#detective mc au

[anonauthorsworkshop]

helloo, i stumbled upon ur mha x scp au and AHDSIHDSGISDGJ UR WRITING??? IS SO GOOD?? (also im new here hi, can i be 🎭 anon) more mha x scp au pls /nf tho

hii 🎭 anon :) i get a lot of requests for this au haha, sure!

previous part here

AU where MC is transported into the MHA universe with a SCP-summoning quirk. essentially a MHA and SCP crossover. you can read the rest of the parts under the tag #pp mha au

(note: i have never watched or read mha in my life and all of my knowledge is from fanfics and lazily googled questions! sorry in advance for any mischaracterizations or anything that just... doesn't make any sense? lol)

-

You lean forward, nearly falling off of your chair in the process. Squinting your eyes into narrow lines, you focus on one, crucial objective:

Trying to figure out what the hell is sitting right in front of you.

He looks like a cat, sort of. He reminds you of Josie, or, well, 529, with his feline-esque features and all.

Oh, you really should summon Josie here again sometime. It's been quite a while since you last have. That cat makes a good cuddle buddy. Even if she's missing the entire other half of her body.

You hum in thought, continuing to careen forward from your chair. No! This thing across from you is nothing like Josie. His ears look more like a bear, like 1048. Or could he be a dog? No, no... You've got it! He's definitely a rat!

Leaning back, you return to a proper sitting position and internally applaud yourself for finding the solution to your own ridiculous question. A rat, you think to yourself, face smug. Reminds me of a certain mask that drips black snot.

Wait a minute. The satisfied expression you adorn falters as you inspect the rat closer. What if it's not a rat, but a mouse?!

No, you're getting sidetracked! You take another bite of the banana you have graciously been given by your... captors? Do they count as captors if you willingly went with them?

The clearing of a throat. "Excuse me. If you could please answer the question..."

Oh, right. They're not really your 'captors,' just your interrogators, (that provide you with free food, might you add).

"What was the question again?" you ask, before not-so-elegantly stuffing the rest of the banana down your throat. You couldn't help but cave into your stomach's hunger; you haven't tasted this quality of fresh food in years! No more scavenging for meals or rummaging through garbage bins!

The man in uniform raises an inquiring eyebrow. You examine the badge attached to his right breast pocket: 'Detective Tsukauchi.'

He gestures to his side. "He asked you for your name."

Your eyes follow his hand's movements, and you find yourself gazing at the rat once more. "Oh, I wasn't paying attention." You admit shamelessly, grabbing another banana from the bowl placed before you. "I'm Y/N."

"Pleasure to meet you, Y/N." The rat smiles. You absentmindedly nod in response. "I'm Nezu, the principal of U.A. High. The man beside me is Detective Tsukauchi," you glance at the final stranger, "and this is Aizawa, a teacher at this school. He is also the one who found you. We would like to ask you some questions, as you are already aware."

"Sure," you comply, shoving another banana into your mouth. "I don't mind."

"How old are you?"

"Fifteen, I think."

"Who are your parents?"

You shrug, nonchalantly reaching for another banana. "Don't have any."

Nezu's grin widens slightly, and you watch him place a paw below his jaw. "Would you be comfortable telling us about what happened in that alley?"

Cocking your head to the side, you carefully peel off the banana's skin. "Which one?"

The detective speaks up. "The one you were found in."

Chewing another bite of your food, you tap a finger to your chin in thought. "Well, I was asleep until I heard a bunch of noise." Slowly, you turn to Nezu, replicating his ear-to-ear smile as you dramatically retell your experience.

"I looked up from my home, my beloved alleyway cardboard box, and saw two groups of people fighting. I decided to hide in my box until it was all over, but then one of them crashed into my home. They crumpled my box, and my hiding spot was revealed! The two groups started arguing about 'gang territory,' or whatever, and one of them decided to use me as a hostage and pointed a gun to my head."

You sink your teeth into your banana once more, oblivious to the horrified looks from every adult in the room.

"Oh, but it was fine," you casually continue, mouth half-full, "since, you know, I took care of it and all."

"When you say that you 'took care of it,'" the detective asks cautiously, "do you mean that you used your quirk?"

"My... quirk?" You scratch the back of your neck. "I guess it's my quirk? Don't know too much about 'quirks,' to be honest. I've never been to a doctor, or whatever specialist you go to for checking those out."

"Could you describe to us what it was that you exactly did?"

You gulp down the rest of your banana before replying. "You mean, in that alley? I summoned, or, like, conjured up one of those, uh." You pause, replacing 'SCPs' with another word to prevent further confusion. "Creatures? One of those creatures."

Tsukauchi looks you in the eye. "These creatures that you summon." You glance at the detective's hands, and you notice that they're trembling. "What do they do? What do they look like?"

"Usually I summon them to help and protect me." You explain with a shrug, "Oftentimes I encounter people who want to hurt me for some reason. There's a bunch of, er, 'creatures,' that I can summon, and they don't typically look like your perception of what's 'normal.'"

You continue, "There are endless possibilities, really. One looks like a teddy bear, just covered in human ears." Tsukauchi's eyes widen, as if his suspicions have been confirmed. "There's some that are long and bony. Some of them have these gigantic claws and razor-sharp mouths. Some of them are all gooey and acidic-"

"I believe that's enough." You turn to the side, taking a brief glimpse at Aizawa, who is standing beside you. Those were the only words he's spoken this entire time.

Turning back to the other two, you're about to grab another banana when you catch sight of the detective. You stare awkwardly, your hand paused mid-air. He seems to have completely spun on his heel to face away from you, hands clutching the wall as he gags and dry heaves. You scoot back in your chair uncomfortably.

"...And you do not have a home, correct?" Nezu stands up from his seat, approaching yours.

"Well, I did, but like I said, my cardboard box was destroyed because of those two rival gangs, or whoever they were."

"I see." He raises a paw so as to pet the top of your head. You clumsily bend down in your chair, allowing the two-foot-tall principal to reach your height. "We can arrange something for you. You may stay in a personal dorm here for free, if you would like." He smiles, "So long as you attend this school, the police force has also gladly agreed to erase your criminal record!"

You gawk at him. "C-criminal record?" Well, you guess you usually do end up leaving a mess of dead bodies behind, but it's always in self-defense!

"You should know it is illegal to use your quirk unlicensed and in public, Y/N."

Surveying the room, you dart your eyes from person to person. In the corner of the room, the detective, who is on the verge of vomiting up his insides. The man beside you, Aizawa, who refuses to look at you. The one standing in front of you, Nezu, who is blackmailing you, but is also offering you free shelter and free food...

You huff, grabbing Nezu's paw and shaking it wildly. "It's a deal, then."

[elfqueen006]

Suspect Apprehended

Notes: Slasher/Detective AU by @themeatpit37 . Basically, May is a detective in this. We chatted about this a little and in a burst of inspiration I wrote it while I was getting my hair done. I also did a LOT of googling for 80s accurate info admittedly lol

Content Warnings for use of a gun, gun abuse(?), implied/referenced murder.

---

"Finally caught your ass..." May pulled up in front of the apartment, a new fervor boiling up inside her. Her shotgun rifle in the passenger seat screamed in the corner of her vision. It'd be too heavy. That was a great excuse. It'd look great on her tombstone.

He's not going to let me point that big ass thing at him. She'll have to make him look at it. He's gonna have to.

It takes three seconds to reload. Every one unaccounted for marks her end. So she better make it count.

Call for backup.

...Call for backup.

It was a blow to her pride, yes. But she didn't have time to play renegade. She wasn't even really a cop, not on paper. She was technically a civilian until faced with an angry parent or love one, blaming her for not following an obvious lead - an obvious trap- No. No. No...

She unclenched her fists and leaned back in her driver's seat. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. "Don't get mad, don't get mad..." said May. Don't get mad at the parents. Don't get mad at the police. Don't get mad at the world. Hell, don't even get mad at the killer. "...When you're mad, you're not thinking."

May stepped out of the car and looked around. By the grace of God or Lady Luck she saw a phone pole. There was no one else on the street, but people chattered in the apartment. Laughing kids, arguing couples, and raucuous druggies. They're so unaware to the monster residing with them. Or maybe few had caught on for some time and just... didn't care.

She knew better than anyone, having lived in her own shitty apartment - sometimes it benefit most to simply mind your business.

Maybe she should have ignored this case. God knew before this, she hadn't bothered to contact either of her sisters. Only Hailey had reached out every so often. It was only because of common decency that she came by to get a 411 on her missing sister. And truthfully, she should've pegged him from the start. Everyone should have, but Eileen wouldn't have given anyone a reason to. It was one of the primary reasons they grew so distant beyond obligatory babysitting and message passing. Pride. And what little Hailey had of that, she made up for in humility and kindness. And if she hadn't that, May was sure none of them would be aware of the others existence up to this point.

The wind blows hard, snapping her out of a daze. She checks her pocket lint and thankfully gets out a ripped ten dollar roll. When she deposits what little of it she has and waits for about three rings.

"Gallagher residence."

"Yeah, this is Davis. I'm outside the suspects house."

---

She's faced with the door. Once again, there's no one around. But the hallway is so vast and there's so many sounds... don't think about that.

May raps the door three times. "Open up." No answer. The rifle is heavy in her other arm, but sure enough it's damn near apart of her. And she's not letting it go for any reason.

She knocks again, damn near rattling the peeling walls. "Open up. I'm with the police."

There's some faint footsteps and then a series of locks coming undone. Yeah, you would you bastard.

Joseph Haberdae opens the door. He's a tall, pretty thing with wide set shoulders and a thick frame. Dark eyes and coiffed hair. To those that didn't know him: a dreamboat. To people like her that knew better, The Sunny Day Killer.

But it was too soon to make that call. She'd startle him into slamming the door in her face. Then that'd be it. He'd probably flee the city. Or worse, he'd stay and send her the bones of whatever unlucky kid decided to ride their bike next afternoon. He'd mock her like he always did. Even now he was mocking her by feigning surprise. You expected me, didn't you, you son of a bitch?

"Can I help you?" He asked.

"Joseph Cullman? I have a warrant out for your arrest."

He looked her up and down, "You have a rifle at your side. I don't think I'm in any position to refuse."

"You're right. You aren't." May said. And that's literally what the warrant is for so you couldn't do shit anyway.

"Show me the warrant." She held it up to him. He eyes it with a scoff. "Cullman isn't my name."

"I'm aware you went by Cullman up until you were around seventeen or eighteen. There was never a documented legal change with any sort of court, you simply started using an alias for your old high school. Right? Haberdae?"

Joseph gave her a long look. May resisted a chill from having his dark eyes look through her. They were fascinated, evaluating, and probably seeing all the ways he could tear her apart.

"I-"

His large hand shot out and gripped her by the collar. May was ripped from the hallway floor and thrown across this man's kitchen in a single move. She hit the hardwood floor. Her vision swam by the swift assault and harsh impact.

"Caught me, yeah?"

At the last second, Joseph's loafers came down on her face and shoved her head over to look at him. "Yeah?" He had a wild look in his eyes now. May moved her arm to get some leverage, but he kicked her over. She cried out.

"You're the spitting fuckin' image of her, you know that?" Eileen.

"It's just the mole." May bit out.

"No, no. It's the almond shaped eyes. The...the green irises. Granted hers are a little brighter. But yeah. You look like her." Joseph huffed.

May looked up at him to glare, "You take a course in genetics or something?"

Joseph grinned and knelt down. He gripped her by the hair and forced her head back to look at him. His breath smelled coppery and tart. Her nose scrunched up in disgust.

"Does being a smart ass make you feel like you have some control in this situation?"

"No."

"Aw... at least lie a little."

May glanced at the rifle. It'd fallen next to her, just out of arms reach. There's no way Joseph didn't catch it. "Oh, you think you're gonna shoot me?"

You arrogant-

"No, I know I'm gonna shoot you!" Before he could answer, May reached up and swiped at his face repeatedly, nails digging into his skin and puncturing his eyes. He yelled, jerking back and loosening his grip on her hair. It was a split second but she pulled the butt of the rifle to her and fumbled with the grip before cocking it. Joseph had pulled her back to him but the iron grip she had on the weapon wasn't yet to wane. She held it assuredly as he jerked her by the hair and held a hand over her neck. May waved the barrel his way and pulled the trigger. The closeness of the blast startled him away, giving her an open to scramble from his grip.

She pulled up in time to see him lunge again. "Get the fuck back!" she hated the crack in her voice as she screamed.

"You ever held a gun before-"

"Shut the fuck up! I'll shoot you in the fucking face, I swear to God!"

He was a huge fucker. And she had to check her backseat multiple times to make sure she had the right size and amount shells to take him out. But reinforcement should be down the street. She had to make it count.

"Reinforcements are coming in less than five minutes and you will be detained. Any funny movements and I'll shoot."

Joseph sneered, "Oh really? So because your technically a civilian you think a cops punishment don't apply to you?"

"Cops don't get punished. They get laid off." May cocks the foreend. Joseph laughs. He laughs and it pisses her off.

Don't. Get. Mad.

"... you said less than five minutes." Joseph said.

"I did."

"How long do you think it'll be before I snatch that barrel and bang your head against the wall. You'd be out cold before they knocked on my door." Joseph said coolly, "And by the time you come to you'll be stripped bare. Wrists bound. Probably on a dirty floor. Probably in the bathtub. Your call."

Crazy as he was, she was sure he'd take that chance. Even with the barrel of a gun pointed toward him. He'd take that chance. He was just that crazy.

May took a deep breath and turned the gun toward the bare wall next to her. If she knew anything about apartments, the layouts were likely the same. She noted the idle chatter of a couple nearby. They didn't seem to stir after hearing the sound or her rifle go off.

Blam. Ker-chuck. Blam.

"Oh, what the fuck!?"

"Oh my fucking God, Jerry!"

The man's voice, likely "Jerry", banged on the wall shouting various cuss words and insults. "I will call the fucking cops!"

Ker-chuck. Blam.

The woman's voice shrieked. "Jerry!!!"

"You motherfucker!"

May pointed the barrel back at an astonished Joseph. "It's their problem now. They're stirred up. He should be coming around with his girl, right now."

"Jerry be careful!"

"No I'm giving the fucker a piece of my mind-" Footsteps rounded the hallway and banging ensued on Joseph's door, rattling it. He cursed under his breath.

"No one can just ignore it now. And the police won't miss your door by the time they get here."

"Get the cops over here Carrie, call the fucking cops!"

"You still wanna try and kill me? Get yourself one last hit before you go down." May taunted. The vein throbbing on his neck was proof enough of his agitation. But she couldn't get cocky, no. Even if she riled up the neighbors, there was no guarantee they'd stay long enough to get follow through on their threats to call the cops.

And unless Joseph was as bloodthirsty as he portrayed himself, there's no way he'd follow through on killing her before the cops came, now that the attention was on his door. Even if she died, she won. Because this was a game to him. And May could tell he was the type of person who really hated to lose.

---

May watched the trial on TV. She recorded beforehand and bought out as she went home. It wasn't as satisfying as she thought. Clearly, Joseph was milking his exposure for all its worth. He recounted his...exploits... with perverse glee and smugness.

Officers were placed around the courtroom, holding back various agitated peoples from dog piling him. In the corner there was one man who even came at him with a hammer. And in the middle of it all was poor Hailey. Disheartened and confused, like Alice in the Queen of Hearts court. Terry, bless his heart, had been with her the entire time.

It almost pained May not to be there. But she was adamant on being done with the case. So she instead, provided a written statement for a cop to use.

She rather enjoyed the sneer on Joseph's face when her name came up. She took a bite out of her burger and kicked her foot out, "Your call, bitch."

[thewayhavenchronicle]

Prompt, if you’re taking them: “please. Please just listen to me” for whoever!!

so this got away from me jfdkls

Rating: T+ Pairing: Ruth Bihari x Ava du Mortain Word Count: 1557 Content Warnings: Referenced CPTSD & Panic Attacks 10. "please. please just listen to me."

"Ruth."

Ava's heart pounds in her chest like it's trying to break through her ribs, aching to throw itself into Ruth's arms.

The woman in question doesn't look up from the cut on her hand, watching the blood drip downward as if in a daze. Ava waits another heartbeat, and then clicks her tongue, moving forward to wrap a dishtowel around Ruth's hand to help stem the bleeding. Her touch is gentle as she cradles the injured hand, kneeling carefully in front of her, avoiding the pieces of broken glass from the shattered pitcher she'd dropped trying to wash it.

Ava goes still when Ruth flinches, heart rate spiking fiercely as the air suddenly smells of adrenaline and fear. She looks up at Ruth's face, apology already falling from her lips, only to find that Ruth still isn't looking at her.

"Are you... afraid of me, Detective?"

"—what?"

Her voice comes out in a rush, and her eyes finally come up to Ava's face, leaving the mess on the kitchen floor. Ava leans away a little, trying not to flinch at the wild-eyed terror in those deep, dark brown eyes. Her breath is coming fast and ragged, and her gaze darts away a moment later, back to the shattered glass, which she immediately tries to go back to cleaning up.

"I'm — I'm so sorry, Ava. I don't know what happened. I'll clean it up, I swear, I —"

"Ruth. It's alright," Ava murmurs, unsure of what sort of state has come over her. Ava reaches out and curls her fingers under Ruth's chin, nudging until Ruth looks at her again. "It wasn't important. What's important right now is bandaging your hand."

Ruth shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut with a rough sigh. "No. No, it doesn't matter. I need to clean it up."

"What do you mean it doesn't matter? Of course, it matters. You are injured. That matters far more than whatever it was that broke."

Confusion crawls up her spine like the tickling feet of insects when Ruth doesn't even seem to hear her. Ava tries to get Ruth's attention again, cupping her cheek and watching the way she reacts, sighing heavily as her eyes drift shut, brows drawn low. Ruth leans into the touch, reaching up with her uninjured hand to hold Ava in place as if she is trying to ground herself.

It's almost an exact mirror of their positions after the House of Mirrors a few months ago.

Though the part of her fighting valiantly to remain numb screams at her to pull away, to leave Ruth to handle this herself, the part of Ava that is overwhelmed with affection has her staying still, stroking her thumb across the detective's cheek to swipe at the few tears that fall from her eyes. She can hear as Ruth's heartbeat starts to even out again, tension seeping from her frame the longer they sit together like this. It's not long until Ruth slumps on the tile, head bowed as she lets out a ragged, heavy sigh.

"...sorry."

Ruth breaks the silence with a barely audible rasp, hard even for Ava's ears to pick up. Long, dark curls fall into her face as she leans forward a little more, clearly trying to hide. Beneath Ava's palm, she can feel Ruth's face start to heat up even more.

A moment passes, and then Ruth leans back again, tilting her head back and avoiding Ava's gaze. Ava watches as a wall slides into place behind her eyes as she pulls Ava's hand away from her face. She huffs a half-hearted, bitter laugh, shaking her head ruefully as she moves to press on her wound with her good hand.

"You ever think you've buried something so deep that you surely don't need therapy or anything else to get over it?"

...well.

Ava almost wants to laugh at the question, but she doesn't want to break this strange atmosphere hovering over them. Ava has been cagey about her own past — of course she has — but Ruth has been just as non-forthcoming about her own. She isn't related to anyone they know the way Saoirse is, so she's been a bit of an enigma since they met 8 months ago now.

Ruth sniffles, using the towel soaking up the blood on her hand to protect her skin as she sweeps the glass into a pile. Clearing her throat, she sighs softly and says, "Can't tell you how many times me accidentally breaking something because someone startled me got me in trouble as a kid. My dad — well, my stepdad, he wasn't my dad — he used to..."

She trails off, frowning deeply as a memory passes behind her eyes. She shakes her head as if trying to shake off the cobwebs of the memory.

"Cops have a saying in some places that if you beat someone with a phonebook, it won't leave bruises. I... don't know if that's true, but he was always careful to leave the bruises where my clothes would cover them. Same with my mom, before..." she clears her throat, sighing harshly. "Before the incident."

Ava reaches out and gently nudges Ruth's hands away from the pile of glass. She's a little relieved when Ruth lets her take over the cleanup, shifting so she's leaning against the cabinet, elbows resting on her bent knees as she tries to keep pressure on her hand.

Once the glass has been thrown away, or at the very least just set aside where it won't cause any more damage, Ava returns to her place in front of Ruth, settling on her knees in front of her. Ruth's eyes stay on her hand, even as Ava dips her head to try and catch them.

"The incident?" she presses after another beat of silence.

Ruth hums, lips curling into another bitter smile. "Mm. My stepfather murdered my mother when I was 16. I found her in a puddle of her own blood, surrounded by shards of broken glass. She —" Ruth hisses, letting out a sharp breath as her face shifts into a glare. "I could barely recognize her. It — broken glass can remind me, sometimes. I guess when I cut myself it made me... remember."

"...that sounds incredibly distressing."

Ruth snorts. "Only a little. I'm used to it — usually I'm alone when it happens. I'm just sorry you had to be here to see it, small as it was."

"Why?" Ava's brows draw together, and she is still frowning when Ruth's gaze darts up to hers, peeking at her from under her lashes. "You have nothing to apologize for, and yet you keep doing so."

Her eyes drop back to her hand as she shrugs. "It's not worth getting other people involved. I'm — I'm not really worth all that fuss."

"Not worth it?"

Ruth chuckles softly. "You can't seriously expect me to believe that I'm as important to this team as Saoirse is. I'm not special — I'm just stubborn as a mule and too smart for them to easily get rid of me."

"You're not — you really think —"

Ava's jaw snaps shut with an audible click when she stammers. Ruth isn't looking at her, eyes fixed on her hands, brows still slightly pinched at the middle. Her dark curls fall into her face still, curly fringe falling into her eyes where it must have gotten wet when she dropped the dish. Sighing shakily, Ava inches closer, reaching out to brush her hair from her eyes. Ava's touch lingers against her skin when Ruth's eyes close as if to enjoy the moment, leaning into the touch as Ava brushes the back of her knuckles against her cheek.

"Please—" Ava starts, and then cuts herself off, gritting her teeth for a moment. Forcing herself to relax, Ava focuses on her hand as it settles against the side of Ruth's neck, feeling the way her pulse jumps at the touch. "Please, just... listen to me."

Ruth's eyes open and find Ava's, drawn together as if by gravity. They look at each other for a moment — Ava watches Ruth's eyes as they drag across her features, lingering on her lips for long enough that Ava's lips begin to tingle with the knowledge of the attention.

"You are... You have become an integral part of us, Ruth. Saoirse as well, but you were the one who had the greatest hand in tracking down Murphy. You were the one who found Saoirse when he took her. You were the one who had the most contact with the leader of the maa-alused." Ava shakes her head, eyes wandering over Ruth's beautiful face. "You have a place within my—our heart that no one else could have. Do not let that voice in your head drown out the reality of our situation. I... we need you."

Ava's eyes have long since dropped from Ruth's, focusing on her own hand on Ruth's skin instead. She watches Ruth swallow thickly, releasing a quiet, shaky breath as her good hand reaches up to loosely grip Ava's wrist, nudging her hand until she cups her cheek again.

Ruth's eyes dart between Ava's, back and forth as if she is looking for something... and then she smiles a little and turns to press a kiss to the heel of Ava's palm.

"...thank you, Ava."

I love you.

[onedayimgonnasnap]

Should I make a detective MC AU series?

Like where the MC before coming was a really good detective and had their own team and company?

[dukewrios]

girl when three of her yumekuro oshis' third cards don't have any confession scene but every other character that has a third card already confessed

[grapecaseschoices]

unasked for otp answers

I’m bored so im just going to do this for my twc ships. I might do it for my other ships too, i don’t know. I don’t feel like writing but i want to talk about my blorbos.

Who would end a heated argument by defending their actions with ‘because I love you!’ ?

 Valdam: Neither of them. If it had to be one, it would probably be Val. It would be semi-intentional or not at all, and it would be entirely desperate. For all that Adam is like ‘tu omina’ and ‘do it for me’ I don’t think they would use an ILU in that moment …

Kate: Nate! AND Kendis would learn him good. He would NEVER PULL that shit again. 

Nai: Nat. Kai would tolerate it better than Kendis would

Feirre: Pierre. It would probably be more a whispered statement, like a confession and an apology. IF he ever did this. I won’t put him as a hard no, because while it’s not fully his vibe, he is his mother’s child.

Mandy: Andy. lmao. And he would deserve Mason punching him (only because he would say it in such an infuriating manner to deflect, lmao). 

Clown Romance: Ava is the only person who would tolerate this from Nathaniel. Because Alexis would’ve already left and Kendis would be too busy giving him the finger. But Ava would pull an uno reverse with a ‘do it for me’ or ‘I’m doing this for you’ and NATHANIEL WILL LEARN FINALLY HOW IT FEELS. 

Which one is more protective? Who needs to be ‘protected’?

This might be a bit of a cop out but all of them need to be protected, and all of them would protect the other, in different ways. Even Misters ‘this is just casual fucking’ Andy & Mason. 

Describe their cozy night in.

Mandy: Sex. Eventually it’ll just be them being quiet old men, lmao. The activity will matter less than the fact that they’re doing it together, silence. Adult parallel play. I can see Andy taking up reading to Mason

Tareq x Ava: Watching soap operas and board games. 

Clown Romance: I could see Kendis cooking, Nate cleaning up, Ava and Alexis setting up. Alexis picks the music or the entertainment. Dinner and a movie brought home. Maybe a trivia night? Three fourths of that polyam is heckin competitive. 

Would they build a pillow fort together just because?

Feirre: Yes. Felix wouldn’t even have to ask that hard because Pierre would be so soft over how excited Felix is at the prospect (and it wont cause destruction soooooo). But Felix might regret it, because Pierre would get pedantic about measurements. It’s cool though, because Felix will be able to distract him and tease him. And sunshine man would win again.

Clown Romance: Yes. Even Alexis and Ava. Why? Because Kendis said so. 

Do either try to hide their emotions if upset? Can the other still tell?

Kelendis: Yes. Yes. *hums ‘lucky i’m in love with my best friend* 

Who’s the bigger tease?

Tareq & Ava: Tareq.

Feirre: Felix, but Pierre gives a good run.

All my N ships (why do I of all people have three N ships???) it’s Nat/e except for Clown Romance where my money is on Alexis. 

Valdam: Adam, haha. LMAO. 

How do their personalities compliment each other? How do they clash?

Valdam: They’re both pessimistic, lol. They’re both pragmatic and logical (surprisingly I know, in Val’s case) individuals. It is hard to describe it – but it isn’t so much they expect the worse, though they can, as they’re not fully surprised about the darker or more selfish aspects of others or the world. It’s a sorta ‘okay …’ / almost take it as it comes attitude. I’ve always said Adam’s acceptance of Val’s more “mercenary” side is what really has them working. They’re both very prone to justice and that drives them. Val is more duty-bound than they give themselves credit. I think Adam would encourage them not to approach it ironically but I think Val would bring back a zest to it for Adam, that sort of focus on the little guy and less what the agency-wills. They’re also both lonely and broken creatures, lmao. Though they have their teams, thankfully. 

They are both stubborn. Val is impulsive, prone to childishness, and can lash out emotionally while Adam overthinks, is highly serious, and draws inward. They both strive to ‘annoy’, in a sense, when upset or … annoyed themselves. Adam being condescending, Val being a brat/raccoon. 

Kate: They’re both very determined and optimistic. They’re the supportive type, the shoulder, the one that encourages. They take their responsibilities seriously and are hard-workers. They’re both homemakers. That said, Nate is infinitely more driven by his heart than Kendis is by hers – she’s big-hearted but she’s more wary about things than he is. So, he’d definitely encourage her to open up but she’d pull him back from getting his bleeding heart chopped up. They both love fancy and spending, but Kendis can balance a checkbook and is thrifty. So Nate would learn. 

Kendis is infinitely more stubborn than Nate. He’s also more romantic, in general but specifically in terms of what they’re both looking for at the moment. Kendis has a temper and a mouth on them, and I feel that would cause trouble if the game was darker. 

Do they always say 'i love you' before leaving?

