Lotus Pier, Inventor WWX, No Golden Core Transfer, Sect Leader JYL, JC Has No Golden Core, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, Not JC Friendly, but he gets a happier ending than canon so don't look here for bashing) WWX gets frustrated with how unconcerned JFM is regarding the Wens & ends up leaving. Features sect leader JYL

Dispersing Clouds by dreamingofcake (E, 283k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Abusive YZY, Canonical Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Eventual Sex, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm (Background Character), Background Character Deaths, child deaths, Canon JC, Good Uncle LQR, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Cultivation Sect Politics, Homophobia, Heteronormativity, Feelings Realization, WWX is Not Oblivious) WWX realises he's been poorly treated by the Jiangs & defects. However it could be seen as JYL bashing depending on how you define bashing. She does ignore her family's treatment of WWX & later tries to stop his wedding to LWJ, but she's portrayed as meaning well & just wanting to avoid conflict, & believing she is saving him from a forced marriage. Up to you whether that counts as bashing

13B)

🧡 Heaven Has No Rage by flipfloppandas (M, 51k, WWX & YZY, JFM/YZY, implied wangxian, WWX/WC, WWX/others, rape/non-con, modern, hurt/comfort, protective YZY, good parent YZY, hospitals, medical procedures, vomiting, trauma) focuses more on the immediate aftermath Wei Ying being raped but does touch on the beginnings of his recovery.

feast and famine by luckymarrow (E, 49k, wangxian, rape/non-con, aftermath of gang rape, modern au, trauma, PTSD, medical procedures, rape recovery, non-consensual drug use, hurt/comfort, angst w/ happy ending, mind all the tags) Rape/recovery and the ripples across the friend group. JYL is the glue that holds everyone together. It's a gut-wrenching, amazeballs fic.

~*~

14. Hii, I'm itmf some good coming of age fanfics!

🔒 Flowers Blooming by Ilona22 (M, 35k, WangXian, Adoption, Prostitution, Family Fluff, Family Drama, Growing Up)

A Life Without Regrets by naqaashi (M, 128k, WIP, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Crack Treated Seriously, musical cultivation, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Murder Husbands, Happy Ending, PTSD, BAMF WWX, Cultivation Sect Politics, Worldbuilding, Módào Zǔshī & The Untamed Combination, No Yīn Iron, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Artist WWX, Musician WWX, Bad Parent JFM, Bad Parent YZY, Cultivation Theory, Sentient Burial Mounds, Dysfunctional Family, Grief/Mourning, Parent-Child Relationship, Angry WWX, Angst, No Golden Core Transfer, BAMF LWJ, Idiots in Love)

🔒 Life is Like a Stranger by through_shadows_falling (T, 69k, wangxian, Kid Fic, Child LWJ, Child WWX, First Meetings, Canon Divergence, Cute Kids, Orphan WWX, Autism Spectrum, Fix-It, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Alternate Canon, POV LWJ, Growing Up Together, WWX raised at Cloud Recesses, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Puberty, Growing Up, Coming Out, teenage angst, Wet Dream, Pining, This fic gets a little raunchier as the kids become teens, But it won’t get too explicit, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Spanish Translation, Brief mentions/moments of WWX kissing others in chapter 22 but only on the cheek, also characters kiss WWX on the cheek in chapter 23, but his real first kiss is with LWJ, Перевод на русский | Translation in Russian)

~*~

15. Hey!!

So i was wondering if there are any fics where wangxian have a cute little couple’s argument..they make up in the end obv, i don’t really prefer heavy angst. Just a normal couple’s argument. @honestlyewww

tipping point by cherrywhiskey (M, 13k, WangXian, Established Relationship, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Married Couple, Married Life, Bickering, Idiots in Love, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Fights, Arguing, Making Up, Angry Kissing, Making Out, Modern AU, POV Alternating, Fighting)

you became my husband when i first laid my eyes on you by bunnylan (weiyingpretty) (G, 2k, WangXian, Modern AU, Modern Era, Fluff, Boyfriends, Cute, Tik Tok Challenge, Husbands, Established Relationship)

~*~

16. IMTF wangxian or any one of the two as (a) lawyers (b) teachers trying to hide their relationship from students (c) scientists (biologist, physicist, etc.) any kind

Thank you <3

16A)

🔒 a thousand fragile and unprovable things by theLoyalRoyalGuard (G, 5k, WangXian, Modern AU, Trans Male Character, Trans MXY, MXY Deserves Happiness, Best Dads Wangxian, Handwaving The Legal System With The Power of LWJ, A little bit of angst, mostly soft, Happy Ending, Gender Happiness, Let LWJ Wear Skirts Agenda, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note) Lan Wangji is a lawyer

Close to the Truth by Winglesss (M, 14k, WangXian, Modern AU, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Ugly Holiday Sweaters, Romantic Comedy, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Homophobia, Tooth-Rotting Fluff) Lan Wangji is a lawyer

Scapegoat by Anonymous (E, 216k, WIP, WangXian, Modern AU, Trials, Lawyer LWJ, Defendant WWX, Courtroom Drama, False Accusations, Criminal Investigation, Threats of Violence, Hurt WWX, Protective LWJ, Childhood Trauma, Murder Mystery, Pining, Soft WangXian, Slow Burn, Domestic Bliss, Happy Ending, Found Family, Bad Parent YZY, neutral jc, Good Sibling JYL, neutral lxc, Bad Uncle LQR, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, POV Alternating, Top LWJ/Bottom WWX, Pining while fucking, Belly Bulge, Gentle Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Neck Kissing, Eventual Smut, porn in chapter 15, Praise Kink, Homophobia, chapter specific TWs will be in top notes, Power Play, Power Imbalance, Wet Dream)

16C)

🔒 at first sight of the sun by sunflowersfield (T, 3k, WangXian, Modern, Coworkers, Fluff, Neurodiversity, Falling In Love, Getting Together, Happy Ending, First Dates, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort) Lan Wangji is a researcher at a forest preserve in at first sight of the sun

A Cyborg’s Three Laws by @joshua-beeking, FairyGardenCorgis (M, 194k, WangXian, Future, Cyborgs, Science Fiction, Science Boyfriends, Romance, Slow Burn, Medical Procedures, Surgery, Angst, Fluff, Humor, Eventual Smut, Hurt/Comfort, LWJ has RA, Idiot Friends to Idiot Lovers, Medical Assault, Dehumanization, obscene amounts of cuddling, Versatile wangxian)

~*~

17. Hi! I meant to ask this, but I think I haven't yet (it would already be posted otherwise). For the ITMF, are there any fics where WWX, post canon, gets transported timewise into the 13/16 years he was dead? Preferably only for a bit until he figures out how to get back, and while hiding his identity. Thanks for the help! @hikato-chan

Less Than Two Years by wenqing (maniafic) (T, 5k, WangXian, Time Travel, Post-Canon, but also canon divergent, in an alternate universe though, Minor Angst, mostly wwx confusing the kids)

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic recs #i'm in the mood for a fic #the untamed #wangxian fic search #wangxianficfinder #long post

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astrophileous · 1 year ago

Text

Love Bugs (Pt. 06)

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Female Reader

Synopsis: You and Derek Morgan have an arrangement. At work, your relationship is strictly business. Under the sheets, it's all about pleasure. Nothing more, nothing less. Until, of course, your feelings start to get involved. Your situation is complicated enough without the unexpexted predicament that suddenly befalls upon you. But with a maniac serial killer on the loose, will you ever get the chance to make everything right?

Warning(s): cursing--there's a lot of it--like a lot, psychopathic behaviors, being held captive, verbal and physical violence, degrading nicknames, talks of death and unaliving someone, strangulation, PLS READ WITH CAUTION BECAUSE THIS PART IS REALLY GRIM I'M NOT EVEN KIDDING

Word Count: 4200-ish

Tag(s): I'm tagging everyone who requested to be tagged prior to the long hiatus, pls tell me if you'd like to NOT be included in the tag list for future updates, thanks! @marvelousgoldroses @jay-2s-world @whore-of-the-pumpkin-patch @maxinehufflepuffprincess @cat-or-kitten @littleshadow17 @itzz-me-duh @geeksareunique @paisleebubbles @whateverrrrrrrrs @crazyunsexycool @louderfortheback @wifeyofeveryone

Author's Note: HI EVERYONE HOW ARE YOU?? I know this is long overdue, but pls enjoy the new part of love bugs! I'm so happy to be posting again and I hope you like what I've got in plans for this series. I think we only have one or maybe two chapters left for this story (depending whether I want to write an epilogue or not lol) but in the meantime, pls enjoy this part and don't forget to LIKE+REBLOG+COMMENT !!! thank you 🌹

Love Bugs Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

The bullpen of FBI headquarters was still reeling in the aftermath of a Derek-Morgan-shaped hurricane.

