#i read too many murder mysteries........

[smile-files]

friday night i randomly thought up an entire short story about tragic lesbian college dorm murder and i don't know what to do about it

[blueskittlesart]

Not a request, but after the past few posts I wanted to let you know that I saw the Detective Conan 4D / live action show at USJ last week and that was my first official introduction to the series. Seriously considering going down this rabbit hole now.

go forth and enjoy batshit insane detective stories. ignore the fact that theres 1125 chapters this is a normal manga that will definitely end someday

[spotlightstudios]

Shout-out to the Barnes & nobles cashier who recommended me a book in which the MC has my (middle)name .5 seconds after she typed out my email (which includes my middle name).

Like, literally barely a moment passed before she had that thang on-hand and on the counter for me to look at. Pure skill.

[voidignitia]

Bunny is written very negatively. Richard constantly assures the reader that Bunny was a good friend, but every passage with Bunny is direct conflict or sheds Bunny in a bad light.

I wonder, is this indicative of Richard’s guilt, telling himself he did like Bunny more than he thought he did and he didn’t deserve to die? Or is he retroactively justifying the murder to himself by remembering “hey yeah he *was* a bigot” and dwelling on the ways Bunny’s murder wasn’t a big issue?

[daisyachain]

Pentiment is one unusual example of a game/story/thing that is structurally good writing without actually having well-written sentences.

The game operates in cycles as the art would imply, setting up a good number of arcs for its tight time frame and paying them off with interest. For example. The occult subplot lures you in as a modern free-thinking player only to slap you in the face with real consequences—imposed by you—and hit you again when you fail to learn the lesson the first time. Ferenc being the one to save Vacslav and Ursula? Icing on the cake, make you re-rethink your thoughts and deeds. There are greater institutions outside your one little life that have a bigger impact than any one person could. You can’t forget them, you see their fingers everywhere, and if you start to feel too comfortable getting the town to dance to your tune, they step in. Good writing. Events follow each other logically, but the links between them are hidden enough that you have to puzzle it out.

That doesn’t mean that you have to be a wordsmith to make a beautiful many-circled plot. An architect doesn’t have to be a good interior designer. Pentiment’s sentences do the work of getting you from one idea to the next. That’s not to say that every Bavarian peasant should speak in pastiche or should be able to discourse at you. There’s more to a good sentence than fancy words. Unconventional structures, rhythms, or counterintuitive word choices can make it pop, which Pentiment’s dialogue doesn’t. It’s workmanlike and would be unremarkable except for the fact that I was remarking every time it said something that was verbatim like ‘oh no Ursula I don’t think it’s a good idea to learn about old myths that are heresy and will get you killed’. There’s a lot of clunk. Does it take away from the good writing? Not much, because it’s a game where the visuals take up more of your attention. This kind of word lack-of-play would be harder to deal with in a book, so at least the medium works in its favour.

What does make it stand out still is the common points of reference as European-set walking simulators about owning up to history. DE and Patho’s dialogues are unique partly because of the translation convention, partly because the structure of each sentence in those games gets a boatload of attention. Pentiment hits its more modest target far more cleanly than either of those, but it does so without quite the amount of style.

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

It's 4am and I cannot go to sleep because I have half an hour left in my book, and it's a murder mystery, and I need answers

[vaniliens]

Wanna do the prompt for cringetober day 16 but the only person whos ever bullied me for liking something is my sister and its because i like FT and reading visual novels.

[sophisticatedswifts]

I accidentally saw a horror movie tonight. 0/10. Will never make that mistake again.

[ghostkidet]

Something positive for this blog: I finished writing my prologue yay me !!

[coraniaid]

I don't think I believe that people in Sunnydale High School think of the Scooby Gang as "Buffy Summers and her weird friends".

I mean, yes, they know Buffy is (more than) a bit weird and has a history of violence, and they know that she's often at the center of lots of strange things that happen in the school. But if you forget what you know about vampires and the Slayer and look at the dynamics and personal histories of that group from the outside, there's exactly one person who connects them all together. And it's not the (ex?) arsonist and (ex?) gang member who recently transferred to Sunnydale from LA.

Everyone in Sunnydale High seems to know Willow Rosenberg, and everyone knows she's a huge nerd who (A) love libraries and (B) has something of a history of either tutoring (e.g. Rodney Muson) or otherwise hanging out with (e.g. Shelia Martini) some of the school's more violent and dangerous elements.

There's Xander Harris, Willow's best friend since kindergarten (and who, unlike Willow, doesn't really seem to have many other friends at all after Jesse mysteriously vanishes)

There's the (weirdly religious?) ex-aronist from LA who Willow seems to be tutoring in the library a lot (see B above) or who she's possibly recruited as muscle. Sheila and Rodney both mysteriously went missing one day too, so people aren't that surprised when Buffy does herself at the end of junior year.

There's the English librarian (see A above) that anyone who has seen Willow's locker knows Willow has a crush on

There's the computer science teacher that anyone who has been in class with knows Willow also has a crush on, who sometimes has Willow come in to class to help her run sessions for remedial students on the weekends and whose job Willow (somehow) takes over when she dies

There's Cordelia Chase, who Willow has a whole historical Thing with, probably going back to when they were little kids themselves. People say Willow hates her but they're always hanging out together (there's a persistent rumor that they once spent a whole night together in a closet, if you know what I mean) and Willow helped run her campaign for Homecoming Queen. Cordelia was secretly dating Willow's friend for a bit and some people say Willow was really, really upset when she found out; read into that what you will.

There's the mysterious older guy in a band who doesn't talk much and that Willow is apparently actually dating. (This isn't the same older guy in a band Cordelia was dating, but oddly enough it is the same band.) A few kids swear they've seen him naked and locked up in the library at night.

There are (again, from the outside) people like Willow's childhood friend Amy and Amy's friend Michael, who people might remember were once being investigated by the police for ritual murder before Amy mysteriously vanished

To the outside eye, the Scooby Gang are Willow Rosenberg and her weird friends.

(A lot of kids swear that one time they saw her hold the whole Bronze hostage and rip a girl's throat out with her teeth, but of course Principal Snyder hushed it all up and she was back at school the next day. He really doesn't want to have to hire a new computer science teacher this year.)

[elikajinnie]

I Let The World Burn For You - N.R | Part 1

P: Serial Killer!Ni-ki X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Graphic Descriptions, Murder, Manipulation, Attempted Murder, Injury/Blood, Teasing, Angst, Obsessive Behaviour, Mind Games, Ni-ki is a nerd.

Synopsis: You’ve always loved crime shows, captivated by the mystery and mind games, but you never expected to live in one. When a killer develops an unsettling obsession with you, you’re thrust into a deadly game where you’re not just a target—you’re the centerpiece.

Wordcount: 27k

a/n: HELLO! TUMBLR!? Since i cant have more then 1k blocks i had to split this in 2 parts! LET ME WRITE LONG FICS! PLS! ugh.. (i kept replaying the apparation by sleeptoken while writing :p) hope yall enjoy another dark romance with obsessed yet super whipped Ni-ki! ( he kinda a red flag)

See request here

--

You’ve always had a fascination with crime shows. The ones without too many jump scares or unnecessary gore—you could do without that. What hooked you wasn’t the blood or the screams; it was the puzzle. The way the police pieced together scattered fragments of a life, how they followed the tiniest trail of evidence to unravel the truth. Every crime media you could find, you devoured it all.

At school, it wasn’t unusual to find you with your nose buried in a crime or mystery novel. Whether it was during lunch, in the corner of the library, or even in the few precious minutes before class started, the worn pages of your current read were always in your hands. Sherlock Holmes, Agatha Christie, modern thrillers—you read them all.

Your classmates noticed, of course. They’d whisper about it in passing, sometimes teasing you for being "obsessed with murder books." But you didn’t care. If anything, you found their reactions amusing. They didn’t get it, didn’t understand how fascinating it was to try to outsmart the characters or piece together clues before the story revealed its secrets. Even your teachers started catching on. Your literature professor once quipped, “If I ever go missing, I’ll trust you to solve the case,” while glancing at the battered mystery novel lying atop your open notebook.

But it wasn’t just about books or shows anymore. Over time, the skills you picked up seeped into your daily life. You’d notice things—details others overlooked. A friend’s new haircut no one mentioned, the faint smell of smoke lingering on someone’s jacket, or the way people’s stories didn’t quite line up. You’d trained your brain to analyze, to question, to search for answers.

You didn’t really have anyone to share your interest with, but that didn’t bother you much. Most people at school had their own cliques, their own hobbies, and their own little dramas to focus on. You didn’t fit neatly into any of those circles, but you were fine with that.