Tareq & Ava: Tareq, obviously. 

Feirre: Felix, but Pierre catches onto the habit too. Maybe not as much as Felix, but he expresses it in other ways. 

Can they stay up all night just talking?

Kelendis: I’ll say yes. But more Kendis with the chats.

Feirre: Yep. 

Who's more likely to pull the other in by the waist and kiss them passionately?

Nai: Nat. But Kai DOES have his moments.

Tareq & Ava: Tareq. 

How likely are they to have fur babies? How many and what kind?

Feirre: Yes. I think Felix convinces Pierre when he sees how the cats in the building love him, so they get one cat. Ends up loving Felix more, but Pierre doeesn’t mind. 

Clown Romance: So many. Any kind Kendis can get their hands on. Once in their original ‘verse they adopted an extinct lizard (brought back to life by magic) and brought home a creepypasta deer and everyone had to be like YOU CAN’T KEEP IT KENDIS, and they were like I KNOW. but …. Did they? Did they really know?

Choose one song that perfectly describes their relationship.

Nai:  The More I See You by Nat King Cole

Feirre: Maybe not 100% but 90% Someone To You by BANNERS

[sadrockandwaltzes]

Saw AU (PLEASE CREATE)

The Saw franchise characters but in the plot of Rear Window (the Alfred Hitchcock movie)

[shepherds-of-haven]

WOUAGHHHHHHHH I'm both so happy and so sad that this lovely, wonderful, thrilling story is at its conclusion!

It's been so wonderful to read every bit of The Long Burning Torch! 🥺 I can't believe it's been going since 2021! I could easily read more... and more... and more... but I'm so proud of our babies Red and Xaeryn, they finally did it and I'm so HAPPY!!! This was a perfect wrap-up to their adventure in every single way--thank you so much for sharing this excellent novel (!) with us all! 💖

The Long Burning Torch ch 10

It's heeeeere! Final(!!!) chapter of my @shepherds-of-haven 1920s fic. Ty to Lena for her amazing characters and the Summer AU event in 2021 that kicked this off, and to @emeraldgreaves for being my obscure info diver when I didn't have time to replay large chunks of the game looking for details <333 ---

The walk to Whitestone Couriers was blessedly uneventful. Xaeryn neither needed nor wanted more excitement today. Tonight. Even more fortunate than the quiet walk, Mr. Syndran was just emerging from the building as she reached it.

He paused with one hand on the door, leaving it half-open. "Miss Shrike. Should I take your arrival at this hour to mean what I think?"

She tapped the blanker box tucked under her. "I found it, safe and sound."

"Excellent!" Mr. Syndran wasn't the type to be described as beaming, but he certainly looked pleased as he pushed the door open. "Though I do have to wonder why your first instinct was to bring it here at this hour."

"I gambled on your or Ms. Aerin working late," Xaeryn explained as she followed him to his office. "With how long it's taken to track this darb down, I thought you might want it secured as quickly as possible." I didn't want to risk holding on to it any longer than I have to, God only knows what baloney might happen. Jarkyth did get away...

"You aren't wrong there." He leaned his walking stick against the edge of the desk and gave her a keen look. "Miss Shrike, you look nearly dead on your feet, sit down."

"You aren't wrong there," she said wryly, dropping into the chair he indicated without protest. Which was a mistake; she could feel exhaustion dragging at her as the adrenaline finally faded. Hopefully she'd make it back to her feet. "It's been a long day."

"Then I'll try not to make it that much longer." Mr. Syndran set down his keys and turned to open the safe. "But I would be interested in hearing at least high points of your success."

What made it take so long to find, in other words, she thought running a hand over her hair. "It was stolen by the king of Elinden, who fancies himself the rightful owner and planned to use it as proof of his connection to the land as he established a stronghold in the Jalis desert." Xaeryn handed over the case with the Torch and leaned forward, steepling her fingers. "He also seemed to buy all the... mythology surrounding it; believe it offered luck and protection."

"Hmm," Mr. Syndran sniffed. "Superstition..." He opened the case and nodded in satisfaction seeing the Torch within. The case itself caught his attention, and he examined it for a moment, as if he could tell there was something special about it.

"Belief is a powerful thing," Xaeryn shrugged. "Whether it's truth or folly." She rubbed the back of her neck, still sore from tussling with Heron. She was going to be very stiff come morning. Hate to think how that would've gone with him at full strength. "They'd found a place to hole up in Ashtown--"

"Of course," he snorted as he set the case in the safe and spun the lock.

"--using an abandoned warehouse," Xaeryn continued, stifling a yawn. "But we were able to follow some of King Kaza's people, find and retrieve the Torch" --and Red-- "and catch... most of them."

He tensed. "We?"

"Free agents and the Shepherds," she clarified with a wave of one hand. "Not the buttons; I remember my contract."

Mr. Syndran pursed his lips and returned to the desk, sitting in his chair. "You say most were apprehended...?"

"Unfortunately, the... financier slipped away while we were subduing the king and his brunos," she said carefully. She didn't want to go blabbing everywhere the Western Hierophant was involved. "He stood to gain valuable trade contracts from helping pull this off, but decided to cut his losses when things started turning against their success."

"Hmm, a pity. But you recovered the artefact, as contracted, and caught most of those responsible." He opened a drawer, withdrew his checkbook, and filled one out to pass to her. "The rest of your base fee." He watched her stifle another yawn as she took it. "I presume you would like some rest and time to collect receipts before we settle the reimbursement of incurred expenses?"

"You presume correctly." She had most things documented together already, but she did want sleep. She confirmed the amount, shifted to tuck the payment in her handbag--

--and was abruptly(rudely) reminded her handbag was still laying in one of the warehouse hallways. Damn it all, she didn't want to go back there. Not tonight. She just wanted to sleep. "And I presume you'll want that in the books as a separate expense from my fee, in case any questions are raised?"

"You presume correctly." He folded his hands an studied her. "I do have some meetings tomorrow, and will now also have to arrange returning Solimer's Torch to the Hall... Does eight thirty work for you?"

I'll make it work. She wanted this done with before she and Red talked, mainly to minimize the risk of being interrupted. But given how tired he'd looked, she was probably safe until eight thirty. "Yes, that'll be fine. Now, if you'll excuse me...?" She pushed to her feet.

"Of course, Miss Shrike." Mr. Syndran rose as well and bowed his gratitude. "I thank you for a job well done, and release you to go get some sleep."

"Thank you. See you tomorrow." Unfortunately, there was one more thing to do before she could sleep. Some of the things in her handbag were too vital to leave laying in a warehouse all night. Xaeryn sighed as she exited the building and retraced her steps to Ashtown.

---

She didn't find her handbag, which was highly annoying, despite looking both where she dropped it and in the surrounding area. She even peeked in a couple of the rooms to make sure it hadn't been kicked off somewhere in all the bustle. Still no luck, which left her with hoping one of the Shepherds or Briony or someone had found it and planned to return it. She was too tired to tear the whole warehouse apart, no matter how annoying it might be to replace some of the contents.

Fortunately her keys still hung around her neck, so Xaeryn was able to get in her place.

To find she had a visitor--seated behind her desk. With his feet up.

"Hey, sunshine," Chase Trinaeste grinned.

Xaeryn was too tired to do anything but stare at him and wait for an explanation, one brow arching.

His grin widened. "Oh, apologies; Miss Shrike."

"Chase. What can I do for you?"

He straightened in her chair. "Heard you just closed your big case. Made quite the ruckus, actually."

"I imagine it did." Xaeryn crossed her arms. That was fast. "Doesn't explain why you're here."

"Just settling accounts," Chase said, still grinning.

She'd figured as much. Couldn't this wait for morning? "I remember our arrangement," she said around a yawn. "One favor, as you did help, but I ultimately found what I was after though other avenues."

"Smart dame," he chuckled.

"I appreciate your help regardless," Xaeryn clarified. "Whatever your motives for giving it."

"Very smart dame." Chase pushed to his feet and headed back to the window, still open from his entrance. "Just make sure you keep remembering, Miss Shrike. Thieves Guild will, and we'll collect someday."

"Oh, I've no doubt of that."

He grinned at her deadpan comment and gave a dramatic bow before he vanished out the window.

Xaeryn pushed it closed and double checked the lock. It's always something with this job... she mused, heading for her bedroom. Too tired to even bother with nightclothes, she kicked off her shoes and flopped across the bed. out before she could even wrap the blanket around her with dim thoughts of not moving until she absolutely had to.

---

The internal clock that was gift and curse in equal measure woke her at eight, fortunately less sore than anticipated. Just enough time to freshen up, change, and maybe eat a little breakfast before Mr. Syndran showed up. Something simple like toast and jam. He would understand if she was still drinking her khav when he arrived, surely.

In high spirits from her success--among other things--she decided to wear the dress she'd eschewed the day before; golden yellow with red and navy embroidery. No need for trips into Ashtown or blending in or foot chases today. And if the dress happened to look fantastic on her, well. A gal was allowed to feel good about herself, especially after a success like last night.

Xaeryn dressed, then freshened up her hair and makeup while the breakfast was toasting. She had time to eat while tallying expenses, but was indeed only halfway through her khav when Mr. Syndran's familiar knock came against the door.

He entered when she called to him, inclining his head as he closed the door behind him. "Good morning, Miss Shrike."

"And to you, Mr. Syndran. I'm just about done with the expenses if you want to look it over."

"You've figured me well," he approaching to sit in one of the chairs facing her desk.

"It's just good business sense to verify," Xaeryn returned with a smile. She took the plate into the kitchen while he studied the ledger lines for this case.

He was frowning at one particular line when she returned. "Contract TG? Could I get some details on this expense, Miss Shrike?"

Xaeryn sighed and braced herself. She'd expected him to zero in on that; there weren't many expenses claimable for this, and that one was more than twice all the others. "Once my evidence pointed toward Ashtown, I... arranged to have Thieves Guild look out for anything hinky. It's their haunt, I figured they would note things I--or anyone else--might miss."

Mr. Syndran's expression flattened. "That strikes me as an unnecessary measure, Miss Shrike, and I don't see how it is our responsibility to finance you outsourcing yours."

"I understand there's... fraught history between Merchants and Thieves Guilds," Xaeryn said with a tight smile. Doesn't mean I'll let you weasel out of paying something I'm owed. "But they gave me information that led to the warehouse where I recovered the Torch. Without their help and knowledge, Mr. Syndran, I would still be looking. And you would be approaching the point of needing to contact the proper authorities, thus damaging your guild's reputation as you sought to avoid," she pointed out. "I'm only asking for partial reimbursement; I recognize the choice to use them was my own."

She didn't mention the pleasure Chase had derived from knowing this exact scenario would arise. It wouldn't improve Mr. Syndran's mood or her odds of getting paid back.

His lips thinned. "Oh, very well. Is this the full amount, or the percentage you're claiming for reimbursement?"

"Full amount. I'm willing to take fifty percent, cover half of it myself."

He nodded, still looking displeased with the fact, and continued through the expenditures. He didn't bat an eye at the 'asst. bribes' or standard fuel reimbursement for the drives to Capra. However much she'd enjoyed bumping gums with Red, those were case-related trips, and there was law on the books far as rate went for reimbursing that.

It did surprise her when he raised less fuss over her including partial reimbursement for her gala dress than he had the Thieves Guild contract. But then, she'd attached a receipt for that and it was clear she'd both bought the least expensive dress she could get away with for such an event, and wasn't asking for all the money back. She was keeping the dress, and if she ever attended anything that fancy again, could re-wear it. And it had gotten a bit mussed when that bruno came after her, she couldn't have returned it if she wanted to.

"You know, I went to the Hall before here," Mr. Syndran commented as he confirmed her arithmetic and wrote the check. "Curator Acquell was most effusive in her thanks for the return of the missing artefact."

"Glad to hear it." Xaeryn tucked the check in a drawer thanks to the absence of her handbag, then smiled when he lingered, hands folded atop his walking stick. "Did you want some more details of the recovery, Mr. Syndran? Or do your other meetings beckon?"

"They do, but I have some time to hear more specifics of last night's events." He gestured for her to go on.

"Alright, then." She settled in her chair and began with Red's abduction, through her scrying and trailing King Kaza. It was tricky to balance explaining Briony and Darius' involvement without being too detailed. They had been instrumental, but she didn't know how comfortable they'd be with her oversharing. Mr. Syndran listened to all the details with rapt attention, and Xaeryn had a suspicion he gleaned from the words far more than she actually said.

He rose at the end, satisfied expression still sour at the edges over the Thieves Guild involvement. "A thrilling chain of events, Miss Shrike, and one I am most grateful resulted in your success. You did a fine job in this case, and I will keep you in mind should I ever require similar skills in the future."

"Glad to hear it made a good impression." She rose to shake his hand. "You were definitely one of my better clients, one I wouldn't mind working for again should the need arise."

"High praise from one with your reputation," Mr. Syndran chuckled. He shook her hand then bowed. "Farewell, Miss Shrike."

Xaeryn returned the bow. "Farewell, Mr. Syndran."

She walked him to the door, inclined her head in a final farewell, and waited until he'd started down the hall to close the door and return to her desk.

Her khav had gotten cold while she was recounting the night's events. She pursed her lips but decided there was little enough left to be no great loss and set it aside. Now to decide if a nap or some other method would be best for filling some of her time until Red came by. Given she'd--potentially--lost another notepad, there wasn't much she could do for case wrap-up. Maybe a nap was the best option...

She was startled awake by enthusiastic knocking on her door. Apparently the deliberation had been taken out of her hands.

"You can come in," she called, rubbing her eyes and stretching until now-sore spots complained.

The door banged open and a familiar pink-haired figure grinned at her. "I'm glad you were here!"

"Where else did you imagine I would be?" Xaeryn asked drolly as she stood and circled the desk.

"I dunno, the museum or your client's office or something." Briony shrugged. "Glad I didn't hafta chase you down; I have somethin' of yours." She thrust out her hand, clasped around Xaeryn's missing, somewhat scuffed, handbag. "Hope everything's there, though I did take out my little ahfuri," she laughed. "Hope that's alright."

"Of course, and thank you so much." Xaeryn couldn't help a smile as she took the handbag. "I realized I lost it after I left, went back to look--"

"Oh, I'm sorry I took it so you wasted the time, then." Briony's expression screwed into something remorseful and she tugged her ponytail.

"No, no, I'm glad it was with someone trustworthy, rather than just laying there." She poked through to confirm none of the important things were missing.

"That's what I was figuring," Briony said with a relieved laugh. "Wouldn't want some goon findin' it when I could keep it safe. And I know where your office is so I could bring it back."

Driving license, PI license, dagger, notepad. All here. "Thank you, again." Xaeryn set the handbag on her desk. "So, what plans do you and Darius have now that King Kaza is arrested and no longer in possession of Solimer's Torch?"

Briony grinned fiercely. "Still a wonderful string of words to hear, even if I was there when it happened." She wrinkled her nose. "And Jarkyth breezed."

"That's how it plays out sometimes. And you were a key part of making it happen as well as it did," Xaeryn corrected.

"Yeah, you're a gem," Briony waved off the praise. "We'll hafta go back to Elinden, fan this in to somethin' worth deposing that muti as king. Then sort out succession." She grimaced. "Might be headin' for another civil war, which isn't great, but even if it comes to that, hopefully we'll end up with someone better in charge. But..." She hesitated, bit her lip. "I was talkin' to the Shepherds, y'know, last night, and it sounds like they do good work. Lots of adventure. Stoppin' people like Jarkyth and Kaza. I dunno, maybe once Elinden's settled I'll be back." She smirked. "Hael, I'll even bring D with me if he wants and behaves himself."

Xaeryn chuckled. "Is that even something he's interested in?"

"Dunno, we'll have to talk about it." Briony shrugged and twirled her ponytail. "But Elinden's our home, and we've been fightin' for it a while now, need to get that sorted b'fore we consider anything else."

"Very true." Xaeryn leaned against the edge of the desk. "Are you staying in Haven a while or heading straight back?"

"We have to stay a couple more days to give some more details about what we know of the theft. They'll prob'ly want to chin with you about it, too, by the way."

She nodded, assuming from context 'they' meant the Shepherds. As long as it didn't interfere with her talking to Red, she'd be happy to tell them anything that would help. "Understandable."

Briony bounced a little on her toes. "I should be going. The hotel concierge gave me a whole list of places to go for sightseein', and if I have to stay here a few more days, I wanna see as many as possible."

Xaeryn couldn't help a chuckle at the other woman's enthusiasm. "Make sure you enjoy the ones you get to see, rather than rushing through."

Briony nodded, making her ponytail bounce. "I know. Hey, since you live here--" She tugged a piece of paper from her pocket, smoothed it on Xaeryn's desk "--any of these more must-see than others? It's such a big city," she laughed, "and I wanna make sure I see all the pretty stuff."

Xaeryn examined the list; preprinted on paper with a monogram from one of Haven's nicer hotels at the top. A few things had been crossed off already. "Well, if you're looking for pretty, you have to see Whitestone Cathedral. Even if you aren't religious, the architecture and stained glass windows are quite a sight." She marked a few others she thought would be good choices, from what she knew of Briony, to prioritize. "There you are."

"Thank you!" Briony picked up the list, folded it neatly this time, and gave Xaeryn a quick but ferocious hug. "And thanks again for helping with... everything."

"Of course," Xaeryn mumbled, caught off-guard by the hug. She didn't react fast enough to return it, but Briony didn't seem to notice. "I hope you have fun."

"I plan to!" Briony said brightly. She fluttered her fingers in a wave as she started for the door. "See you around, Xaeryn."

She nodded. It wouldn't surprise her if she did. "Tell Darius goodbye for me, hmm?"

"Sure," Briony grinned, and was gone with an enthusiastic slam of Xaeryn's door.

Xaeryn blew out a breath and rubbed the back of her neck. How does she have so much energy when it sounds like she was up even later than I was?

One of life's mysteries. She took advantage of being on her feet to tidy her kitchen from preparing breakfast. Her stomach growled, so she grabbed an apple to snack on as she headed back to her desk. She dug her notepad out of the handbag, spilling some of the other contents, but didn't mind the mess. She should probably swap handbags and clean this one with the state it was in. Right now she wanted to add a few final notes for this case while they were fresh in her mind.

Xaeryn glanced at the clock as she bit into the apple, surprised to see how much of the morning she'd napped away before Briony's arrival No wonder I had a crick in my neck. She bobbled the pencil she'd picked up back and forth and wondered if Red was still sleeping. Part of her hoped so. Yesterday had to have been even more of an ordeal for him than it had been for her.

The other part of her desperately, selfishly wanted to talk to him. Both as further assurance he really was alright and because there were thing she--they--needed to get in the open, had needed in the open since the gala at the very least.

"Nothing happened."

"Did you want it to?"

She shook off Pan's haunting question and bit into the apple again as she turned her attention to scribbling down closing notes. Her discovery of the Torch being thoret. Confirmation of who was involved with the theft. The Shepherds' role in the conclusion. She'd just finished notes and apple both when there was a flurried knock at the door.

Oh, One-God-- Her heart had dropped to her toes and she was halfway to her feet before she reined in her emotions. That knock was too light to be him.

Still, curiosity and manners had her crossing the room to open the door, and she blinked in surprise. "Miss Acquell?"

The museum curator beamed up at her from under the rim of a beige cloche hat with a pink flower embellishment, not appearing to notice her slip back to formality. "Sorry if I'm disturbing you, Miss Shrike, I know I had Mr. Syndran convey my gratitude, but I just had to come thank you in person for recovering Solimer's Torch."

Xaeryn smiled and stepped out of the doorway to let her enter the office. "You're very welcome. I imagine it's gratifying to have a completed collection now?"

"Oh, yes." Miss Acquell clasped her hands together ass if to keep them still. "We had to do some rearranging to work it into the exhibit, and I have Justyn trying to get hold of Ms. Aescar to let her know, but it's just berries having it back, such a weight off my shoulders." Her face colored. "Sorry for babbling, I'm just so grateful to have it back."

"You don't have to apologize for being happy. I'm glad I could be a help," Xaeryn said. "Did Mr. Syndran relay that the Torch is thoret and shouldn't be displayed too close to any magical artefacts? I know the museum uses shielded cases, but-"

"Oh, no, he didn't." Miss Acquell was frowning now.

Xaeryn paused, racking her brain. "Now that I think about it, I don't believe I told him that part, not last night at least. I was very tired and it may have slipped my mind. I do apologize for that." Hopefully the revelation wouldn't make too much extra work for the staff.

"Oh, it's alright." Miss Acquell waved off her apology in turn. "It's good to have it back, whatever we have to do to display it, we'll accommodate." She smiled again. "You are, of course, welcome to come see the exhibit any time."

"Since I'm finished with the case, I should have time to do that. I'd love to see it in all its glory, and under more leisurely circumstances than the gala." She'd been working that night, technically, even if she and Red had taken time to look around while they were there.

"We'd be happy to see you." Miss Acquell fidgeted with the sleeve of her jacket, picking at one curve of the lace trim. "I should get back, I just wanted to come say thank you; it didn't feel like enough to have someone pass it along."

"Well, you're very welcome, again," Xaeryn said with a chuckle. "I'm glad I could help." She held out a hand to shake.

Miss Acquell only hesitated a moment before taking it in a loose grip for a single shake. She rocked on the balls of her feet and bit her lip, hands once again clasped as if to still them. "Well, I'll see you around then, Miss Shrike."

"Sounds keen." She shifted to follow as the curator edged toward the half-open door. "Goodbye, Shery-"

Even as she spoke, there was a faint--but familiar--rushing sound and Red was standing in the hallway outside her office, one hand out to brace against the wall. He smiled sheepishly upon seeing Miss Acquell's startled expression. "Sorry! Shery, right? Good to see you again."

"A-And you," she managed. "But I was just leaving." She bobbed a curtsy to them both and scurried away.

"I hope I didn't scare her..." Red muttered. "I didn't think you'd have company."

"I have been dizzyingly popular this morning," Xaeryn said with a soft laugh, trying to ignore the way her heart had lodged in her throat. She'd had a plan for this, and it was completely flown away. "Did you really Travel just to cover half a city's distance, Liefred?"

He shrugged and ran his fingers through his hair. "It seemed faster than getting lost in Ashtown. That district is a maze. Why waste the time?"

She just shook her head with a fond smile as she led the way back into the office, trying to study him without being too obvious about it. There was no evidence of injuries beyond the minor ones she'd noted last night; scrapes, the split lip--which had scabbed over but was likely to reopening if he kept bothering it. Just over the couple minutes since his arrival, he'd scraped his teeth over it and sucked it in, probably to worry the scab with his tongue. Aside from not being good for the healing process, it was intensely distracting for her.

Even worse when Red caught her staring. He cleared his throat and leaned against her desk. "Exactly how early were you up that you had time to be dizzyingly popular, Xaer?"

"Around eight," she said, picking a hangnail. "Mr. Syndran needed an early appointment to finish settling accounts for it to fit with his schedule."

"Mm, yes, have to make sure you're rewarded for being a brilliant snooper," Red teased, his smile warm, half-distracted as he tried to read her notes sideways.

It was adorable watching him twist his head to decipher the shorthand, she she let him continue. His clothes were borrowed, she noted, and from someone not quite his height. The trousers were only about an inch shorter than proper, but even with the shirtsleeves rolled up, she could tell they would stop well short of his wrists, and it was tight in the shoulders as he leaned over her desk.

"I am surprised to see you before noo-" Xaeryn started to tease, before a glance at the clock showed it was, in fact, nearly noon.

He huffed a laugh, still reading. "You know I don't need a lot of sleep, Xaer."

"I know you can function on not a lot of sleep," she corrected. "But I figured between getting abducted and however late you you were up talking to the Shepherds, you would, perhaps, listen to your body for once. More the fool I, apparently."

"I only woke up five minutes before coming here, Ryn," he countered fondly. "Plenty of sleep. And I can always get more once I'm back at Solhadur--" He cut himself off, brows arching. "Thoret?" Looked up at her. "Solimer's Torch is composed of thoret?!"

Xaeryn nodded. "The original stone, at least. Obviously the decorative binding is different, but the stone itself is either thoret or some other rock heavily shot with it." She flexed her fingers. "Quite a fun discovery to make when I picked it up bare-handed."

Red winced in sympathy, bit his lip, winced again when the gesture caught the edge of the scab. "That does explain some things..."

"Mm. Why I couldn't scry on it, for one, or anything near it. Why you weren't able to escape the same way you just dropped in here..."

"Yes to all that, it also felt odd in that building; like the crawling edge of nausea, but I was thinking more historically."

Of course you were.

"Far as records show, the Solimer tribe almost never had Mages, so the Torch wouldn't have affected them in any special way. They tended to do their own thing and steer clear of other tribes, but the times they did come into conflict, single combat between chosen champions was the method of the time, and I'd bet the other tribes were more abundant in Mages, so if they, say, sent one as their champion..."

"... the Torch would act as an anti-magic ward," Xaeryn finished, "making it seem Solimer's champions were protected."

"I'd bet half my library, assuming that premise is correct, the tribe that defeated them sent a non-Mage champion for a fight." Red dragged his fingers through his hair and sat on the corner of the desk, despite two perfectly good chairs nearby. "And then it disappears for stretches because tribes would want to hold it for the victory it symbolized, but if there were enough Mages , they would feel the oddness and want it kept pack away... Too bad there's no way to prove it; it would pull in some real keen funding for more research if it's solid..."

"And, alternately, I could get my hands on half your library," Xaeryn needled, biting back a smile as she leaned against the desk next to him.

He gave a faux-hurt gasp. "Detective Shrike, you think I'm wrong?"

"Oh, probably not. You are almost as smart as I am," she teased back, "but your library's the bee's knees, and I'd love to get my hands on as much of it as I could fit in here."

"Mm, well, in absence of a way to prove me wrong," he said lightly, gaze surveying her mostly-full bookshelves rather than look at her, "you'll just have to come visit Solhadur to take advantage."

If I drive all the way to Capra, it's not the library I'll want to take advantage of. She cleared her throat. "I suppose I will, once my schedule's calm enough to take that kind of time."

"Oh, yes, your dizzying popularity," Red teased. He knew her preference for solitude. "You mentioned Mr. Syndran, and I saw Shery, who else...?"

"Before you? Just Briony, the pink-haired woman--"

"I remember." He nodded.

"I dropped my handbag at the warehouse when one of Kaza's mugs grabbed me, she was returning it."

Red flicked a glance toward the handbag and its contents. "I was wondering why it was strewn across your desk... Sorry I didn't realize you'd lost it, Ryn, or I would've looked--"

She waved off the apology. "I got it back and that's the important thing. You were understandably distracted." A self-deprecating chuckle. "I'm just happy I didn't lose two notepads in the course of one case."

"Oh!" Red started, pushing off the desk. "That reminds me... One thing I did find in there….” the words trailed off as he dug in his pocket. “I forgot to give it to you with all the chaos.” He pulled out her original notepad, the bluish-grey cover slightly worse for wear from its own adventure, and offered it to her.

Xaeryn gasped in delight as she took it. Kaza had hinted at having it, but she hadn’t thought to look with everything going on. “I can’t believe you found this! I thought it was gone forever.” She smiled and pivoted to wrap him in a tight hug. ���Thank you, Liefred.”

Something flickered in Red's eyes before he hugged her back, fiercely, hands lingering, as if remembering yesterday, then withdrew. “I... wanted to ask you about something, Xaer.”

“Mm,” she prompted, still smiling, as she tucked the reclaimed notepad in her desk.

“I wasn't going to bring it up, but... You call Pan Pan because that’s his nickname. You called the museum curator Shery, I presume because she asked you to?” He tipped his head in a gesture toward where he’d just seen said curator and waited for her slight nod of confirmation. “So if you’ll take that step toward familiarity with them, why am I always Liefred when we’ve known each other for ages and I’ve told you, several times, you can call me Red?”

Her throat closed up and heart stuttered in her chest. There wasn’t any judgment in his tone, just curiosity, and maybe a little hurt. She’d been half-wondering if he’d picked up on that enough to bring it up again, and now she had her answer. There were several ways she, in turn, could answer his very good, very pertinent, question. Two of them were deflections. They would let her preserve friendly, professional distance. Remove the risk of gambling it all.