Emily was just about to enter the vicinity again when she heard the tail end of Derek's furious words, right before Hotch had ordered him to retreat.

"What was that about?" Emily asked as she approached Rossi's side, eyes never straying from the two men who soon disappeared into Hotch's office.

Rossi never addressed Emily's question. Instead, he gestured for her--and everybody else in the room--to be quiet with a finger on his lips, before he pressed the unmute button on the telephone.

"Hello?"

The UnSub's head jerked at Rossi's unfamiliar voice. You were barely successful in getting him to calm down following Derek's unexpected outburst, but the sound of Rossi's voice was threatening to throw all of those poor attempts straight out of the window.

"Who is that?" he demanded warily. "Where's Agent Hotchner?"

"He had to step away for a second," Rossi notified. "I'm SSA David Rossi. I also work with Agent Hotchner and Agent (Y/L/N)."

"I know who you are."

"Yeah? I still don't know who you are, though."

A responding groan vibrated from the other line. "Why does everyone keep asking me that? Do you think I'm fucking dumb?"*

"No one thinks anything here, pal. Just wanted to know who I was speaking to, that's all." At the UnSub's clear signs of agitation, Rossi quickly added, "It'd be nice to know the person who clearly means a lot to (Y/N)."

Rossi's reassurance obviously managed to trigger the intended effect it had sought. Everyone could see how the UnSub physically deflated at Rossi's words, meaning that hopefully he was soon going to let his guard down.

"I can't tell you who I am," your assailant said, still adamant, although his resolve was wearing thin with each word he had stated. "You're just gonna use it to track me down and keep us apart."

The last syllable of his sentence was emphasized by the weight of his dagger on the side of your neck. You instinctively winced at the unwelcomed touch of the blade before schooling your expression once more so your captor wouldn't notice.

"I promise you, no one is going to do that," Rossi said.

"He's telling the truth," you decided to chime in, surprising everyone including the UnSub whose grip of the dagger had teetered dangerously closer to your pulse point at the sudden proclamation. "They are good people. They don't break promises or tell lies. I promise you, nothing will come between us."

The silence that fell next was heavy with the UnSub's hesitation. Bracing yourself, you forced your head to tilt back, locking eyes with him who was still standing like a guard dog right behind you.

"I swear, Darling," you vowed.

The lull in your voice--or perhaps the fact that you had called him darling in front of your team, which he could arguably take as a display of affection--must have stirred up something in his twisted mind. He actually preened at you before his eyes went right back towards the direction of the camera on the wall.

"My name is Arthur," he confessed.

A particular thread of memory in your brain immediately lit up.

Back in the bullpen, JJ and Spencer were finally returning with documents containing your phone records that they had promptly asked Kevin to gather. Spencer didn't waste any time before perching himself on his desk to start rummaging through the thick pile of files.

"Arthur?" Rossi repeated the name, eyes flicking over to Garcia with a silent request to start cross-referencing the name with the other names they had acquired so far in the investigation.

The tech analyst didn't need to be told twice. She began typing furiously on her laptop as Rossi's attention was drawn back towards the projector.

The UnSub hadn't moved an inch. His hand was still just as sturdy on your shoulder. The blade was also still just as cold as it pressed onto your skin.

One wrong move, and you would end up no better than a slaughter animal on the cold hard ground.

"Do you have a last name, Arthur?" Rossi asked.

The entire bullpen held their breath in anticipation. Rossi had planted the bait as strategically as he could. It was up to the UnSub to take it and slip up the one information that would give them a major lead to end this case once and for all.

But before the UnSub could respond, a muffled beeping resonated in the air, through the telephone line, and finally into the bullpen. The sound was enough to make your assailant faltered.

"I have to go."

It was the last thing he uttered before the line, along with the livestream, went completely dead.

The atmosphere was laden with restlessness as everyone tried to make peace with the fact that they had just lost the only mean of communication they had with you. Without the feed from the livestream, no one could possibly know what was going on. The team would have no idea if something were to happen to you.

They would have no idea how to determine whether you were alive or dead.

"Did you find anything yet, Garcia?" Rossi questioned, although in all honestly, it sounded more like a desperate plea.

The thick regret behind Garcia's eyes gave Rossi the answer he needed to know.

"I can't find any Arthur in our files, sir," Garcia informed.

"Anything from her phone records? What about the hospital?" Rossi tried again.

Emily shook her head almost remorsefully.

"Nothing yet," Spencer spoke up from his place on the desk. "Not a single thing stands out from her records."

"What now?" JJ sighed, exhaustion and worry beginning to decorate the lines on her face.

The whole bullpen stood still, as if everyone was waiting for a slice of miracle to descend into the room, holding a map that would eventually lead the team to where you were still being held captive. But such a map didn't exist in this piece of reality, and the BAU knew that they were running out of time.

"Garcia, did you record the livestream by any chance?" Spencer asked at last.

"Yeah, of course I did."

Penelope punched a few keys on her keyboard before the projector once again came alive with the footage from the livestream.

"Can you fast forward to the very end?" Spencer requested. "And then play it again backwards to the beginning."

"What are you thinking, Spence?" JJ wondered.

"I don't know. I just... maybe there's a detail we missed. At this point, even the smallest piece of clue is worth pursuing."

Several pair of eyes glued themselves on the screen as the livestream footage ran backward at a faster speed. Bated breaths waited in tension for just the tiniest hint that the team could scour to determine your location.

"Wait. What was that?" Spencer interjected. "Garcia, play that again."

"What? What is it?" Emily spoke up.

"Look at her hand." Spencer stood up from the desk, approaching the screen to get a better look. "She's knocking against the chair. Garcia, zoom in on her hand. The left one."

Penelope did as she was asked. "Is that--"

"It's morse code," Rossi muttered, realization overtaking his countenance.

"What is she saying?" JJ questioned.

"A-U--" Spencer began spelling out loud, "--T... Auto. She's spelling auto."

"Auto?" JJ's forehead creased. "As in... auto shop?"

"Her records said she went to a mechanic a week ago," Spencer recalled. JJ immediately rummaged through the papers on Spencer's desk, but the pages flipping inside of Spencer's mind moved at a thousand times more speed than any normal pair of eyes ever could. "Dinozzo's Auto Service, 894 Southwell Street."

"Got it," Penelope chimed in from her place in front of the laptop. "Dinozzo's Auto Shop. Originally owned by Carlo Dinozzo before it was passed down to his two sons after his death a year ago."

"Any of them named Arthur?" Rossi asked

"Nope. Luca and Piero."

"What about the employees?" Emily suggested.

"No. I'm not seeing any Arthur anywhere near that place."

"We profiled that the UnSub could be holding down a steady job in his everyday life," JJ said. "He might not even be related to that place. Maybe (Y/N) encountered him there by chance?"

"Nah, I doubt it." Rossi shook his head. "The bastard's too sophisticated to leave anything up to chance like that. He must have found a way to orchestrate it one way or another."

"There must be a connection somewhere, then. No way he just chose a random place off the map," Emily muttered. "We should cross-reference the name to anyone associated with the Dinozzos."

Penelope began to frantically type something into her laptop. "We've still got three names here. Oh, never mind. Two names, 'cause one of them is dead."

"What do we have on them?" Spencer asked.

"First is Arthur Doyle. He went to high school with Luca and Piero Dinozzo, works in a local company, and looks like he travels a lot for his job," Penelope explained. "There's also an Arthur Harrison, works as an accountant in the heart of Arlington. His dad and Carlo Dinozzo were long-time pals. Apparently, his dad was an accountant too and used to handle the shop's finances before Arthur inherited the office. Oh."

"What? What'd you find?"

"Arthur was engaged," Penelope murmured, "to a Claire Dumont. They were gonna get married last year but the wedding was called off just one month before the D-day."

"Where's Claire now?" JJ asked.

"She moved to Ohio shortly after the breakup, and... oh my God. Guess what?" Penelope looked up, her eyes widening almost comically. "She just announced her engagement three months ago."

Spencer hummed. "That could be the stressor."

An image of a woman suddenly appeared on screen, right above the paused footage of your hand. Everyone stared at the picture in shock.

"That's Claire Dumont," Penelope murmured.

JJ held her breath. "She and (Y/N) could be sisters."

"We've found our guy," Rossi declared. "Garcia, pull up every known address associated with this man. And hurry, we don't have much time."

"I have three properties so far connected to Arthur Harrison. Sending the addresses to all of your phones."