Besides, there was something satisfying about keeping to yourself. It gave you the freedom to observe without distraction. People-watching became second nature—catching snippets of conversations, noticing who avoided who in the hallways, or piecing together which classmates had paired off in secret. It was like the school was its own crime scene, full of tiny, inconsequential mysteries that no one else even thought to notice.

You had your theories about everyone, from the student council president who always left early on Thursdays to the quiet kid in the back row who seemed to have a different excuse for every missing assignment. None of it was malicious, of course—it was just your way of passing the time.

But every so often, you’d catch someone watching you. A fleeting glance from across the cafeteria or a pair of eyes lingering a little too long in the hallway.

But every time you tried to figure out who it was, the moment would pass too quickly. You’d glance up, scanning the crowd, but no one would be looking your way. It was frustrating in a way that didn’t make sense, like trying to solve a puzzle without all the pieces.

And yet, the gaze itself was never uncomfortable. It didn’t feel like the sharp, judgmental stares you were used to when people whispered about your “murder books.” No, this one was different. It was soft, almost curious, like whoever it was didn’t want to disturb you. Instead of making you uneasy, it left a warmth in its wake, a strange flutter in your chest that lingered long after the moment passed.

You started to notice it more often. In the cafeteria, during assemblies, even on the rare occasions when you’d glance up from your book in the library. It was subtle, just a sense that someone was watching, but every time you turned your head to catch them, they were gone.

It became a mystery of its own, one you couldn’t quite let go of. You tried to piece it together the way you would in a show or a novel. Who sat near you at lunch? Who crossed paths with you between classes? Who could have that kind of presence without you noticing until it was too late?

But no matter how much you thought about it, you came up empty. And the strangest part was, you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to solve it. Because, in some inexplicable way, that gaze felt… safe. Like someone had taken the time to notice you—not as the “girl with the crime books,” but as you.

Still, the curiosity gnawed at you. One day, as you sat in your usual spot by the library window, lost in a particularly tense chapter of your latest read, you felt it again. That quiet, steady gaze, warm and unhurried.

This time, you didn’t look up right away. Instead, you waited, letting the feeling settle over you like a blanket. You turned the page of your book slowly, pretending to stay engrossed, all while your pulse quickened in anticipation.

And then, with deliberate calm, you lifted your head and scanned the room.

At first, it seemed like every other time. Just a sea of faces, none of them focused on you. But then, in the far corner, you caught it—a pair of eyes meeting yours before quickly looking away.

Your heart stuttered. You knew that face.

You knew that face because it belonged to Nishimura Ni-ki. Quiet, unassuming, always with his head buried in a textbook or his notebook. You hadn’t talked much, only exchanging a few words in the classes you shared or the brief, awkward apologies after he accidentally bumped into you in the hallway, scrambling to pick up his scattered books. He wasn’t exactly invisible, but he never drew attention to himself—not in the way others did.

But you also knew him for another reason. Nishimura Ni-ki was the campus prime target for bullying.

You hated seeing it. The way some of the guys would shove him into lockers, muttering cruel things under their breath loud enough for him to hear. The way others would snatch his things, throw them across the hall, or crumple his assignments into balls of paper. Worst of all was the day you saw someone snap his glasses clean in half, right in front of him, leaving him standing there, helpless and humiliated.

Without even thinking, you had stepped in. No hesitation, no second thought—you just swung. Your fist connected with the guy’s face, the sickening crack of his nose breaking echoing in the hallway. Everything had gone silent. People stared as you shook out your knuckles, glaring down at the guy as he clutched his face, blood pouring between his fingers.

Sure, you got suspended for a few days after that, but it had been worth it.

From that day on, you’d kept an eye out—not just for Ni-ki, but for anyone being harassed. You couldn’t stand it, couldn’t stand the way some people seemed to think they had a right to make others miserable just because they could. But with Ni-ki, it was different. Something about the way he’d looked at you that day—wide-eyed, stunned, like he couldn’t quite believe someone had stood up for him—it stuck with you.

After that, you noticed him more often. Sitting alone in the library, his hair falling into his eyes as he scribbled notes. Walking to class with his close-knit group of friends, smiling faintly at something one of them said. And now, you realized, he was quietly watching you.

Your stomach flipped as your eyes locked with his for the briefest moment before he quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the open book in front of him. You hadn’t even realized he knew who you were, let alone that he’d been the one watching you all this time.

For a moment, you sat frozen, unsure what to do. Then, on impulse, you stood up, tucking your book under your arm as you made your way across the library.

Ni-ki didn’t notice you at first. He was scribbling something in the margins of his notebook, his brows furrowed in concentration. But when you stopped in front of his table, he glanced up, and his eyes widened.

“Hey,” you said, keeping your voice low to avoid disturbing the others. “Got room for one more?”

His gaze darted to the empty chair across from him, then back to you. For a moment, he looked like he might say no. But then he nodded, his lips curling into the faintest hint of a smile.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice quiet but steady. “Sure.”

You slid into the seat, setting your book down on the table. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching between you like an unspoken question. But it wasn’t awkward. If anything, it felt… comfortable.

You sat there for a while, the silence punctuated only by the faint scratch of Ni-ki’s pencil against his notebook and the soft rustle of turning pages. But your curiosity wouldn’t let you sit still for long. You closed your book, leaning forward slightly.

“Can I ask you something?” you said, keeping your voice low.

Ni-ki looked up from his notes, his pencil pausing mid-word. His expression was cautious, unsure, but he nodded. “Yeah?”

“Why were you looking at me earlier?” you asked, tilting your head slightly. “It’s not the first time, is it?”

His eyes widened, and a faint flush crept up his neck. “Oh, I—uh…” He trailed off, fumbling for words. For a moment, you thought he might brush it off or deny it entirely. But then he exhaled and gave a small, sheepish shrug. “I’ve seen you reading crime novels. A lot. And… I like them too.”

You blinked, surprised. “You do?”

He nodded, glancing down at his notebook like he was embarrassed to admit it. “Yeah. I mean, I don’t talk about it much, but I’ve always been into them. Mysteries, thrillers, true crime… all of it. I guess I just noticed because you’re always reading them too.”

A grin spread across your face before you could stop it. “Seriously? I didn’t think anyone else here cared about that stuff.”

Ni-ki’s lips twitched into a small smile. “Yeah, well… it’s not exactly the kind of thing people talk about, you know? But I’ve always thought it was cool—how detectives figure everything out, all the little clues coming together.”

“Exactly!” you said, leaning forward a little more, your excitement bubbling over. “That’s the best part. Like, the story’s great and all, but the process of solving it? The way everything clicks in the end? It’s so satisfying.”

His smile widened, and for the first time, he looked genuinely at ease. “Right? And when you figure it out before the characters do? That’s the best feeling.”

You nodded eagerly, the conversation flowing effortlessly now. You started swapping favorite books and shows, debating the best fictional detectives and the most clever twists you’d seen. Ni-ki talked about his love for true crime documentaries, how he’d binge-watch them whenever he had a free weekend. You shared your obsession with whodunits, confessing how you’d pause episodes just to try to solve the case before the big reveal.

Time slipped by without you realizing it. The library around you faded into the background as you talked, your usual quiet demeanor replaced by the spark of shared enthusiasm. Ni-ki was surprisingly easy to talk to, his reserved nature melting away as the two of you bonded over your mutual love for crime stories.

At some point, you glanced at the clock and realized lunch was almost over. You sighed, reluctantly closing your book. “Guess we’ll have to pick this up later. I’ve got class.”

Ni-ki nodded, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—disappointment, maybe? It was subtle, but you caught it.

“Hey,” you said as you stood, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “We should talk more about this sometime. Maybe… tomorrow?”

His gaze snapped up to yours, and for a moment, he just stared at you, like he couldn’t quite believe you were serious. Then he nodded, his smile small but genuine. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

You grinned and gave him a quick wave before heading toward the door.

The rest of the day felt oddly brighter. You couldn’t quite put your finger on why, but something about that conversation with Ni-ki lingered with you. Maybe it was because you’d finally found someone who shared your interest, someone who didn’t just dismiss it as “weird” or “creepy.” Or maybe it was because, for the first time, Ni-ki hadn’t seemed like the quiet, distant figure you’d always known him as. He felt… real.

The next day, you found yourself scanning the library during lunch without even thinking about it. And sure enough, there he was—sitting at the same table, his notebook open in front of him, scribbling something in his neat handwriting.

You hesitated for a moment, suddenly feeling a little nervous. What if he thought yesterday was a one-time thing? What if he wasn’t expecting you to actually show up? But then he looked up, and the moment his eyes met yours, his face lit up with a small but unmistakable smile.

That was all the invitation you needed. You crossed the room and slid into the seat across from him, setting your bag down beside you.

“Hey,” you said, trying to sound casual.