She didn’t want to give either of those. She wanted to tell the truth. The whole truth. 

We did say we wanted to talk about this.

Deep breath, Xaeryn.

“I told you,” Xaeryn said softly, “after the gala.” She swallowed hard, heart pounding. “It might be selfish, but the formality’s a level of check on myself so I don’t slip and do something dreadfully improper.” 

Red worried the scab on his lip with his thumb, considering. “What makes you so sure it would be improper?” he asked just as softly.

She laughed, a tight, breathless sound, and decided there had been enough hints dropped for the plunge to be worth it. “It’s fairly improper to kiss someone out of the blue without their permission, Liefred.”

She didn’t miss the way his breath caught, or how hard he swallowed before he reached for her hand, slowly, gently, as if trying not to spook a skittish ahfuri. “And… if you had their permission? Would it be proper then?”

Oh, One-God above, she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t. Her heart was pounding fit to crack her ribs. Her hand slipped into his like it belonged there.

“Do I?” she asked hoarsely, barely audible, gaze locked with his.

Red nodded and she was kissing him before any potential verbal confirmation had a chance to follow.

And he was kissing her back. At least until the cut on his lip reopened and he was forced to pull back. “Dammit,” he grumbled under his breath.

“It’s alright.” Xaeryn kissed his cheek, the giggle that escaped her only an inkling of the joy that bubbled in her chest. “I’ve waited this long, another sennight or two for you to heal won’t kill me.”

Red arched a brow, smile tugging at the side of his mouth furthest from the cut. “Is it egotistical of me to ask how long you’ve been wanting to do that?”

“Not at all,” she said with a laugh, watching him feel the cut and scowl at the blood on his fingers when he pulled them away. “Only if you promise you won’t laugh at me for being pathetic.” When he nodded agreement, she took a deep breath, flashed a sheepish smile, and confessed. “Since about when I was sixteen.”

Red burst out laughing.

Xaeryn huffed and moved to whack his arm. “You said you wouldn’t-”

“I’m not laughing at-ow-you, Xaer,” he assured her, catching her wrist with one hand while the heel of the other pressed against his split lip. “I’m laughing at me.”

She let her hand fall and shot him a curious look. “Why?”

Red raked the now-free hand through his hair, huffed another quiet laugh, and smiled at her with such wry amusement it almost made her laugh. “Because I’ve been at least half in love with you since sixteen and like an idiot didn’t say anything b’cause I didn’t think you felt the same-”

She kissed him again, split lip or no, she couldn’t help it.

“Ow,” he mumbled–or something like it–but he was smiling and he didn’t stop. His hand curved the back of her neck and hers curled into the collar of his shirt.

She could taste the metallic tang of blood from his lip until they parted with matching breathless laughs.

"So much for waiting another sennight or two," Red teased, lightly bumping his forehead to hers.

Xaeryn rolled her eyes, still holding him close by the shirt collar. "That was for fortification. Now I'll survive, I think."

He chuckled, thumb rubbing her cheek. "Fair enough. So, what now?"

She opened her mouth to reply, this was hardly familiar ground for her, but his stomach beat her to it, rumbling loudly. She arched a brow. "Food, apparently. Did you eat before coming over?"

"I didn't know where the Shepherds' dining hall was," he said with a sheepish shrug. "And you were more important."

Xaeryn shook her head and lightly smacked the back of his. "Honestly, Red--" she sighed in fond exasperation, grinning despite herself at the warmth of his words. "Fortunately for you, there's a fabulous café nearby, and I'm in the mood to treat for lunch."

Red smiled, warm and wide, eyes crinkling at the corners. "That is good luck."

"The only question is whether I should go order food to bring back and we can chin a bit here, or go cause a scandal eating there with you so underdressed--" she cut herself off, abruptly stepping around him to pick up the jacket tossed over one of the chairs by her bookshelf. His jacket, slightly rumpled from spending the night haphazardly tossed aside, but it would fit, and the deep grey charcoal color would complement the lighter grey of his borrowed trousers.

Red arched a brow, his eyes twinkling. "Should I be curious why you have my clothes, Ryn?"

"It was for scrying, Liefred," she said archly. "Trying to find you. Pan said I could--" Xaeryn stiffened. "Did you let him know you're alright? Because it completely slipped my mind with--"

"Yes," Red cut across her worry with a smile. "Last thing before I collapsed into bed." He laughed and ran a hand down his face. "I think I'm in for an earful when I get back to Solhadur, so however leisurely you want to make this lunch is keen with me."

Xaeryn smiled fondly as she gathered her handbag's content back into it. She'd worry about swapping it later. "I think you're in for a Panrachus-shaped shadow the next couple months," she corrected, biting back giddy butterflies as she looped her arm through his. "He was real worried with not much he could do to help, wondering if he'd stayed up to help you would it have prevented your abduction."

A shadow passed over his face as they stepped out the door. "I don't think it would've."

Knowing Heron had been involved, it wasn't hard to read the implication in his tone. "Which is what I told him." She paused to lock the door. "But you know how it is when you care about someone; something bad happens and you cant help wondering if you could've changed it."

Red nodded, giving her a warm smile. "I know." His stomach rumbled again.

Xaeryn chuckled and gave his arm a squeeze. "Let's get some food in you."

"That'd be the bee's knees."

---

It wasn't a far walk to find themselves swept up in the lunchtime bustle of her favorite café. The place was so full, the two of them wound up at a table tucked in the corner that didn't have nearly enough room for their legs. Xaeryn almost suggested taking the food back to her place, but she was still giddy over this being a date with Red and could bring herself to. It would be memorable, and the corner was a little quieter than the main lunchroom.

Red polished off two sandwiches and a large bowl of soup, barely slowing through the process. Xaeryn found her abbreviated breakfast had left her with more of an appetite than usual, though she still didn't equal him.

"I think, perhaps, food should have been a higher priority," she commented lightly. "Flattered as I am you rated me so important."

"I wasn't terribly hungry when I woke up," Red confessed, sucking a stray drop of soup off his thumb. "I considered breakfast, decided I didn't need it, didn't care to hunt down the dining hall, and was too antsy by half to talk to you."

"We were... rather overdue for that conversation, weren't we?" Xaeryn said, sliding her hand across the table to cover his.

"A bit," Red nodded. He sucked on his split lip a moment. "Xaer, about after the gala..."

"Oh, I would've kissed you, proper or no, had Pan not walked in when he did." A bit reckless a confession after all her worries about propriety, but she was too giddy to care.

He chuckled. "Good to know we're on the same page." A pause. "And you've... since sixteen? You're always so forthright, I'm both surprised and impressed you kept that under wraps so long."

"Well, you know..." She sighed, her heart fluttering as she rubbed her thumb over his hand. "I didn't want to risk messing up our friendship. I'm well aware I can be prickly and hard to get to know. You were one of the few who made it past the brambles and seemed to enjoy my company as much as I enjoy yours--"

"I do enjoy your company," Red interrupted.

"That's my point; I don't, and didn't, have many friends like that." She squeezed his hand. "The last thing I wanted to do was poison that by adding awkwardness of unreciprocated feelings. I was happy enough just having you as my friend."

"Even watching me date my way through the student body?" he asked wryly.

"Liefred, you're smart, handsome, charming, and kind." She shrugged. "I would have been offended on your behalf had any of them turned you down. But your turn--why did you say anything?"

"Because you're forthright, Ryn." Red turned his hand under hers and gave it a squeeze. "I may've thought about it a couple times, but... You've never held back from saying things that are important, or that you think I need to hear. I figured the reason you weren't saying anything is there was nothing to say on the matter. So I kept hoping if I told myself that enough times it would sink in and the feelings would fade, but they never did."

A pang of guilt surged in her chest. If she'd just made herself push the words past the lump that formed in her throat every time she tried...

"Xaeryn." He squeezed her hand harder, clearly sensing the turn of her thoughts. "Me resigning myself to that is not your fault. It was my choice not to say anything just as much as it was yours." He smiled, sheepish and boyish all in one. "Pair of brilliant idiots, we."

Xaeryn laughed, because he was right. Solhadur's best and brightest and couldn't even parse they were in love with each other. "Did..." She traced the rim of her glass. "Did any of those 'dating your way through the student body' have... potential?" She might hate herself for asking, but her curiosity demanded satisfaction. How close did I come to losing you to my own cowardice?

"Most were just fun, and we both knew it going in," Red said, rubbing the back of his neck. "There were a couple that might've gotten serious if... well, carrying a torch for my best friend was only one of the reasons nothing came of them in the end."

She nodded thoughtfully and glanced around the café. It was still full and they were done. "We should head back, free up a table."

He gave a distracted-sounding hum of agreement and pushed to his feet as she left a generous tip on the table. "Thanks for lunch."

"Of course." Xaeryn twined her arm through his and headed for the door. It wasn't until they were out on the street she spoke again, her shoulder pressed close to his. "D'you know how many times I almost asked you to come with me when I left?" A quiet laugh. "At least a dozen. But I always lost my nerve."

"That would have been fun," he said softly. "But it worked out."

"That it did," she smiled. All of it.

They moseyed back to her office, bumped gums some more, before Red looked at the clock and groaned.

"I should probably get back to Solhadur," he said leaning in to kiss her forehead, "before Pan thinks I got abducted again."

"You shouldn't joke..." Xaeryn protested half-heartedly, even as butterflies filled her chest at the casual affection. "But I suppose I should let you go home. You probably want to sleep more? Clothes that actually fit?"

"Yes to both." Red muffled a yawn and looked sheepish about it. "Feel free to visit whenever you like, Xaer, For me or the books."

She had a sneaking suspicion he'd be teasing about that for a while. She didn't care. "I'll do that." She kissed his cheek. "So much you'll get sick of me."

"Never happen," he said warmly, pulling her into a hug. "I like you too much," he whispered, resting his forehead to hers.

Xaeryn hugged him back. "Good," she said with a smile. "I like you too much, too." It was an effort to fight down the urge to kiss him again before she eased back. "I'll see you soon, Liefred."

"I'm not going to get you to stop that, am I?" he murmured, eyes dancing with laughter, as he squeezed her hands one last time before letting go. "I'll be seeing you, Xaeryn."

Red pulled the door closed behind him as he left, and she dropped into her chair, smiling wider than she ever had in her life.

There was always a rush at successfully completing a case, but none prior compared to this one. Xaeryn recalled that first meeting, the one she'd thought would be with Tevanti, and let out a small laugh. Of all the lovely surprises, indeed.

She had another success to add to her professional record, but more importantly, she had Red Antiqua back in her life. For good this time, and closer than ever.

Wish I could be there to see Pan's reaction, she mused, and got up to make herself some tea in celebration of a job well done on two fronts.

[jayflrt]

yours forever in 786

PAIRING ▸ private investigator!jay park x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ social media au (smau), smut, fluff, angst, mystery, drama, enemies to lovers au, college au, rich kid au

SUMMARY ▸ after being blackmailed into accepting an assignment, jay park, a young private detective, is thrown back into college. this time, though, he’s at an ivy league and tasked to follow you to uncover what dark secrets your old money family is hiding. in doing this, jay must fraternize with your inner circle by joining a secret society called the "order of kryptos.” what he doesn’t realize is that the deeper he gets into his mission, the more he starts to lose himself.

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, slowburn, alcohol/drug consumption, portrayals of addiction, sexual jokes, sexual content, betrayals!! backstabbing!!, toxic relationships, order of kryptos isn’t a real secret society but heavily inspired by the ivy league secret societies, emotional cheating (BOOOO! not from mc or jay tho), jay and mc have a small age gap (2 years), most of the characters are pretty toxic so please note that this is not attune to their real life personalities at ALL

UPDATE SCHEDULE ▸ every day

PLAYLIST ▸ fatal trouble by enhypen • still sane by lorde • this is what makes us girls by lana del rey • too good by troye sivan • paparazzi by lady gaga • old money by lana del rey • i was never there by the weeknd, gesaffelstein • prisoner by the weeknd, lana del rey

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ hello !! i’m back with another smau but this one’s less lighthearted and more heavy ? sort of an experiment let's see how it goes, but hope u enjoy and lmk what u think !! ♡

CHATROOMS !

TEASER

PROFILES ONE | TWO

ACT ONE: THE TRANSFER

01. skip tracer to millionaire pipeline

02. besties with testes

03. who the fuck is princessyuna

04. the world of the elite

05. please don't the tom nook

06. standing on business (vlog boycott)

07. friend (noun.) not heeseung

08. boo boo the fool

09. professional haters debut

10. 21 jump street for nepo babies

11. how to not bleed to death

12. jay/n train

13. leather jacket

14. no goodbye sucks or fucks

15. ugly truths

16. girlfriend but the girl is silent

17. justice for stress shitters

18. alcohol shortage when

ACT TWO: THE INVITATION

19. attention seeker

20. and there was one bed

21. every boy for himself

22. rhymes with loona

23. out-testosteroned

24. white lies

25. heart-to-heart

26. the athenaeum

27. sock sock shoe shoe

28. group ass fucking

29. post defamation dinner date

30. final verdict

31. do you have time to talk about our lord and savior

32. tap to get tapped back

33. mad as fuck (the remix)

34. in too deep

35. change my world

36. provisional fight club

37. go piss girl

38. girlhood won

39. we can't do this

40. pledge week

41. babygirls with daddy issues

42. they must be really good friends

43. hot jay summer

44. dangerous entanglements

45. the fifth interview candidate

UNCUTS !

TBD.

ONGOING 7/29/24

[mssoapart]

Day 7

Free-day (Out of order and late) Alenoah as Sherlock/Moriarty.

I like it when two characters play mind games and scheming against or with each other.

I didn`t plan to create an AU, but – my rant and bits of literature/character analysis (The Vision). Also, draw concept sketch.

Noah (Detective Sherlock Holmes). I mean, they're both geniuses, introverts who don't care about social opinion and some versions depicted him as being good with dogs. In Victorian England, I totally see Noah opening a detective agency, because you either go working on a plant or you might use your geniuses’ intelligence to solve crimes, like game puzzles, and make monies to pay bills and buy new books because in 1800 many books were expensive and produced in small quantities.

Plus! I might look at this too far, but I think the Sherlock and Watson analogy was implemented in London episode when they strip team Chris just to Noah and Owen for investigation.

Owen (Dr. Watson). Basically in the original books, Watson plays the role of the guy, your typical visual novel MC, well narrator, who has character, but his whole purpose is just to be a witness to detectives doing, asking questions for the audience. This leads to usually representing Watson as either annoyed with Sherlock's antics or (usually in kids' media) naïve but with good intentions because of this simplification, to show his kindhearted nature in cartoons and caricatures he is portrayed as chubby, which is what we need! But all of them did service in the Anglo-Afghan War, even Disney version mentioned it. (Also if you want to do Nowen version of Jhonlock I don`t mind, sure go for it)

Alejandro (professor Moriarty). Do I really need to explain? Both archvillains in their stories. Professor, respected in society for his talent and achievements, wealthy, but behind all of that façade he`s "Napoleon of crime". He doesn’t usually do crimes himself but rather, schemes, orchestrates the events, or provides the plans that will lead to a successful crime, like paying money to a court so that someone can be released from prison.

Heather (Irene Adler). OK, in the original books (all books written not by Arthur Conan Doyle are basically fanfics) her character and Sherlock don`t date (But if you like, it`s fine). She was more like “I know what you are” towards him.  I want to base it more on Warner Bros Sherlock where Irene works with Moriarty, but they also try to get rid of each other. She is also famous for blackmailing royals, If it isn`t most Heather thing I don`t know what is.

Eva (Mrs. Hudson). The landlady. I think it would be funny, she yelling at them to pay their bills in time.

See you next week

[forlix]

‧ ❆ ˚ 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 (besides myself)・l.f.

— you spend three years loving him, six months losing him, and four hours waiting for him to get the hell out of your house. but the human heart is more stubborn than you know.

words・5.4k

pairing・lee felix x gn!reader

genres・babysitter!au, girldad!lix, nobody look at me, toothrotting fluff, more angst than originally intended tbh, exes to lovers, hurt/comfort, happy ending yayyy, non-linear storyline

warnings・cousin has a korean name and experiences one (1) minor head bump, mc is temporarily heartbroken and experiences one (1) breakdown

playlist・house song by searows・glad by tori kelly・let's pretend by del water gap・you were good to me by jeremy zucker

a/n・hiiii my loves, i'm so unbelievably excited to bring u my first contribution to my and @astraystayyh's collaboration, "winter falls" ♡ every time i write for our ray of sunshine i'm reminded of how thankful i am to love him. this fic ruined me. hope it does the same to you (smile)

I. everything

“One day,” you muttered to the toddler sitting on your shoulders, “you’ll experience something deeply, irreversibly humbling, and I’ll be there to witness your downfall.”

Byeol responded to this with an unbothered babble. She then gathered two handfuls of your hair and yanked using far too much force to be biologically possible.

You folded like a lawn chair. “Mother—!”

Oh, that word was not suitable for button-sized ears.

“—oh, my dear mother, why? Why me?”

Technically speaking, your aunt should’ve been the target of your lamentations, but all she did was produce the child presently steering you around the kitchen like you were her own personal bumper car. Your own mother was the one who volunteered you to watch said child during the first weekend of your winter break. Only for an hour until the babysitter arrives, she’d said (raising her voice, so as to be heard over your groaning).

You adored Byeol. She made scarily accurate chipmunk sounds and possessed an immobilizing fear of grapes. She bust out a dance move before she took her first steps. The girl could have you floored with laughter without being able to say more than three words at a time. Still, this was far from how you imagined onsetting your desperately-needed few weeks off. Not to mention it was now half past three; your shift should’ve ended two minutes ago.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Byeol emitted an excited onomatopoeia like a golden retriever detecting the mailman. Your reaction wasn’t too far off; you swiveled your head in the sound’s direction, sang out “coming!” in a delighted vibrato, and twirled into the foyer, your hands around Byeol’s ankles anchoring her in place.

You cracked open the door and found yourself face-to-face with Byeol’s babysitter. The freckles scattered across his high cheekbones and sloping nose seemed to you like they were imprinted by the sun itself. His hair was dark, falling just shy of pitch black, and long, ending an inch or so below pierced ears. A few misbehaving strands rested over his forehead but did little to obstruct your view of his eyes: profoundly brown and pointed at either end, like poinsettia petals.

He was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. You felt your skin warm, your heart flip. You opened your mouth. 

Then Byeol hit her head against the vertical edge of the front door, loud enough for it to echo.

The panic that seized you in that moment was truly unlike anything you’d experienced before. You caught one glimpse of the stranger’s expression (as mortified as you expected), and then you were seeing your own epitaph on the inside of your eyelids, engraved with the four words “Death by Furious Aunt.”

“Was that—?” The man sputtered, and his voice was rich and full and accented and just as breathtaking as the rest of him and holy fucking shit now was not the time.

“My fucking god,” you whispered, completely forgetting to watch your mouth. In a hurry, you swung Byeol off your shoulders and dropped to a knee. You leaned in close to examine her reddening forehead and cradled the plush of her cheek; she blinked at you a few times, fascinated by the sudden sight of your face again.

“You okay, Byeollie? That hurt a lot, didn’t it? I’m so, so sorr—”

Byeol started to laugh.

Not laugh as in those little chuckles she let out randomly, like there was something inherently amusing about the kitchen cupboard, but laugh as in a boisterous, resounding guffaw, like a great-uncle at a family gathering off one too many martinis.

This rendered you speechless for the second time in under a minute. Then, you lifted your other hand to cradle her other cheek, her face now sandwiched between your palms, and squeezed.

“I broke my cousin,” you whispered, your voice was so deathly serious that the man in the doorway had to stifle a laugh of his own.

His knee brushed against your shin as he sat down to your left, folding his legs into a criss-cross. You could discern notes of lavender and orange blossoms in the delicate cologne that clung to him, perforated the air and your mind both.

“Can I?” He asked.

“Please.”

Carefully, you shifted Byeol’s small frame towards him; the manner in which he accepted her was so smooth and practiced that there was no doubt in your mind you were watching a professional at work. He settled her on his right knee, then dipped his head to look her in the eye.

“Hi, princess,” he cooed with a dulcet smile. He curved his pointer finger, dusted it beneath her chin. “Why are you laughing, silly girl?”

Oh.

Oh.

You might just continue your lineage after all.

“Y/N-ie,” she answered, still tittering.

He looked to you with a slight tilt to his head, and you nodded affirmatively. He murmured a quiet ah. “What about Y/N-ie?”

Somehow you sensed that she was about to embarrass you and pinched the bridge of your nose—in preparation.

“P-pretty.” I knew it!

The man let out the laugh he’d been holding back since earlier and tapped on her button nose, lowered his voice to a whisper that he knew you could hear.

“I agree.” His eye glinted playfully, matching his tone. “And so are you.” The bashful, high-pitched giggle she responded with sounded eerily similar to your inner monologue.

The two of you spent a little longer on the floor of the foyer making sure Byeol was okay, and then the girl upped and made a mad dash for the kitchen while yelling something about a horse, and if that didn’t confirm that she was completely fine (albeit incredibly strange) you didn’t know what would. You found her rolling around the carpet in the room adjacent to the kitchen and left her to her own devices while you and her babysitter fixed up a small fruit plate for her afternoon snack. No grapes, of course.

He told you he usually went by Felix, but that his Korean name was probably easier for Byeol to pronounce, with its easier consonants and whatnot. You asked which name he preferred, and he said either or. He was a recent college graduate, a year older than you, who was determined to spend at least the next two years doing nothing but working out his future. He accepted the part-time babysitting position to pick up some light cash in the process.

“And ‘cause I’m good with kids,” he added, splitting apart a tangerine. “So I’ve been told.”

“Oh, you definitely are,” you said, plating a couple blueberries. “You melted her earlier.”

“She melted me. She’s so cute. And you’re so cute with her—I didn’t realize I was robbing someone of their job.”

You turned your head to regard the tot and let out a helpless laugh. Byeol tired of being a human lint roller a few minutes ago and had since moved on to staring aimlessly out the window.

“She doesn’t take me seriously, and I can’t stay mad at her,” you mused. “I would be a nightmare as her babysitter, trust me. She’s all yours.”

Felix held out two overturned handfuls of tangerine slices, to which you quickly moved the platter across the counter. He didn’t respond to your comments as he placed them on the outermost edge so that they looked like rays of sun emanating from a multicolored core. Adorable.

“Will you be around much, then?”

You made eye contact with him across the counter. On his perfect face was a teasing smirk and a subtle blush. Ah, you’d been mistaken, writing off his silence as concentration—he’d been contemplating how to best flirt with you.

“Y’know. In case I need any help teaching her cuss words,” he appended.

It was then your turn to flush a couple shades darker. “Please don’t tell her mom.”

“I won’t, I won’t.” He walked around the perimeter of the counter until he was directly in front of you; the lavender and orange blossoms returned. “On one condition.”

Not even one hour on the job and he was already trying to blackmail you? You respected it. “Which is?”

As he shifted some of his weight onto the counter, something too shifted in his smile, giving it a quality that was every bit as hopeful as it was gentle.

It was then, while Lee Felix was looking at you like that, all dilated pupils and long lashes, when you predicted that he would one day break your heart. You predicted you’d let him.

“Be around,” he said simply.

It wasn’t a question or a demand. In hindsight, you think it was more akin to a birthday wish, ill-fated the moment it hit the air.

II. has changed

Felix pulled Byeol’s hood up and over her ears, and you realized he was right about the winter coat getting too small for her—she looked like a bowling pin. You muffled your snort into your scarf.

“And what was the last rule again?” He asked, his breath puffing into the frigid afternoon in tiny clouds. Byeol sighed like she knew anything of the world’s woes.

“No barking at other kids,” came the sad reply, but a toothy smile spread across her face anyways when Felix nudged the underside of her chin. She loved when he did that.

“That’s my girl,” he hummed. “I believe in you.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” you said, and the wounded look Felix shot you was like you’d just confessed to hating kittens. “Come on—she doesn’t have a good track record. I’m allowed to have my doubts.”

“I dunno what that means,” Byeol announced with admirable frankness, and then turned around and scurried down the porch stairs, scattering fun-sized footprints across the snowy streets.

As you braced yourself to follow her, Felix stopped you with a slip of his hand into the pocket of your puffer. His fingers first aligned with yours inside the insulated nylon, then chased the spaces in between. He leaned in close, placed a kiss on the apple of your cheek, another on the corner of your mouth. This brought a helpless smile to your face, too. He had a way of melting you and Byeol both.

“It’ll be fine,” he soothed. “A little barking never hurt anybody, baby.”

“Lix, last time somebody called animal control.”

“Ermm—a little barking never hurt most people.”

That winter, Byeol was four, and your relationship with Felix was about to turn two.

Funnily enough, you’d never figured out when your anniversary actually was. Felix wagered it was the day you met, as he knew he loved you the instant he saw you; you insisted it was months later, since it took both of you an entire winter break of open-ended flirting and informal dating to label yourselves for real. Imagine your horror when he showed up outside your college apartment on the last day of your fall semester, arms overflowing with flowers and gift bags brimming with your favorite things, the phrase “happy anniversary” on his lips three months before you perceived it to be. You’ve celebrated both days ever since.

You loved the ocean growing up. You didn’t get to visit it often, but when you did you would run up to the water’s very edge so that your toes dipped into the cold—and just stand there, observing, absorbing, until even the seam of your lips and the ends of your eyelashes were studded with crystals of seasalt. You found endless tranquility in its rhythmic whispers and unspeakable comfort in its oscillating waves, guaranteed to return after momentary departure.

Your fascination stemmed from the folktale your mother used to read to you before bed, about a sun goddess creating the earth. In the story, every component of nature was one of the sun’s beloved children. She allegedly loved them all, but you suspected the ocean was her favorite; it was obvious, the way she twinkled off its ebbing surface, the way every minuscule spot of light looked to you like a handprint of hers, left behind by eons of endless doting.

Felix reminded you of the ocean. Every day you grew more certain that you wanted to drown in him, to let his resonant voice and kind eyes sweep and keep you inside his depths. It was never salt that he pressed into your skin but warmth, stamped and sealed with caring hands and cautious lips. His deep whispers promised eternal love and temporary ecstasy and everything in between. You knew he would come back to you even if stranded in a different realm. And there was no questioning the goddess’ favoritism, either. The freckles on his face mirrored the sun’s very spots like an homage to his creator.

You didn’t love the ocean growing up, no. You had never loved before Felix.

The park was busy when the three of you arrived. Byeol and Felix recognized a few families as your aunt’s neighbors and hurried over to say hello. Your social butterflies. 

“I’ll be over there,” you called after them.

Felix stopped in his tracks, looked over his shoulder. It had started snowing lightly on your walk there, and snowflakes now sat atop his sable locks. He looked like a painting. “You okay?”

“Yes, yes.” You shooed them off. “Don’t worry about me. Go have fun.” 

With that, you withdrew to the sidelines, an unoccupied swingset adjacent to a baseball diamond covered in frost. 

Your baby cousin was brawny for her age, which you could’ve seen coming with how she was hauling at your hair two years ago, but even she couldn’t yet terrorize the playground without assistance. Who better to make her partner in crime than her favorite Bokkie? You couldn’t help but giggle as the two revolved around each other for the better part of an hour, Byeol’s smile colossal as she frolicked every which way, Felix’s smile worried but hopelessly endeared as he followed behind. He never let her leave his shadow. She never tried to.

It was there on those icy swings that you experienced a moment of strange clarity, like you’d broken the fourth wall of your own story. You could feel the winds of change blowing your hair across your shoulders. You were aware of time’s trickling from the gaps of your fingers like liquid mercury.

Your laughter dissipated to a bittersweet smile; your smile mellowed to dewy eyes. It seemed like just yesterday when Byeol was small enough to sit on your shoulders and Felix stepped into your kitchen for the first time. Now, she was scaling a rope ladder with the celerity of a crazed monkey while Felix hovered a wary hand by her waist. The muted sunlight caught on the silver rings he wore, particularly the thin, bright one on his middle finger. You had one just like it, adorning the same place. 