As JJ, Spencer, and Rossi rushed to exit the bullpen, Emily turned around and called out to the others, "I'm grabbing Morgan and Hotch!"

Without stopping to knock, Emily pushed open the door to Hotch's office, ignoring the slivers of tension dancing around in the air.

"We may have something," Emily announced to the room. "We think we know where (Y/N) is."

Your assailant--Arthur, as it turned out--pulled his phone out and pressed a few buttons in, silencing the beeping. Once the noise was gone, the room was quiet again.

He looked at you, then. Piercingly. You squirmed underneath his scrutiny.

"Wait here," he eventually said. "I'll be back."

Without taking a second to breathe, Arthur flew past you and towards the direction he had appeared from earlier.

"Wait! Wait. Where are you going?"

The sound of steps ceased on top of concrete. You waited with bated breath for his response. But the only sound ever came was that of the metal door, and as quickly as you could count to three, he was gone.

At last, you were alone once more.

The traces of adrenaline had begun to dissipate out of your system, leaving you in a shivering mess inside that damp concrete room. Once again, you attempted with all of your might to free yourself from the state of confinement you were in. But the metal cuffs binding you to the chair only dug further into your skin the more you tried to escape, while the chair itself stayed nailed in place no matter how hard you tried to rock it.

After a few more minutes of futile attempts, you were forced to face the reality of your situation.

You were never going to get yourself out of that dingy place alone.

Huffing a breath, you knew that there was nothing more you could do except to hope that your team found the hidden message you had left for them to solve.

And with that last thought conquering every room your head, you let yourself succumb to the impending darkness.

You woke up gasping for air.

It took you a few seconds to remember where you were, to remember that you weren't back in the comfort of your apartment and instead, you were still holed up in the darkened cold room where your abductor had been keeping you captive.

It took a few seconds more to realize that the drowning dream you just had might have been a tad bit more real than you initially thought.

Still reeling in shock, you peered up and locked eyes with your abductor, eyes barely registering the empty bucket he was holding in one of his hands. It didn't take a genius to conclude that he was the one responsible for your drenched state.

"W-what?" you stuttered meekly. "What's going on?"

He only stared at you in response.

"Arthur?"

You shrieked loudly when Arthur threw the empty bucket against the wall, sending a resounding "bang" throughout the whole room and breaking the plastic object into two misshaped pieces.

"Arthur--" you gasped, searching for your voice that seemed to have disappeared beneath the layers of brewing fear, "--w-what... what are you... what's going on? Talk to me."

"I don't want to talk to you, you fucking bitch."

The beating inside your chest fastened. Before you could ask yet another question, Arthur had lunged forward, grabbing a fistful of your hair and tugging your head back so you could stare directly into his eyes.

"You're a fucking liar," he seethed. "You lied to me. Everything you said was a lie, wasn't it?!"

"I don't--" you hissed, trying to ignore the biting pain in your scalp, "--I don't understand what you're talking about."

"Stop fucking lying!!!"

A sharp smack reverberated in the air.

It was only when the ringing in your ear grew louder did you realize that Arthur had slapped your cheek.

Hard.

Ignoring the tingling on the side of your face, you lifted your head once more. The room was spinning, tilting your balance left and right, but you held your ground through it all.

"What did I lie to you about, Arthur?" you asked carefully.

He threw something at your feet. It clanged against the hard ground below before landing face up near your toes.

It was your phone.

But the fact that Arthur somehow had your phone in his possession wasn't what caused the sick feeling to stir northward in your belly.

It was what you were seeing on the now cracked screen of your phone: a picture of you and Derek. A selfie that you had impulsively taken of the two of you in bed after one of your nighttime escapades.

For awhile there, you had briefly forgotten about that photo. It was another lost memory in the ocean of rubble left behind in the wake of your fallout with Derek. Seeing that photo again after such a long time triggered waves of emotions that you had been desperately burying for the past few weeks.

The longing, the guilt, the heartache.

The regrets.

The regret of ending your little arrangement so abruptly in such a hostile manner. The regret of not telling Derek sooner about the baby. The regret of maybe never being able to see Derek for one last time.

But most importantly, it was the regret over not revealing the truth of what your heart felt for him that was eating you alive.

"You're fucking him," Arthur fumed, eyes blazing with an indescribable fury that made your entire body shudder.

"Arthur, please... I can explain--"

"Shut the fuck up."

He stepped forward once more, crowding your personal place and rendering you helpless underneath his psychopathic gaze.

"Tell me the truth, and if you dare lie--" Arthur paused, his hand disappearing behind his back before it appeared again with a dagger that he promptly pressed against your abdomen, "--don't ever dream of meeting your child."

"Okay. Okay, I'll tell you the truth."

"You're fucking him, aren't you?"

The bile in your throat had tripled in size. Swallowing it down, you tried to even your voice out as you answered, "I was."

"Ha," he scoffed. "I knew it. You fucking whore. You're no better than any of them."

To your relief, he eventually chose to retract the dagger and stepped away from you, opting to circle the room like a distressed lion in a cage. But even with the blade no longer touching your skin, you knew very well that the danger wasn't over yet and that things could escalate even further in a matter of seconds if you weren't careful.

"Arthur," you called out to him softly, slowly, as to not startle him and risk doing something that would trigger a psychotic break. "Arthur, please. You have to listen to me. That arrangement ended long ago. It meant nothing to me. It happened long before I met you."

Arthur's voice echoed coldly as he replied, "I don't believe you."

"Please, Arthur--"

"That's his child, isn't it?" he cut you off, pointing the tip of the dagger at your belly. "What he said on the phone. He said my child. That's because it's his. You're having Derek Morgan's child."

"No--"

"I thought you were different. I thought you were the one." The dagger in his hand shook with venom. "But you're just the same as the rest of them."

"I'm not. Please, I'm not--"

"I have to start searching again. For the one. You're not her, which means she's still out there."

"Arthur--"

"I'll have to get rid of you."

"Arthur, please!" Your voice cracked, leaking of terror and desperation larger than anything you had ever known. When something wet touched the side of your nose, you realized then that you had started to cry. "Arthur, you have to believe me. I've ended everything with him. There's nothing between us anymore."

The words you uttered kept lingering in the air in a bubble made out of despair. But as if every single one of them had fallen on deaf ears, your captor paid no attention to them. Not even a single acknowledgment to your pleas.

Instead, he had begun taking careful steps forward. Silent and deadly, like a predator stalking its prey.

"Arthur, please! I choose you!"

To your shock, his steps faltered upon your words.

For a moment, you could taste relief on the tip of your tongue before it was washed away by the knowledge that you were not entirely out of the woods yet. But from the corner of your eye, you could see the slight loosening of Arthur's grip around the dagger. It filled you with enough hope to push forward.

"I'm choosing you, Arthur," you stated confidently, trying to convince him of your sincerity. "I don't care about Derek. I'm done with him. I'm done with my old life and everyone in it. I'm ready to leave everything behind to be with you. I choose you."

"You choose me?"

"Yes. I choose you to take care of me. To take care of this baby. The three of us can be a family. How does that sound?"

Seconds ticked into minutes. Minutes stretched into a long silence. The anticipation threatened to break your chest in half.

When he finally began to move once more, Arthur surprised you. He threw the dragger towards a darkened corner in the room, far away from his reach and, most importantly, far away from the possibility of it harming the growing life inside of you.

When Arthur took off the ski mask he had been wearing since the first time you opened your eyes in that harrowing place, you weren't at all surprised to see the face staring back at you. After all, it was the same face belonging to the man who had stopped his car for you when your own car had mysteriously broken down in the middle of the road just around two weeks prior. The same face who offered a business card of his friend's auto shop where you eventually went to get your vehicle fixed.

In retrospect, you should have been at least a little bit suspicious by the whole ordeal, but was it really your fault for choosing to put your trust in the good of humanity?

You knew there was no point in dwelling over what-ifs anymore. Arthur would've found a way, like any psychopath would, and you would've still ended up being tied up in this dismal room with him.

"Did you mean it?" Arthur asked.

You put on your best fake smile before answering, "Yes."

He grabbed you in his arms in just two long strides.

You wanted to throw up. You hated the feeling of his fingers stroking your back. You wanted to kick him away and get this piece of shit as far away from you and your baby as possible. You wanted to rid yourself of the lingering smell of him that had now undoubtedly transferred into your skin.

And maybe, you would've done all of those things if it was only your life that was on the line.

Unfortunately, fighting back was a luxury you couldn't afford anymore. So, you were forced to stay quiet instead, letting your captor whisper sweet nothings in your ear as if it didn't repulse you even being in the same room as him.