“Hey,” he replied, his tone soft but warm.

It didn’t take long for the conversation to pick up where you’d left off. You talked about the book you were reading, how the protagonist was struggling to crack a seemingly unsolvable case. Ni-ki listened intently, occasionally chiming in with his own thoughts or theories. When it was his turn, he shared about a true crime documentary he’d started the night before.

As the days went by, it became a routine. Every lunch break, you’d find each other in the library, your conversations growing longer and more animated. What started as casual chats about crime novels and documentaries quickly expanded into other topics—favorite genres, books you’d loved as kids, even the little quirks you’d noticed about your classmates.

Ni-ki opened up more than you ever expected. You learned that he loved puzzles, that he had a knack for spotting patterns and solving problems. He admitted, almost shyly, that he wanted to be a forensic scientist someday, to solve real-life mysteries.

You told him about your fascination with detective work, how you’d always loved the idea of uncovering the truth. You joked that maybe you’d end up as a detective yourself one day, solving cases while he analyzed the evidence. He laughed at that, a soft, genuine sound that you realized you wanted to hear more of.

“Hey,” he said, his voice quieter than usual.

You looked up, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Yeah?”

“I just… I wanted to say thanks,” he said, not quite meeting your eyes. “For, you know… sticking up for me. Back then. And now.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “You don’t have to thank me for that, Ni-ki. No one deserves to be treated like that.”

He nodded, his fingers fidgeting with the strap of his bag. “I know, but… it meant a lot. And so does this. Talking to you, I mean. It’s… nice.”

You felt a warmth spread through your chest, the same kind you’d felt every time you caught him watching you. “It’s nice for me too,” you admitted, offering him a small smile.

For a moment, he just looked at you, his expression soft and almost… hopeful. Then he nodded, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“Same time tomorrow?” he asked.

“Of course,” you said, already looking forward to it.

--

You and Ni-ki walked side by side down the hallway, the buzz of students heading to their next class filling the air. He was carrying a few books in his arms, his notebook precariously balanced on top, while the two of you chatted about your plans for the day.

“I’ve got a project due for history,” you said, groaning. “I’ll probably be stuck in the library all afternoon. What about you?”

“Studying for the calculus test,” Ni-ki replied with a faint smile. “Though, knowing me, I’ll still probably bomb it.”

“You won’t,” you assured him. “You just need to stop doubting yourself so much.”

He chuckled softly at that, and the sound was warm—genuine. You had started to notice these little things about him, the way he opened up a bit more when it was just the two of you.

As you reached your classroom door, you slowed to a stop, turning to face him. “Alright, this is me. I’ll see you at lunch later?”

“Yeah, I’ll—”

Before Ni-ki could finish his sentence, someone shoved him hard from behind. He stumbled forward, dropping his books as he fell onto his knees. His notebook skidded across the floor, pages fluttering.

“Oops,” the voice sneered mockingly from behind. “Didn’t see you there, nerd.”

You whipped around, your blood instantly boiling. It was one of the usual suspects—one of the guys who seemed to make it his personal mission to make Ni-ki’s life miserable. His smug smirk widened as he stood there, hands in his pockets, his posture radiating mock innocence.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you snapped, your voice echoing in the hallway.

The guy raised an eyebrow, shrugging nonchalantly. “Relax, it was an accident.”

“Accident, my ass,” you shot back, stepping forward. “You’ve got the brainpower of a rock, but even you know how to avoid people in a hallway.”

A few students nearby paused to watch, their conversations trailing off as they sensed the tension.

The guy’s smirk faltered for a second, his eyes narrowing. “Watch your mouth.”

“Or what?” you challenged, crossing your arms. “You’ll try to push me too? Let’s see how far you get.”

He opened his mouth, likely to hurl an insult your way, but before he could get the words out, a stern voice interrupted.

“Is there a problem here?”

A teacher had appeared at the end of the hallway, arms crossed, eyes flicking between you, Ni-ki, and the bully.

The guy immediately straightened, his smugness replaced with a fake innocence. “No problem, sir. Just a little accident.”

The teacher’s eyes lingered on him for a moment, skeptical but unwilling to escalate without proof. “Then I suggest you keep moving before you’re late to class.”

The bully muttered something under his breath and stalked off, throwing one last glare over his shoulder. You glared right back until he disappeared into the crowd.

With the hallway clearing, you turned back to Ni-ki, who was still on the ground, gathering his books with a quiet, resigned expression. You knelt down beside him, helping him scoop up his notebook and a few loose papers.

“You okay?” you asked softly, handing him the last of his things.

He nodded, though his cheeks were flushed, not from the fall but from the embarrassment of it all. “Yeah. Thanks.”

You stood and offered him your hand. He hesitated for a moment before taking it, and you pulled him to his feet.

“Don’t let jerks like that get to you,” you said firmly, your voice softer now. “He’s just miserable with his own life, so he’s trying to make you feel the same way. But he doesn’t get to win.”

Ni-ki’s lips twitched into the smallest of smiles as he adjusted the books in his arms. “I’m starting to think you like fighting my battles more than I do.”

You laughed, nudging his arm lightly. “Someone’s gotta have your back.”

The bell rang just as you and Ni-ki made your way to your separate classes.

You sank into your seat, the dull buzz of the classroom settling around you as your mind wandered back to what had just happened. You hated seeing that side of Ni-ki dimmed by people who had nothing better to do than pick on someone who kept to himself.

Your teacher walked in, and the usual routine of class began. You tried to focus, taking notes, participating when necessary, but it was hard to shake off the image of Ni-ki being knocked down again. Even harder, was knowing that no matter how much you tried to defend him, the cycle would probably continue.

It wasn’t that you didn’t understand the way people like that bully operated—people who picked on others because they could, because it was easier to tear someone else down than deal with their own problems. What pissed you off was that Ni-ki never seemed to ask for help. He didn’t fight back, didn’t make a scene, and kept everything buried under that quiet, almost invisible demeanor of his.

You didn’t know why you cared so much. Maybe it was because he was finally someone who shared your interests, someone who didn’t see you as weird or obsessive for reading crime novels or binge-watching shows about detectives. Or maybe it was because, for the first time in a long while, you found someone you didn’t mind looking out for.

The rest of class passed by in a blur, and when the bell rang again, signaling the end of the period, you packed up your things quickly, eager to catch up with Ni-ki.

You hadn’t seen him on your way out, but he wasn’t hard to find. When you stepped out into the hall, you spotted him near his locker, his back slightly hunched as he rifled through his bag. He looked like he was in his own world, eyes focused on something only he could see.

You walked up to him, your footsteps steady.

“You good?” you asked, breaking the silence.

Ni-ki turned slightly, startled for a moment. When he saw it was you, the tension in his shoulders visibly loosened. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied, his voice soft but steady. “Thanks again for earlier. You didn’t have to do that.”

You shrugged, trying to downplay it. “It’s not a big deal. He’s just a jerk. Besides, if no one stands up for you, who will?”

Ni-ki didn’t answer right away. He just stared at you for a moment, as if weighing your words. After a long pause, he gave a small, almost shy smile. “I guess… I’ve never really thought about it like that.”

“Well, now you know,” you said with a grin. “If you ever need backup, I’m around.” You tried to keep your tone light, but there was a quiet sincerity in it.

Ni-ki nodded, his expression softening, as if he were grateful, but unsure how to show it. “Thanks. I… I appreciate it.”

The bell rang, signaling the start of the next class, and you both turned to head in opposite directions. You glanced back at him before walking away, feeling that familiar pull of wanting to make sure he was okay.

Over the next few days, you found yourself in more and more situations where people were picking on Ni-ki, or even just others around campus. It wasn’t always the same faces; sometimes it was a random group, sometimes it was a repeat offender. But every time, you couldn’t just walk by.

One afternoon, you were heading toward the library when you spotted a couple of guys standing by the lockers. One of them had his hands shoved into Ni-ki’s chest, laughing as he made some cruel remark about Ni-ki’s glasses being too big for his face. Ni-ki’s eyes were lowered, his shoulders tense, his voice barely a whisper as he tried to back away, but the guys weren’t letting him go.

Without thinking, you rushed forward, your heart pounding in your chest. “Hey!” you called out, your voice cutting through the laughter. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

The guys turned to face you, their expressions mocking. “Oh, look, it’s the weird kid who’s always reading those detective books,” one of them sneered. “What, you gonna cry for him too?”

You didn’t flinch. “I’ll cry if it means you get a reality check. You think picking on people makes you cool? It doesn’t.”

The bully smirked, stepping closer. “Maybe you should mind your own business, huh? No one cares what you think.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” you snapped, standing your ground. “I do care. And I don’t let people get away with treating others like crap. So if you’ve got a problem with him, you’ve got a problem with me.” You took a step forward, matching his arrogance with a calm confidence. “Go ahead, say something back. I dare you.”