The last two years were the happiest of your life. Why couldn’t you remember where they went?

Lavender and orange blossoms announced your boyfriend’s arrival—that, and the sigh of fatigue that he expelled as he dropped into the swing next to you.

“I’m not cut out for this anymore.”

Byeol’s neighbor had temporarily relieved Felix of his post by taking her and his son to test out the seesaw, and you wouldn’t be surprised if the whole town could hear her enthusiastic shrieking.

“You know how people walk their dogs?” You mused. “Some dogs walk their people. She’s one of them.”

For a moment, he could only stare in disbelief at the grin creeping across your face; then, he groaned in a way that could only mean you were right on the money. You gave his thigh a sympathetic pat.

“You’re whipped, my love. It’s okay.”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted, suddenly perking up. “Hey, no barking though.”

“Are we considering that a win nowadays?”

“Do you see animal control anywhere?”

“Good point.”

Felix monitored your expression during the quiet interval that ensued—saw through the melancholy curve of your lips, the pensive slant of your gaze. There was a red tinge to the whites of your eyes that hadn’t been there before.

You saw him reach for you in your periphery. His fingers brushed a lock of hair behind the shell of your ear, remained there for three slow heartbeats, and then lifted away.

“Angel,” he murmured. “Talk to me.”

You shook your head. “It’s silly.”

“It’s not.” Not even ten seconds after the last time, he reached for you again, now to take your hand and bring it to his lap. “You know it’s not.”

“It’s just that—”

Felix thumbed over the ridges of your knuckles, his touch so gentle that it could’ve unraveled a chrysalis; it certainly unraveled you. You took a stabilizing breath.

“I wish could recognize my own happiness in the moment,” you sighed, “not just in retrospect. That way, even when it comes to an end, I’d still be able to look back and say with confidence that I was happy once. I’d like that, I think.”

His brows knit together as he processed your words, and, the next thing you knew, he left his swing trembling in his sudden absence and his trenchcoat became a black blur in the cold air.

Felix rested his elbows atop your knees as he knelt in front of you, cradled your face in his hands. He was achingly beautiful always, but you truly felt your breath swiped from your lungs at the new proximity of his ethereal features: petal-shaped eyes, wind-bitten cheeks, coral cupid’s bow. A painting.

“That’s easy enough,” Felix hummed. “How do you feel right now?”

You had zero agency in the smile this brought to your face. You wrapped your hands around his wrists, your answer quick, thoughtless. “Happy.”

He pressed his lips to the space between your eyes. “And now?”

“Happier.”

He pressed his lips to the curve of your jaw. “What about now?” 

“Even happier.”

His gaze flickered to his final destination, but you beat him to it, sealing your mouth against his with urgency. The kiss that followed was so intensely loving that your head went fuzzy. How was it that you felt his adoration for you even in his pliant lips, his velvet tongue? You ran your fingers through the part of his hair. You loved when you could feel the locks flutter back into place afterwards.

“GET A ROOM!”

You and Felix pulled away from one another, wearing matching expressions of bewilderment. Byeol was approximately five Newtons away from soaring off into the stratosphere, her legs jostling around as she clung to her seat for dear life. It seemed your neighbor had a very aggressive way of seesaw-maneuvering. It seemed your cousin had a very aggressive vocabulary.

“Where did she learn—?” The two of you began in unison, then shot your heads back towards each other.

“It had to be you.”

“Outrageous—you’re the Australian here!”

“You cuss like one too!”

“Because of you!”

“So we’re just lying now?”

“Well, yes.”

Felix cracked a smile—and then the two of you were dying of laughter, his right eye squinting closed and your forehead thudding onto his shoulder. You hardly managed to get out your next words. “We have to do something about her vernacular, don’t we?”

“Oh, badly,” he replied. “Badly.”

After you expended your giggles, you nuzzled into the crook of his neck, blissful, glowing. “Thank you, baby.”

“What for?”

“Being my happiness.”

He angled your face back to his and kissed you once more, whispering I love you like it wasn’t enough that it graced your ears; he needed it embossed upon your flesh in permanent ink.

Your intermingled breaths floated up into the air like flare signals over a capsizing boat. Here marks the time we were happiest.

III. (besides myself)

He’s blonde.

That’s the first thing you notice when you see your ex-boyfriend on your aunt’s porch: the slightly off-white color of his silky tresses, grown out longer than you’ve ever seen, pushed off his forehead and tucked behind his ears.

It’s not the only thing you notice, of course. His face has thinned ever so slightly, the shadows thrown over his features by the streetlights behind him particularly opaque. His outfit is glorious, expensive, with the black blazer and white dress shirt, the top two buttons undone, the pendant of a silver necklace resting between toned collarbones. His hands are almost overflowing with what must be gifts for your family. It’s impossible to discern all of them from this distance, but you know the bouquet of white poinsettias is for your mom, the batch of brownies doused in sprinkles and icing for Byeol.

But the hair is where your gaze returns, because tucked among the platinum strands are black roots: millimeters of the color you grew to adore, peeking out as if trying to catch a glimpse of you, too.

You’re so occupied with this game of “I spy” that you don’t notice the rampant footsteps coming up behind you. Your six-year-old cousin collides with the back of your leg head-on and nearly topples you like a bowling pin.

“Is it him?” She asks breathlessly.

You come this close to berating her as you steady yourself against the wall—what did I say about treating human beings like couch cushions? But you look down to see her chin resting on the side of your thigh, her eager eyes shining so brightly that she puts her own namesake to shame. Your scolding tirade dissolves on your tongue like popping candy.

You simply sigh instead. “Yes, but—”

“BOKKIE!” She shrieks, and Felix’s head snap upwards at the sound of her voice. His tender smile melts some of the frost laminating your heart.

You crack open the door, making eye contact with Felix for the first time in six months.

“Put everything down. Quickly,” you whisper, and he obeys right away, alarmed by the urgency in your voice. A wise choice.

The last present has hardly touched down upon the wooden planks when Byeol wriggles through the doorway and charges towards Felix like an angered toro. He swivels at her bright holler of his name, lowers himself to a squat just barely in time to catch her in his embrace. The delighted laugh that leaves his mouth as he staggers backwards sounds like the sun itself; you feel lost in orbit hearing it again.

“Bokkie,” Byeol murmurs, her voice muffled in the dip of his shoulder, by the tightening of her arms around his neck.

“Hi, princess.” He kisses her temple, presses his nose against her hair. “Whoa, you’ve grown strong, haven’t you?”

“She takes taekwondo classes now,” you hum from above, and the shock in his face asks the very question that your poignant smile confirms. Yes, because of you.

Felix pulls away, cocoons her cheeks with cherishing hands. “Is that true?”

She bobs her head. “I want to be like Bokkie.”

And his eyes go impossibly, terribly soft, like he’s gazing at the horizon itself. The sight twists the knife in your gut and yanks on your tangled heartstrings. It’s all because of you.

“And kick some ass!” Byeol adds, knocking you out of your sentimental spiral. You clap a defeated hand to your forehead. Felix falls over himself. So much for fixing her vernacular.

A few minutes later, Byeol is pirouetting towards the kitchen with a couple of Felix’s smaller presents in her arms, all too happy to be of help. You linger behind as Felix takes off his shoes, your cousin’s departure leaving the two of you alone in the dim foyer.

Felix straightens. The two of you come face to face. The air hangs so heavily with unspoken words that you half expect it to start dripping.

“Hi,” he says.

You nearly laugh at the cruelty of it. The man you were certain you’d grow old with greeting you like you’ve been forced to sit next to each other on the first day of school.

“Hi,” you answer. “You look—”

The two of you say this last part in unison; old habits die hard.

“—nice,” you finish.

“—beautiful,” Felix breathes, his eyes flicking off to the side abashedly.

Your throat constricts, pulse quickens. Says you. If he was a painting before, you think he’s a sculpture now, his perfection as tangible as if hand-chiseled by the greatest artists of old. As clear as the sun’s beloved sea. You can’t tell if it’s his stylist’s doing or simply a product of him growing into himself.

“Thank you,” you reply quietly. “And thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for inviting me. I didn’t think you would.”

“I didn’t do it for me.”

No part of you wants to see the subtle wince that crosses his face at your statement, so you turn your gaze to his jewelry-laden hands instead. 

For a split second, you swear you see the same promise ring settled in the same place on his middle finger. You realize what you’re really looking at only after blinking the phosphenes from your eyes: the thin tanline that it left behind. The realization fixes and destroys you all at once.

Then, Byeol starts wailing about Felix’s whereabouts like an actress hired to spare you from this very interaction.

“Her Highness beckons.” The smile you manage feels like drying cement. “Shall we?”

On your way to the kitchen, you notice the cologne emanating from his person smells only of citrus—no lavender. Its absence steadies you, deludes you into believing that it’s a stranger you’ve just let inside.

That illusion lasts for exactly three hours and forty-eight minutes.

It’s clear that the breakup has your family walking on eggshells, but it’s even clearer that their adoration for Felix has never wavered. You’ve never resigned yourself to the restroom so many times in one night, only to stand with your back against the door, unmoving, unfeeling, listening to the low thrum of his voice through the mahogany. Chatting comfortably with your aunt, bursting into laughter with Byeol, reminding you of the time you considered him family too. 

With every glance you toss your reflection, you discover new cracks in your composure. Has he noticed them yet?

After you come out of the restroom for the sixth time, you notice a light spilling from Byeol’s bedroom into the hallway. A low Australian accent graces your ears, followed closely by a tinkling giggle, and your body nudges you towards the sounds before your head can intervene.

You give your cousin’s door a feather-light nudge. It opens a few centimeters more and grants you vision of Byeol tucked into bed, Felix knelt at her side. Both of their faces are illuminated by the flaxen light of the nearby lamp.

Felix brushes her choppy bangs out of her eyes, a teasing smile on his lips. “Can I tell you a secret, princess?”

This wrests from her another fluttering laugh; you swear he’s the only person in the whole world who makes her shy. “Sure!”

“Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

“Promise.”

“Not even Snernard.”

“M’kay.”

“Or Bong.”

“M’kay.”

“Especially not Trash the chicken. I don’t trust him.”

“I know, I know, I won’t!” Byeol huffs, and Felix laughs at her outburst. You also snort into your sleeve, amused (and deeply perplexed) by your cousin’s plushie-naming conventions.

“Thank you,” he hums, and he lowers his voice enough that you don’t catch the next thing he says.

All you perceive is the way that Byeol reacts. She sits up straight in bed, resting her back against her pillow. Her features rearrange themselves slowly, awfully, like the spread of cherry-flavored cough syrup over one’s sore throat, into the furthest thing from her trademark too-big-for-her-face smile.

Your stomach plummets to your fucking ankle.

“Why?” Her voice sounds microscopic.

“Well, do you remember what Bokkie’s dream job is?”

Byeol considers for a moment. “Being a singer?”

“That’s right.” He runs a knuckle over the hill of her cheek, the action achingly familiar, immensely fond. “And I found a place where I can do that, but it’s very, very far away. I won’t be able to come home very often.”

The telltale signs appear as he speaks; the final word sets them into motion. A tear streaks down the side of Byeol’s face. It hardly leaves the corner of her eye before it’s being intercepted by a doting swipe of his thumb.

“No,” she replies.

“You've grown so much.” Another tear falls. He wipes away that one, too. “You’re growing so well.”

“No,” she repeats.

“You’ve stolen the light of every star in the sky already. The whole galaxy will be yours someday, sweetheart. I know it.”

“I don’t want it,” she whispers. “I want my Bokkie.”

His vision starts to blur also. “But you don’t need me anymore.”

“We do.”

You know the precise moment Felix’s heart pauses in his chest because it is when yours does too.

“We?” He repeats, and she nods.

“Your dream job is being a singer.” Now Byeol is the one to reach for Felix, her delicate hand cupping the curve of his cheek. Her fingers are too small to catch his tears, she tries anyways—

“But what is your dream?”

It becomes too much for you.

You turn around. A choked sob escapes from behind the hand you have sealed to your mouth, causing both heads inside Byeol’s room to whirl in your direction. You don’t care that you nearly break both of your ankles beelining up the stairs; you only care to get the fuck out of that hallway.

You topple into your room, close the door behind you, and crumble.

Your quivering hands find purchase around your folded legs; your eyes squeeze shut against your knees. Rivulets of tears cascade over your shuddering lips like ruptured barrels of wine, left in the cellars of your soul to age, to spoil.

You never wanted your grief to see the light of day. Pouring your regret over every sidewalk wouldn’t change the past. Splashing your heartache across every wall like the world’s most fucked-up mural wouldn’t alleviate the pain of losing him. He was the one who left, but you were the one who’d asked him to. Feeling, yearning, mourning. Those always seemed so futile.

But you’re not just crying in this moment, rocking back and forth on your bedroom floor; you’re bleeding, the wounds you never treated igniting all at once as if exposed to vinegar, leaving you writhing and gasping in their wake. How you wish they’d been able to heal sooner. Maybe then seeing Felix tonight wouldn’t have splintered your soul like dropped porcelain.

Your door clicks open. Your breath hitches in your throat with a quiet scratch. The gulp of oxygen you intake tastes of oranges.

Every night before you fall asleep, you still think of the last time you visited the sea. The cool sand chafing against your toes, the coarse winds slapping your hair against your face hard enough to sting. The weather was terrible (you neglected to check the forecast before making the drive), but when you stepped onto the embittered coastline, you took what felt like the first real breath of your young adulthood. The fog melded to your skin as if melting a blindfold away, showing you the world in its entirety.

You return to that beach when Felix pulls you into his chest, and there’s no fog this time. Just the faint smell of lavender and your ocean, guaranteed to return after momentary departure.

Feverishly, Felix presses his lips to your temple, the apple of your cheek, rests his forehead against yours. Brokenly, he utters, “it’s you.”

You can feel his shaking in every part of him: the tickling breath, the fluttering eyelashes, the unsteady hand that reaches into the pocket of his blazer. You graze your fingers over his jaw, an attempt to steady his careening heart, only to lose yours in the fray also when he produces a small red box of unmistakable dimensions.

“God, it’s you. It always has been, always will be. Anything can change except for this.” His voice disintegrates as he speaks. You disintegrate as you listen. “Everything has changed besides myself.”

Felix leans back in to pepper kisses across the expanse of your wet features, then brings himself to one fated knee. He flicks open the lid. You don’t even spare the ring a glance; you don’t doubt its perfection. All you care to look at is the love of your life, deliquesced to adoration and tearwater.

“Thank you for being around, my dream.” His soft smile tends to your scars like ambrosia. “Will you let me do the same?”

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© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support!

[neowinestainedress]

𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐀 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄, 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄?

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: any nct member!ghostface x detective!fem!reader 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄: “horror”, thriller, yandere-ish, smut, halloween special, scream!au 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: in these past months your only goal is to find the killer that is terrorizing the town of Woodsboro, but when you get close to him and feel like you finally have the upper hand, Ghostface turns the game around again.  Or, Ghostface wants to play with you but not like he does with his victims, and you let him. 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: dark content, talks of [m*rders, sl!tting throats, v!olent stuff in general], dr*g/anaesthetic use [to make mc fall asleep but unrelated to any sexu*l act (she’s awake and willing)], mentions of [dubcon] phone s*x + masturbation, implied stalking, use of restrainers, cl!t rubbing, rough t!t/n!pple play, protected s*x turns unprotected, kn!fe play, ‘fear’ play, clothes cutting, fake sympathy, pet names used in a mocking way, degradation, rough s*x, hair pulling, spit (1), p*ssy slapping, dacryphilia, possessiveness, 1 brief talk of carving, polaroids pictures, all consensual but i’ll still put a dubcon warning just to be safe (tbh it’s more like hate sex bc the mc would rip his head off but also fuck him), reader is kinda fucked up herself. | inclusivity notes: reader has hair long enough that can be pulled (no mention of texture, type and color), no mention of body type but reader is manhandled a few times and has b**bs and *ss big enough that can be cupped, no mention of skin color, no use of y/n 𝐖𝐂: 10.662k 𝐀/𝐍: this year i had vague ideas for halloween but not even a defined good one, i had some suggestions i liked but were far too complicated, and i had no energy to write them in time. but a ghostface/scream au was an idea i had in mind for some time, the original was a ghostface cosplay, but then i went with this one, and I’m happy with how it turned out. i had 2 members in mind (johnny/haechan) for the og plot, then someone suggested jeno and jisung (as a duo) but if i unmasked him the plot wouldn’t have made sense anymore, so he’s whoever you want him to be! the other ghostface is mentioned but doesn’t appear physically in the story, you can pick who you want for him too. i never wrote blankly for the male mc so let me know if it was good. please, if you like it, leave feedback through reblogs or asks! and also let me know who you imagined behind the mask 👀 enjoy and happy halloween

𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐄.

Your mother always told you to mind your business or else your curiosity was going to be the death of you one day.

It’s clear you never treasured her words, and your curiosity led you to be a private detective with only a few thrills in your life since now, nothing too exciting ever happened in your small town, until one day you received a phone call from the district of Woodsboro. A string of murders was terrorizing the town after years and all the evidence led to another psycho who thought it was funnier to kill people while putting on a Ghostface mask. 

Months have passed since that call and you have nothing concrete. It’s like he’s only messing up with you and, in the meantime, innocent people keep dying. But you have your theories, the ones you only keep to yourself, stored away in the privacy of your diary, hidden under the pillow of your bed. Your colleagues seem decent people, but with time, you’ve learned to trust nobody. 

And your secret theories led you right where you are now. In the open country, away from the small town, where a small barn grabbed your attention the first time you moved to Woodsboro. 

The barn seems empty but eerie vibes surround it. The strong smell of the grass stings your nose as your black boots walk on the muddy ground, the rain of this morning still lingering in the air and in the countryside. 

When you reach the perimeter, you squeeze your eyes to see inside, but the few tiny windows don’t allow you a big view. The more you walk around it to make sure it’s empty, the more the hold on your concealed carry with the gun inside tightens.  

It’s late October and the cold penetrates your brown leather jacket, but the temperature is not the thing that makes you shiver. 

You should’ve never followed your instinct and come here alone. You should’ve spoken to somebody else in the department, told them your theory and have some backup in this crazy plan of yours. But when your impulses take over, your smartness slips away, and you find yourself in the worst situations ever. 

Like right now. You stand in front of the wooden door and find the courage to push it open. You should feel thrilled, you found him. You found the psycho that has been haunting the town for months now, messing up with you with clues and mocks that pushed you farther away from the right path. Yet, you beat him, for once it looks like you have the upper hand now that you’re walking around the empty barn away from the town. But something doesn’t feel right, your guts are telling you something but you don’t listen, you can’t walk away now that you’re so close.

There’s not much to inspect, a few pieces of furniture, a disheveled mattress in the middle of the room, and a few chairs in a corner. It almost looks like an abandoned farm if only it wasn’t for the unnerving vibes that carries with it and for two walls that call your attention. On the right, there’s a map of Woodsboro, pins linked by a red thread, connecting all the places where Ghostface hit in these past months. Your hand quickly reaches the back of your pocket to pull out your phone and snap a picture, hoping there will also be places he didn’t go, and this time you can be faster at stopping him. 

What’s on the other side is worse. 

“What the fuck…” you mumble under your breath as you step closer to the wall. Polaroid pictures hanging from it, Ghostface and the victims, you guess, moments before they were brutally killed. You’re not surprised, one of the gifts he would leave on the scene of the crime being Polaroids, but they didn’t make much sense. “He’s a fucking psycho,” you scoff as you take another picture. 

“Surpriiise!!” 

Your phone falls on the floor with a loud thud and your heart jumps in your throat when his voice breaks the deafening silence in the room, but your reflections are swift enough to make you reach for your gun and turn around, shooting. 

“Boo, fail,” Ghostface laughs, hitting your wrist hard enough to make the gun fall on the floor next to your phone. “You’re really not as smart as I thought you were, don’t you know intruding on someone else’s property is illegal?” he points out, pushing your body against the wall, the sharp blade of his knife grazing the skin of your neck. 

You try to keep calm, deep slow breaths as you try to don’t look scared for your life. You might die today, but you won’t give him that satisfaction. 

“Don’t look so frightened, my dear. I’m quite happy to have you all to myself,” he chuckles, his hand lifts to caress your face and you struggle to avoid it, but the click of his tongue makes you stop. “I wouldn’t act too careless, it’s sharp.” 

You stop moving. You are smart, and you can get yourself out of this situation. “Do you want to play a game, Ghostface?” You ask, ignoring his taunts, the irony in your voice is clear, just like it’s blatant in the slow bat of your eyelashes, but your words only make him laugh. 

“Oh, that’s not how it works, detective. That’s my line. You didn’t study the script?” 

You scoff, trying to take time to free yourself. “We’re switching roles. Do you want to play a game? It’s called you turn yourself in and I put you in jail.” 

He snickers, and his head tilts to have a better look at your face. He’s had many people in this position before and never saw so little fear in their eyes. “Now you want to act like you don’t love the chase?” 

“Fuck you, I don’t love it,” you spit out, narrowing your eyes, desperately trying to get a glimpse of anything under the mask. Another failed attempt. 

He laughs darkly, so deep it hits you to the core and makes you shiver — in fear or excitement, you’ll let this decide to your better judgment. “I know you do,” he coos as his thumb covered with the black glove caresses your lips. “Enjoy the little clues I leave you around? You were interested in the pictures, I knew you loved them, that’s why you get the prettiest ones. I tell you so much, but you don’t understand me,” his voice is calm, scarily calm, and full of sarcasm filled with a sweetness that feels like a slap across your face. “I was a bit mad it took you so long to find me.”

Rage shoots up inside of you, but you instantly push it down, you can’t lose your composure. “So, what are you going to do, kill me?” Your voice drops of a tone, and your eyes turn into a teasing gaze, making him chuckle. 

“Talking about death so nonchalantly with me, mmh… are you brave or dumb? Because if you ask so nicely, I just might let the knife sink in.” 

You laugh lightheartedly, putting up the best performance of your life before your eyes flutter seducingly at him. “No, please don’t kill me Mr. Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel,” you coo, lips in a pout and innocence in your eyes, until you hit him with a swift, strong kick between his legs, the distraction of your performance giving you time to slip to the side, causing just a bit of your skin to cut and bleed. 

“Bitch,” he mutters under his breath as he kneels to the ground. You reach for your gun, but barely have time to grab it before he pushes you on the floor again. “We were having so much fun, you just have to ruin everything.” 

You’re waiting for the worst when he traps you on the floor with his body on yours, but his arms don’t lift to stab you in your chest or stomach, the last thing you see before passing out is his hand lifting in the air and the sting of a needle pushing past your skin. 

The white light of the room feels like staring directly at the sun when your eyes blink repeatedly as you try to come back to earth and push away the hammering of your headache. You groan hoarsely, trying to adjust to the light, but the biggest discomfort comes from your shoulders, pushed behind your back and around the chair you’re now sitting on. 

“Sorry, I had to tie you up, but you’re a bit feisty today. Didn’t want you to get hurt,” Ghostface replies to your silent questions — not so silent, considering how loud you’re groaning and struggling on the chair, trying to break free. He’s standing in front of you, but a chair is right behind him so you guess he was sitting there before you woke up. 

“You can’t even take one down without a fight? Need to kill me without breaking a sweat?” You taunt, eyes dark and a deep frown on your forehead. 

But your teasing seems to leave him unfazed as he walks toward you with a glass in hand. “Drink.” 

You scoff, staring at him. You hate that you can’t see him, not even because you want to find out who’s hiding under there, but also because you feel like you can’t confront him well enough. “You think I’m so stupid to accept a drink from a psycho?”

His head rolls back followed by an annoyed sigh as he stops right in front of you. His black boots bumping against yours. “You know that’s not how I move, no fun in killing with these shortcuts. Drink. I would never want you to pass out here,” he coos while his free hand pushes your hair out of your face. You can’t see behind the mask, but you know he has a shit-eating grin on his face. He moves the glass to your lips, but you turn to the side, he doesn’t give you a choice when he strongly grips your chin, pushing your lips open, and forces the water down your throat. “Oops, it spilled all over, you’re so messy, detective,” he snickers when water drips on your chin and shirt. As if he didn’t do it on purpose. 

“Asshole,” you mutter, eyes closing into fissures while you look at him. His head tilts, “Oh, brave. I could slit your throat right now, add you to the collection.” 

You chuckle darkly, shaking your head. “You won’t,” you say firmly. “You’ve never had someone quite as fun as me.” 

A low laughter escapes from the mask. “So, you are at least a bit smart?” His hand places on your thigh and you try to move away, but the chair screeches on the floor, and his hold only tightens. 

“Don’t play games now. Don’t fake it,” he groans, hand moving up on your blue jeans. “You enjoyed our last conversation,” he whispers, the mask close to your face, so close you can almost see his eyes behind the blackness of the two holes. “Had shivers run down your back when the phone rang in the middle of the night, haven’t you? You sat up straight in your big bed, all alone, and felt fear take over. Never answer unknown numbers. That’s what they say, that’s what you say, running around town, warning everyone about me,” he laughs deeply. “And then look at you, picking up that phone call, eager to hear my voice on the other side.” 

“You’re a psycho,” you spit out, struggling against the restrainers. But once again it is an act; he is a psycho, but you are starting to fear you aren’t much different. 

He chuckles darkly. “Oh, I am, never denied that. But don’t act better than me. You stood right in front of that window, stripping for me, touching yourself for me, moaning for me. How fucked up that is?” He snickers. “You have fucked up fantasies, my pretty detective, but I’m not one to judge. I’d gladly help.” 

You laugh quietly, trying to look confident but it comes out shaky from your throat, “If you want to help, take the mask off and show me who you are.” 

“Wow, wow, darling. Not so soon, I’m not one to burn stages in a relationship. What next? Want to meet my mom?” 

You inhale sharply, and spit on him, “God, you’re insane.” Your eyes snap open when he pulls out of his back the sharp knife, your breath is stuck in your throat and fear runs all over your body. And once again you regret how impulsive you are. You did well all these past years of training and then on the first real-life experiences at pushing this side of you in the cage, but it looks like it’s coming out like a beast that’s been trapped too long.  

“Don’t be so scared,” he huffs, the fake sympathy in his voice should make you mad but it triggers something else inside of you, and you hate to admit that he might be right, you’re enjoying this more than you should, you’re enjoying this entire chase more than you should. It’s like a game, but it’s not when real people are dying. “I would never hurt you,” his voice is raspy, slightly muffled by the ghost mask he’s wearing, and the knife sits on your sternum. “I hope you didn’t like this shirt too much, detective.” 

You don’t have time to react, the steel cuts your shirt neatly, the sound bouncing in the small room and the sharp tip brushing your skin. You shiver, gulping hard and closing your eyes, already feeling the sensation of it cutting through you, but it doesn’t happen. 

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head disappointingly. “You truly don’t trust me. I’m offended, and I don’t like when people offend me. Just like I don’t like when they hang up the phone while we’re playing. If people were respectful, I wouldn’t have to kill them, you know?” You stare at him with a furrow on your face, you’d like to take the mask off and see his eyes, not really to find out who’s hiding underneath that mask, but to see if his gaze is as insane as you imagine it to be. 

“Let me go,” you say, the skin of your wrist bruised from the pressure you’re applying against the ropes.

“Don’t struggle too much, it turns me on,” he warns, kneeling at your level. He smiles softly and thinks it’s a pity you can’t see it, you’re just so pretty, with your beautiful face filled with different emotions and your eyes looking at him with a gaze that wants to be threatening but it’s all the opposite, almost making you look like a lost puppy.  

“Why?” 

“Why? It’s funny to see the victim beg for their life, it makes you feel powerful, you could show mercy, but you don’t,” the smug smile on his hidden face can be heard in his voice and you shiver at how cold he sounds, the shrug of his shoulder is just the cherry on top to his unhinged behaviour. 

“So, you’re just going to keep me here?” 