You were close to counting towards the 200s in your head when, suddenly, a clanking noise in the distance ripped your attention away.

In a split second, Arthur had peeled his arms from around you and got back on his feet. You knew then that he must have heard it, too.

You watched as he stepped away, dragging a crate from one corner of the room and placing it strategically underneath the only opening on the walls. He got on top of the crate to allow himself to peek outside, but whatever he saw must have startled him greatly. Because the next thing you knew, he had backed away from the wall in the blink of an eye, face crumpling in what could only be described as panic.

"The cops are here," he managed to sputter out.

"What?"

Your heart was hammering inside of its cage. The cops are here. You realized then that the team must have solved the clue you left them. They had solved the case, and they were coming to save you.

Derek was coming to save you.

"What did you do?!"

In a moment of weakness, you had allowed yourself to rejoice in the promise of freedom that you momentarily forgot you actually hadn't possessed it yet. The slip-up was miniscule, but it wasn't fleeting enough to escape the attention of your captor.

"You tricked me!" Arthur's voice boomed throughout the room, carrying rage unlike anything you had ever known. "I trusted you, and you lied to me! Again."

"Arthur--"

This time, there was no room for negotiation.

Arthur didn't even waste a millisecond before he dove forward. He was a lion, and you were the deer. His sharp teeth were calloused fingers, and they dug into your skin as Arthur tightened his grip around your throat.

"You lied to me. You lied to me."

He repeated those words like a mantra, his voice drowned out by desperate gasps as you tried to scour for what little bit of air you could still revel in. Your feet and arms shook beneath their restrains. Your head pounded from the pressure that had gathered inside your skull.

In that moment, death was imminent.

You could feel it coming. You could feel its claws clutching every single drop of life that was still remaining in your bloodstream. It was a battle between the two, and unfortunately, death was winning.

As the dark spots in your vision spread into a massive blotch, you allowed yourself to say goodbye. To life. To the world. To the memories of your loved ones whose faces you wished you could've memorized one last time.

To Derek, the one who could've been, the one you wished had been.

And to the child in your womb, the one you wished you could've met, the one you wished you could've saved.

When darkness came, you expected it to be cold and unforgiving, but as it turned out, darkness was easy. Simple. It welcomed you into its home with open arms, shielding you from the cruelties of the mundane world.

As it pulled you deeper into its abode, you could faintly hear the sound of your name being called repeatedly. It sounded similar. It sounded like home.

But this was your home now, so without turning back, you allowed darkness to lead you further down the dim path. Away from the pain and the heartbreaks of life. Far from the evil that lurked in the streets behind their well-crafted masks.

In the darkness, there was nothing.

In the darkness, you were nothing.

And nothing was exactly what you were going to be.

526 notes · View notes

merakiui · 10 months ago

Text

[viii.] ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵘᵗᶜʰᵉʳᵉᵈ

serial killer!jade leech x female!reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, kidnapping/captivity, descriptions of murder/death, violence, strangulation chapter vii│chapter viii (you are here)│chapter ix

Today’s Thought - As biology would have it, the moray eel is cowardly by nature. Somehow this facet doesn’t apply to a certain someone. What he lacks in cowardice, he makes up for in cruelty.

The three days that follow the first feel like a blurred eternity, and you only know it’s been three because Jade’s explained your daily horoscope thrice now. The first: Do your best and your days will be fortuitous. You’re walking the path to success. The second: You may feel gloomy with the shifting skies. Rainfall may evoke sadness, but the secrets you hide from that important someone will seem even sadder. And the third (today’s prediction): There’s a chance you might find luck in uncertain situations.

These horoscopes might have provided you with a shred of relief if it weren’t for the fact that your slumber has been mostly dreamless ever since that last obscure nightmare, and so you don’t have anything to compare them to. No jellyfish. No strangers sitting at dinner tables. No blue hues for you to contemplate.

You’ve read through A Hiker’s Guide twice in the span of forty-eight hours, committing fungi facts to memory as if they’ll serve any purpose while you remain shackled in captivity. But it keeps you occupied and smothers any morbid thoughts threatening to spill into your skull. Which is what you really need right now—the sweet sense of comfort and contentment.

Jade upheld his end of your bargain yesterday when he poked his head inside the bathroom, presenting the white suit coat Azul had worn the night he faux-proposed. You kept your complaints to yourself, silently scorning him while he draped it across your shoulders. It’s an expensive brand sewn from luxurious fabrics you’d never be able to afford no matter how many extra shifts you pick up at The Devil’s Delight.

Out of habit, you’re attempting to calculate how many times you’d need to sleep with Azul in hopes of convincing him to buy you an outfit of equal grandeur. Your logic tells you multiple times for every pretty button and precise stitch, but your heart tells you it would only take a simple question and a sincere smooch to string him along. He opens his wallet for you as easily as you open your legs for him.

But that’s just part of the agreement, you remind yourself, petting the silky sleeve like it’s a cat. Stop thinking about him. Focus on other things.

You lift your gaze towards the door.

I wonder what Riddle’s up to. We were supposed to meet up on Saturday. He’s probably angry I couldn’t make it. Or maybe he’s worried I’m not showing up to work. Shaking your head, you scoff bitterly. No, he’s not worried. He’s Riddle. He never worries about distractions like me. He has everything laid out so perfectly. You toy with one of the exquisite cuffs on the jacket, twisting it between your fingers. I guess when you’re that meticulous you never have to worry about anything because, no matter what happens, you’re following a familiar schedule. So even if things don’t go to plan, you can just move to the next item on your list.

You slouch against the wall and sigh.

Maybe it’s better to live repetitive days. It’s boring, but it’s safe.

Before you can start weighing the positives and negatives to that thought, a noise from below resounds. You scramble away from the sink, mindful of your bandaged ankle, and force yourself flat like a pancake, your ear pressed against the tiles. The air is still, your breath is hitched, and then there are footsteps. Four in total. You assume he’s taking off his shoes because there’s a disconcerting quiet that follows. Seconds later, you strain to hear the door as it shuts and locks with a click.

And then there is more silence.

Something’s not right, you think, chewing your lip. Anxiety bubbles in your blood, volcanically volatile. He’s not coming upstairs.

You push yourself up onto your arms and retreat to the space between the bathtub and sink.

He always comes upstairs to check on me when he gets home. Right away. So why isn’t he? What’s going on? You shake your head and dig your nails into your arms. Don’t panic. Maybe he’s preparing another meal? But he usually eats before work. At least, that’s what he’s done with me ever since the first day. Maybe he didn’t have work. Maybe he went out to do something. But what? Cover his tracks? Kill someone? Make sure there are no witnesses from that night? Kill someone? Your grip on Azul’s jacket tightens. Relax. Take a breath and think about it logically. He can’t do anything rash. Not when he’s just kidnapped me. Someone must have made a missing report by now, so he has to be careful.

Your eyes slide about the room, inspecting the framed sketches once more. What if it’s the afternoon? He could make up any time he wants and I’d have no choice but to believe him. He could’ve gone out for lunch, or he met up with Azul for the daily walks we usually do. Right. Azul. He has to know something’s up. He has to… Wait.

The realization is glacial, stabbing through your skull mercilessly: He won’t suspect anything because disappearing like this is a routine he’s all too familiar with. In his eyes, I’m just—

Footsteps on the stairs shake you from your theorizing, and you brace yourself for the sight of him. You hope to shrink yourself to a size so small and imperceivable that no one, not even the most keen, cutthroat killer, could find you. You succeed in huddling in on yourself, a ball of tightened nerves just waiting to unfurl at the slightest hint of danger. Sweat beads on your brow and slithers down your spine. The hair on your body stands on end, as if expecting the swift strike of a terrifying tragedy.

Something’s not right.

The knob turns. There he stands in the sliver of space between door and bedroom, backdropped by dim lamplight. He’s dressed plainly in a black hoodie and sweatpants of the same color. It’s arguably the most casual you’ve ever seen him look. And in his arms, held bridal style and slumped like a boneless fish, is a woman.

Your gaze is drawn to the way her shirt stretches tautly over her abdomen—over the rounded dome that is her stomach—and dread crystallizes your blood. Suppressing a shiver, you meet his stare. A smile slowly crawls onto his lips, and then he steps deeper into the bathroom, pulling the shower curtain aside and lowering the woman into the tub. Tape is plastered to her mouth, and her wrists and legs are bound with expert knots. Just looking at her and the state she’s in makes you sick with discomfort.

“Who… W-Who the hell is that?”

“A roommate,” he replies, all too smooth. “It’s only temporary, so you needn’t get so territorial.”