The guy’s face twisted in frustration, but before he could retort, another voice interrupted.

“Is there a problem here?” A teacher had appeared, walking briskly down the hall with an authoritative presence.

The bully shot one last glance at you, a sneer still hanging on his lips, before muttering, “Whatever, it’s just a joke.”

“Then keep your ‘jokes’ to yourself,” you said, watching as he slinked off with his friend in tow.

As the tension cleared, you turned to Ni-ki, who was standing there, still looking a little shell-shocked. He didn’t speak for a moment, just staring at you like you had just pulled him out of the depths of something he didn’t know how to escape.

“You alright?” you asked quietly, your voice softer now.

Ni-ki nodded slowly, though he still looked like he wasn’t quite sure how to respond. “I—I’m fine. Thanks again. But you really didn’t have to do that.”

“I did,” you said, giving him a smile. “I don’t let people get away with stuff like that. You deserve better than being treated like that, and so does everyone else.”

Ni-ki’s eyes met yours for a moment, something unreadable flickering behind them before he spoke. “Maybe… maybe I don’t know how to stand up for myself the way you do.”

“That’s alright,” you said with a shrug. “Not everyone does. But it’s not too late to start.”

As the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, you both began walking toward your next classes. You could feel his presence beside you, his quiet thanks still lingering in the air, but it didn’t feel awkward. You had his back, and that was what mattered.

You didn’t always receive praise for standing up to people. You didn’t always get the support you might’ve hoped for. Sometimes you’d get the sneers and judgment from those who didn’t understand, those who thought that letting things slide or keeping their heads down was the easier way to go.

But you didn’t care.

You didn’t care about the sideways glances, or the occasional whispered insults behind your back. You couldn’t stand by and do nothing.

And if that meant dealing with the backlash, so be it. You’d rather face that than let someone else feel alone.

A few days later, you woke up feeling off—head throbbing, throat scratchy, and your body aching like you'd been hit by a truck. You groaned, pulling yourself out of bed only to immediately collapse back under the covers. The thought of going to school was unbearable, and you knew you needed rest more than anything else.

The absence of the usual noise from school made everything feel stiller, emptier. It was a strange feeling, knowing you wouldn’t be there to keep an eye out for Ni-ki, to have his back in the way you had grown accustomed to.

That afternoon, the day passed slowly, and you spent most of it in and out of sleep. When you checked your phone again later, you saw that Ni-ki had sent another message: "Is everything okay? Haven't seen you today."

You smiled at his concern, typing back, "Yeah, just sick. I'll be back soon, don’t worry."

The next few days were rougher than you’d expected. What you thought was just a mild bug turned into a fever that left you bedridden. You tried to keep up with school through messages from classmates and the occasional email from teachers, but your energy was practically nonexistent.

Ni-ki checked in on you every day, like clockwork. His texts were short and to the point, but they carried a warmth that made you smile despite your pounding headache.

"Feeling any better today?" "Don’t push yourself, okay?" "I can drop off notes if you need them."

You’d chuckle at the last one, imagining Ni-ki walking up to your door with a stack of papers and books. "Thanks, but I’ll survive. Just focus on yourself," you’d reply, even though you appreciated the thought more than you could express.

Despite his reassurances that everything was fine, you couldn’t help but worry. Ni-ki wasn’t exactly the type to tell you if something was wrong, especially when it came to the bullies. The thought of him being alone, enduring their usual torment without you there to step in, gnawed at the edges of your mind.

By the third day, your fever started to break, and you felt well enough to sit up and respond to messages without immediately passing out. You sent Ni-ki a text: "How’s school been?"

A few minutes passed before his reply came in. "Same as always. Don’t worry about me."

You frowned. That was exactly the kind of response you’d been expecting—and dreading.

"You sure? No one’s bothering you?"

The three little dots indicating he was typing popped up, then disappeared, then reappeared again. Finally, he sent: "I’m fine. Just come back soon, okay?"

You stared at the screen for a long moment, conflicted. On one hand, you knew Ni-ki well enough by now to recognize when he wasn’t telling you the whole truth. On the other hand, pushing him for answers over text wouldn’t get you anywhere.

"I will," you typed back. "Just hang in there."

When you finally returned to school a few days later, you felt a strange mixture of relief and unease. As much as you hated being away, a small part of you worried about what you’d find when you got back.

Walking through the hallways felt like stepping into a space that had shifted slightly in your absence. You noticed the usual groups clustered together, their laughter echoing through the halls. But as your eyes scanned the crowd, you couldn’t find Ni-ki anywhere.

When you reached your locker, you spotted one of his friends—someone you’d occasionally seen him study with. You hesitated before calling out, “Hey, have you seen Ni-ki?”

The guy looked up, his face shadowed with something you couldn’t quite place. “He’s in the library,” he said after a moment. “He’s been there a lot lately.”

You nodded, thanking him before heading in that direction. The library was quieter than usual, the muffled hum of voices and the faint rustle of pages filling the air. It didn’t take long to spot Ni-ki, sitting at a table in the far corner, his head down as he scribbled something into a notebook.

“Ni-ki,” you called softly as you approached.

He looked up, and for a split second, relief flashed across his face. Then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by his usual reserved expression. “Hey,” he said, closing his notebook and sitting up straighter. “You’re back.”

“I am,” you said, pulling out a chair and sitting across from him. “What’s been going on? And don’t say ‘nothing,’ because I know that’s not true.”

Ni-ki hesitated, his fingers fidgeting with the corner of his notebook. “It’s… not a big deal,” he finally said, his voice low. “Just the usual stuff.”

Your jaw tightened. You’d expected as much, but hearing it still made your blood boil. “What happened?”

He sighed, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. “They’ve just been… pushing things a little more since you weren’t here. It’s fine, though. I’m used to it.”

“Used to it doesn’t make it okay,” you said firmly. “Did anyone step in? Tell a teacher? Anything?”

Ni-ki shook his head. “No one really noticed. Or if they did, they didn’t care.”

Your fists clenched under the table. It was exactly what you’d feared, and it only made you more determined. “Well, I’m back now,” you said, your voice steady. “And they’re not getting away with it anymore. Not while I’m around.”

Ni-ki looked at you, a flicker of something—gratitude, maybe—crossing his face. “You don’t have to keep doing this, you know,” he said quietly. “Standing up for me all the time. It’s not your responsibility.”

“It’s not about responsibility,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “I want to stand up. And no one deserves to feel like they’re alone in this.”

“Thanks,” Ni-ki said eventually, his voice barely above a whisper.

You gave him a small smile. “Anytime.”

--

It started out subtly—so subtle, in fact, that you almost missed it the first few times. You’d grown so used to being the one to step in, to speak up, to push back when people crossed the line with Ni-ki, that it became instinctive. But recently, before you could even open your mouth or move to intervene, something in Ni-ki’s demeanor had started to change.

The next time someone shoved him in the hallway, you caught it. The twist in his face.

It wasn’t the usual resignation or silent frustration you’d seen before. No, this was different. His jaw tightened, his eyes sharp and focused, his posture just a fraction straighter. He still stumbled when they shoved him, still dropped his books, but there was a flicker of defiance there—a spark you hadn’t noticed before.

“Watch where you’re going, idiot,” one of the bullies muttered, smirking as they turned to walk off.

But before you could even step in, Ni-ki straightened up, brushing himself off. His voice was quiet but firm as he said, “Maybe you should watch where you’re going.”

It wasn’t loud, and it certainly wasn’t a full-on confrontation, but it was enough to make the bully pause for a moment, glancing back over their shoulder with narrowed eyes. Ni-ki didn’t flinch. He just stared at them, steady and unyielding, until they scoffed and walked away.

You stood frozen for a moment, caught off guard. This wasn’t like him—not the Ni-ki you’d grown used to protecting, the one who usually avoided confrontation at all costs.

“Ni-ki,” you said, catching up to him as he bent down to pick up his books. “What was that?”

He glanced up at you, his expression unreadable. “What was what?”

“That,” you said, gesturing vaguely toward the hallway where the bullies had just left. “You… you stood up for yourself.”

He shrugged, tucking his books under his arm. “Yeah, well… I figured I might as well try it.”

You blinked, surprised by how nonchalant he sounded. “Try it?”

He paused, glancing at you with a small, almost shy smile. “I’ve been watching you, you know. How you don’t let people push you—or anyone else—around. It made me think… maybe I could do that too.”

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. You felt a strange mix of pride and worry bubbling in your chest. Pride, because seeing Ni-ki finally stand up for himself felt like a victory. Worry, because you knew how cruel people could be when they were challenged.