“No, I want to play with you. Do you want to play a game, detective?” 

Your gaze falls on your thighs where his hand is placed again, the black gloves preventing it from leaving traces behind, as it slowly moves closer to your heat. 

You snicker, pretending to play it cool, but your breath twitches at the contact. “’Cause if I said no you would stop?” 

“Hey, I’m a killer, not a rapist,” he defends, shrugging. Yet, you still don’t reply, and he doesn’t like that. “So? I’m not so patient when I ask people if they want to play with me, so don’t test me.” 

You swallow hard, swiftly looking around to see if you can pull a move on him. Damnit, it’s your chance to get him and throw him in jail but instead, you’re seriously thinking about his proposal. You fool yourself that you’re only doing this because maybe he could slip, maybe he could say something in the heat of the moment that could give you a clue, or he could leave his traces on you somehow, maybe his mask could fall, but you know you’re feeling something else. Attraction. 

“I said,” he mutters, his face comes closer to yours, making you pull back, and the knife pushes flat in the hollow of your chest, “do you want to play a game, detective?” 

“Yes, yes, I do,” you mutter, starting to breathe again when he pulls the knife away. 

“Good, I love playing with you.” His fingers move to unbutton your jeans and then pull the zip down, you look at him attentively. “Lift your hips for me, love?”

You glare at him at the pet name but he only chuckles deeply. “What? If I’m rough with you, you get mad, if I’m sweet with you, you get mad. I can never win, can I?” 

You huff, deciding it’s better to not reply and just do as he says. Your pants are quickly at your ankles and suddenly you feel even more trapped than before now that you can’t even move your legs, but his touch on your naked skin takes you away from that thought. 

“Pretty panties just for me?” He coos, tilting his head to the side as he stares at your burgundy panties with the lace trim. “Were you hoping to find me here so we could finish what we started on the phone?” 

“Shut up, this is not for you,” you retort, your forehead creasing with a furrow. 

“And who is it for?” He asks, cupping your pussy, watching your body shiver. “Oh, no, please don’t tell me there’s a boyfriend I’m not aware of. I’d hate to kill him.” 

You bite your lips and keep the contact with the mask, but words struggle to come out when his index finger starts rubbing on your clit, moving from the slit —where you can feel you’re starting to get wet— to your sensitive nub. “It’s not for you,” you repeat, trying to don’t show how much his touch is affecting you. 

“Well, you want me to work so hard too, I’ll have to find out on my own if someone is playing with what’s mine,” he replays nonchalantly. “I know where to find you, maybe I’ll come visit again.” 

“You talk so much for someone who wants to play so badly,” you retort, a teasing grin curling your lips. 

“Sorry, I didn’t know my princess was so eager,” he replies, saccharine voice filled with mockery, before a harsh slap lands on your pussy making you jolt and whimper. “Want my fingers?”

The glare you give him would be enough to kill him; isn’t this pathetic enough? How much more does he want you to humiliate yourself? 

He rolls his head back and then the knife is against your neck again. “Do we have to do this every time I ask you a question? Do you want my fingers, detective?” 

“Yes,” you whisper. Your body relaxes momentarily before tensing up with excitement again, but it quickly shifts to disappointment. “What are you doing?” You ask when his covered fingers press against you again. 

“Oh, you’ll get the gloves too, I’m not dumb, you know? Don’t leave fingerprints on dead bodies, won’t even leave them on yours,” his voice is smug, all the confidence of someone who didn’t make a wrong move and somehow was always ahead of you and the police department. 

You hate him. You hate he’s so much better than you at this. And you hate him even more now that he has you fighting whimpers and moans. 

“Are you seriously going to pretend you don’t like this while your hips are bucking up?” He taunts, clicking his tongue in a mock. “Think moaning is more pathetic than humping my fingers like a bitch in heat?” 

Your mouth opens to retort but you can’t deny the evidence; your hips are rolling against his hand, chasing for more, your panties are darkening as your wetness leaks through the fabric and your chest is heaving in erratic motions.  

“Look at me,” he sings, hand moving up to graze your neck, thumb pressing on your carotid, making your head snap up. “You listen so swiftly when you fear for your life. It’s funny, you know, because I truly would never hurt you.” 

You chuckle, shaking your head, trying to pull away from his hold when his hand moves up to caress your jaw. The gentleness of his touch is even scarier than when he has his knife pointed against you. “Is this what turns you on? The fear in their eyes?” 

His head tilts to the side, shoulders lifting in a shrug. “Partially. But not in your case, what turns me on with you it’s the chase, and the fact I always win.” 

You scoff bitterly, struggling in his hold but his hand quickly grips your chin and pulls you closer. “Didn’t you see the movies? The villain always dies.” 

“If the heroine is not busy getting fucked by him,” he mocks, squeezing your face harder and moving his fingers faster on your clit. Your head rolls back and so do your eyes while a chocked moan leaves your lips. “See, I doubt you will shoot me in the head if you keep moaning like this.” 

You groan angrily, you’re madder at you than you are at him. You want him and it’s so wrong that you do, but there’s not even a siren ringing in your head, telling you to make this stop. 

“No, shh, shh, angel, it’s fine, this will be our little secret,” he whispers to your ear, the mask rubbing against your face, and when your eyes turn to look at him, you can see small dots of blood on the white varnish. “We could play another game: one secret for you, and one secret for me. If you behave, maybe I’ll reveal myself to you, if you promise to keep it to yourself.” 

Your teeth sink into your lips harder when he delivers another harsh slap on your clit before resuming his quick movements. “Just — just tell me if I know you,” you mumble. You know he will never reveal himself, but maybe you can get something more, anything to complete the missing pieces of the puzzle. 

He chuckles darkly, staring at a spot behind you as he pretends to think. “Mhh, we’ve met.”

You frown and your heart jumps in your throat for a moment at the thought you’ve seen him. “Only met?” 

“We talked,” he adds, finally letting go of your face, making you breathe normally again. 

Your eyes widen while your brain hurts as you try to quickly connect the dots, and find out who’s hiding underneath the mask, you just have to put a face on a voice — even if distorted, but you can’t. And suddenly realization slumps on you.

“Will it — will it break my heart?” 

He snickers under his breath as he looks into your sad eyes, you’re looking at him like a dog when it’s being scolded, but in this case, you’re also silently praying he’s not someone close to you. He has no idea why that would make you feel better, if you care more about Ghostface or whoever is hiding under the mask, but it doesn’t matter, and he mocks you again, mimicking you in a high-pitched voice. “Will it hurt if I was someone close to you? A colleague? A friend? A lover?” 

Your breath gets faster. Will it? Would you turn him in or defend him? And you can’t stand you’re even questioning it, of course you’ll turn him in, that’s your job, but most importantly, your duty. But will you? You could be doing it now, and you’re not. 

“See? It’s not as funny if you know me,” he laughs at your face, your thoughts so loud he could get a headache. “It’s not as exciting, you love the thrill of this too, more than you like to admit.” 

“Fuck,” you curse when his other hand cups your covered breast, it’s a harsh tug and the leather feels weird on your skin, yet, it makes you clasp your thighs and forget what was tormenting your morals, again. 

“They’re so perfect, I can’t believe you always keep them hidden under those ugly clothes,” he pouts, giving it another hard squeeze. “Sorry.”

“For what — what the fuck?” You scream when he cuts your bra with the knife, first the middle and then the straps, the matching burgundy bra falling in pieces on the bottom of the chair. 

“It was getting in the way, and I don’t like things that get in my way. I cut them off,” in his voice lingers a hysterical laugh that makes you shiver, and in times like this, you’re glad you can’t see his face.  

You gulp and automatically close your legs. 

“Not you,” he reassures you, forcing your thighs open again with a smack, “you entertain me. And you suck at your job, so it’s clear you also don’t get in the way.” 

“I’m good at my job and I will get you and put you behind bars —” 

“Uh, uh,” he clicks his tongue, knife under your jaw before you can even finish the sentence, silencing you in an instant. “We were having so much fun, don’t ruin it, babe.”

You swallow and look down following the path he’s tracing with the knife, goosebumps bloom on your skin and you hold your breath when it gets closer to your neck, only releasing it when the blade sits in the hollow of your chest. 

“It’s so funny how you shake like a leaf, I’m a professional,” he says, sounding almost offended. And you furrow, is he talking about the knife or his fingers? “Both, love.” 

Another groan leaves your lips before he moves the crotch to the side and the cold air of the room hits your burning core. You’ve never been so ashamed your entire life, you shouldn’t be an open book to him, you shouldn’t be so malleable in his hands, it’s pathetic and humiliating. 

“You’re so fucking wet. I’m quite pissed I can’t run to the police department and let them know how much I turn you on. I can already see the disappointment on their faces,” he taunts, the slick sound of his gloves against your dripping pussy burns your body in shame and excitement.  

“Don’t you dare,” you spit out, but you don’t sound so menacing since your voice breaks, and a pathetically high-pitched moan rolls from your tongue right after.  

“I said I’m not going to, I keep my promises,” he kneels to the ground, one hand keeping you spread more and the other is still busy taking care of you. “Maybe if you promise you won’t shoot or put me in handcuffs right away when you’ll find out who I am, I can eat you out. I bet you let out the prettiest moans when you have someone between your legs.” 

Your head rolls back, and you hiss. “You wish,” you retort through gritted teeth, but a part of you dies to know what that would be like. “I will never give you the satisfaction.” 

He laughs mockingly. “Maybe I should blindfold you and do it now, will you recognize me by that?” At those words your body tenses up, head standing straight again as you look down at him with terror in your eyes. “What?” He asks in a giggle, surprised by your reaction. “You’re fucking with me right now, I still have blood on me. Would that be the most problematic thing? Having fucked with me before? Without this mask?” 

“You’re just messing with me,” you mutter but your brain is trying to think, the list of the people you’ve been with is not that long, he can’t be so stupid to out himself like that, right? 

“Maybe… I love it when I can see you think,” he whispers. “Usually, you have your hands in your hair, pulling at it even if you just washed it or spent hours styling it, and then you nervously bite your right thumb, somehow there’s always a hangnail to pull until it bleeds, oh, and you also nervously walk back and forth, two steps forward, two steps back. It’s cute, really. You have no fucking clue how to stop this, but you look so into it, chasing after me… well, so you think because, let’s be honest, you’re only chasing after your tail.” 

You can’t believe he knows all of this, how close to you is he? And a few names start popping into your mind, but for each face that you see, your only answer is it can’t be. 

“Why are you surprised? I told you, I love watching you,” he says, voice scarily soft even through the distortion of the mask. “You’re very pretty, detective. When you work hard to catch me, and even more when you screw it all up to moan for me.” 

“Ugh,” you groan through gritted teeth, wrist rubbing against the rope keeping you in place and hips bucking up, anger and pleasure mixing like a drug in your brain. You hate to admit it, but you’re close and you doubt you can push back your climax any longer.  

“It’s alright, love, I told you, I won’t judge you,” he hums. He studies your face for a moment, admiring how your teeth trap your lips in the vain attempt to don’t truly show how much you’re enjoying this, but your eyes are filled with lust, lightly glassy, and your cum is painting his gloves white. “Now, will you come for me?” 

He doesn’t have to tell you twice, your body shutters as the orgasm washes over you, the quick movements of his fingers on your sensitive clit making your nails dig into the palm of your hands while your moans slip out of you freely. Your morality disappears, getting dragged away with the orgasm that consumes you before leaving. 

You forget where you are for a moment, or to be more precise, with who you are with, as you let your head roll back, close your eyes and take deep breaths, waiting for the high to pass. 

The thing doesn’t bother Ghostface, though, he sees enough fear in people’s eyes, he likes it better when you stop pretending and relax around him. That’s the thrilling thing about you, you are the most entertaining game he has ever played. With all the others he knows how it will end, their lifeless bodies laying in a pool of their own blood and the sirens of the police going off in the background as he blends in with the crowd, but with you? It’s unknown. Like a Russian roulette. 

He’d love to shred all your clothes off, but he knows you’d have to spill your guts (not literally) if you walk out of there completely naked, and he’s sure the version you would tell the police would add another crime to his name. So, he takes your shoes off and then pulls your pants down. 

Your laugh makes him raise his face and stare at you. “What’s so funny, dollface?” 

You shrug, wetting your lips. “You scare me more when you act all sweet, you know?” 

He scoffs, standing up again, and caressing your face. “You want me to hurt you so badly. I could carve a heart right here,” he presses the tip of the blade next to your heart, tracing the shape of a heart, causing goosebumps to appear on your skin. “It would look so pretty on you, and you will always carry me with you. Isn’t it nice? Couple goals.” 

You raise a brow at him, he doesn’t even realize it, but he’s giving away so much of his personality, even if you don’t find it out now, you’re pretty positive all of this is leading you somewhere. You shake your head quickly, trying not to show how hard you’re thinking about your plan. “I only want one thing from you, and you know what it is.” 

He chuckles, leaning next to your ear. “My dick.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” you curse, accidentally kicking him now that your legs are free to move. You suck your breath in, fearing your move, even if involuntary, might piss him off.  

He hisses but doesn’t do anything else. “Don’t get all bratty here, doll. You said you wanted to play a game, and we’re going to play it until the end.” 

When he cuts your panties and balls them in his fist, saying “keeping them as a souvenir,” with a grin that can be heard in his voice, you only reply with an “asshole.” 

Once again, he doesn’t pay your insults any mind, and you wonder why he’s so nice to you. Should you fear it? Will you be his last victim, getting the worst death of them all because he needs to put on a show? “Now I will untie you, if you play any trick on me… you know how it ends.” 

You nod quickly, watching him disappear from your view as he stands behind you. You inhale when the knife places against your neck again and roll your eyes back. “You don’t have to do this every time, you know?” 

“It turns you on,” he retorts firmly. “And I need to make sure you don’t do any funny business.” 

Your eyes roll back again but you try to relax anyway and keep still when your wrists are finally free. Your shoulders are in a more comfortable position again as you subtly roll them to ease up. “Get up,” he orders, and you follow, moving carefully because the blade is still close to your body and you don’t want to end up dead on the floor. “Good, now lay on the mattress.” 

Your face twists in disgust when you’re reminded of the mattress on the floor, but he pushes you forward. 

“We didn’t kill anybody there.” 

You stop, turning around swiftly, and his reflections are rapid enough that he doesn’t push the knife into your chest. “We?” 

“Oh… it didn’t click yet…” He laughs darkly at your expression, the whole world falling on your shoulders as you wonder how could you be so stupid to not realize it. “Sorry, love. But hey, aren’t you happy I helped you out?” 

You glare at him but then bring your hand to your hair and your thumb to your lips. Of course, there are two of them, that’s the only way they could always be so headed of you. 

“Not the right moment to think about that,” he warns, voice dropping lower, making you stop your nervous ticks. “Get on the bed.” 

You turn around again, suddenly aware that he’s completely covered and you’re bare. That thought makes you seek the cover of the mattress more, and swiftly you’re laying where he wants you. But it also turns you on, being so exposed to him while he’s giving you not even a peak of who’s under the mask and the clothes send chills down your body and more cum drips out you.

“Promise you’ll be good? We can play cat and mouse later if you want to,” he asks, the blade running flat on your boobs, making him chuckle darkly when your nipples harden at the contact and your hips buck up. “You promise, detective?” He repeats with urge when you don’t reply, too busy watching the knife move on your body as he pins you down. 

“Promise,” you reply, looking into the blackness of the eyes of the mask. 

He chuckles under the mask, and you watch him unbuckle his pants. You could easily grab the weapon that’s on your stomach and stab him, you could even un-mask him, but you lay still, almost mesmerized. And the conscience inside of you likes to remind you how fucked up you and your morals are, but you brush it off, shaking your head quickly. 

“Turn around,” he orders, but you hesitate. That’s too much vulnerability. It’s clear he doesn’t like your hesitation when he groans, grabbing the knife and pushing it aside. “God, I have to do everything with you,” he sighs as he forcefully flips you on your stomach before his legs trap you again. This time you can’t do anything even if you want to, but once again, you don’t want to. 

“Fuck,” he moans, hands cupping your full ass and squeezing hard, the firm hold eliciting a moan from you. “Look at you, so fucking pretty. Keep your head down, don’t try to even get a peak,” he warns, and your immediate reaction is to turn around to understand what’s going on, but you know better, so you press your face into the pillow and only when you hear the loud sound of a spit and a glob of saliva drip between your folds you understand what happened. “Not that it was needed, you’re dripping. But you know, I like to get messy at times.” 

You turn your face around, resting your head on the pillow, and bite your lips. The smugness and insanity of his voice causing more cum to ooze out of your pussy.  

“I want to feel you so bad,” he hums, spreading your cunt, making you feel so exposed, “but will you run to the police? Will you tell them ‘oh no, I had to fuck Mr. Ghostface to have a bit of his DNA and save the town from this psycho’?” he mocks with a high-pitched voice, it doesn’t sound like you at all, more like a hopeless, brain-dead, blonde girl that dies within the first minutes of any horror movie. 

You snicker. “You underestimate me, I could say I got those traces from somewhere else.” 

“But will you? Also, I’m pretty sure they will find traces of you too. How humiliating would that be? Come on, honey, I won’t blackmail you, but you will screw yourself over? That’s not very smart of you.” 

He’s right, you hate that he’s right. You will have to out yourself in the process of trying to turn him in. “I — I won’t.” 

Deep down he knows you won’t, there’s no way they won’t trace it back at you too, and he also knows you won’t try to play the victim when you’re not, but he needs to be conscious, one wrong step and you could turn the game around. As much as he likes to mock you, he knows you’re smart and have been close to discovering them a few times, it was a matter of luck, and they were extremely lucky. 

“Better safe than in jail,” he chuckles darkly, you don’t even try to peer around, and only listen to the plastic of the condom rip. 

You whimper when you feel the tip against your slit, and you hide your face in the pillow as if that could change the reality of what you’re willingly doing. You’re too excited to be so ashamed of your actions, but, even if some may argue your morality is nowhere to be found, it still feels like a big balloon hovering over you. 

You shiver when you feel the mask rest on your shoulder, “Nah, ah, angel, no being ashamed now. I told you I don’t like rude people, so don’t be rude and ask me nicely to fuck you.” 

The urge to slap him is stronger than anything else, but once again your greed makes him win. “Please… please fuck me.”

“Not what I want to hear, you know what I want. We practiced the other night, haven’t we?” He reminds you, a hand creeping around your neck, holding tight enough to make buzzes of fear run through your bones. 

You close your eyes, inhaling as deeply as you can while trying to find the courage to humiliate yourself one last time, but then the words slip out, “Please, fuck me, Ghostface,” and the air gets knocked out of your lungs when he pushes into you. It’s a strong, deep thrust that fills you to the brim and knocks you over. Your head falls against the pillow again while his loud groan fills your ears, “Fuck, it sounds so good from your lips.” 

“Oh, fuck,” you curse through gritted teeth when he starts moving right away, barely giving you time to adjust to the feeling, thick dick grazing your insides and strong hands wrapping around your waist tightly. 

“Is it too much for you, detective? My sweet little angel can’t take it?” 

A groan slips past your lips, you try to stand up on your elbows, but he pushes you down. His body presses against your back and you feel trapped again. “Don’t move. I will fuck you so deep into this mattress that I will feel your scent for days after this. I want your face smashed against the pillow, I want it to be wet with your ruined makeup and tears, got it? ” 

You nod quickly, shoulders dropping as you slump against the mattress. His breathing next to your ear makes you shiver, and you wonder if that’s the last thing the non-so-lucky people have met him heard before dying. But you push it away, for the sake of your sanity, you have to fool yourself that you’re not so attracted to a bloody murderer, that your morals are still intact, and that you are a good person. 

It’s pathetic how all the anger you feel disappears with each calculated thrust, pleasure getting to your brain so quickly you stop holding back. Soft whimpers and moans roll out of your tongue and unconsciously your ass grinds back into him.  

“Fuck, that’s what I want to hear,” he hums, standing up while his hands wrap around your waist. He never wanted to burn those gloves so badly, feeling the urge to feel your burning skin and mark you with his bare hands, but he can’t risk it. That doesn’t mean he can’t leave marks in other ways. One hand leaves your hips and cups your boob, eliciting a broken moan from you. “Have I told you they’re so pretty?” 

“Mhh,” you mumble, eyes closing as he pinches down on your nipple. You wish you could say it hurt you but instead, it makes you clench hard around him, cum leaking out more with each pinch on your delicate, sensitive buds. 

“Shit, you really are into pain,” he comments, there’s mockery in his voice —like always— but there’s also a genuine surprise. “Who would’ve thought, my innocent detective is way more fucked in the head than I thought.” 

“I — I’m not,” you retort, groaning and forcing your eyes open, but the deep chuckle that rumbles in his chest makes you quiver, and your attitude drops in a moment. 

“Honey,” he slurs, voice dipped in honey, “you’re letting Ghostface fuck you dumb, you are fucked in the head.” 

You shake your head quickly, but he’s had enough of your lies. The rough tug at your hair makes you let out a choked gasp as your head is lifted from the pillow. “I know you better than anyone else, angel,” he groans, mask pressed against your hot face. “I know your dirty, little secrets. I know what runs into that dirty, little mind of yours. You can’t lie to me,” he almost purrs, a low chuckle making shame fire up inside of you, “and I can feel you, princess. Squeezing me, barely allowing me to pull out to fuck back into you. Fuck — I should feel you right now, no stupid rubber between us.” 

Another broken moan slips from your lips when he roughly lets go of the hold on you, your fingers clench hard around the thin sheet under you, and your hips jerk up even more. It’s like you want to feel him more, to have him imprint himself deep into you, so far under your skin that you won’t be able to wash him off, and you don’t even know why you feel like this. Why it made you feel like this a week prior too, all the hesitation and fear as you picked up the phone and heard his breathy, distorted voice, flying out of the window the moment he started ordering you around. But was it truly an order when your only hesitation came from the fear of judgement, and you could only feel your body tingle with excitement? Sitting in front of the window, having no idea where he was hiding, putting on a show for the killer you swore you hated and making yourself come the hardest you’ve ever done. 

“It makes you feel special, doesn’t it? The way you’re the only exception. The only one I would never hurt.” His voice is lower, hitting you to the core, making your toes curl and your breath falter in your chest. “You’re like a daisy in a garden of bloody, red roses.” 

“Please,” you breathe out, choking on your tongue, eyes fluttering open shyly. 

“Want me to stop?” He coos, head cocking to the side as he lands a sharp slap on your asscheek that makes you hiccup on a whimper and then another to your boob that drags a louder cry out of you. “Don’t want to hear how special you are?” 

But that’s not what you meant. Your pleads were about something else, something you struggle to confess. 

A deep laugh resonates in his chest as he looks down at your already wrecked face. You’re so precious, he can’t believe you sometimes think he could hurt you. His prettiest game, his wildest fantasy. The thrill he feels in his bones every time he’s close to you, so, so near to being discovered and yet always safe. It’s exciting, getting to his brain so much he can hardly hide how much it turns him on. But you’ve never been this close before. He dreamed about fucking you, having you pressed under him, begging, moaning and crying as his dick hit deep into your sweet pussy, pounding into you over and over again until you were nothing but mush in his hands. He wanted to strip you down completely and leave nothing of the women he sees and admires every single day. He dreamed of having all this power over you, watching you get weak on your knees and let him do anything he wanted, watching your body convulse in pleasure and your brain empty. And here you are now; wet, fucked-out eyes looking up at him while your pretty, plump mouth opens and closes as your shut-down brain tries hard to find the words. 

“Speak up, princess. I don’t like to wait.” 

“Please, wa-want to feel you,” you slur in a whisper, eyes blinking lazily as you try to hold onto what’s left of your sanity. 

He chuckles, his thrusts coming to a stop that makes you whine in disappointment. “You want me to fuck you raw, detective?” 

You hum, nodding slowly, not for the lack of enthusiasm but for the amount of shame that’s looming over you like a tornado. But Ghostface doesn’t like your silences, he doesn’t like it when you hesitate, that’s not what turns him on about you. It’s your impulses, the way you jump into things headfirst without thinking, for some it may be dumb, but to him, it’s just that sprinkle of insane bravery that makes life exciting. Your head is yanked up again with a rough pull of your hair, but his hold quickly moves to your neck. “I thought we were over the phase where I have to drag the words out of your mouth, detective. I’ll ask nicely one last time, do you want me to fuck you raw?” 

You swallow your pride and reply meekly, “Ye-yes.” 

He chuckles, pulling out of you almost completely before sinking in again with no warning, knocking the air out of your lungs, air that’s already struggling to fill them as his hold on your neck doesn’t loosen up. “See? It wasn’t that hard, was it? Even your stupid brain could put two words together.” 

You gasp for air when he finally lets go and your face sinks on the pillow again. 

“I’d love to, but I won’t risk it. Maybe next time, maybe if I’ll ever feel like telling you who I am,” he replies, and you groan in disappointment. Not only he doesn’t give you what you want but he also mocks you, reminding you why you’re here and how your mission flushed down the toilet as you let him play you like a violin. 

“Then — fuck — please, fuck me harder,” at this point you want him to fuck you so hard your brain will just unplug and your superego can stop nagging at the back of your mind. You don’t want a single thought in your brain, just pleasure and lust. 

“That I can give it to you,” he hums happily, and in a second, he complies. His hips start snapping against you at a fast speed, his tip hitting you deep repeatedly as he keeps you arched back with one hand around your waist and the other one wrapped around the makeshift ponytail he made with your hair. 

You can already feel the orgasm build up at the tip of your stomach, but it only worsens when Ghostface roughly pulls you flat against him. Your head falls behind on his shoulder, eyes rolled far in your skull as your lips hang open to let out desperate moans and suck in as much air as possible. 

“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” he moans, his thumb rubs against your neck and jaw while his right hand squeezes and pulls your boobs hard before pinching the nipples. “Listen to those pretty sounds you make,” he snickers, “and you still want to pretend you’re innocent and pure? You’re fucked up just like me, baby, that’s why I like you so much,” he slurs. 

You blink, once again adjusting to the light is uncomfortable but you make out just in time the fact he’s holding a Polaroid camera. “Smile for the camera, babe,” his voice rings in your ears but doesn’t reach your brain and before you know it, you’re coming just like that. The look on your face is not a smile but an expression of blissed pleasure, the exact moment as the climax explodes inside of you, making you clench around his dick and shake in his arms, your arm twisting back, letting your hand claps on his bicep and sink your nail in the thick fabric of the black cloak.  

Ghostface would like to say he’s disappointed and scold you for misbehaving, but he can only stare at you with amused disbelief written all over his face. But you only see the constant expression of the mask and once again, you fear for a second he’s mad at you. Truth be told, he could even kill you right now, you wouldn’t mind much or even notice, too lost in the pleasure that’s still looming on your body. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, hips slowing down until they stop completely, “you just gifted me the most precious pic in my collection,” he whispers. You feel like the edge of mockery is still persistent but at the same time something genuine lingers in it, it doesn’t make it less creepy, but the ‘fuck me harder method’ worked because you don’t question his, and yours, fucked morality and just smile dumbly. 

And that smile, united with the slow bat of your wet eyelashes, is what he needs to lose it. 

“Oh, fuck it, I’ll clean you up once we’re done and if you’ll try to turn me in, I’ll find out, so you better keep your promise, alright?” 

You don’t get what he’s talking about right away, too fucked out as you lay on the mattress waiting for his next move, but when he pulls out of you and swiftly pulls the condom out, you get it. You bite your lips in anticipation and swing your hips in invitation. 

The sight would be enough to make him come right there, and he damns himself because out of all people, you can’t be his biggest weakness. It got to be some fucking joke of destiny. “Will you go to the police?” 

“No,” you mumble.  

“Good girl, because these little games are just for us, me and you, you can’t use what we do here to help you with your case.” When he sinks inside of you again, he feels like he could lose it all for the way your wet, warm walls wrap around him. “Fuck, fuck,” he curses, voice even more distorted now that he murmurs through gritted teeth, “you feel so fucking good.” 