There’s no way. He’s actually planning to…

Bile rises in your throat, and before you can stop yourself you’re leaning over the toilet to retch. Saliva dribbles down your chin, landing in the bowl below in a downpour of gross, acidic rain. A petrifying tremor shudders through your body, and you steady yourself against the toilet, coughing until tears gather in your vision and your throat aches. You smack your hand against the handle to flush the physical manifestations of your horror away. Down it goes, never to be seen again.

“Your little parasite doesn’t seem very fond of her,” Jade remarks, standing over you like a patient reaper of death. “There can only be room for one, no?”

You crane your neck to peer at him. “F-Fuck you.”

He smiles thinly, his eyes creasing with manufactured mirth. “It’s just a coincidence.”

“Coincidence, my ass.” With a dark scowl, you wipe the spit from your mouth with a shaky hand. You drag yourself away from the toilet, tasting residual vomit on your tongue. “You can’t hurt her. She… She’s pregnant, Jade. There’s no way you can—”

“She isn’t you. If I recall, I only agreed to keep you alive.” Jade slips his gloves off, drapes them in the basin, and then lathers his hands with soap. His movements are mechanically meticulous, as if these motions have been preprogrammed. Even the way he dries his hands is unnatural. Too prim. Too perfect. “As far as I’m concerned, she’s nothing like you.”

“Why? Because she didn’t kick your ass when you showed up to kidnap her?”

Jade exhales an amused breath. “Of course not.” His eyes frost over when he turns his stare on you. “She never got the chance. Besides, if my ass had been sufficiently kicked, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

“I hope you choke on a fingerbone.”

“That would be most unfortunate. I’ll be sure to eat carefully.”

Peering at himself in the mirror, he smooths his hair down. You didn’t realize it was tousled to begin with. Now that you’re looking, his entire person seems…messy. Even that stray strand falls on the wrong side.

He definitely didn’t go to work, you conclude, studying his features from behind. He’s too casual. It’s hard to imagine Jade in anything other than uniforms. Did he go out with that lady? Maybe not. He seems like the type to dress nicely for dates. So a sweatshirt and sweatpants… They’re both easy to move around in, and he’s wearing dark colors to blend into the night. Did he grab her when she was least expecting it? He said she wasn’t given a chance to fight back, so a struggle was nonexistent.

You shake your head, unsatisfied with your deduction. I’m missing something. His appearance is messy, but he’s always so clean. So why is he messy? This isn’t making sense.

“How’d you find her? You must’ve planned this in advance.”

“I assure you I’m not seeing other women behind your back.”

“Like hell I’m jealous, you creep.”

He chuckles and leans against the sink, his arms folding easily. “A magician never reveals his secrets.” “Magicians and murderers are two different things.”

“Aren’t they skilled in making things vanish? Both captivate their respective audiences as well.”

“Do you not see how vastly different the two are?” Groaning, you rest your head against the wall. “Did you seduce her?”

“Someone’s curious.”

“What’s her name? Do you even know where she’s from or what she’s been through? You’re taking an entire life away, Jade.”

“Two, actually.”

“That’s even worse! Do you hear yourself right now? You’re insane!”

“Has it ever occurred to you that your morals might not have any influence on what I do?”

He’s doing this on purpose. He could’ve brought anyone home, but it just had to be a pregnant lady.

“You’re sick.”

“Do you truly think so?”

“No sane, healthy person would do this.”

Jade feigns a sad pout and wipes nonexistent tears from his eyes. “To hear you say such things… My heart breaks.”

I hope someone chops you up, you lunatic! Then you can know what it’s like!

“So what’s the plan? She’s stuck here like me?”

“Not for long.”

“You’re really going to kill her?”

“Is that not obvious?”

You glance at the tub. I have to do something. But what? You look around the bathroom, eyeing the frames, the sink, the toilet, the walk-in shower, the tiled floor… Can I kill him? Shatter one of the pictures, grab the biggest shard of glass, and then—

Jade bends down to your height. “You needn’t look so pensive. There’s nothing you can do, and if you try anything I’ll be sure to slaughter you in the most gruesome way at the end of these nine months.” He smiles like it’s not the most sinister threat. “And I’ll watch you bleed out slowly while I cut your skin away in delicate slivers. So if you value a quick, painless death, do yourself a favor and keep your hands to yourself.”

You drag your legs into your chest. You sick freak. His eyes crawl down your face to observe your bandaged ankle. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

“That should be enough of a reminder.”

“I’m not stupid. I’m not going to do anything. I can’t.”

I want to, though. I have to.

But there’s the shackle and the chain, restricting your movement and trapping you in the bathroom. There’s also the very heartless serial killer, who values your life as much as one does a meal. Voraciously. That’s as far as his sympathy extends. He doesn’t care about you or your nonexistent baby. You’re not even a person.

To him, you’re just supermarket meat plucked from the street. The most dangerous game he’s ever hunted.

“Good to know.” Pleased with your submission, he rises to his usual height and makes for the door. “Does it hurt?”

“A little.”

“Allow me to retrieve some painkillers.”

“If it puts me to sleep—”

“Rest assured. I have no intention of doing that. Too much and you may never wake again. That, and I’d prefer a meal without unnecessary baggage.”

“Then don’t drug me if you want fresh, healthy meat.”

He says nothing, merely smiling in reply, and departs through his bedroom. You listen to his retreating steps and then, after determining he’s made it downstairs, you drag yourself over to the tub. You yank the tarp-turned-curtain aside and peer down at her.

“Excuse me?” You reach in to nudge her arm. “Miss, are you awake? Please wake up.”

She doesn’t stir. Your gaze sweeps over her face. She doesn’t look bruised or battered. In fact, she’s in much nicer shape than you were when Jade took you.

It couldn’t have been a date or any sort of formal event. Not by chance either… So what is it? What am I not seeing?

You stare at her bump and frown. I’m pretending to be in her position, but she’s actually pregnant. If anyone deserves to get out of this alive, it’s her and her baby.

You shake that thought out of your head next, replacing it with something detached. You have to be logical. In tragic situations, it’s everyone for themself. What if your roles were swapped? Would she feel the same? You’d hope so, but maybe she’d be just like you—someone who’d do anything to survive, even if that was at the cost of another’s sacrifice. It’s not fair, but there’s nothing you can do. She’s doomed.

“Fuck,” you mutter, curling your fingers around the lip of the tub.

I can’t watch an innocent woman die. I have to do something.

Footsteps draw near. You scramble to your corner. Jade returns with two tablets and a glass of water. You down the painkillers in one gulp.

If it knocks me out, at least I won’t have to see anything.

You rest your forehead against your knees. “I wish Azul was here.”

Why am I saying that? Do I really want him here? Maybe Cater would be better. Or Riddle. Anyone but Azul.

“My apologies. The withdrawal must make you feel immensely itchy.” He peers at the tub. You realize you forgot to pull the tarp back to its original place. “Consider this the beginning of your detox.”

“You’re selfish, you know that? I have my entire life ahead of me. I have—” you rub the cold sapphire set into the ring on your finger— “I had a wedding to look forward to. Someone I was going to marry. A baby! And you…” Before you can stop yourself, the tears are falling. Weeks of pent-up emotions overflow. You wipe hopelessly at your face, feeling pathetic for crying in front of him when he could care less, but the rivers continue running. “Y-You fucking took that away from me! And I can’t—it’s all so you can feed yourself.”

You dig the heels of your palms into your eyes and weep like a child. The voice in your head soothes you: You have time. You can still get out of this.

When you pull your arms away, you find Jade gazing at you. “If I’m as selfish as you say, what does that make you?” He pulls his sweatshirt up and over his head, and then you see it. The dress shirt.

A pit opens in your stomach. You feel sickness scraping at your throat again, and the sensation persists when he shucks his sweats next.

All this time, he was in formal attire…

“I have no interest in your affair with Azul. Rather, I find the entire thing quite circular. You were loosely attached once, but now you’re engaged. And then what? Are you going to run away when he does something unfavorable? You have the makings of a most atrocious bride.” Casually, as if this is a conversation held over afternoon tea, Jade folds the clothes and sets them on the towel rack. “I suppose that is just the nature of love. You return like the leashed pet you are and you let him love you because you are just as foolishly fond.”

That’s not true. You’re wrong. I don’t love him. I’ve never loved him.

“Ah, but this is just mere speculation based on what I’ve witnessed.”

“Stalker.”