“Well,” you said finally, your voice soft, “I’m glad you’re trying. But you know you don’t have to do it alone, right? I’ve got your back.”

He nodded, his smile growing a little. “I know. But… it feels kind of good. Not letting them have all the power.”

From that day on, you started noticing it more often.

The next time someone muttered something cruel under their breath as Ni-ki walked past, he didn’t just look away. He turned, his voice steady as he asked, “What did you just say?” It wasn’t a shout, wasn’t a threat, but the sheer confidence in his tone was enough to catch them off guard.

And the next time someone knocked his books out of his hands, Ni-ki didn’t just bend down to pick them up. He straightened up first, meeting their gaze with an icy calmness that made them hesitate before walking off.

You watched it all unfold with a mixture of admiration and concern.

One afternoon, after class, you found yourself walking with him again, the two of you deep in conversation about one of the crime novels you’d both been reading. As you turned the corner, you saw one of the usual suspects—one of the guys who’d made Ni-ki’s life a nightmare for as long as you could remember.

The guy stepped into Ni-ki’s path, blocking his way. “Hey, got a minute?”

You tensed immediately, ready to step forward, but Ni-ki held up a hand, stopping you.

“What do you want?” Ni-ki asked, his voice calm but firm.

The bully smirked, leaning in closer. “Just wondering how long it’ll take before you crawl back into that little shell of yours. You think you’re tough now? That you’ve got people to back you up?”

Ni-ki didn’t even blink. “I think you’re wasting your time. Find someone else to bother.”

The smirk faltered for just a second, and that was all it took. The bully muttered something under his breath before walking away, clearly annoyed that Ni-ki hadn’t given him the reaction he was hoping for.

As soon as the guy was out of earshot, you turned to Ni-ki, your eyes wide. “Okay, what was that? Who are you, and what have you done with the Ni-ki I know?”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I told you, I’ve been watching you. Guess I finally got tired of being the guy everyone picks on.”

You couldn’t help but smile, your chest swelling with pride. “Well, I’m glad you’re finding your voice. Just… don’t get yourself in too much trouble, okay?”

“Don’t worry,” he said, his smile soft but confident. “I know you’ll be there to save me if I do.”

You chuckled at his confidence, feeling that familiar warmth bubble up inside you. “Of course,” you replied. “But remember, you don’t have to rely on me all the time. You’ve got this, Ni-ki.”

He met your gaze, his eyes bright with something that looked almost like gratitude, but with a touch of pride as well. “Maybe. But it feels good knowing I’ve got someone watching my back.”

You nodded, feeling your heart skip a beat. It wasn’t just about protecting him anymore—it was about seeing him stand up for himself, to fight back against the people who tried to bring him down. And even though you still couldn’t shake the worry that the bullies would target him more now, you had a feeling that Ni-ki would be okay.

The days that followed were a mix of small victories. You’d catch glimpses of him, the way his posture had changed, the confidence in the way he carried himself. Even when the bullies tried to get under his skin, he seemed to hold his own. And when they tried to escalate things, Ni-ki would either meet them with sharp words or simply walk away with his head held high, no longer letting their insults stick to him.

--

The day started like any other—until you got to school.

The usual buzz of the morning crowd was replaced with an eerie silence. Police cars lined the front of the building, their lights casting flashes of red and blue against the gray morning sky. Students clustered in small groups near the gate, whispering to each other, their faces pale with unease.

You tightened your grip on your bag as you stepped closer, curiosity gnawing at you. Something had happened—something big.

Spotting Natty near the lockers, you hurried over, catching her arm gently. “What’s going on? Why are the police here?”

Natty turned, her expression somber and anxious. “You didn’t hear?”

You shook your head, your stomach twisting. “No. What happened?”

She glanced around nervously before leaning in closer. “Two students have been reported missing,” she said in a low voice.

Your heart skipped a beat. “Missing? Who?”

Natty hesitated, her voice dropping even lower. “It’s those two guys… you know, the ones who usually mess with people. The ones who—”

“The ones who pick on people” you finished for her, your voice barely above a whisper.

She nodded, her expression grim. “Yeah. Them. Apparently, they didn’t come home last night. Their parents called the school this morning, and now the police are involved.”

You stood there, processing her words. The two bullies—known for tormenting Ni-ki and plenty of other students—were missing? The news left you unsettled, a mix of emotions swirling in your chest.

“What do you think happened to them?” you asked, your voice cautious.

Natty shrugged, glancing over at the police officers. “I don’t know. Everyone’s talking about it, but no one seems to know anything for sure. Some people are saying they might’ve run away, but…” She trailed off, biting her lip.

“But?”

She leaned in closer, her voice barely audible now. “But people are also saying it doesn’t feel like that. They’re saying it’s... suspicious.”

You frowned, your mind racing. Suspicious. The word lingered in your thoughts like a dark cloud. You couldn’t help but think about Ni-ki—the way he’d started standing up for himself, the way the bullies had been pushing back harder in recent weeks. And now, suddenly, they were gone?

“Do they have any leads?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Natty shook her head. “Not that I’ve heard. The police are just starting their investigation.”

You glanced around, your eyes scanning the crowd. Your thoughts immediately went to Ni-ki. Had he heard about this yet? How was he feeling? You knew the bullies had made his life miserable, but even so, this was… extreme.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” you said, already stepping away.

Natty called after you, “Where are you going?”

“To check on someone,” you replied over your shoulder, your mind set on finding Ni-ki.

You searched the usual spots—the bench near the library, the quiet corner by the art room—but he was nowhere to be found. Finally, you spotted him by the vending machines, standing alone with his hands in his pockets.

“Ni-ki,” you called softly as you approached.

He looked up, his expression unreadable. “Hey.”

“Did you hear?” you asked, lowering your voice.

He nodded, his gaze dropping again. “Yeah. Everyone’s talking about it.”

You studied him for a moment, trying to gauge his emotions. He didn’t look shocked or upset—just… thoughtful.

“How are you feeling about it?” you asked gently.

He shrugged, his voice quiet. “I don’t know. It’s... weird. They were horrible to everyone, but this? It’s… I don’t know.”

You nodded, understanding the conflict in his tone.

“They’ll figure it out,” you said, more to reassure yourself than him. “The police are here, and they’ll get to the bottom of it.”

Ni-ki glanced at you, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he nodded. “Yeah. I guess.”

You walked side by side with Ni-ki, the buzz of conversations and murmurs about the missing students fading into the background. He didn’t seem as unsettled as you would’ve expected. In fact, he looked… composed. Too composed. There was a calmness about him, a quiet confidence that hadn’t been there before.

It wasn’t like he didn’t care—at least, you didn’t think so. But he wasn’t fidgeting or avoiding the topic like you might have imagined. Instead, he walked with his head held high, his steps deliberate.

You glanced at him, trying to gauge his mood. “You seem… okay about all this,” you said carefully, not wanting to come off as accusing.

Ni-ki shrugged, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” you said, tilting your head. “It’s just… two people are missing. People who used to make your life hell, and you don’t look… bothered.”

He stopped walking for a moment, turning to face you. His lips curved into the faintest smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Should I be?”

The question caught you off guard. You blinked, unsure how to respond. “Well, I mean… it’s weird, right? They’re still people. Even if they were awful, it’s not like they deserved to… you know, vanish.”

Ni-ki held your gaze for a moment longer before looking away, his expression unreadable. “I guess I’ve just learned not to waste my energy on people like them,” he said, his voice steady. “They made their choices. It’s not my job to care.”

You frowned, his words sticking with you as you both continued walking. There was something about the way he spoke—calm, measured, almost detached—that made you uneasy. But you didn’t push him further. Ni-ki had grown a lot lately, standing up for himself in ways you hadn’t expected. Maybe this was just part of that change—his way of not letting the past hold power over him anymore.

Still, you couldn’t help but notice how his posture seemed different now. Straighter, more self-assured. He wasn’t the same Ni-ki who used to avoid eye contact in the hallways or flinch at the sound of the bullies’ voices. This Ni-ki was someone who carried himself with quiet confidence, someone who looked like he had nothing to fear.

And yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to it. Something he wasn’t saying.

You wanted to ask, to press him for answers, but something stopped you. Maybe it was the way his expression remained calm, as if daring you to question him. Or maybe it was the realization that you weren’t sure you wanted to know.

“Anyway,” Ni-ki said, breaking the silence, “what’s your plan for the rest of the day?”

The abrupt shift in topic caught you off guard, but you decided to go with it. “Not much,” you said, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “Probably just try to catch up on homework and maybe watch something later.”

He nodded, his smile softening into something more genuine. “Sounds good. Let me know if you find a good mystery to watch.”

“Will do,” you replied, smiling back.