His thrusts now are almost primal, desperately pounding you against the mattress, keeping you pinned down with a hand on the back of your head —not that you need that, you wouldn’t be able to hold your neck up even if you wanted to— and holding for dear life on your hips with the other. You’ll probably have some bruises by the end of the night, if not colored prints on your skin, surely light discomfort at the touch will follow you for a few days. And you almost want to beg him for more, to mark you in some other ways, to leave something just for you to see and carry with you. Sick and perverted thoughts cross your mind, and you push them away swiftly. 

You bite down on your lips when his hand leaves your side to torture your nipples again, he can barely push his hand between your body and the mattress, but he has just enough space to play with your sensitive nipples, making them even harder and causing you to clench even more around him. He loves how sensitive you are there and how each rub, pinch, and slap has you easily squirming and moaning under him.

“Look at you, going all dumb on my cock,” he groans, mockingly giving one harsh slap to your tits before his fingers trace your cheek. Your skin is so hot he can almost feel it through the fabric separating you, but what he’s most fascinated about are your tears, black mascara running down your beautiful face, dying on the pillow and your tortured parted lips. “Are you still thinking about being better than me or — fuck — have you finally embraced your dark side?” 

Not a word comes out of your mouth when you whimper back, and not even a thought crosses your mind. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he grins smugly. “You know,” he breathes out, head thrown back as it gets harder and harder to contain the orgasm, but he doesn’t want it to end so soon, “you should fire yourself and be my toy, just my toy, every time I need you, everywhere I need you. You’d love that, wouldn’t you? It’d make you feel even more special.” 

You mumble a weak reply, it’s a whispered ‘no,’ but your body doesn’t deny how much the thought turns you on. Too many responsibilities in your life and your job, too much to carry daily, but right now? Nothing. Guilt will eat you alive tomorrow but not now. Something feels exciting about being on the run with him, being the one that runs, instead of the one that chases. But it won’t happen, you believe in your job, and you want this slasher to end.  

“Cause only I can get you like this, ugh,” he grunts, hips slamming faster but more sloppily against your ass, the vulgar sounds filling up the room. “No man before and no man after will make you come this hard. Nobody, love. No matter how much you’ll want to, they all will disappoint you and you will look for me in every single one of them,” he groans, each word punctuated by a harsh slam of his hips, “well, the lucky ones that will get a taste before I’ll get them and kill them.” 

You don’t reply, just lay there, looking like a mess as you try to fight another orgasm because coming again would be humiliating. 

“It turns you on, doesn’t it?” You can hear the grin on his face and his voice has the edge of insanity of the usual. “Let’s be honest, you’ve got a list of shitty partners, you would’ve been grateful if I got rid of some of them.” 

“Fuck, just — just fuck me,” you beg, your hand reaching behind to touch him somehow, but he doesn’t like it. 

He grips your hand and pins it behind your back bending your arm, you hiss in discomfort, but he doesn’t let go. “Oh, no, angel. You don’t make the rules in this game, I do. If I want to sink into your brain and get so deep into you that I’ll make sure you will never come out the same, I will. I’m the darkest side of yourself, the fucked up filth you’re too afraid to face,” he groans. “And I know you’re close again. Your tight cunt is squeezing me, and you made a mess on the mattress,” he snickers. “Imagine if they find this place, this mattress, your DNA on it,” he stops, leaning next to your ear, voice dropping lower, “or better, imagine if they find us now. What do you say, detective? Would they be disappointed? Would they just jack off at the view? You look so hot right now, I wouldn’t blame them if they’d get off to you, to us together. Kill them surely, blame them not. We’re so hot, detective.” 

You squirm under him, feeling like the room is spinning fast and you can’t ground on anything. You have a darker thought in mind, something you can’t confess to him or else he won’t stop mocking you. You want to get caught, but not by your colleagues, by his partner. What would he do if he saw you and his partner in crimes like this? Would he understand this, or would he snap? Maybe even feeling betrayed. Does he even know you and him have been playing this game of attraction for a while now?  

Your silence doesn’t make Ghostface suspect anything. You simply look totally fucked out, brain empty as you plead in soft whimpers and moans. 

“You sound so fucking good,” he praises. “Why don’t we play another little game, uh?” 

Your eyes open in surprise and you hum with no strength, “what?” 

“Beg me to save your life,” he says, grabbing the knife again and placing it close to your neck. “Come on, do it for me, I won’t ever hear you say it because I will never want to kill you. Please, detective,” he coos, hips slowing down because your pussy is fogging his brain and he’s not sure his always-perfect aim and reflexes will work right now. 

You take a deep breath and then speak. “Please, Ghostface, please, spare my life.” 

His head rolls back, and a deep, groggy moan comes out of his lips. “Fuck, yes, keep going,” he orders, hips picking up the rhythm again as he skillfully flips the blade to the lesser sharp side just to be safe. 

And you obey. You beg, choked-up words slipping from your lips that soon turn into please, fuck me harder, and then please, wanna come. You feel boneless, your body is too hot, and you feel you might pass out, you need a release and then hope something bigger than you will make you get back on your legs and walk out of there as if nothing happened, as if you never followed your guts and found his —their— safe haven. 

“Come for me, love,” he orders, throwing the knife to the side before his hand sneaks under your body to roughly slap your clit a few times, enjoying the louder moans he drags out of you by doing so and watching with pleasure as your body squirms and shakes. “And don’t forget to smile for the camera.” 

This time your eyes lock with the polaroid that he points toward your face as his chin rests on your shoulder. But it only lasts for the time of the picture, your body collapses again when he lets go of your hair and you let the pleasure pervade you from head to toe. It’s breathtaking and mind-blowing, and next time you’ll fuck someone else you’ll hate that he’s right. You will feel him everywhere, you will feel his dick deep inside of you every time your fingers will desperately try to take its place, and every time you’ll let someone in your bed, but you don’t hate that thought as you should. 

“Fuck,” he groans, giving you a few more pumps to make sure you rode your high before slipping out and then roughly flipping you over. “Close your eyes,” he orders, and you follow with no hesitation —honestly, you were struggling to keep them open in the first place. 

Your heaving chest, your parted lips still letting out cries, your wet cheeks, and your trembling closed thighs are the last drop he needs to let go. Deep moans reach your ears while his hot cum drops on your face, most on your skin but some in your mouth, and they get even louder when you shyly swallow it and lick your lips for more. 

“Fuck, fuck, you’re —” he gasps but doesn’t finish, holding onto nothing as he empties himself all over your face. “Fuck.”

He feels dizzy, the orgasm still shaking him up, but then he looks at you and has to bite back a moan. The white strings of cum are covering your blissed face, your eyelashes are clumped together by the tears, and your lips are plump and darker, he knows he doesn’t want to forget what you look like right now. “Smile one last time, baby.” 

And you do, the corners of your mouth lift and then you hear the click of the polaroid. You think for a second you should’ve told him to don’t take them, he could easily blackmail you, or straight-up get you fired, but once again, you don’t truly care, and you don’t deny how much the idea of those photos turned you on.

You should get up, grab your pants, jacket, shoes and leave. But you feel heavy and tired, you’re still shaking, and your breath didn’t go back to normal, yet. 

“Don’t worry, detective,” Ghostface whispers, something passes on your face to clean you from the mess, but you don’t know what, and only then you open them ajar, just to see he’s still wearing his mask. “I’ll take care of you.” 

The Ghostface mask is the last thing you see. 

When you wake up, you’re in your bed, wearing your nightwear, completely cleaned up, but your bones and muscles are still sore, and a terrible headache is throbbing in the left side of your brain. You turn around, rubbing your eyelids with your palms before you can fully focus on the pillow and see three things on it. The Ghostface mask, a polaroid of you two from before, his face next to yours as he pulled your hair, and a note. 

“It was a pleasure playing with you, my pretty detective. Can’t wait to see what our next game will be like♡ ” 

general taglist: @froggyforyoongi , @wingsss45 ; @tddyhyck ; @technologyculturedneo

© neowinestaindress; all rights reserved. do NOT repost, modify, or translate any work from this blog on any other platform and claim it as yours. you can find my works on ao3 (neowinestaindress) and wattpad (winestaintedress_; currently inactive).

[dreaming-medium]

𝒮𝒯𝑅𝒜𝒴 𝒦𝐼𝒟𝒮 𝑀𝒜𝒮𝒯𝐸𝑅𝐿𝐼𝒮𝒯

Welcome to my Stray Kids Masterlist! There's a little bit of everything here on my page, I hope you find something that you enjoy <3

Currently, my requests are CLOSED.

You can buy me a coffee <3 https://ko-fi.com/dreamingmedium

(s) = smut (f) = fluff (a) = angst (mc) = multi-chapter

𝒪𝒯𝟪

(mc)(s)(f)(a) Animals Without Direction - Stray Kids Fantasy!AU ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

𝐵𝒜𝒩𝒢 𝒞𝐻𝒜𝒩

(s) Frottage - Actress!AU (s) Breeding Kink - Friends To Lovers (a)(f) Bad Day - hurt/comfort (a) No Contact - angst, hurt/comfort

𝐿𝐸𝐸 𝒦𝒩𝒪𝒲

(f) Thanksgiving With You - Friends To Lovers (s) A/B/O - Werewolf!AU

𝒮𝐸𝒪 𝒞𝐻𝒜𝒩𝒢𝐵𝐼𝒩

(s) Hate Sex - Gym!AU (f) Christmas Wrapping - Established Relationship Fluff

𝐻𝒲𝒜𝒩𝒢 𝐻𝒴𝒰𝒩𝒥𝐼𝒩

(s) Titfucking - Established Relationship (s) Praise Kink - Detective!AU

𝐻𝒜𝒩 𝒥𝐼𝒮𝒰𝒩𝒢

(s) Orgasm Denial - College!AU (s) Watch Your Six - Secret Agent!AU

𝐿𝐸𝐸 𝐹𝐸𝐿𝐼𝒳

(s) Cockwarming - Secretary!AU

𝒦𝐼𝑀 𝒮𝐸𝒰𝒩𝒢𝑀𝐼𝒩

(s) Dacryphilia - College!AU (a)(f) Just Look Up - Friends to Lovers

𝒴𝒜𝒩𝒢 𝒥𝐸𝒪𝒩𝒢𝐼𝒩

(a)(s) Virginity - Childhood Best Friends to Lovers (a)(f) White Nail Polish - Roommates!AU

[amourcheol]

filmbro-zoned (teaser)

❝Who knew all it takes is a hot girl with top-tier taste for a man to admit he's wrong?❞

g e n r e : college! au, fluff, crack, suggestive

w o r d c o u n t : 1k for teaser (approx 20k words for full fic)

s u m m a r y : self-proclaimed movie mastermind chwe vernon minds his business—whether that be avoiding the popular, problematic kids in his college to reducing customer interest in his parents' film store. his plan of isolation, however, is completely destroyed when you, a seemingly insane disney fan, slams his perfect movie taste and ask for his help to take down an evil ex.

w a r n i n g s : loosely inspired by watching the detectives, film major! vernon who owns an outdated film store, mc is the baddest (but also the craziest) bitch in this fic, vernon is a loser, film major! mingyu who will be violated many times in this fic sorry king, mentions of many filmbro films which will also be violated, self-indulgent mentions of some of my favourite films, kissing, mentions of sex but no actual sex because im fearing god today, barbenheimer reference <3

p l a y l i s t : if you're too shy (then let me know) by the 1975 || q&a by seventeen || wonderful women by the smiths || confidence by ocean alley

t a g l i s t : @hyuckworld @hiraethmae @lllucere @intoanothermind @kokoiinuts

a u t h o r ' s n o t e : who would have thought i'd be writing a college au huh...alice will never let me live this down...also guys once again so sorry for constantly posting this hopefully i have found a way for the loophole...let us see if this teaser gets shown in the tags...

“WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON WOLF OF WALL STREET, AMERICAN PSYCHO, PULP FICTION…FIGHT CLUB, SAVING PRIVATE RYAN, SCARFACE…”

You squinted at the list, finding the names neverending. “Jeez, this list keeps going, huh?” 

He could not help the scoff. “And you called me a Filmbro.” He set his forearms on the counter, locking his hands together. “What do you need these movies for?”

“They’re for my ex-boyfriend.” 

The term had him pausing. Of course—the ex-boyfriend. How has he heard of this man, but not know a thing about him? Shit, he did not even know your name.

“This ex of yours has an…interesting taste,” he said slowly. “What’s he like?”

“I can tell you he attends the same college as you. Well, us,” you clarified, jerking your head towards the college colours of your server’s hoodie. “Film major. Just like you, actually.” 

“Oh?” Small world. “What’s the name?”

“Kim Mingyu. Do you know him?” 

Vernon Chwe nearly shit his oversized jeans.

A hesitant nod of his head. “I have a few classes with him.”

“Oh?” Your stare was a little more intense now. “What do you think of him?”

Right. 

Another fated question—the people around him had to stop asking him such controversial questions, or else he was bound to piss someone off. You were already letting him off the hook too many times; one more judgemental comment, and he was having that Princess movie set smashed on his head.

Kim Mingyu. Fuckass Kim Mingyu. Film major—just like him. One of the most popular boys in the year—very unlike him. All the teachers love his essays, all the girls love his freakishly-perfect six-pack, which Vernon is extremely irritated (and devastatingly intimidated) by. 

What all these people failed to realise, though, was that Mingyu was the biggest piece of shit to grace the halls of his university—and the planet, if dramatics were in order. If you thought that Vernon was a filmbro, then Mingyu was Filmbrother. Filmcomrade. Filmnemesis. 

It was as if you could hear the thoughts churning in his head. “You can be honest, you know. He did dump me at the end of the day.” A smirk began to appear. “Say your worst.”

The reassurance did not help. “I mean,” he started, swiping your card, “He’s okay? I haven’t talked to him enough to have an opinion on him.” 

A half-truth—that should suffice. 

But because the fates like to shit on his head every now and then for kicks, they decided to leave you unsatisfied with his answer. “Or, you can keep lying!” 

Excellent intuition, really. “I’m not!” he exclaimed, slapping the card back on the counter. “I really don’t know much about him.”

The big man upstairs was testing him even further, when, with a determined gaze, you set your elbows atop the surface. You leaned closer, tilting your head to the side as you inspected him, and Vernon blinked back at the sheer lack of space you had created. His mouth twisted, eyes frantically darting at the features of your face, not quite taking in the entirety of your being. Your vision seemed to work perfectly, because it caught the slight flush at the tops of his cheeks, where it was just pale skin seconds before.

Your smirk deepened. “Judging by your blush, you’re either terrible at lying…or,” you offered, voice lowering a little as you drummed your fingers against the counter, “You’ve never had a hot girl this close to you.” 

Fuck everything and everyone, because that only made him blush more furiously. You could not help the chuckle that escaped, deciding to cease torturing him and take your card. “I’ll not say the answer, Mr. Filmbro, but I think you already know.”

Since he had no plans of turning into a human form of a ketchup bottle, he evaded the topic entirely, instead focusing on interrogating you. “You still haven’t told me how Mingyu is related to the movie list you made.”

That seemed to hold your interest. “Oh, of course!” Putting the list back into your bag, you began, “Well, the list holds my ex-boyfriend’s favourite films. I wanted to know your opinion on a few.”

He could not contain his sigh. Oh, he had an opinion on these films that you mentioned. Again, he would rather be buried with his thoughts on the specific genre than ever tell you. The curiosity, though, was eventually going to eat him alive.

So much for minding his business.

“I mean…” he began to think, trying to find the right words. “I don’t mind them? Godfather is a good film, but I’ve seen better from Brando. I like American Psycho, but again, people tend to miss the point of the movie.”

As you nodded, listening to his two-cents on the movies you mentioned, he paused, furrowing his brows. “Why do you care about my opinion?”

You smacked your lips together, folding the list back. “I don’t know much about you, Mr. Filmbro,” you began, “But you don’t run a filmstore without knowing a thing or two about the films you sell.”

“So?” He crossed his arms atop the counter. “Shouldn’t you have asked the guy who you made the list about?”

“Trust me,” you said, your smirk turning more into a rageful flash of teeth, “I know exactly what he thinks of these films.”

Don’t particularly know what to make of that comment. “Well, I don’t know what my opinion for these films is going to help you in any way.”

“It has helped.” You paused then, waiting to see if he would egg you on, asking how his seemingly tame opinions would play into the grand scheme of things. “All part of my master plan.”

Master plan? Vernon may have been interested before, but he was certain that, before, he could have hid it without letting you catch onto it. In a sudden flash, though, as if his mouth was beyond his control, he regrettably slipped out the words which had you smiling more than he would have liked.

“What master plan?”

He almost closed his eyes. Shit. Now I’m fucking invested.

The corners of your mouth, lifting upwards, had him almost nervous. “I was hoping you would say that.” 

[ctrlsht]

Fragment of the Past 03

pairing: patient!jungkook x psychiatrist!reader genre: thriller & yandere au

summary: You are a well-known and respected psychiatrist and author. You start treating Jungkook, who suffers from PTSD after surviving an extremely traumatic incident. As you help him confront his traumatic past, he begins to act strangely, and you start uncovering something about him that will change everything.

chapter summary: You thought that you could finally escape from Jungkook but little did you know that he has something more to hold against you. You endure everything that he did to you but he was too much until you can no longer take him anymore.

chapter warnings: hazing, fraternity, blackmailing, manipulation, smut, non con/dub con, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), mc was traumatized, stalking, murder, major character death word count: 11.3K

parts: (1) | (2) | (3)

note: This fiction will contain multiple mental disorders and psychology facts. I conducted my own research to avoid spreading misinformation, but there may be aspects I've overlooked, so I am open for any corrections.

"Why are you here? Aren't you aware of the restraining order?" You threw your pen on the table and stood up from your seat, while a sinister smile curled his lips. He continued to take a step towards you and you immediately pushed the buttons that connected to the reception desk. He only laughed before he spoke.

“It’s 9 in the evening, Y/N. No one’s here except for the both of us.” His words send shivers down your spine.

He was right, Soyeon and your other colleagues went home 3 hours ago and you’re the only one left inside. 

You love to overwork but right now, you wish that you just continue working at home. 

He’s going to kill you before the night ends. You’re sure of it. 

You reach your phone with a shaking hand as you scroll to your contact list and click Detective Jung’s number. 

“Who are you going to call? Detective Jung?” His words were like whispers from the depths of darkness.

Detective Jung isn’t answering your calls. 

“You’d be arrested once you come near me.” You tried to threaten him, but it only sounded like a joke to him.

He took a seat in his usual position as he intertwined both of his hands.

“I commend you for your cleverness when you ask for a restraining order against me,” He crosses his legs and touches his lips. “Unfortunately for you, it won’t stop me from attending our sessions."

“It’s my first time attending an evening session, is it also your first time, Dr. Y/N?” He said with a malevolent grin stretched across his lips.

“I swear, before the sun rises tomorrow, you’d be arrested.” You spoke, clenching your jaw. 

“With how fast you climb to the top, I thought you were smart, Y/N. But I was wrong.” He pokes the inside of his cheek as he smirks. “You should know by now the reason why I’m not in jail for killing my mother.” 

You weren’t able to respond, like a cat caught your mouth. 

“I thought that you’ll do great in kicking me out of your life so I came prepared. I even thought that you’d approach a different detective for this one, and fortunately, you still decide to approach Detective Jung.” He pauses to let out his laughs. “Don’t you know that he was the reason why I’m still free? He’s my best friend, Y/N!” A sinister laugh erupted from his throat as your body started to shake. 

“I even came up with a plan with my lawyer if ever I was arrested but damn Y/N, I somehow wish that you give me a thrill. You made my life easier than I expected.”

As he said those words, your legs turned to jelly, and a tightness gripped your chest. 

You’ve underestimated him and his power and now, your life's on the line. 

“Go ahead and ruin my reputation. Upload those recordings online, I don’t care anymore. I can’t stomach you anymore, Jungkook.” You spoke in a serious tone, before fixing your things.

“Are you sure about that?” He asked, a smile evident in his voice.

“If you think you need to use those recordings to destroy me, feel free to do so. I won't participate in this any longer. I refuse to be a part of your games, Jungkook.” 

“Oh, Y/N.” He sighs before he continues. “If you think that this is all about you, you’re wrong.” He stood up and took out his phone from his pocket. You’re about to go but he thrust his phone in your chest. “Watch it because you’d love to see what kind of a person your best friend really is.” He smirks and you look at his phone. It was a video and you were scared to play it. The thumbnail is Taehyung standing in front of a man with their eyes blindfolded. Taehyung looks so young in here and you aren’t sure what’s happening. One way to find out. 

You wish you didn’t take his phone. You wish that you just proceed on walking out of your clinic, leaving him inside because when you play the video, you immediately hear a painful scream coming from a man. It wasn’t Taehyung who’s screaming, instead, a man was kneeling and bleeding while his eyes were blindfolded, and Taehyung was hitting him with a baseball bat.

Holy shit. 

Taehyung looks so young in the video. His hair was blonde, it’s his hair when he was 17 or 18, as you remember. You can’t believe what you saw. The man that he’s hitting is begging for him to stop but he doesn't. Instead, he hit him harder. 

Your hands were trembling, almost dropping the phone as you stopped the video from playing. 

What was that?

“Why do you look so scared, Y/N? It’s your best friend.” Jungkook slowly took the phone from your hand. 

Your body trembled uncontrollably, fear had taken hold of your very core. You looked at him, shaking your head.

“That’s not Taehyung.” You said.

“Oh Y/N, I wish you’re right, but it was him.” He chuckled. He takes a few steps back and places his right hand on his pocket as he scrolls to find something on his phone. 

When he finds it, he shows his phone once again. You were confused because it’s a group of male people and when he noticed your confusion, he zoomed the screen and you saw Taehyung in the photo.

“He’s part of underground society way back before he was an artist and that's when I knew him, Y/N. He was one of the people who performed the initiation rites for the new members, and that video you just saw? It’s what he does for the society he’s in.”

You can’t believe it, you refuse to believe it. Taehyung won’t do that. He won’t harm—

“Why do you look so shocked?” He asked with a grin on his face, mocking you. “You should know that, as his best friend.” 

“That’s not him.” You said, trying more to convince yourself. “Taehyung can’t do that. He won't take part in that kind of behavior.”

“Then you don’t really know your friend.” He placed his phone back in his pocket. “Stop being too naive, Y/N. Everyone has their own secrets to keep.” 

“Do you really think that I would believe you? Whatever shit you’re trying to pull, you won’t make me believe you.” You said in your sharp tone.

“But the people will.” He took a step towards you with a smirk on his lips. 

“You may refuse to believe it but the people will. They will believe so easily in whatever’s happening in that video.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat resonating with the intensity of the madness you feel. You never felt this kind of anger before. It’s too much that you wanted to kill him.

“What do you want?! What do you really want!” Your rage erupted like a blazing fire, smacking his chest aggressively. You keep on smacking and pushing him, while he doesn't even show any hint of pain. “Why are you doing this to me!” you shouted, tears welling up in your eyes and when you got tired, your hits became slower until you decided to stop. 

Jungkook held your wrist and looked at your eyes with intensity. You cannot resist him anymore because you’re too tired. 

“What do I want?” He repeated the question while staring at your eyes. “It’s simpler than you think.” His words were soft as a smile formed on his mouth. “I want you, Y/N.” 

You sob before you release your wrist from his grip. “I can’t have another session with you. You’re not cooperating.” You respond, letting out a weary sigh.

“That’s not what I mean.” He shook his head, slowly scanning your face down to your body. “I want you without your clothes, laying down while I am on top of you.”

You immediately shook your head. “No fucking way. I won’t let you do that.” 

“Then you agreed to let me upload your illegal voice recordings with your patients along with the video of your best friend, beating the hell out of an innocent man. I bet the people will love to see what their idol really is, right?”

You’re already bursting out of tears, shaking your head. “Please don’t involve him anymore.” 

“It’s your own fault, Y/N. The only thing that I want is a session with you until I recover, yet you pushed my limits. Now, you have to face the consequences of your actions.” He takes a step towards you, leaning forward to see your face full of tears and wipe them using the both of his finger thumb. You hit his arms and took a step backwards.

“You’re sick.” You turn around to gather your things and when you’re about to leave, he speaks.

“I’m telling you, you don’t want to test me because you wouldn’t like the ending.”

—

That same night, you didn't go home; instead, you went straight to Taehyung's place. He wasn't there because he had a shoot, but you waited. You couldn't wait any longer. You couldn't bring yourself to believe what you had seen unless it came directly from him. You've known Taehyung since birth, and you were certain that the videos and photos you had just seen couldn't be him because you knew he wouldn't do such things.

Yet you don’t understand why you felt betrayed even though you haven’t talked to him.

 When he arrived, that’s the first thing you ask him and it’s too obvious that he didn’t anticipate it. As the longer he can’t respond, the ache you feel worsens.

“Answer me, Kim Taehyung. Are you a member of an underground society?” You repeat the question, emphasizing every word.

“Where did—

“Just answer me!”

Taehyung was taken aback with your screams and a fear is evident in his face. He stood there frozen, unable to move or look away. He sighs before he speaks.

“Yes.”

Your body hunched, eyes closed as a tear streamed down your face. You lowered your body, squatted and your shoulders shook with each shuddering sobs.

“Y/N, w-why?” Taehyung immediately went to you but when his hand landed on your shoulder, you stood up, immediately pushing him away.

“You beat people, Taehyung! You beat them to death, you monster!” 

“Y/N, please let me explain—

“Explain what?! How the fuck you beat them until they die?!”

“It’s not my choice! They were threatening to kill me if I didn’t do what they wanted!”

You glared at him, choosing not to respond. 

“I thought it was a normal organization when I joined but I was tricked! I tried to leave but they didn’t let me and they even threatened to kill me if I reported them to the police! I was just 17 years old at that time, Y/N! I didn’t know what to do!” 

He was trembling as a tear formed in his eyes. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Because I was scared that they would involve you. It’s a trap.”

“So you were still involved with them?” Your voice raised and he immediately shook his head.

“No! I managed to get away when we were caught doing the initiation rite, but I managed to run away without being caught. I wasn’t the one performing the initiation rite during that time so it was easy for me to run away.” He explained.

You only stare at him, imagining the 17-year-old Taehyung standing in front of you. During that time, you don't remember anything that may hint he was in danger. The only Taehyung you saw was the jolly and energetic Taehyung, not knowing that he was facing a dangerous situation.

Little did you know that 12 years from now, you’d also face the same situation like he does.

You took a step towards him and wrapped your arms around him, sobbing uncontrollably. You can’t imagine he faced that problem all by himself at that age. You were supposed to be with him as he faced his battles, but he was all alone. 

“Why didn’t you tell me even after you managed to run away?” You spoke, choked sobs wracked your body as he stroked your back gently. 

“It’s okay, it’s all in the past.”

You were in that position for a few moments until you calmed down. You break away from him and wipe your own tears. 

“How did you find out?” with that, you’re back from reality, the reason why you are here. 

“I saw a video of you beating a man. That’s how I found out.” His mouth hung open as his breath came in short.

“Where did you watch it?”

"An anonymous sender sent me the video. I couldn't bring myself to save the video because I can't bear to watch it again, so I deleted it," You reason out. You can’t tell him the truth because it will only complicate things more. “But I already reported it to the authorities and a security specialist and they guarantee that the person responsible for it will be caught.”

You felt bad for lying but you can’t tell him the truth. It wasn’t a good idea to confront him about this manner in the first place but you were not in your right mind when you decided to go here. You were caught off-guards. 

You just need to make sure that no one will see that video again. How? That’s also something you don’t know yet. 

—

Jungkook hasn’t bothered you lately, and it only worsens your anxiety. You know him and he won’t simply stop. You don’t know what’s his next move but soon, he’ll come after you. 

You always check what’s trending on social media, watching out for any news that can relate to you and Taehyung, but you’ve always found nothing. You even checked on Jungkook’s latest activities on their media pages and there’s nothing suspicious, yet you can still feel the lash that Jungkook tied on your neck.

You’re on your way for a book interview because your newest book entitled ‘The Paradox of Choice’ is about the launch. You’re nervous and you’re overthinking everything without a specific reason why. 