“Not quite. Do you know how many times I’ve helped you—drunk, dazed, vulnerable you—and you never thought otherwise? I put you to bed. I did your laundry. I stayed by your side and cooked breakfast in the wake of your hangover. For so many years, I’ve beheld the (Name) who thinks she’s loved by all because she doesn’t love herself enough.” At your horrified expression, he laughs. “You like to babble when you’re inebriated. It’s very entertaining… What was it you told me a few months ago? That you’re a nothing human with an empty, ugly heart who isn’t worthy of Azul’s boundless generosity. That you pawn it for lust disguised as love because you can’t afford the real thing. That you—”

He sidesteps the glass you throw at him. It hits the floor and shatters with a splash. Glass shards slide across slick tiles. He watches you silently, his countenance unreadable.

“Shut up!” Odium darkens your face. You inhale a ragged breath, collecting what’s left of your tattered ego, and add in a shaky voice, “You don’t know me. You’ve never known me.”

“Perhaps not.” Jade leans down to smile at you. He’s close, but he doesn’t touch you. You challenge him with a mean scowl. “But I will soon.”

Before you can question that, a soft groan interrupts your discussion. Your head snaps over in the direction of the tub. Jade does much the same, only he moves slower. There’s a pregnant pause, tension crackling in the air, and then there’s movement. The woman struggles in the bath, her screams muffled against the tape. You wince, understanding her horror.

I know what that’s like.

Jade helps her sit up. She resists, shaking her head desperately and shrinking away from his hands as if they’re something monstrous. They are, technically. Her eyes meet yours then. Even though it’s a wordless exchange, everything you need to know shines on her tear-stained face. Her brows are pinched together in stressed disbelief. She’s trembling.

“If you promise to be quiet, I’ll remove the tape.”

Upon hearing that familiar phrase, you shudder. It seems to have the same effect on the woman. She looks at him and whimpers.

“P-Please listen to him,” you speak up, nodding encouragingly. “Don’t fight. It’ll make it worse.”

She spots your bandaged ankle and gazes at Jade with new terror shining in her brown eyes. They’re very pretty. Big and beautiful, almost like marbles. To think the last things she’ll ever see with such doll-like eyes are a hungry monster and a hapless captive.

Jade peels the tape off slowly and, unlike you, she keeps her mouth shut. A wise decision. You don’t want to think about what he might do to keep her quiet.

“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Jade sets the sliver of tape aside. “Now then, I believe introductions are in order.”

“I… I don’t understand,” she whispers, pressing herself against a corner of the tub. “Why am I here? You told me you’d take me to a doctor. Y-You said you’d help me—”

“He’s a liar.” You fold your arms over your chest and huff. The woman’s expression falls. “It’s not your fault. I thought he was good, too.”

“So then—I’m just—why am I here? W-Why are you here?”

Jade steps in front of you to block your view of the distraught woman. “(Name) is my housemate—”

“Not by choice.”

“Still a housemate nonetheless,” he continues. “You’re here because I’m in need of a meal.”

“You’re…hungry? Is that… You’re serious? Is that really what this is about?” She shifts awkwardly in her restraints. You feel bad for her, even more so when you catch the hope bleeding into her voice. “Then, if that’s the case, I’ll cook something for you and you can let me go!”

Jade shakes his head.

You peer past his legs at her. “He’s going to kill and eat you.”

He frowns at you. “And I was intending to bask in the suspense…”

“You’re the worst. Genuinely.”

“I don’t understand… You’re…” She looks between you and Jade. Her eyes gloss over with fresh tears. “You’re going to kill me…”

“Indeed. Ah, but don’t look so disheartened. So long as you continue being good, I’ll grant you a painless death.”

“N-No way… I… I don’t wanna die. Please. M-My baby—I can’t—”

She breaks off with a choked sob. You watch her crumble without a word. It hurts to see her shoulders shake with every rattling inhale. It hurts even more knowing you’re just as stuck but temporarily spared. You glance at Jade to gauge his reaction. Like always, it’s impossible to read him. He’s always been like that, even before you found yourself trapped here. Smiling so sweetly, as if he isn’t a murderer, he would speak to you like a normal person, tease you like a friend, care for you when Azul couldn’t. You were so certain he was your friend—not just by way of association through Azul either.

He hid it—this massive, life-altering skeleton—like an expert. How did you miss it? What did you fail to catch?

Nothing. Because he never gave any indication of what was locked up behind unassuming closet doors.

Now you know better. So does this woman.

“I won’t tell anyone. I promise I won’t, so please let me go. Please, sir. My baby…”

Jade remains unfazed. “(Name) already tried those lines. Care to guess how well they worked?”

Landed me nine months on death row.

She hangs her head in defeat. “I can’t believe it… I’m actually… This is it.”

You rest your head against the wall and sigh. Jade stares a moment longer before striding to the door.

“I’ll give you time to get acquainted.”

With that, he shuts the door. It’s very obviously a test. He’s probably waiting on the other side, listening in to learn what sort of incriminating information you might share. Not that it matters if she hears it. She’ll take all of this new knowledge to the grave or, in more literal terms, Jade’s stomach.

“I’m sorry you’re caught up in this,” you murmur, tracing invisible circles into the floor. “What’s your name?”

“M-Marisa.”

You glance at her. “It’s beautiful just like you.”

“Oh. Well, t-thank you.” She offers you a shy smile. “My mother named me after the sea. It was her favorite place to visit whenever she needed inspiration. She was an artist, and the sea was her biggest muse.”

“That’s sweet. I wish I knew the lore behind my name.”

“It’s still pretty without the backstory.”

“I guess so.”

I never really put much thought into my name. Does it matter if it’s pretty or ugly?

“Actually… It’s kinda ironic. I don’t like the sea. It scares me, so I stay away from it.”

“The sea itself or what’s in it?”

“Both?” She attempts an awkward shrug. “There are scarier things out there, but there’s something unsettling about the ocean. Maybe I’m silly for thinking that.”

“You’re not. It’s normal to be scared of things we don’t understand.” Like right now. But you keep that part to yourself. “I can’t relate. I love the sea. The lost history, the creatures, the mysteries… It’s all so fascinating.”

“Really? You’re braver than I am!”

“I’m just way too passionate. That’s all.”

Am I? I said I’d be a marine biologist and that’s what I’ve been studying all this time. But…

Marisa sighs. “You’re lucky. I’ve always wanted to find something I could be passionate about.”

“I’m sure you’ll find something one day.” And then you pause. “Or… Um.”

She pastes another hollow smile on her face. “I thought I could be passionate about school, but I couldn’t do it. I dropped out and tried a few jobs. Everyone told me it’d be easier to get married instead of running around like a headless chicken, but that didn’t feel right. I thought I’d be passionate about things like motherhood and babies, but I dunno. I’m already so far along, but I haven’t felt anything yet. No excitement or anxiety. Just emptiness. And I know that’s a terrible thing to feel and think—we’re supposed to love the things we create! I don’t even think I truly love my boyfriend. I’m horrible—I know!”

“You’re not horrible. The truth is—” You stop yourself before the words can slip out. I don’t love Azul. I’m not even pregnant. “I don’t know if you’ll ever figure any of that out, but I know you’re a good person. You obviously care about these things. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be so worried.”

Marisa sniffles. “Thanks…”

“I can help you find your passion. There’s so much to do in the city. I’m sure something will catch your interest. Oh! Have you ever been to Siren’s Heartache? It’s a karaoke place. My friend and I used to go all the time.”

“I’ve been there once!”

“It’s amazing, isn’t it? My friend would order the craziest stuff off their menu. He hates sweets, but he’d get all kinds of sugary drinks and snacks for the hell of it. Said it didn’t matter because it’d look cute on camera, so no one needed to know if he enjoyed it.”

“He did it for the pictures? That’s it?”

“Yep! He loves photography. He’ll do anything to make sure he gets the best angles and lighting.”

“Wow… I don’t think I could be that dedicated.”

“No? Then what about schedules? My other friend used to be on these super rigid schedules. I’m sure he’s still on them now, but back then it was really suffocating. He’s always been so organized, though. It’s impressive.”

“Isn’t that too restrictive? Doesn’t he have any time for fun?”

“Would that be better? A free life filled with ups and downs or a rigid life you can plan around?”

“Both sound just as bad.”

“Isn’t that just life?”

She breathes a sardonic laugh. “From a pessimist’s perspective, sure.”

“What kind of life would you want?”

“Is it bad to say I want something easy?”

“No fair. You totally stole my answer!”

“Then maybe we’re both bad.”

“Yeah…” You stretch your legs out and flex your toes on your good foot. If that’s bad, then I’m the worst. “I guess we are.”

She giggles. “You’re supposed to disagree!”

“Oh, oops. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I don’t think it’s so bad to want an easy life. If it were up to me, I’d want it to be like one giant tea party. That way everyone can come together for tea and tiny cakes.”