As you parted ways and headed to your respective classes, you couldn’t help but glance back at him. The way he walked, the way he carried himself now—it was almost like he was a completely different person.

And though you didn’t say it out loud, the unease lingered. There was something about Ni-ki that had changed, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. And as much as you wanted to believe it was just confidence.. a small, nagging part of you wondered if it was something more.

After school, you found yourself lingering by the gate, waiting for Ni-ki. You weren’t even sure why. Maybe it was just the need to talk to him again, to see if you could get a better read on what he was thinking.

He appeared a few minutes later, his bag slung over one shoulder and his usual calm expression in place. When he spotted you, his lips twitched into a small smile.

“Waiting for me?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

You shrugged, trying to play it off. “Just thought we could walk together.”

“Sure,” he said, falling into step beside you.

The walk home started out quiet, the kind of comfortable silence you’d gotten used to with him. But as you neared the park, you couldn’t hold back your curiosity any longer.

“Ni-ki,” you began carefully, “I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier.”

He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “What about it?”

“About not caring. About how it’s not your job to care about... people like them.” You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “It just feels like... I don’t know, you’ve changed a lot lately. You’re more confident, and that’s great, but... it’s like you’re not bothered by anything anymore.”

Ni-ki didn’t respond right away. He kept walking, his gaze focused straight ahead, his expression calm. Finally, he sighed, his shoulders rising and falling.

“I guess I just realized there’s no point in letting things get to me,” he said, his tone measured. “People like them... they’re not worth my time. They never were.”

You frowned, your unease growing. “But... don’t you think it’s weird? That they just disappeared like that?”

He stopped walking, turning to face you. His eyes met yours, and for the first time, there was a flicker of something behind his calm exterior. Something darker.

“What are you trying to say?” he asked, his voice quiet but firm.

Your breath hitched, caught off guard by the sudden intensity in his gaze. “I’m not saying anything,” you said quickly, though your heart was racing. “I’m just... curious. That’s all.”

Ni-ki studied you for a moment longer before his expression softened, the faintest smile returning to his lips. “It’s probably nothing,” he said. “People like that... they always have enemies. Maybe someone else decided to deal with them.”

The way he said it sent a chill down your spine. He didn’t sound defensive, or even particularly concerned. If anything, he sounded... amused.

You forced a smile, not wanting to push him further. “Yeah, maybe,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended.

Ni-ki started walking again, and you followed, your mind racing with questions you didn’t dare ask.

As the two of you walked further down the quiet street, Ni-ki suddenly turned toward his dorm building, stopping just before the steps. He looked at you with a hint of hesitation, but there was also that hopeful glint in his eyes that always managed to make your heart soften.

“Hey,” he said casually, though his tone had a shy edge. “Do you… maybe want to come up? We could study together or something. I know exams are coming up, and it’s easier with company.”

You hesitated, clutching the strap of your bag. “I don’t know… I should probably just head home and get some rest.”

Ni-ki’s face dropped slightly, and for a second, he looked like he was bracing for you to turn him down. But the way he glanced at you—hopeful and a little nervous—made something inside you falter.

“Are you sure?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably. “It’ll be quiet. I promise I won’t distract you too much.”

You looked at him, at the way his bangs fell slightly into his eyes and the way he fidgeted with the strap of his own bag. He looked cute, and there was something so innocent about the way he asked, as if he genuinely just wanted to spend more time with you.

“Alright,” you finally said, relenting with a small smile. “I’ll stay for a little while.”

The way his face lit up made it all worth it. A broad smile spread across his lips, and before you could react, he reached out, his hands gently finding their way to your waist as he guided you toward the door. His touch was firm yet careful, his hands warm even through the fabric of your jacket.

“Come on,” he said, his tone suddenly brighter as he led you inside the building. “It’s not too messy, I promise. Well… not that messy.”

You laughed softly, letting him lead you into the lobby and toward the elevator. There was something about the way he was acting—lighthearted and a little goofy—that made your earlier unease fade just a bit.

When the elevator doors opened, Ni-ki stepped aside to let you in first, his hand briefly brushing against your lower back. He pressed the button for his floor, glancing at you with a grin. “I’ll even let you pick the first topic we study. Fair deal?”

“Deal,” you said, shaking your head at him.

As the elevator climbed, you realized that, despite your earlier hesitation, you didn’t really mind being here with him. There was something comforting about the way Ni-ki treated you, like you were the only person who really mattered to him in that moment.

The elevator dinged, and the two of you stepped out into the hallway. Ni-ki led the way to his room, opening the door with a flourish before stepping aside to let you in.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” he said, gesturing around with a playful smile.

You stepped inside, taking in the neat but lived-in space. His desk was cluttered with notebooks and textbooks, and there were a few random items scattered around—headphones, a hoodie draped over the back of a chair, a half-empty mug on the windowsill.

“It’s cozy,” you said, setting your bag down by the door.

Ni-ki grinned. “That’s code for ‘small,’ isn’t it?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, I mean it. It feels… nice.”

“Good,” he said, closing the door behind you. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll grab us some water, and then we can get started.”

As he busied himself in the corner of the room, you took a seat at his desk, letting yourself relax.

And as Ni-ki returned with two glasses of water and a bright smile, you couldn’t help but think that maybe this was exactly what you needed.

Ni-ki handed you a glass of water, his smile warm and genuine, and you took it with a grateful nod. As you both sat down at his desk, the atmosphere felt surprisingly comfortable. The earlier tension had all but faded, replaced by a quiet energy between you two that made everything feel easy.

“So,” Ni-ki began, pulling a notebook toward him, “what subject do you want to start with?” His eyes flickered toward you, waiting for your answer.

You considered for a moment. “I guess… let’s tackle history first? That’s the one I’m struggling with the most.”

“History it is,” Ni-ki agreed, and there was a brief moment of silence as he pulled out his own materials, flipping through pages in his textbook. You glanced at the way he studied—focused but relaxed, as if he’d done this a hundred times before. His brow furrowed just a little when he concentrated, and you found yourself studying him without even realizing it.

He noticed after a second, a slight shift in his posture. “What? Is something wrong?” he asked, glancing up from his book.

“No, no, I was just… thinking.” You gave him a small smile, hoping to ease whatever concern he might have had. “You’re a good study buddy. You’re very… focused.”

Ni-ki chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “I try. It’s just easier when you actually care about what you’re learning, you know?”

You nodded in agreement. The two of you dived into your history notes, bouncing ideas back and forth, helping each other fill in the blanks on a few tricky subjects. The more you talked, the more you realized how much you enjoyed this.

As the hours passed, you found that time seemed to slow down in Ni-ki’s presence. Every now and then, he’d glance up from his book and shoot you a little smile, making it hard to focus on anything else.

By the time you looked at the clock, it had already gotten late. You hadn't realized how much time had passed, so engrossed in studying and talking.

“We should probably call it a night,” you said, stretching your arms above your head.

Ni-ki nodded, though his expression was a little reluctant. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Time really flew by.” He stood up, walking over to the desk and gathering his things. He paused for a moment, glancing back at you. “Thanks for hanging out tonight. It was… really nice.”

You smiled at him, your heart warming at his words. “Of course. I’m glad we did this.”

Ni-ki walked you to the door, his hand brushing yours for a brief moment as he reached for the handle. He opened the door, and as you stepped into the hallway, he stopped you.

“Hey,” he said quietly, his voice softer than usual.

You turned to look at him, eyebrows raised in question.

“I just wanted to say…” He paused, as if thinking carefully about his words. “I’m glad you’re… in my life. You know, you’ve really made things a lot easier for me.”

Your heart skipped a beat. The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and you weren’t sure how to respond.

“I’m glad, too,” you managed, your voice a little quieter than intended. “I think we make a good team.”

Ni-ki’s lips curled into a small, genuine smile, and something about it made your chest feel lighter. He stepped closer, his hand briefly brushing your arm as if he wasn’t sure what to do next.

You both stood there for a moment, before Ni-ki spoke again, his tone soft but teasing.

“See you tomorrow, then?”

You nodded, feeling the smile tug at your own lips. “See you tomorrow.”

The music in your ears drowned out most of the world around you as you walked through the dark streets, the beat lightening your steps as you bopped your head and hummed softly. It was one of those evenings when the city felt alive but distant, the dim glow of streetlights casting long shadows against brick walls and sidewalks.

You didn’t notice the loud voice at first, too lost in the rhythm, but as it grew louder, it cut through the music, making you glance to your left. There, leaning against the wall of an old corner store, was a guy from your school.

You recognized him instantly. He was one of those guys who thrived on making others miserable. A bully. Loud, brash, and unapologetic about it. He was talking on his phone, his voice carrying through the quiet street.

When his gaze flicked toward you, you realized you’d been staring for too long. His face twisted in annoyance, and he barked, “What the hell are you looking at?”