The feeling you felt right now is different from your previous book launching because right now, you don’t feel good. 

Maybe because you've been stressing lately with what’s happening right now or maybe because something is going to happen.

You wish it wasn’t the latter. 

“Three more minutes!” The crew announced.

This book launch is coming along with an interview at an evening talk show. You’ve experienced guesting in several talk shows yet, you felt so anxious that your trembling worsened as the minute passed by.

“Hey, are you okay?” Your assistant held your hand as you stood up. You looked at her and gave her a smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

“Yes, I am okay.” 

As you get closer towards the stage, your heartbeat increases. You pause for a while and take a deep breath, while closing your eyes. 

You can do this.

“Good evening, Dr. Y/N! How are you doing?” Park Jimin—the host asked you with a wide smile on his face.

“I’m great, how are you?” you try to connect the level of your energy to his. 

“I’m great as well! Are you ready? I know you won’t get too nervous since you have been a guest in several talk shows and interviews, right?” Oh, how you wish that’s your case.

“Of course! I look forward to this!”

You had a few talks with Jimin, explaining how the show will flow and you also reviewed the possible questions that he’s going to ask you. You were starting to get comfortable being on the stage. The rolling is about to start when your eyes land on a familiar figure wearing a black hoodie along with a headphone on his head. Your eyes widened in a complete terror, as your pulse raced with each thudding heartbeat.

Jeon Jungkook is here, staring at you with a demonic smile on his face.

“Rolling! We’ll begin in 3… 2… 1.” He was looking at you while he spoke on his headphones. Your surroundings turned into a blur as you felt that every movement was in slow motion. You notice that Park Jimin is already talking with so much energy and you try to wake yourself up.

“What inspires you to write this book? Was there a particular experience or realization that led to its creation?”

You grip your hand to stop its trembling before you answer. “People tend to choose their biggest life decisions when they are in an emotional state, and this book will teach everyone to always think twice or even thrice whenever they make big decisions for themselves. I, myself once experience choosing a decision that I wish I did not choose, and it lend me to regrets, which I don’t want people to experience that’s why I wrote ‘The Paradox of Choice.’” 

You try not to look at Jungkook after you respond but your own eyes are betraying you. There’s a sly smile on his lips as his eyes bore into you. 

You fucking hate it when his eyes are on you.

“How did you research and gather information for your book? Can you describe your process?” You froze on your seat when Jimin asked you that question. Your hands tremble even more, gripping it tightly to stop. You glance at Jungkook who’s standing meters away from you, playing his lips with his fingers. 

You don’t want to answer this because your method of gathering information for your book is what he obviously uses against you.

‘I record the sessions with my patients and analyze it to add an input to the book.’

It was the answer that you cannot say while he’s watching. 

Instead, “I did my own research with the help of my patient’s own experiences.”

Even in your peripheral view, you could still feel his eyes digging into your soul.

Once the shoot is done, you immediately storm out of the stage and lock yourself inside the comfort room for god knows how long. 

You stood before the sink, hands outstretched beneath the gentle stream of cool water pouring from the faucet as it ran down to your hands. 

You slowly rub both of your hands but the trembling of it isn’t stopping. You rub it even further to steady your hands, until you suddenly outburst silently. You can’t scream or cry, and the only thing you can do is endure the anger you feel right now. 

The soft hum of fluorescent lights filled the space with white glow, opposite of what you feel right now. Your hands are still trembling as you look at your face in the mirror. 

You look so horrible. 

When you’re stressed out because of your workloads, you can still appreciate the beauty you have, but right now, you really look so miserable. 

Jungkook is doing his excellent job in fucking you up. 

This is driving you insane. He’s driving you insane. You’re fed up with all of his shit and it’s too much already. You don’t even know what you did wrong for him to do this to you. The only thing you did is help him cope up with his trauma–or more like fake traumas. 

So you don’t know where you went wrong with him. 

Your assistant called your name on the other side of the door, asking if you’re fine which you’re not. You did your best to calm down before you decided to come out. 

It’s almost midnight when you’ve finished packing your things and ready to leave. Everyone’s out already and you don’t know who was left. You’re supposed to go home an hour ago but you choose to rest for a while before you go. 

The basement parking lot was nearly empty when you arrived; not even the guards were visible. But, as you approached your car, you noticed a tall, muscular man standing beside it, wearing a black hoodie, with both of his hands inside his pockets, clearly waiting for you.

He looked up when he noticed your presence, he stood straight, greeting you with a smirk on his face. 

“What took you so long?” Jungkook asked, a sly smile still on his face. 

“What do you want?” You pondered, glaring at him. 

He scoffed, “You always ask the same question over and over even though you already know the answer.” 

You didn’t respond, ignoring him, as you walked towards the driver’s seat but before you even opened the door, he already blocked you. 

“Don’t ignore me while I’m talking to you.” He threatened, eyes buried on you. 

“I have no more business with you.” You answered, passing by him as you opened the front door. 

“As far as I remember, we still have business going on.” He said, provoking you even more. 

You placed down your things on the passenger seat and before you could even hop on, he spoke.

“You’re brave enough to ignore me now. Why? Do you think I’m already done with you?” His voice dripped with a mocking undertone, a wry smirk played on his lips as he spoke.

“Or you’d be glad to see you and your best friend in the news by tomorrow morning?”

You clenched your jaw, glaring at him as you balled your fist. “I’ve already done what you want. I let you continue our remaining sessions but you go beyond that and pester me for almost 3 times a week! What more do you want?!” 

He tilted his head, licking his lips, trying his best to hide his teasing smile. He clicked his tongue before he spoke. “That's the second time you ask that question. Do you have other questions in mind that you’d like to ask?” 

“When will you ever stop?” He instantly laughed at your question. 

“You didn’t even hide the fact that you already want me out of your life.”

“I never try hiding it.”

“You’re becoming stronger and bolder now, Y/N. Well, I prefer this rather than seeing you crying your ass out begging me to stop. Unless, you’re crying as you scream my name.” He wore a suggestive smirk, provoking you even more.

“You’re sick!”

“You’ve been asking what I want and I’ve already told you, Y/N. I hate it when I keep repeating myself. You’re not stupid, you know that.” He arched a brow, a scornful stare bore into you. 

“And you’re delusional if you think I’d agree with that.”

“Then suit yourself and make sure that you won’t regret your decision.” He smirks, biting his lower lips.

“What are you gonna do?” You asked but when he didn’t answer and turned away, you screamed at him. 

“Jungkook, what the fuck are you going to do?!”

He scoffed before he looked back. “You’ll see.”

—

You want to die.

You just fucking want to die and bring Jungkook along with you.

Your emotions churned like a violent sea, a mix of anxiety, anger and fear that threatened to overturn you. Your heart pounded with rage, and your fingers trembled with fear as you held your phone, trying to avoid dropping it.

A video posted on twitter is playing from your phone, a video that you saw a few days ago.

You felt like throwing up when you saw that video again. Taehyung's face is blurred, but you can tell it's him. People might struggle to identify the person beating up an innocent man, but it won't take long for them to figure it out.

‘I wonder if you guys have any hint of who’s that man on the video? I bet you guys know because you love him so much. But I also wonder if you know your idol’s true color.’

The caption says, and the account is made to specifically attack and throw hate to people.

This could be Jungkook, but you weren't certain because he could have asked others to do it to avoid implicating himself. He has a reputation to maintain as well.

101k views, 5k reposts and 26k likes. 

‘Holy shit. Why do I feel like it’s Beom Seok from Horizon?’

‘This should be taken down.’

‘Eun Dae used to be a member of a fraternity before he become an idol lmaooo’

‘Taehyung was also rumored to be part of a frat before but it hasn't been proven yet.’

Fucking hell. Taehyung must know this shit already and you don’t know what to do. It should be taken down but the video was posted 2 hrs ago and you just saw it right now. Even though it was taken down, people already saved it from their devices.

You were still in the middle of breaking down when your phone rang, and when you saw the caller ID, your blood erupted.

It was Jeon Jungkook. You scream on your phone before you decline the call. You were about to turn your phone off when he sent a message that angered you even more.

‘Decline the call one more time, you will see the video again and I will make sure that the face of Taehyung is visible for everyone to know that it’s him.’

Your hands grew cold and started to shake when your phone rang once again. You had been clenching your teeth before deciding to answer the call.

“How are you, Doc?” He greets you in his sweet voice that only annoys you even more. “Do you think that I wouldn’t do it?” He added, releasing a sarcastic laugh. 

“Take it down, Jungkook.” Your words dripped with menace. 

“You’re the one who made me do it. It’s your fault, Y/N.”

“You monster! Why do you have to involve him?! He didn’t even do anything!” You screamed, pulling your hair out of anger.

“I know but you care for him so much. It’s a natural thing to involve him.”

Your tears run through your cheek as you collapse from the ground. You’re starting to lose your sanity. 

“What do you want?” You spoke in a low voice.

“You want to know? Come here at my place and I will let you know, Y/N.”

—

You’ve expected that Jungkook is living in a high end luxurious apartment building but you didn’t expect that it would be in the highest floor, a penthouse. 

Jungkook noted that he left the door unlocked so you can enter without him opening it for you. You were scared of what could happen inside his penthouse given the fact that he’s a dangerous person by murdering his own mother but you’re desperate to stop him. 

Your heart was pounding when you opened his double-door and as expected, it was unlocked.

You are greeted by a huge area of floor-to-ceiling windows that frame breathtaking panoramic views of the whole city lights. The living room is adorned with designer furniture, a monochromatic symphony of blacks, grays, and whites, and a wall adorned with abstract art that speaks Jungkook's taste.

The place is beautiful, opposite to the person living in here. 

“You came.” You immediately turned around when you heard his demonic voice behind. He’s in the corner of the stairs from the second floor as he slowly steps down, hands in his pocket with a smirk on his lips. 

“Take that video down.” You glared, speaking with your teeth.

“Or else, what? Are you going to report me again? ” He stopped in the middle of the stairs, placing his hands on the railings. He scoffs when you don't respond. “You should know by now that it won’t work, Y/N.” He added, continuing to step down. 

“I’m already here, so tell me what the fuck do you want?” You raised your voice, itching to know what he really wants. 

“Why are you in a hurry, Doc?” He was about to touch your face when you blocked his hands, throwing it away.

“Take that video down, Jungkook.” You spoke, trying to contain yourself. 

He smirks before he turns away and takes a step towards his kitchen island, pouring wine on his wine glass. 

"I've already done that for being such a good and obedient girl." He sips on his wine, not breaking eye contact with you. “But I can upload it again if you choose to test my patience.” He adds. You bite the inside of your lower lips to prevent yourself from attacking him. 

“Why did you even ask me to be here?” 

“Didn’t I tell you before? I want you, Y/N.” 

He poured wine in another glass and walked towards you, handling the wine for you, but you just glanced at it and returned your gaze to him.  

“Let’s not waste time and tell me what the fuck you want so I can leave now.” You said in gritted teeth.

“I already told you, so stop being stubborn and drink this wine before I change my mind and upload the video with your best friend's face clearly visible along with the illegal recordings you had with your patient.” In an instant, he shifted from a playful smirk to a sudden seriousness, dropping the playful facade. 

You take the wine in his hands and he asks you to drink but you immediately shake your head. “I’m not going to let you poison me.”

“If I’m going to do that, I already did when I first walked into your office. It’s easier to kill you than to kill my mother, if that’s what you want to hear.” His words sent shivers down your spine, forcing yourself to sip in the glass as the taste of rich, velvety smoothness of the wine caressed your tongue. He smirks when he is satisfied with your sip. 

“See, you’re still alive.” 

He turned around taking a step forward and telling you to follow him, but when you didn’t, he looked back and his unyielding gaze bore into you. “Are you coming or do you want me to drag you from where you stand right now?”

You swallow hard, trying not to prevent yourself from showing any signs of fear, but it was harder than you thought because you’re in his territory. 

“Are you going to kill me?” Your words come out as a whisper but he was able to hear it and when he does, he grins. 

“Why, are you scared?” He took a sip from his wine, eyes fixed on you. “To answer your question, no, I’m not going to kill you.”

“Then where are you taking me?” 

“We’ll have dinner, now start to move before I drag you to the dining table.”

You indeed had dinner with him and several dishes were served on the long table. By just looking at what is served, you immediately remember that you hadn’t eaten anything yet since morning and everything you see is appetizing. The whole dining room was magnificent. The space was bathed in a war, golden glow of crystal chandelier that hung from a high, ornate ceiling. If you were in a different situation, you’d love to stay here.

Obviously, your life’s on the line and you can’t just eat and relax right now. 

“Don’t you like the food? Why aren’t you eating much?” He asked before he took another bite of his steak.

You’ve tasted what’s in front of you and it was so insanely good, but you can’t eat much by just thinking of what situation you have right now. 

"I'm not hungry," you reasoned out, then sipped your glass of water. You glanced around to see if there was anyone else in the vicinity, but you saw nothing, not even maids or cooks. It was the perfect opportunity for him to kill you, with no one else around except the two of you.

“I doubt. I know that you haven’t eaten anything. Go and enjoy your meal. It won’t harm you.” You only stare at your plate, trying to wash away the negative thoughts you have. You took another bite of your steak and you can’t help but to crave more on how it tastes so good. 

“I could tell that you like the steak, but you’re having a hard time enjoying it. I wonder what’s running through your mind.” He placed both of his elbows on the table and intertwined his fingers. 

“Will you let me go after this meal?” Your question made him chuckled, loud and mocking. 

“Here you go again, so desperate to leave me.” He commented, wiping the corner of his lips with a table napkin. 

“If you just tell me what you’re planning to do, then I wouldn’t keep asking you.” You answered, taking a sip of your water. 

“This is the plan you’re asking about. Didn’t I tell you before that I wanted to take you out for dinner to show my gratitude for being my therapist? That’s what I’m doing right now.” He grabs his wine glass and leans back before he whirl the glass, taking a sip from it.

“That’s it? That’s what you want? To take me out for dinner?” You asked like you can’t believe what he just said. 

“Why, what do you expect?” He placed his elbow on the arm rest and played with his lips; the mannerisms he does when he’s enjoying something. 

“You must be kidding me right now. I know you want something more. I know you, Jungkook. I know you.”

“If you claim to know me so much, then you should know that I am serious with what I want from you.” His eyebrow furrowed, gazing at you with intensity. “That’s the problem with people like you. You think too much and it leads you to danger.” He scoffs.

He stood up from his seat and took a step towards you, while you didn’t move an inch from your position. 

“From the moment I walked into your office, I know from myself that I want you. With your long hair falling back beautifully to the tight black dress you wore, I immediately agreed to take the sessions with you.” He stood beside you from your seat, resting his hands on the backrest of your chair while you were there, completely frozen. 

“Hoseok and my lawyer Namjoon told me that I should act like the incident causes me trauma to prevent them from suspecting me to be the culprit. I did not agree because it’s bullshit but they keep on convincing me.” He chuckled as he remembered something. “I planned on attending a single session and I won’t show up again but when I saw you sitting on your office chair with a bright smile on your pretty face, I thought that attending sessions with you won’t be that bad after all.”

He caresses your hair and you try not to flinch, clenching your jaw. 

“I do enjoy the sessions we had because you’re so entertaining to watch. You talked as if you know everything but the truth is, you don’t. I just let you think that way because you’re so passionate about what you do. I don’t want to ruin your ego, Doc.” 

He kept on caressing your hair and when you couldn't take it anymore, you stood up, facing him with anger on your face. 

“I’m done with my meal. I’m going home.” You gazed at him with a piercing stare, picking up your things. 

“You think I will let you leave just like that?” An ominous aura surrounded him when `he spoke. You’re trying to strengthen yourself as you take a step towards the door, but before you even made it, he spoke again. “Get back here, Y/N.” He threatened. 

“Stop playing with me, Jungkook.” 

“Try to take another step and I will make sure that before this night ends, your career is over as well as your best friend’s. You know that I can do it, Y/N. You wouldn’t like to test me again.” A cold, sinister flowed from his voice.

You didn’t dare take another step, afraid of provoking him even more. You hate that he can control you with just the use of his words. You still have the lash on your neck, making him take control over you. 

“That’s right, be the good girl that you are, Y/N.” He said, with a smirk on his lips. He placed his hands inside his pocket as he slowly walked towards you. “I don’t understand why you keep giving me that kind of behavior but you can’t stand by it.” He towered over you and he tried to touch your cheek but before he even did it, you avoided his touch and took a step backward.

He smirks, staring at you before he speaks again. “Even if you try to avoid me, I will still find my way to you, Y/N. If I were you, I wouldn't waste my time doing that.” He walks back to the long table and grabs his wine glass and takes a sip on it without leaving his eyes on you. 

You didn’t move nor say anything, observing his movements. You’re at his territory and you couldn’t risk provoking him because he can do anything to you without the people knowing what’s happening inside his penthouse.

He grabbed the new bottle of wine and opened it, filling up your wine glass, walking towards you, and handling you the glass. You only stare at it and Jungkook gestures to you to take it. 

“Hurry up and get it, Y/N. My arms are starting to numb.” He said and you are left without a choice, so you take the wine from his hands. “Go drink it.”

You look at the wine glass and there are a few bubbles underneath it and you swallow hard before you take a sip from it. 

“Finish it up, Y/N. Don’t make me tell you everything you have to do.”

You wanted to cry but you didn’t let your guards down. You’re starting to regret going here. 

You chug the wine while your hands are trembling and he smiles after you finish it. 

“That’s right, you’re such a good girl.” He took the glass from you and placed it back on the table. 

After a few moments, your heartbeat increases rapidly and your whole body starts to tremble. Jungkook was just looking at you as he enjoyed his wine and you suddenly felt so weak, your head started to ache.

There is something wrong with the wine.

You take a deep breath, fighting the weakness within you. You wouldn’t want to show that you’re getting weak in front of him. You walk back to your seat and grab your things before looking at him.

“I really have to go. I have a lot of things to do.” You spoke in your low voice, being careful of your actions.

Jungkook pouted in a sarcastic way. “There’s no way I’m letting you go.” he answered before he smirked. Your headache worsened but you didn’t show any signs of your weakness.

He walked towards you and you admit that you’re getting scared of what he might do. You step back but there is no more space because the table is already bumping your back. He raised his hand to touch your face once again but you blocked his touch.

And in a snap of a finger, he aggressively grabbed your face using only a single hand and his eyes suddenly filled with darkness. “Stop resisting me, Y/N. You can’t win over me.” He spoke in a low but sinister tone. 

Your limbs trembled uncontrollably, unable to withstand the weight of your fear. After a few seconds of staring at your soul with so much intensity, he already released his firm hold on your face but he didn’t move away. Instead, he slowly traces your face with his fingers.

Your weakness worsens and you can’t move nor think anymore. The only thing you can do is let him touch you.

“I love it so much when the cause of your weakness is me.” 

Your eyes widen as you gasp silently when his lips crushes on you. It was hard and you tried to move away but he gripped your arm, unabling you to move. You were trying to push him but because of your weakness, it didn’t even move an inch. 

“Open your mouth, baby girl.” He commands as he speaks in between his kisses. 

“Jungkook s-stop—

“I told you not to fight me.”

His lips went down on your neck sucking your skin and you used all your strength to push him away but he was too strong. He locked your hand on the table as he shifted his kiss on your lips and neck. Your body is shaking and tears are now flowing from your cheek and when he notices it, he stops, staring at you without removing his grip on your hand from the table.

“If you keep being difficult, I fucking swear that you wouldn’t make it out alive and I will make sure that your bestfriend will fall on the ground so hard that he can never recover.” He whispers in your ear, making you stand frozen with a pounding heart. 

You were too weak to fight and you’re sure that it’s not only because he’s dangerous but there is something in the wine you just drank. 

He stares at your face, like memorizing every feature of it. He lifts his hand, slowly wiping your tears away. He traces your face before he moves closer to peck your forehead. His lips were soft on your skin, but it only sent shivers down your spine.

“You don’t have to be scared because I will bring heaven to you.” He whispers before he sucks your ear lobe. 

He held your waist while kissing you, pushing his tongue inside. His lips were so soft and you could taste the bittersweet of the wine he just drank a few moments ago. His hands were traveling around your body while his lips were still on yours. You wanted to push him and run away but you know that you couldn’t do that because before you even reach his gigantic door, you’re probably dead. 

“Do you know how much I crave for you, huh?” He tried to speak in his desperate kisses as his breath became heavier. “From the first time I step in your office, you never leave my head. You fucking drive me insane.”

He lifted you up to the table as his kisses became aggressive and you were just there, being helpless. 

He cupped the back of your neck as he sucked it leaving a bruise before his hands traveled down to your thighs and caressed them. His hands were burning through your skin and you deny that your body starts to burn as well. He lifts you up and your thighs are in between his body carrying you to an unfamiliar room and the next thing you know, you’re already laying down on a bed. 

Your back slowly touched the soft mattress as he started to crawl on the top of you. Your body is trembling and your heart is beating so fast as he brushes your face with the back of his fingers. 

“This is what I really want, Y/N. Me on the top of you.” The room is dark but you could still see the glimpse of his face with how the moon illuminated the darkness of the room. He gently strokes your face down to your neck, until it reaches your chest. He leans forward and places his ears on your chest, listening to your pounding heartbeat. “Just by listening to your heartbeat is enough for me to get turned on.” He whispers in your ears before he brushes his lips to your neck, immediately feelings his hot and wet breaths. 

Your breath rose when you felt his fingers crawling underneath your shirt, fingers wandering at your bare skin. You suddenly flinch when his fingers rub your breast, making him smirk. “You like it when I touch you like this?” He asked in his low and seductive voice, and when you didn’t respond, his fingers circles your nipples slowly causing you to moan. 

You’re wearing a dress and he slowly lifts the end of it, completely taking your dress off and when he did, he gave a peck on your breast before removing your bra. A sudden sense of unwanted pleasure filled your body as he sucked your left breast while massaging the other one, leaving a tingle on your stomach. It didn’t take long before his lips connected on yours, slipping his tongue, letting out another moan. He moves his mouth down to your neck once again, sucking it while his other hand is trailing down your back.

His fingers travel down on the waistband of your underwear, leaving soft kisses. “I’ve always wondered how your bare body looks, and it’s exactly how I imagine. So sexy and gorgeous.” He played with the waistband of your underwear before he slowly pulled it down, leaving you gasping. 

You’re at the verge of crying when he spreads your legs apart, exposing your bare pussy, leaning down and leaving a kiss on your pelvic bone. You tried to push your body deeper in the mattress to avoid his kisses, but he only grips your hips firmly to prevent yourself from moving. “Stop fighting, Y/N.” He said with a stone voice. 

He leaves a last peck on your pelvic bone, moving down on your clit before he kisses it, leaving you panting. You resist yourself from whimpering but when he slides a tongue on your clit, you groan. You were fighting the pleasure that you felt, but the more he keeps on licking your folds, the more your body burns.

"Fuck baby, you taste just like how I imagined it. So sweet for me."

You were disgusted at yourself for feeling something so good, and disgusted at him for doing this to you. 

“You act like you don’t like what you feel, but with how wet you are, it only proves how you love this so much.” He said—almost sounds like a whimper. Your eyes widened when you felt his fingers circling your clit before he slowly inserted it inside. You moan so loud when he moves his fingers as he licks your clit and you cry with the burning sensation radiating to you. 

You weren’t a virgin and you’ve hooked up several times, yet you can’t admit it to yourself that he was doing good eating you out. 

“No matter how you say that you hate me, your body will never lie.” He whispers, as he drag his finger inside and out in a quicker motion. 

No matter how you stop yourself from moaning, that sound escapes your mouth. 

Pain leaves you when he pulls his fingers and when you look at him, he removes his shirt revealing his chiseled and sculpted body. He leans forward to slide his fingers inside your mouth, letting you taste yourself before he slides his tongue. A moan escaped you when he rubbed his fingers on your clit, feeling your wetness, before he inserted his finger once again. 

You’re trying your best not to let out another moan but your body is betraying you because you were moaning in between his lips that you could feel his smirk. 

“Don’t be hard on yourself and let yourself enjoy it, baby girl.”

After a few moments of him fucking your pussy with his fingers, your whimper as you reached your orgasm. You shred a tear when you realize how your own body betrays you. 

He withdraws his fingers as he continues to suck your neck while his hands are circling to your waist down to your hips and grinding his body on you. He then pulls himself to take off the pants that he’s wearing as your body starts to tremble.

You stare at his movements as he pulls down his pants and you gasp when he pulls it down, completely exposing dick. 

His huge, holy shit.

He strokes it and it arouses you even more. You hate yourself right now more than you hate him because you can’t believe that you’re craving it. 

“Please Jungkook, don’t.” Your voice quivered with desperate pleading.

“Stop acting that you’re not enjoying it because your body says otherwise.” He scoffs before he kneels in between your body and pumps his dick, gripping it tightly.

“Spread your legs for me, baby girl.” He commands as he parts your legs. Your eyes widen when you feel that he’s rubbing his dick on your folds as your wetness overflows and a moan is released on your lips. 

“That’s right, moan for me.” He said, almost sound like a whimper teasing you even more and it didn’t take long when he slid his dick inside you making your nails buried on his back. 

“Fuck Y/N, you’re so tight!” He moaned as he went deeper. He placed his hand on your back and a pain filled you when he dug deeper. He was sucking your neck as he kept thrusting in and out. You were pulling his hair, as he groaned on every thrust he made. He stops from time to time to suck your nipples and kiss your lips, making you moan continuously. 

"You're taking me so well, fuck. That's right, take me so well."

You’re starting to cry with the unwanted pleasure you feel but Jungkook only kisses your tears away. And with a hard thrust, you’re about to come. Your breath comes out heavily as you keep on whimpering with every thrust he does. Jungkook curses, his thrust becomes harder and you start to tremble.

“Yes baby, cum all over me and show me how much you enjoyed this.” His words almost sound like a whimper and it only motivates you to reach your second orgasm. 

And when you did, you cried louder as he thrust harder and deeper for the last time. 

—

You were lying on his bed without your clothes, while he was beside you, sleeping peacefully as if he hadn't disrespected you an hour ago. His bed was the softest and most comfortable you had ever experienced, its softness enveloping your body in a gentle embrace. However, all you could feel was disgust and anger at what he had done to you.

 You should be running right now but your body froze and you can’t move them even an inch. It happened three times in a row, and you've been begging him to stop, but he doesn't listen, as if he were possessed by a devil. He's already a monster himself, but you didn't anticipate him forcing you to comply. Most especially, you loathe yourself because your body responds to his desires, leading him to believe that you genuinely enjoy what he's doing, but in reality, you're horrified.

The room is dark, and the moon casts its enchanting glow upon it. You're gazing at the full glass window, where the distant city lights flicker in the distance. An emotional numbness envelopes you, leaving you unstable and broken.

You slowly turn towards the person beside you, and as expected, he's asleep. You can't believe how different he appears when he's sleeping, nothing like the person you know. Instead, he resembles a man who wouldn't harm a soul when his eyes are closed. However, the burning anger you feel hasn't subsided. You can never forget what he has done to you. 

The anger surged within you and you wanted to lash out, to make him feel the same pain he has caused you. You clenched your fist and the thought of killing him gnawed at the edges of your sanity. 

You looked around to find something to protect yourself from him. Slowly, you raised yourself from lying down, careful not to make any movements that might wake him up. With trembling hands, you reach your dress from the floor and put it on before scanning the room.

You've been here for quite some time, but this is the first occasion you've had to observe his entire room. As expected, his room is quite spacious, yet you can't discern the color of the walls as darkness covers the entire space. Your eyes catch a glimpse of a chest of drawers in the corner of the room, and above it, there are photographs adorning the wall. As you take a step closer, your heart rate quickens upon seeing the photos that are affixed to the wall.

The room might be dark but it’s evident that the polaroid photos on the wall are you. There are a lot of photos of you and they are a mix of a photo from your social media accounts and a photo that he took without you noticing it. 

He’s been stalking you for a quite long time already. 