“And you wouldn’t have to work, so who cares if you’re rich or poor!”

“Exactly! There aren’t any expectations. You can be good or bad. Empty like me or passionate like you. It’s all just conversation at the end of the day.” She gazes at you, and her features relax into a real smile. “I wish we could’ve met sooner. You seem like a fun friend.”

Am I really? I feel like I’ve been nothing but trouble for Riddle and Azul. Even Cater…

You hum your acknowledgement before nodding towards her belly. “Have you thought of any names?”

“Nothing yet. I’m not very creative and I don’t want anything basic either. Something memorable would suffice.”

“Like your name.”

“Right! Only nothing connected to the sea.” Marisa chuckles sheepishly. “It wouldn’t mean anything to me.”

“Maybe it doesn’t have to mean anything significant. As long as it comes from the heart and you like it, it should be fine. At least, I think that’s how it works.”

“I have no idea. This is my first time.”

You nod. Somehow it feels like I’m indirectly lying to her…

“You’ll find a name that sticks one day. When you do, let’s get together and celebrate.”

“At the Siren’s Heartache?”

“Wherever you’d like.”

She gasps. “How about a tearoom? There’s this really cute one just outside the city. I go there all the time. The owners are the nicest people I’ve ever met! If we go, we can have our own tea party. You can bring your friend who likes photography. I’m sure he’ll get lots of pretty pictures.”

That’s impossible. We both know there’s no chance of—

“Marisa!” She startles at the urgency in your tone. You look and sound as if you’ve just cracked a cold case. “That’s it!”

“What is?”

“Your passion! Tea parties!”

“I always thought that was more of a hobby…”

“You can be passionate about hobbies. I’ve never gone to a tea party myself and I don’t know what that involves aside from drinking tea and eating snacks, but it sounds like a good time.”

“Oh, it’s the best time! I love dressing up for it, too. On nights when I knew I’d be going the next day, I arranged my outfit in advance. What jewelry I’d wear, what makeup I’d put on, what purse I’d bring… I could spend hours trying on my clothes and picking different pieces. And their afternoon tea sets—they’re everything! You have to try it if you go! I love their egg sandwiches. Well, everything they serve is delicious.”

Your lips quirk up in a playful grin. “See? You’re not empty.”

Stunned, Marisa sits there in the bath. “You’re right,” she mumbles. “I never realized it, but I love tea parties. I love talking with people over food and drinks. I guess it came so easy to me and I did it so often that I didn’t think anything of it.”

“Maybe we can add ‘socialization’ to the list of passions?”

She laughs, her hair bouncing with the movement. It comes right from her chest—authentic amusement—and it’s a musical sound. You wish there was another way. Jade may have shown you mercy, but you’re certain it won’t be the same for her. Even with these unlucky odds, you’re determined to try. It’s the only thing you can do. Try and hope that something goes well.

You gesture for Marisa to turn around. She almost questions you, but you hold your index up to shush her. She stares at you, her lips pressed in a tight line, and nods her understanding. As quietly as she can, she shuffles in the tub until her back is facing you.

“Hey, what’s this tearoom called again?” you ask as you reach for the biggest glass shard.

“It’s called Portobello.”

“Like the mushroom?”

“Mhm! It’s forest-themed. They’re famous for their chaga tea.”

“Huh…”

Of course it’s mushrooms. You glance at the door. Do you hear that, you freak? Sounds like the perfect place for a mushroom fanatic like yourself.

“Do you like mushrooms?”

“They’re okay. I don’t eat them often. I have so many other foods I prefer…” You trail off as you saw through thick rope with the jagged glass. “Actually, there was this one time I got fried chicken from the city. I was stupid drunk and nothing was open, so my fiancé took me to a convenience store. It was cheap, but it was so yummy! I guess everything is when you’re that gone… Anyway, he was so mortified when I woke up the next morning wanting more. That was the only thing I remembered from that night.”

“Why was he so embarrassed? I think convenience store food is great!”

“Right? You understand it.” You sigh and shake your head, recalling that memory with startling clarity. “Azul is… It’s hard to explain.”

“But you’re engaged?”

“I’m crazy, aren’t I? Marrying a man who gets flustered over fried chicken from the convenience store. He ate it in a fancy suit, too. What a weirdo.”

“He sounds funny.”

“The funniest. It was our first year together as…contractual obligations. He was so determined to make a good impression that he banned junk food from his life. We broke that dumb rule that night. I think that was the first time I saw the real him. He’s cute when he blushes.”

“Contractual obligations? Why not partners?”

You cough awkwardly. “J-Just an inside joke. He’s a businessman.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” She flexes her fingers just as you manage to cut through the first knot. “That’s sweet.”

“What?”

“You and him.”

“What about us?” Your hand hesitates, gripping the shard with new force. Any tighter and you might slice your palm open.

“You must’ve been so hungry, and he went out of his way to make sure you were fed even if it meant breaking his rule.”

“That was just—he hates having to owe people stuff. He was just repaying a favor.”

“My mother used to tell me a good man will visit for your best, but a great man will stay for your worst and everything in between.”

“I…guess.”

No way Azul likes me at my worst.

You shut your mouth and resume your previous motions. With her hands now freed, you lean over the tub to work on the rope binding her ankles.

“What about your boyfriend? You said you’re not sure if you love him?”

“I don’t know what I want. We’re happy being together without any rings or ceremonies, but I feel like that’s not enough. I feel like I’m not enough.”

“Maybe you should take your mother’s advice.”

“I will when you do.”

“H-Hey!”

She giggles. “I’m kidding. I think… I’m glad you have someone who cares. It’s no fun being alone all the time. Sometimes it’s good to share your peace with others, even if that’s getting fried chicken from the convenience store with a weird guy on a chaotic night.”

You laugh, but it comes out choked.

Yeah, Azul’s weird.

And then the first tear lands on her foot. It isn’t long before more rush forth, blurring your vision. You manage to cut her free from the rope just before it becomes impossible to see clearly. When you meet her stare next, she smiles. It’s strained with sorrow.

Why are you crying? She’s just a stranger.

You throw your arms around her and sob quietly into her shoulder. She runs her hand along your back. It’s meant to soothe, but all it does is remind you of the limited time you have with her.

I’m crying because she’s a stranger. Because she’s someone I’ll never be able to know more than this.

“Escape,” you whisper as you pull away, pressing the shard into her hand. “And when you do, wait for me and we’ll have our giant tea party.”

She nods, her eyes shimmering with sadness. “You can count on it.”

When Jade returns, syringe in hand, it’s to a room of suffocating silence. You’ve no idea what its liquid contents are, but it can’t be very pleasant or safe. Regardless, you don’t intend to find out. He steps through the door, looks squarely at you, and smiles. Your skin crawls.

Calm down. It’ll be okay.

“You took your time.”

“Did I? My apologies if I kept you waiting.”

“Have you ever had mushroom tea before?”

He pauses. “Mushroom tea?”

So he wasn’t listening in. Either that, or he’s just hesitating for effect.

“I’ve never had it before, but I’d assume someone with your palate would’ve tried it.”

He laughs humorlessly. “Is there a reason for this assumption?”

“You like mushrooms. Sounds like something that’d be right up your alley.”

“You would be correct.” Jade taps the needle, eyeing the liquid within the plastic cylinder. “I’ve had it before, yes.”

“Was it good?”

“Quite.”

His gaze drifts towards the empty tub and you panic. “W-Will you bring some for me to try?”

He blinks at you. An amused smile pulls his lips apart.

You can’t stop the scowl that forms on your face. “I can’t control what the baby wants.”

Just a little longer… Keep your eyes on me.

“I’d love nothing more for you to try it.”

“But?”

“But there isn’t nearly enough credible information detailing whether chaga is safe to consume while pregnant. It would be very unfortunate if you injured your parasite on account of my negligence.”

“Someone did their research.”

“Indeed.”

“So what’s a good substitute? I want mushroom tea.”

“Pouting about it won’t fix anything.” He reaches to pull the curtain away, and you lurch forwards. The chain rattles. You pause with outstretched arms. Jade watches you with a frown. “Is something the matter?”

You lower your arms. “No… N-No, sorry. Nothing’s wrong. I’m just…hungry.”

“As am I, so if you could stop stalling for her sake I would appreciate it.”

A bone-chilling cold blankets the bathroom.

Your laugh comes out brittle. “Who’s stalling?”

It happens so fast you wish it was slow motion. Maybe then your reaction time would’ve been better. Marisa springs out from behind the door just as Jade turns to view her. She shoves him with as much strength as she can muster, swiping at him with the glass shard. Somehow she manages to drive it into his arm. Taken by surprise, he grunts and shakes her off. The syringe clatters to the floor and you dive to snatch it before he can. With Jade temporarily thrown off, Marisa flees from the room as quickly as she can. You look on with wide eyes, the syringe clutched in a tight fist.