Startled, you quickly shrugged, averting your gaze and picking up your pace. You didn’t have time for his nonsense tonight. The plan was simple: get home, maybe text Ni-ki, and bury yourself under your covers.

But you hadn’t made it more than a few steps when the street suddenly fell silent.

It was strange, almost unnerving. You frowned, pulling out one of your earbuds and glancing back over your shoulder.

Your breath caught in your throat.

The guy was still standing there, but something was wrong. His body was stiff, his shoulders trembling, and his head was tilted downward as if he were staring at his chest. Blood. Dark and glistening, it spilled from his mouth and dripped onto the pavement. His phone slipped from his hand and clattered to the ground.

Your instincts screamed at you to run, to do anything but stay frozen, but your feet refused to move. You could only watch in horror as his wide, terrified eyes met yours.

He tried to say something, his lips moving, but all that came out was a wet, gurgling sound.

And then you saw it.

Behind him, a figure emerged from the shadows, tall and menacing. They wore dark clothes, a hood pulled up to obscure most of their features, but what stood out—what sent chills racing down your spine—was the white mask. A smooth, expressionless face with hollow, soulless eyes staring straight at you.

In their gloved hand, they held a knife, the blade dripping with fresh blood.

Your heart pounded in your chest as panic set in. You were about to scream, about to do anything to snap yourself out of the shock, but the figure stepped forward, their movements deliberate and calm, as if they had all the time in the world.

The bully’s body crumpled to the ground, his lifeless eyes still locked in an expression of pure fear. The blood pooled beneath him, staining the pavement a deep crimson.

The figure didn’t move toward you—not yet. They just stood there, tilting their head slightly as if studying you, waiting to see what you would do.

Every instinct in your body screamed for you to run, but your legs felt like they were made of lead.

This can’t be real, you thought. This can’t be happening.

But it was. And now, the figure took one slow, deliberate step in your direction.

Run. You had to run. Now.

Your body finally responded, adrenaline flooding your veins as you stumbled backward, nearly tripping over your own feet. You turned and bolted down the darkened street, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The earbuds still dangling from your ears blasted music, a sharp contrast to the pounding of your heartbeat and the terror consuming you.

You didn’t dare look back.

Your feet hit the pavement hard, the sound echoing in the empty streets as you raced forward, unsure of where you were going. The only thought in your mind was get away. The quiet of the street felt suffocating, broken only by the occasional flicker of a streetlight.

But then you heard it.

Footsteps.

Slow, deliberate, and eerily calm.

Whoever they were, they weren’t running—they were following you. Like they knew you couldn’t escape.

You risked a glance over your shoulder, and your stomach dropped. The figure was still there, their white mask glowing faintly under the dim streetlights. They weren’t far, and their steady pace somehow made it worse. They didn’t need to run. They knew they had the upper hand.

“No, no, no...” you whispered to yourself, your voice shaky. You turned a sharp corner into a narrower street, your eyes darting around for any sign of help—a lit window, a passerby, anything. But there was no one. Just endless shadows.

You spotted an alley up ahead and ducked into it, pressing yourself against the wall as you tried to steady your breathing. You ripped your earbuds out, desperate to hear every sound around you.

For a moment, there was silence. The footsteps had stopped.

You strained your ears, listening for any hint of movement. The sound of your own breathing felt deafening in the stillness.

And then, softly, the unmistakable scrape of a shoe against the pavement.

Your heart nearly stopped as you realized they were close—too close.

The figure stepped into the mouth of the alley, their tall silhouette illuminated by the faint glow of a distant streetlight. They turned their head slowly, scanning the space.

You pressed yourself harder against the wall, willing yourself to disappear. Please don’t see me, please don’t see me.

But then they tilted their head, and you knew they’d found you.

A sharp wave of panic crashed over you, and before you could think, your legs moved on their own. You bolted deeper into the alley, praying it would lead somewhere—anywhere—but as you reached the end, your heart sank.

A dead end.

You spun around, your back pressed against the cold brick wall as the figure approached, their movements unhurried, deliberate. The knife in their hand gleamed faintly in the dim light, still slick with blood.

“W-what do you want?” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. Your hands shook as you clenched them at your sides, trying to mask the terror in your chest.

The figure didn’t answer, their masked face tilting slightly as if amused by your fear. The silence between you was suffocating, the sound of your ragged breathing echoing in the narrow alley. You pressed yourself harder against the wall, your body trembling as their slow, deliberate footsteps brought them closer.

“Please,” you tried again, your voice cracking. “I won’t tell anyone. Just—just let me go.”

Still, no response. They stopped just a few feet away, the knife glinting under the faint light. The blade wasn’t just bloodied—it was still dripping. Fresh.

You swallowed hard, your mind racing for a way out. Running wasn’t an option. The alley was too narrow, and they were blocking your only escape.

Then, the figure did something that made your stomach drop. Slowly, they reached up with their free hand and tapped the edge of the mask—right where the mouth would be. A deliberate, mocking gesture.

The message was clear: Don’t scream.

Your body froze as dread sank into your chest.

Your breathing hitched as the figure suddenly surged forward, their free hand grabbing your wrists and slamming them against the cold brick wall. You winced at the force, the impact sending a sharp sting up your arms.

"Let go!" you cried, struggling against their iron grip, but it was no use. Their hands were strong—too strong—and no matter how much you writhed or twisted, you couldn’t break free.

The knife gleamed dangerously close to your side, but it wasn’t moving. Instead, the figure leaned in, their mask mere inches from your face.

“Why are you doing this?” you hissed, your voice shaking but desperate.

They didn’t answer. Instead, they tilted their head, as if observing you up close, and the silent scrutiny sent a shiver down your spine. Their breathing was steady, calm—eerily so, given the situation.

You turned your head away, refusing to meet their hollow gaze, but their grip on your wrists tightened, forcing you to look back at them.

“Stop,” you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper now. “Please.”

They leaned in even closer, the blank mask filling your vision. The faint scent of something metallic—blood—wafted into your nose, and you froze completely, your body trembling under their hold.

You could feel the faint pressure of their breath through the mask, warm and unnervingly slow.

Then, they did something that made your stomach twist. They tilted their head down slightly, as if inspecting you more closely, and the knife in their other hand gently traced along the brick wall beside your face, the sound sharp and deliberate.

“Why are you so scared?” they finally murmured, their voice low, distorted, and almost playful. The modulated tone sent a chill through your entire body. Your eyes widened at the sound. “Who are you?” you managed to croak, but they ignored your question.

They leaned even closer, their voice dropping to a whisper. “You’ve been watching people. Reading their actions. Studying them.”

Your heart stopped. How could they possibly know that?

The knife stopped moving, the tip resting against the wall now as they tilted their head again, as if amused by your reaction.

“You’re just like me,” they murmured, their voice soft but laced with something dangerous. “Aren’t you curious about what happens next?”

The words struck you like a blow, and you felt the air leave your lungs. “I’m nothing like you,” you spat, trying to summon any ounce of courage left in you.

The figure chuckled softly—a sound that was more unsettling than anything else—and finally stepped back, releasing your wrists. You crumpled slightly against the wall, your hands trembling as you pulled them to your chest.

They stood there for a moment, watching you. And then, without a word, they turned and walked away, their figure disappearing into the darkness once more.

You didn’t move, your body frozen in place as your mind raced. Their words echoed in your head.

You’re just like me.

What did they mean?

For a moment, you stood there, too stunned to move, your legs shaking beneath you. The silence in the alley was deafening now, the absence of their presence almost as terrifying as their arrival.

Finally, your body caught up with your mind. You bolted.

You ran down the street, not caring where you were going, your feet pounding against the pavement. Every shadow felt like it was reaching for you, every flicker of light a reminder of that gleaming knife.

When you finally stopped, you realized you were standing in front of your building. Your hands trembled as you fumbled for your keys, barely managing to unlock the door before stumbling inside.

You slammed the door behind you, locking it quickly and leaning against it as you tried to catch your breath. Your heart was still racing, and the image of the masked figure burned into your mind wouldn’t leave.

You stood there for what felt like an eternity, your back pressed against the door, fighting to steady your breath. The air in the hallway was suffocating, the stillness unnerving. Your pulse thudded in your ears, too loud, too fast, as you struggled to ground yourself in reality.

The sound of your own heartbeat felt like a drum, drowning out every other noise. You closed your eyes for a moment, willing the panic to subside, but the image of the masked figure—those hollow, unfeeling eyes—kept flashing in your mind. You could almost still feel the coldness of their grip on your wrists, the steel of the knife pressed against the air between you.

No, no, you couldn't think about that. You had to focus on something else.