A memory comes back when you’ve felt that someone is looking at you or when you’ve felt like he’s around and you brush it all away believing that you were wrong but it all makes sense because he’s been stalking you and you don’t have any idea of it. 

Your trembling hands worsened as your jaw clenched, turning around with your eyes glared at his sleeping figure.

Your anger consumes you, and with every fiber of your being, a raw, primal fury pulses, urging you to harm him. As your rage intensifies, a dark abyss opens in your mind, and your thoughts race. You take a step toward the bed where he's lying down as your heart thunders in your chest.

‘You fucking monster.’

Even if there isn’t enough light, you still manage to look around to find something. You returned to the chest drawer opening it and you gasped as you saw more photos inside. You didn’t try to look at them one by one focusing on finding something.

‘I will fucking kill you’

From the drawer, you walked around and opened every cabinet inside his room to find something you’re looking for and when you did, your body suddenly froze. 

A gun.

With your heavy breaths and trembling hand, you took it out from the drawer and took a moment to stare at it. 

But before you’ve processed everything, you heard a voice speak.

“My little Y/N, what do you think you’re doing?” 

You immediately stood up, turned around, and saw Jungkook standing 7 feet away from you. The room was so dark that you couldn't see his face, but you could make out his silhouette. He was wearing pants but nothing on top.

You pointed the gun at him but he only laughed it out. Your entire body froze as you pointed the gun firmly on him and your heartbeat echoed loudly on your ears. Your breath came short, as if your lungs were struggling to keep up with your racing thoughts.

He walked slowly toward the bedside table and switched on the lamp, causing the room to fill with a warm glow. It wasn't very bright, but it was enough for both of you to see each other.

He grins as he sees that you stepped back, holding the gun firmer when he took a step towards you. 

You’re shaking so bad but you can’t hold your guards down because anything can happen in just a matter of seconds. 

“What, you’re gonna shoot me after I satisfy you?” He said with a grin on his lips. 

“I’m going to kill you.” Your voice is low but every word you say is sharp enough to show that you’re serious but he only scoffed at your words.

“Really, you’re going to do that?” His voice was seductive, provoking you even more. 

You try to find any signs of fear on his face but you find nothing. Instead, it only worsens your emotions. You weren’t sure if the gun that you’re holding is loaded and you only pray that it does. 

It’s your first time holding a gun and you don't have any idea of how to use it but your life is in danger and you have to act accordingly. 

You cocked the gun and pointed it out at him once again. 

“Do you even know how to use that?” He pouted as if he cares but it was full of mockery and sarcasm. 

“Don’t come near me.” You whispered as you held the gun firmly.

“Come on Y/N, don’t embarrass yourself.” He took a step back and sat at the edge of the bed, while his eyes were on you. “We both know that you aren't capable of doing that. Didn’t I satisfy you enough?” 

“Shut up.”

“As far as I remember, you love it so much when I eat you out. Did I think that wrong?” He rested his hand on the mattress behind him. “I love every reaction that you make when you feel so good. I love it when you dig your nails on my skin because you can’t contain the stimulation. And by how you feel so weak with my touch and kiss–

“Shut the fuck up!”

Your heart raced, your body trembled and a cold sweat broke out on your forehead. your thoughts worsen into chaos and an overwhelming dread washed over you. You can’t take the words he said. You just wanted him to shut up.

He stares at you with so much intensity, like he can see through your soul. “You should’ve checked if the gun was loaded, babe.” He commented shifting his gaze to the gun you’re holding. 

You shook your head as you pressed your lips firmly. “You monster. I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“Then kill me,” He spoke in his low voice. “Shoot me, Y/N.” He slowly stands up and walks towards you, making you step backwards. You panicked even more but you tried your best to stay still and point the gun towards him. 

“Show me how brave you are, Dr. Y/N.” Your back bumps into the cabinet behind you when there is no more space for you to step back as you were shaking so badly and you can no longer hold your tears. He pressed his chest on the muzzle of the gun while looking at you with so much intensity. 

In the blink of an eye, he firmly grabs your arm, attempting to wrest the gun from your grip, but you hold it even more tightly. You push him using your elbow, but he chokes you, and you tremble in pain. He's strong, but your determination is unwavering, and you won't lose to him this time.

You step forcefully onto his right foot, and when he shows his weakness, you swiftly break free from his grasp. However, he manages to trip you, causing you to fall and drop the gun.

You immediately crawl to get the gun but he pulled your leg away from it. 

“You can never escape me, Y/N!” He spoke as his hands circled around your neck. 

Your eyes were starting to blur, preventing you from seeing anything for a few moments. A sense of helplessness washed over you until your eyes caught the gun a few inches away from you. He was focused on choking you to death while you’re focused on reaching the gun. Desperation clouded your thoughts, urging you to stay stronger and when you finally reached the gun, you immediately pulled the trigger in his direction. 

You stood up when he released you, as a searing pain tore through his body upon being struck by the bullet, leaving him gasping for breath. You held the gun firmly while he endured the pain in his rib that had been hit by a bullet.

You cocked the gun one more time and pointed at him. 

You panted heavily as a panic gripped you, the inability to catch your breath adding to the rising sense of fear. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself not to let a sound escape his lips. 

He pressed his hand on his rib, looking at you with the same eyes that you despise so much. Despite being shot, he can still manage to look at you with mockery. 

"Do you believe that after what you've done, you have already… won?" He smirks as he slowly falls on the ground, enduring his physical pain. “I was in your position months ago. Holding a… gun as I shoot my mother. How ironic that the person… who tried to heal me was also the person… who would try to kill me.” He felt an agonizing, relentless throbbing at the site of the gunshot trying to ease the pain. He tried to stand up before he continued. “You’ve said a lot of times that my actions are… bad but look at you right now… Doing the same… thing.” 

“We’re not the same!” You shouted, holding the gun with your two hands. “You ruin my life, you monster!” You felt a seething rage, a burning intensity that threatened to overtake you. 

He only smirks at your response. “Really? Because last time I checked… I shoot my mother for being the monster that she is.” 

“Don’t you dare compare yourself to me!” Your fingers were trembling, itching to pull the trigger. 

“You might keep on denying it but we both know the truth.” Even in his situation, he can still play with a sinister smile on his lips. 

“You’re fucking wrong—

“Come on, Y/N! Look at you!” His eyes blazed with fiery, smirking at you as he cut you off. “You’re just like me! We’re really meant to be!” You are consumed by fury, your thoughts a turbulent storm of anger as his sinister laugh triggers you even more. Your heart pounded in your chest, tears streaming down your cheek and without you noticing it, you’re shooting him continuously.

“Fuck you! Motherfucker!” 

You continue to curse and pull the trigger even though he's already lying on the ground. Your anger blinds you to the point where you can no longer process your actions.

“I’m not like you! I’m fucking not like you!” You screamed along with every shot you made. Your heart pounded on your chest, as your words dripped with outrage. The only time you stop is when the gun is out of bullets. 

The room was surrounded by blood as you observed his lifeless body lying on the ground. You couldn't recall how many times you had shot him, but judging by the considerable amount of blood scattered about, it was evident that you had shot him numerous times.

Your vision swam before you, blurring the edges of reality as the world around you seemed to spin. You glance at the gun you’re holding and you immediately drop it off. Your whole body trembled uncontrollably, making you collapse on the floor. 

Blood. There’s a lot of blood.

The surroundings fell into an eerie silence and a chill ran down your spine. You're suddenly suffocated by fear as you crawl backward.

He’s dead. I killed him.

The only thing that you hear is the ticking sound of the clock and nothing else. You slowly look around but the only thing you see is blood. 

“But look at you right now, doing the same thing.”

“You’re just like me! We’re really meant to be!”

You covered your ears as you heard him. He was dead but you can still hear his sinister voice. 

“You can never escape me, Y/N!”

“STOP!”

—

The horizon blazed with a rich, golden hue as the sun's first rays pierced the darkness. Birds whistled as the day began. The air, now filled with the promise of warmth and life and with each passing moment, the sky emerged from its darkness.

Yet the horror you’ve made is still there. 

You’re under the glass window, watching the world to start its day. The room is still covered in blood–your body is still covered in blood. The sun has risen yet you wanted to stay in the dark. You don’t know what to do anymore. 

You suddenly heard the ringtone of your phone, making you feel more vulnerable. You covered your ears to prevent yourself from hearing it yet the sound seems to hunt you. 

After the call dies, you thought that it won’t ring again but before you can even have a peace of mind, it rang once again. 

Your legs tremble when you stand up. You do your best not to look at the corpse laying on the ground as you walk out of the room. 

His living room is exactly how it looked the last time you saw it. You look around to see any living thing but you sense nothing. Your phone is still ringing when you spot it on the top of the dining table where you ate last night. 

Where he forced you to drink a wine that made you weak. 

Tears welled up in your eyes when you saw the caller’s ID. 

It was your best friend.

It was Taehyung. 

“Thank god you answered! Where the hell are you?! I’ve been calling you since last night but you aren’t answering! You’re gonna kill me for worrying to you!”

Hearing his voice broke you down. Your tears flowed continuously as an uncontrollable emotion poured out on you. 

“Y/N, what happened? Why are you crying?” A deep concern is evident in his voice. 

You were shaking, crying with broken sobs as you covered your mouth in an attempt to calm down.

“Y/N! Speak up! What’s wrong?!”

“Tae… Please help me.” You attempt to speak. 

“Where are you? I’m going there.”

“Taehyung.”

“Y/N, what happened?”

“I made a grave sin.” 

“What?”

Your wailing sobs echoed through the whole area as you fell on your knees. He keeps asking what happened but you’re having a hard time admitting it. 

“Y/N, how am I going to help you if you can’t tell me?”

After a few moments, you started to calm down. Your sobs gradually subsided, a quiet hiccup escaped you as you closed your eyes briefly.

“I killed a man.” The words escape your lips and a new set of tears forms on your eyes. 

You never thought that you would resort to killing him. Out of all the things that happened, you wanted to end everything without harming anyone. You’re a well-known psychiatrist who has an advocacy that despite of who you are and what you’ve become, your mental health matters. 

You know yourself well. You know your strengths and weaknesses, and the cause of your happiness and sadness. But that’s what you thought. 

You can’t control your emotions. 

No matter how you try, you will always have a hard time controlling it.

There are a lot of reasons why people act without thinking when they are emotional. According to a study, physiologically, emotions can activate the body's fight-or-flight response. When emotions trigger this response, stress hormones like adrenaline flood the system, preparing the body to respond to perceived threats. This physiological reaction can reduce the ability to think clearly and may lead to impulsive actions.

“Where are you?” After a long pause, Taehyung finally spoke. 

“At Jeon Jungkook’s place. One of my patients.” You respond in a low voice. 

“Message me the exact address and I’ll be right there.”

You weren’t in your right mind when you pulled the trigger. You didn’t like what happened. 

Therefore, you weren’t just like him. 

It was his fault, after all.

-end-

a/n: finally, it's complete! Thank you so much for joining me in writing this JK fic. It's my first time delving into the thriller genre, and I've truly enjoyed the experience. I also hope that you all enjoy reading it as well. Have a great day, everyone!

taglist: @idkjustlovingbts @koohrs @minshookie29 @aajjks @softie00 @exquisite-bands @kingofbodyrolls @floralflowexs @oopscoop @yoonjinhusbands @ash07128 @kookiesbunny @cinnikoi @yluv-damara-13 @hoseoksluv89 @darkuni63 @iloverubberduckiez-blog @fangirl-death-rose @looneybleus

[andi-kook]

DEAD KIDS ✦ Chapter 2

SUMMARY: A group of university students kidnaps their rich batchmate for ransom. However, things take a darker turn when the new recruit grows a dangerous obsession with the captive and all hell breaks loose.

PAIRING: Jungkook x Fem!Reader

GENRE: Slow burn Yandere, Crime AU

WARNINGS: Not suitable for audiences below 18. Please do not engage with the story if you are underage. WATCH OUT FOR: dark and morally corrupt characters, foul language, mention of Catholicism, slut shaming and objectification of women, mention of inappropriate relationship between professor/student, mentions and depiction of “rape” and “rape fantasy” throughout the story, masturbation, threats, MC has an NSFW blog with hard kinks and fantasies, non consensual touching. Overall, this is a disturbing chapter – based on my standards – so if you are not comfortable with these topics, do not proceed. Inspired by the film, Dead Kids (2019).

TAGLIST: @hopeworldsupremacy @aliajomarie011 @ackercute @tatumrileyslover @ane102 @jjk174 @dontcallmeelle @merrygo1427 @taekritimin123 @r1r111 @gguksfilter @coralmusicblaze

If I didn’t tag you – either your blog doesn’t exist according to Tumblr or because you did not show your age in your blog. Thank you!

ANDI: I send my love to the beautiful souls who sent me asks about Dead Kids as well as these equally beautiful souls – @.taekritimin123 @.hellbornsworld @.tinytangerineangel @.namjesusdaughter – for commenting on Chapter 1. I cannot express just how much I appreciate your words. I would have tagged you directly, but I wasn’t sure if you would want that. But I wanted to show my appreciation.

WORD COUNT: 3K

“Why did you really want to take her?” Jungkook asks Namjoon as they sit and eat the ramen he cooked around the living area. Beside him, Yoongi and Hoseok are fast asleep, the latter clutching onto the former’s arm like it’s his plushie while the former has his head thrown against the headrest.

Namjoon, who is seated on the other makeshift sofa, gulps down the soup from his ramen before letting out a satisfied sigh and wipes his mouth with the back of his mouth. “How many times do we have to say that we kidnapped Y/N for ransom?”

“I’m not stupid, Namjoon,” Jungkook says. “We’re already tied to this shit until the ransom drop. The least you can do is be upfront on why you did this in the first place. I’m not taking a bullet for you or anyone.”

The buzz-cut haired man leans his back against the sofa, which unlike his premium one, is built from scratch by Jungkook using old wood and cases of beers around the warehouse. He gazes at Jungkook for a while, studying him while swimming in his own thoughts. The tattooed man wonders if Namjoon is contemplating telling him the truth. He wonders if the two sleeping men beside him also knew the truth.

They claim to have been friends since the fourth grade, but does time really make you know a person inside out?

“My father didn’t used to be the way he is now – corrupt. Growing up, I looked up to him because of how honest and upstanding he was as a cop. I knew he did some off-the-books shit, but he still had a moral compass, still had lines he didn’t cross. But then he met Y/N’s father, Kim Seokjin, when I was ten. Suddenly, everything changed,” Namjoon narrates, letting out a scoff as he shakes his head and rubs his palms on his baggy jeans. “He went from being a great husband and father to my mother and I to a complete asshole. We didn’t have religion but after meeting Kim Seokjin, we were suddenly Catholics, attending church with his family every Sunday. I was baptized and Kim Seokjin became my godfather. But the worst part was seeing him erase all the lines he drew and swore never to cross when he began to use his position as a detective and then eventually sergeant to now the chief of the entire police force in Seoul to protect Kim Seokjin and his criminal empire.”

Jungkook inhales deeply. “So, kidnapping Y/N is you taking on revenge against Kim Seokjin for corrupting your father? It is personal. It’s never about the money?”

“Of course, the money is important and integral to the plan. But yes, you are correct – I want to avenge my father from Kim Seokjin by hitting him where I know it will hurt the most: his only daughter, Y/N.”

“You promised that we are not going to hurt her,” Jungkook counters immediately.

Namjoon doesn’t say anything.

“Namjoon,” Jungkook clicks his tongue. “If you do that – what makes you different than Kim Seokjin?”

“Why are you so protective of her?” Namjoon asks pointedly. “What? Just because she gave you a boner, you’re suddenly fucking in love with her? Don’t think I didn’t notice. We all did. Yoongi is right – drop the morally upright act, Jeon. You’re just as demented as we are. The moment you agreed to this plan, you’re just as fucked up.”

The sudden call out makes Jungkook turn crimson and Namjoon smirks, placing his leg over the other. “Don’t worry – unlike you, I don’t judge people. To each our own. If shit like that turns you on, then that’s on you. Why don’t you take the opportunity to act on it?”

His eyes widen, shocked and disgusted. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Jungkook knows exactly what Namjoon is talking about, but he is completely aghast at the insinuation.

The de facto leader only widens his smirk, pulling out his packet of cigarettes and lighter from the front pocket of his large, oversized coat. “You know what I’m talking about, Jeon. A pretty naked girl tied to a chair in your warehouse – it’s perfectly normal to feel aroused by such sight. We won’t judge you if you just get it over and done with.”

“You’re more than fucked up,” Jungkook hisses, face flushed and veins popping out on his neck. “I’m not going to fucking touch her.”

Namjoon lights the cigarette in between his lips. Then, he inhales, and smoke leaves his lips as he replies, “Why not? Y/N is a dirty slut who fucks her married professor with kids her age after church and dinner every Sunday night and more – I bet you all my cut that she’s not going to resist you because she’s probably into fucking someone having their own way with her. No, in fact, I can tell you she’s going to enjoy it.”  

Jungkook feels hot. Images of your naked trembling body and whimpering pleas filling his mind and ears.

“She has a blog, you know? A secret blog where she writes these fantasies and kinks she has. Posts her nudes on there too. Do you wanna know what is one fantasy she keeps on writing about?”

“No, I really don’t,” Jungkook says through gritted teeth.

“It’s a rape fantasy, Jungkook. What a fucking dirty slut she is, right? I bet she’s fucking wet right now at the thought, at the anticipation that one of us or all of us are going to have our ways with her. I bet she’s aching to be touched. I bet she wants you to rape her, Jungkook. So, why not just do it?”

He stands up in a jolt, hitting his knee on the makeshift table he made from old tires and steel roof and stammering some excuse that he needs to go the bathroom or air – he can’t remember. Jungkook finds himself in his room, back pressed against the door. His shirt sticks to his skin because of the sweat, and he takes it off, leaving it discarded on the floor. Namjoon’s words mixed with the flashing images of your perky nipples, smooth skin, sound of your whimpers, pleas, your smell – it makes him hard. Harder than he’s ever been.

Before he knows it, Jungkook is unbuttoning his jeans, pulling it down along with his boxers, his erection springing free. He spits on his palm before he begins stroking his length, shuddering at the touch, making his mouth dry. He presses the back of his head against the door, eyes closed as he imagines you on your knees – like you were with the professor – those lips around his shaft, head bobbing as you suck him dry. He imagines hearing your moans, imagines his dick hitting the back of your throat as you go deeper and beg him to fuck your mouth like a whore. Jungkook’s stroking himself faster. He imagines hearing you gag as he fucks your mouth, not stopping even when you’re clearly suffocating. Then, he cums, toes curling and a guttural groan escaping his lips.

As he comes back from his high, Jungkook stares at the white sticky substance covering his hand and cock. He just jerked off to you, a girl they kidnapped, and he knows it won’t be the last time.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Yoongi hisses at him the moment he comes back from his room, showered and changed into more comfortable clothes.

Jungkook deliberately ignores the stare of Namjoon and flops on the seat beside Hoseok who is eating the remaining ramen. “Why the fuck do you care?”

“I’m going to punch this kid, I swear to God,” Yoongi grumbles, rolling his eyes. “We’re making the ransom call, you dumb fuck. Or rather, you are.”

Jungkook furrows his brows. “What? Why me?”

“Every one of us here has already encountered Y/N’s father at least once. The man remembers everyone he encounters. You’re the only exception,” Namjoon explains as he hands you a black phone. “It’s a burner phone, untraceable. I took it from my dad. And this is what you’re going to say – make sure you sound intimidating at least. Put it on speaker too.”

Namjoon places his phone on the makeshift table and Jungkook clicks his tongue. “The deal was you only use my warehouse. So far, you got me doing far more than that.”

“Do you want 25 million or not?” Yoongi asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “Cos if you do, you better start calling Kim Seokjin.”

I’m going to punch you soon, Jungkook tells himself before he unlocks the phone and goes to the contact list where Kim Seokjin’s name is the only one listed. He takes a deep breath, going over the script on Namjoon’s phone before clicking on the contact and putting the call on speaker. The ringing sound echoes throughout the warehouse. The tension is palpable again, like it was back in the car earlier that night.

After a few more rings, Kim Seokjin’s voice fills the warehouse. It’s light but a hint of roughness and irritation is noticeable right away.

“Who is this?”

Jungkook licks his lips as he read the script in front of him. “We have your daughter. If you want to see her alive, prepare 100 million won and bring it to 2020 this Friday night. Otherwise, the next time you’ll see her is on the news, dead.”

Hoseok covers his mouth to keep himself from laughing while Yoongi stares hard at the phone. Namjoon, on the other hand, is relaxed on his seat, smoking.

“You sound young, boy,” Seokjin remarks. “You are not the first person to call me in the middle of the night asking for ransom. Do you really have any idea what you’re doing?”

Namjoon motions for him to repeat what he just said.

“If you want to see her alive, prepare 100 mill—,”

“Don’t you think I would be able to find my daughter faster than you could ever imagine? Do you know who you’re talking to?”

That triggers Jungkook. He’s been hearing that question – that discrimination his entire life and he’s sick of it. He’s fucking sick of it.

“I don’t give a fuck who you are. Either you give us 100 million in exchange for your whore of a daughter or I will personally make you watch as we do everything we want with her, make you watch as she begs you to make it stop, make you listen as she takes her last breath before I fucking slit her throat so deep her head nearly decapitates. You have until Friday night – and you better make sure the police don’t get involved. Don’t fucking ask me who the fuck you are again.”

He ends the call, gripping the phone tightly.

“What the fuck was that? Why the hell didn’t you stick to the script?! Are you trying to get us all a one way ticket to prison?!” Yoongi exclaims.

“Did you not hear what he’s saying? He caught on that we are fucking amateurs. I saved our asses – you should be fucking grateful,” Jungkook snaps, clenching his jaw. “If you didn’t want me to do the call, maybe the three of you should have done it yourselves. Fucking useless bastards.”

“Hey! What did you say?” Hoseok stands, pushing Jungkook by placing his hands on his chest. “Who are you calling useless, huh?”

“Who do you think?” He scoffs.

“Let’s fucking kill this son of a bitch, Hobi.”

“Gladly.”

“Enough,” Namjoon says sternly. “No one is going to kill anyone. Not amongst ourselves. What Jungkook did is right, Yoongi. Jungkook saved our asses. And you,” He turns to the long-haired man, glaring at him. “Mind your fucking tone and language with us. We’re not fucking useless. Remember that we recruited you. Not the other way around. If anyone should be grateful to someone, it’s you. We’re the reason you’ll get out of this shit hole.”

Nobody says a word.

“It’s getting late. Let’s gather here tomorrow after our classes. Just go about your usual days until the drop. Don’t be suspicious,” The de facto leader reminds. “Jungkook, keep an eye out, okay? Don’t forget to check in on our little friend from time to time. Make sure she’s still breathing.” He smirks as he pats his shoulder on his way out.

Yoongi and Hoseok follow suit. Once Jungkook hears Namjoon driving off his – rather his aunt’s – property, he resigns to the sofa behind him. He buries his face into his hands. Five days. You’ll be stuck with him at the warehouse for five fucking days. Granted, he has classes to attend to, so he won’t be at home all day, but he’s sure you won’t leave his mind wherever he goes.

The phone in his hand buzzes and he stares at the new notification on the screen – a text message from an unknown number. Jungkook unlocks the phone, goes to the messaging app, and clicks on the new text.

avirgins1ut on tumblr if you wanna read some things tonight

“Fuck you, Namjoon,” Jungkook mutters under his breath. However, when he goes to his room, grabs his shitty phone and opens his data – he installs the app despite knowing it will consume almost all the remaining gigabytes he has left.

Jungkook lies down on his bed and creates his profile. He doesn’t bother customizing it, going straight to your blog which is all black and hot pink. Instantly, he’s drawn to your profile picture – a simple mirror shot of you hiding your bare chest with your arms, head tilt slightly to the side and a black panty covering your cunt. He swallows the lump in his throat as he scrolls down, reading your pinned post:

“Hey. You can call me Angel. I’m 23 years old. This blog is filled with all my fantasies and kinks, sometimes my nudes. Feel free to send me yours too.

My kinks: cnc, free use, somnophilia, spit, slapping, marking, choking, daddy, and more.

My favorite fantasies: rape play, kidnapped, kept as sex slave, knife/gun play, forced gangbang, and more – why don’t you help me unlock those? DMs and asks open for all your threats and nudes.

Update: already got myself a master/daddy. Asks and messages are off.”

As he scrolls further down your blog, Jungkook doesn’t even realize he already has his hand wrapped around his dick as he masturbates to your the latest fantasy you wrote albeit months ago.

I can’t stop masturbating to this dark fantasy of mine – being raped by someone so brutally after they kidnap me. How they would keep me chained to the bed, always naked so they can easily rape me whenever and however they want. They would mock me whenever I would tell them to stop (“You shouldn’t have worn those skirts if you didn’t want to be raped. But you did. So, this isn’t rape. You were clearly asking for this like some depraved filthy bitch in heat. You’re fucking loving this, don’t you? Isn’t this what you want?”) and choke me as they pound into my wet and clenching pussy relentlessly. They would slap and spit on my face, abusing my cunt for hours until I’m full of theirs and their friends’ cum whom they called to let them have a taste of their new toy.

They would rape me day in and out until my body gets so used to it that I start asking for it – crying and begging to be fucked. “Shh, angel, daddy’s going to fuck you, okay? Don’t cry.” Slowly, I would forget all my autonomy and identity, wholly submitting myself to them because I was never my own in the first place – I was always theirs.

“Fuck, Y/N!” His entire body shakes as he cums again. Jungkook can’t stop – he wants to read more, see more as you posted a picture of your cum covered cunt at the end of the post and he imagines it’s his. But he gets a notification that he is out of data and Jungkook slams his phone on his bed, frustrated beyond bounds. He is still hard. He still wants to see more of you, read more of your fantasies.

Namjoon’s words echo in his mind. I bet she’s fucking wet right now at the thought, at the anticipation that one of us or all of us are going to have our ways with her. I bet she’s aching to be touched. I bet she wants you to rape her, Jungkook. So, why not just do it?”

And before he knows it – he is standing across from your limp body. You’re still unconscious – sack over your head, tied and bound on the metal chair. Jungkook walks towards you, gently touching your shoulders to see if you would react but you don’t. He bites his lower lip as his eyes fall on your naked chest. He reaches down to trace its curves before ultimately cupping one breast in hand, fondling, squeezing, twisting the nipple and pinching it. No response.

He begins to stroke himself as he continues to fondle your breasts. This is wrong, but why does it feel so good?

“F-Fucking slut, you’re asking for this,” Jungkook hisses through his teeth. He’s not going to last any longer – not when those perky nipples are so inviting and moments later, he cums all over tits. He’s panting, an exhilarating feeling he hasn’t felt before rising within him as he stares at your cum covered chest. He swallows, breathing heavily. Should he stop now or keep going? He doesn’t have data anymore, but he does have the real thing right in front of him. But you twitch and he jumps in surprise. Suddenly, the realization of his actions washes upon him. He feels a coil in his stomach. What has he done? He scrambles out of the room and dash straight to the bathroom where he extensively washes his hand and splashes cold water on his face. Then, he throws himself on his thin mattress, staring at the ceiling as he pants. Namjoon is right – he’s just as fucked up as they are.

CHAPTER 3 is coming soon.

TAGLIST: Wanna be part of Dead Kids’ taglist? Fill out this form and don’t forget to read the short note in order for me to tag you.

ANDI: I do not condone the behaviors exhibited in this story. The characters of Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi and Hoseok do not reflect who they are in real life. Fanfiction is just fanfiction. I have no schedule in writing – I write whenever I can. Please try to refrain from sending asks about updates (or at least be kind and polite about it) and let me know your feedbacks instead as they help a lot in motivation and inspiration! 🦉

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © ANDI-KOOK 2024. NO PART OF THIS STORY MAY BE REPRODUCED, TRANSLATED, MODIFIED, EDITED, REPOSTED AND THE LIKES WITHOUT THE AUTHOR’S PERMISSION.