She’s doing it… She’s actually escaping!

Jade curls his fingers around the glass lodged in his skin and rips it out. Blood spurts from the cut, crawling down his arm in a red slither. The chunk rests on the tiles in front of you, and it fills you with a proud satisfaction knowing he’s injured, if only partially. By the time you’ve blinked, he’s already hurrying towards Marisa. She’s about to wrench the bedroom door open, her freedom just beyond the confines of his home, but he seizes her wrist and yanks her away.

Just like the syringe in your hand, your heart drops.

She yelps and twists in his hold, flailing blindly. The scene is eerily reminiscent of your scuffle with Jade—the one you’d gotten into when he revealed himself as the intruder in your apartment. You were drunk then, wholly incapable of fending him off, but Marisa isn’t. She has a chance. She can escape. There has to be a way for—

You watch her fall, cringing at the resonating thud as her back makes contact with the floorboards. Jade’s hands are around her throat before you even know it.

“N-No… Wait. Wait, stop!” You lurch towards them, but the chain only allows you to go so far. You strain against the pull, grabbing at the door frame in hopes of breaking out of the shackle’s restrictive hold. “Jade—”

Marisa’s choked gasp cuts you off. You stare at her hands as they claw at Jade’s in animalistic desperation. Her eyes are so wide you see white; her mouth is open in a silent scream. With Jade on top of her, pinning her to the floor and squeezing her neck with ruthless precision, she can only kick her legs out and produce a haunting garble of sounds as she battles an impossible enemy.

“Stop! Let go of her!”

You grit your teeth and tug against the cuff. It digs into your skin and leaves you aching from the sting. Tears sprout along your lash line, and you cry out in pained frustration. Your agony doesn’t reach Jade’s ears. Or maybe it does and he’s just tuning it out. You’re unsure until you catch sight of his expression. A blank, empty slate—that’s what he is. There’s something murderous smoldering in terrifying two-toned eyes, but his lips are pressed in a firm pout and his brows are pinched together. Not from any sort of distress but, rather, from the physical exertion. His forearms flex, every muscle riddled with tense adrenaline, and his fingers dig into her throat to cut her circulation.

From where you stand, struggling against your restraints, you think his pupils are blown wide. He looks predatory. Unhinged in a feral sort of way. Like a wild animal who’s just pounced on his prey…

A wild animal. That’s what he is right now. Something unbound by human morals and law. A creature led only by instinct—by the intrinsic desire to slaughter and feast.

“Jade!” You give another determined tug to no avail. “Jade, please—you can’t do this! She’s pregnant! She has a boyfriend—a life! You can’t!”

Your voice is shrill, scratching through your vocal chords as if it intends to shred them to ribbons. You’ve never heard yourself sound so panicked before. Never known the crushing devastation of being so close and yet so powerless.

No matter how much you scream, Jade continues to strangle her. You can’t bear to watch any longer. Sinking to the floor, you lean against the wall and press your hands to your ears. You don’t want to hear Marisa’s wheezing breaths. You don’t want to see her struggle. You don’t want to see Jade as he kills her in front of you.

You don’t want to be a witness. You want out.

After minutes of torturous asphyxiation, her thread of life is snipped and she finally fades away. Moments later, urine soaks through her shorts and pools beneath her in a puddle. You look up just in time to see him release her and rise to his full height. Heaving a sigh, Jade tucks his dark hair strand behind his ear. Marisa lies lifeless, a husk of the once bright, bubbly woman you interacted with before this. Now she’s gone.

“Y-You’re a monster…” you manage through thick, anguished sobs.

He killed her. She’s…dead. Jade killed her. I just watched her die and there was nothing I could do and I…let it happen.

“This could’ve been avoided. I was going to give her an easy death, but you forced my hand.” Jade steps around you to pick the syringe up. “Let’s add another rule to our list. Seeing as I’m not allowed to touch you, it’s only fair that you keep your nose out of my work in return.”

Dead… She’s dead. Marisa is…

“Does that sound agreeable, (Name)?”

There’s a ringing in your ears—the warning tick of a clock or the foreboding chime of a death knell. Amidst every overwhelming sensation and haywire emotion, self-preservation echoes in your head: I’ve got to get out of here.

You blink through blurring vision. Are you crying? Numbly, you touch your face. The tears are there, wetting your cheeks in copious amounts. Something’s scratching at the back of your eyes. It’s not enough to feel like sleep, but it’s a familiar sensation. You’re certain you’ve felt it before. But when?

You can’t stop crying.

She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead.

You suck in gulps of air.

I should’ve done more. I could’ve done more! There had to have been something—logically. You have to look at it logically. She was doomed to die the moment Jade brought her here.

You dig your nails into your arms.

We were going to have a tea party. I was going to help her find more passions. We were going to be friends…

You watch Jade bend down to her height and press two fingers to her neck. Suddenly, there are two Jades and both are tilting. He glances at you, but his words don’t reach your ears.

I was going to save her.

Your head hits the floor with a thump. The world goes dark.

Unlike previous times, the dream aquarium is bursting with life today. Moon jellyfish float peacefully behind sturdy glass. A manta ray glides smoothly through the water in laps. Fish of all colors and shapes are caught up in the current. The glow from the tanks dyes the hall in a cool ultramarine.

It’s quiet here. Safe. Comforting.

You’re lying on the floor, dressed in a clean hospital gown, and there is an entire galaxy of jellyfish above you. They’re set into the glass ceiling, their translucent bodies bobbing up and down in hypnotic patterns. You blink once and the blue brightens as if breathing alongside you. You blink again and this time a woman pokes her head into your visual field. Her milky-white eyes, though piercing, don’t frighten you. She blinks one eye at a time and her irises explode with color—now a vibrant green. Her long, black hair is tied back in a braid that sweeps over her shoulder. Tiny stars are twined throughout.

When she speaks, she has the same voice as the woman from the intercom.

“Today’s color is blue. As vast and wide as the sky and sea, as deep and dark as water’s soul, blue is the color of trust and sincerity. It is the color of bruises and sadness. It is the color of loneliness. It is the color that has finally led me to you.”

You stare at her, spooked speechless.

“Hello again, (Name).” She smiles and offers her gloved hand. “It’s been a while. Many years, in fact. I thought I’d never be able to catch you.”

You hesitate. Can you trust her—the woman you’ve spent so many dreams pursuing? There’s no one else here in this hall. She’s your only option. Swallowing your fears, you grab her hand and allow her to hoist you to your feet.

“My name is Marmoris. Ah, I must inform you that I’ve taken the form of someone familiar, so please note that this isn’t the current me. My true form is…not very pleasant. I wouldn’t want to startle you with it.”

“The current you? Your true form?” You draw away from her and bump into the tank behind you. Turning around, you gaze at the image slowly forming within murky waters. It’s…Jade’s bathroom. And there’s Jade, stooped over Marisa’s corpse. He’s looking at you next. You place your hand against the glass, but the scene doesn’t disappear. “W-What is this? What’s going on?”

Marmoris joins you at the tank. Her reflection warps with a myriad of aquatic traits. At one point, you think you see fins where her ears ought to be—shadows of wispy tendrils where her lab coat once was. “You’ll have to forgive me. There was no other way. You’ve already seen too much.” She shuffles closer to you. Her hands cover your eyes next. “Please don’t look. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.”

You squirm out of her hold. The picture presented in saltwater clouds in and out of clarity. “Protect me? I don’t understand. What do you mean by—”

“There’s not much time. I can’t keep you in here any longer than I already have.” She grabs hold of your hands and squeezes them. She looks sincere enough, but you can’t get past the fact that, though she claimed to take on the appearance of someone familiar, you can’t recognize this woman’s features.

She’s a stranger.

Before you can protest further, Marmoris leans in close and presses a kiss to your forehead. Her lips are frigid. The transient security of the desolate dream aquarium melts away, taking you with it.

“I promise I’ll explain everything the next time we meet. When we do, look for me. I’ll be waiting.”

You jerk awake with a gasp. Your hands fly to your throat on instinct. Slowly, while catching your breath, you peer around the bathroom. Marisa has been moved to the tub and Jade’s in the process of cleaning the floor. He glances at you. His arm is bandaged.

“Welcome back.”

You shoot him a withering look. “Eat glass and die.”

“Wouldn’t that please you?”

“It would,” you whisper weakly, more tears spilling over. “It really would.”

For the first time in a while, you can’t recall any slivers of your dream.

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