Your hands were shaking so badly that when you tried to take off your shoes, you nearly tripped over them. You steadied yourself against the wall, reaching for your phone in your pocket. Your hands felt clammy as you unlocked it, eyes scanning the screen. You thought about calling someone—anyone—but who could you even call? You had no idea what just happened, who that person was, or why you were targeted.

You tapped your messages, but the familiar names on your screen did little to comfort you. Your fingers hovered over Ni-ki’s name for a moment, but you hesitated. You didn’t want to scare him. What would you even say?

You knew he’d be worried, and maybe that’s exactly what you needed. But not yet.

You let out a long, shaky breath, and after a moment of indecision, you tucked the phone back into your pocket. You needed to calm down. You couldn’t let yourself spiral.

Your eyes flicked to the window, the dim glow from the streetlights casting long shadows into the room. Every movement, every flicker of light outside seemed to twist your nerves tighter. You felt like you were being watched.

Was it paranoia?

You couldn’t stay locked inside forever. But you couldn’t leave either. Not now.

You walked to the window and pulled the blinds slightly aside, peering out. The street below was quiet, eerily so. But there was something off about it now. Something unsettling.

Was this your fault? Was it something you'd done or seen that made you a target?

You flinched as your phone buzzed in your pocket, snapping you out of your thoughts. Your heart skipped a beat, but when you checked, it was just a message from Yuna—nothing urgent. You let out a breath of relief, your hands still trembling slightly.

You wanted to scream. To make sense of it all. But something told you that doing so would only make things worse.

--

The next morning, you woke up to a sense of dread still hanging in the air, the events from last night haunting your every thought. You had barely slept, every small noise in the dark sending your heart into a frantic beat. As you stumbled out of bed, you tried to shake the feeling off, but it lingered like a shadow.

You grabbed your phone, your fingers trembling slightly as you scrolled through your notifications. And then, your stomach dropped.

The headline was everywhere.

Student Found Murdered in Alley; Police Investigating

You stared at the screen, the words blurring as you read and reread the article, your hands shaking. They had found the body of the guy from last night—the one who had been leaning against the wall when the figure had attacked him. Blood had poured from his mouth just before the figure disappeared into the shadows.

But now he was dead.

The report didn’t offer many details yet, but the police were investigating, and they had a few leads—seeing if they found any potential witnesses. You clenched your fists, a sick feeling bubbling in your stomach as you read the lines again, trying to steady your nerves.

You were a witness.

You were standing right there when it happened, not even ten feet away. But you couldn’t bring yourself to tell anyone. The thought of speaking up made your stomach churn. What could you even say? That you’d seen a masked figure with a bloody knife standing over the body, and then you’d just run? That you’d been too scared to do anything but watch?

No, you couldn’t. It felt wrong. Almost like you were too close to the danger.

For a moment, you thought about calling Ni-ki. He’d want to know. He’d be concerned. But even the thought of telling him made you hesitate. You didn’t want to burden him with this. And besides, you didn’t even know what to say to him. How would he react?

Something inside you whispered that it was better to stay quiet. For now, at least. You didn’t know why. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was guilt. But you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that speaking out would only make things worse.

As you turned off your phone and got ready for school, the weight of the secret pressed down on you like an iron fist. The urge to tell someone gnawed at you, but something—maybe self-preservation, maybe the fear of the unknown—stopped you from speaking.

You didn’t know what kind of person that made you, but at that moment, all you could think about was survival.

And that meant staying silent.

You spotted Ni-ki waiting for you near the school gates, his back leaning casually against the wall. At first, you almost didn’t recognize him. Gone were the oversized hoodies and the unassuming posture. Today, he wore a sharp black jacket, his shirt tucked in, and his usually messy hair was swept back, revealing more of his face. The change was striking, and it caught you off guard.

When he saw you approaching, he straightened up, slipping his hands into his pockets with an easy confidence you’d never seen before. There was a glint in his eyes that made your stomach flip.

“Morning,” he greeted smoothly, his tone lighter than usual. His gaze swept over you briefly before he added, “You look cute today.”

The comment hit you like a bolt out of the blue, and you felt your cheeks flush instantly. “W-what?” you stammered, staring at him wide-eyed. Ni-ki wasn’t the type to flirt—or, at least, you didn’t think he was.

He chuckled at your reaction, his lips curling into a small, amused smile. “Relax. I’m just being honest.”

You ducked your head, pretending to fumble with your bag to hide the warmth spreading across your face. “Well… thanks, I guess,” you mumbled, trying to compose yourself.

The two of you fell into step together, chatting idly as you walked toward the school building. Ni-ki seemed so at ease, more relaxed than you’d ever seen him.

But as the two of you passed through the crowded hallway, you noticed something—every time someone called out to him, a snide remark or a mocking laugh in their tone, Ni-ki’s shoulders would stiffen ever so slightly.

“Hey, Ni-ki, looking sharp today!” someone sneered from behind, the tone far from genuine.

“Trying to impress someone? Not like anyone cares,” another voice added with a laugh.

You glanced over at him, expecting to see some hint of his reaction—annoyance, discomfort, maybe even the faint twist of hurt you used to notice in his expression when he was picked on. But before you could catch anything, Ni-ki turned to you with that same easy smile, his voice light and unaffected.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” he asked as if nothing had happened, steering the conversation effortlessly away from the taunts.

You frowned slightly, feeling like something was off. His smile was convincing, but you knew him well enough to sense that it didn’t reach his eyes. There was something guarded behind that mask of confidence, a wall he didn’t want you—or anyone else—to see behind.

“Are you okay?” you asked carefully, your voice low enough that no one else could hear.

Ni-ki’s smile didn’t falter, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—brief, almost imperceptible. “Why wouldn’t I be?” he replied smoothly, tilting his head at you like the question itself was unnecessary.

You wanted to press further, but the bell rang, cutting off any chance of continuing the conversation.

As you headed to class together, you couldn’t help but steal a few glances at him. Ni-ki had changed—there was no denying that. He seemed stronger, more confident, even… untouchable in a way. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t still carrying the weight of what he’d been through.

And as much as you wanted to believe his smile, something in you knew that the Ni-ki you were walking with now wasn’t the same one you’d first met.

The days passed, and Ni-ki’s transformation became even more apparent. He wasn’t just confident now—he was bold, almost playful in the way he interacted with you. And you couldn’t deny the effect it had on you.

“Morning,” he greeted one day, appearing behind you so suddenly that you nearly dropped your books. You turned to glare at him, clutching your chest as your heart raced from the surprise.

“Ni-ki, can you not sneak up on me like that?” you huffed, glaring half-heartedly.

He smirked, leaning down to your eye level, far too close for comfort. “What, can’t handle a little excitement in the morning?” he teased, his voice laced with a softness that made your cheeks burn.

You looked away, muttering under your breath, but it only seemed to amuse him. Without asking, he reached for your bag, slinging it over his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Hey! I can carry my own bag,” you protested, grabbing for the strap.

Ni-ki dodged your hand effortlessly, his smirk growing. “I know. But I want to. Let me be a gentleman for once,” he said, winking at you.

You huffed again, but the way your cheeks warmed betrayed how much it flustered you.

It wasn’t just the small gestures like carrying your bag that got to you. Ni-ki always seemed to know just how to toe the line between teasing and sincere, making your heart race in ways you hadn’t expected. Sometimes, he’d lean casually against the locker next to yours, his proximity far too close to be casual.

“Have you ever read this one?” he asked once, holding out a crime novel you hadn’t even heard of. “I thought of you when I saw it.”

You blinked at the book in his hands, touched by the gesture. “You thought of me?”

He grinned, tilting his head. “Well, yeah. It’s about solving crimes. Sound familiar?”

You tried not to blush at his words, but his teasing gaze made it impossible.

The more time you spent with him, the more you noticed the little things he did—bringing you snacks during breaks, texting you links to new crime documentaries, and inviting you over to his dorm room for movie nights.

Those nights were some of your favorite moments, even if they made you nervous. The two of you would sit close together on the small couch, a bowl of popcorn between you as you watched horror movies. Inevitably, you’d end up dozing off halfway through, only to wake up hours later, cuddled up against his chest.

The first time it happened, you’d pulled away so quickly you nearly fell off the couch. “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

Ni-ki just laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “It’s fine. You looked comfortable,” he said, his tone so gentle it made your heart ache.

Still, the memory of waking up to the sound of his steady heartbeat, feeling the warmth of his arms around you, stayed with you long after.

You couldn’t deny how Ni-ki made you feel. His presence was becoming something you looked forward to—his teasing, his warmth, his surprising thoughtfulness.

He was always there—waiting for you by the gates in the morning, walking you to your classes, and staying by your side during breaks. His confidence had grown, but so had his charm. He seemed to know just what to say to make your heart skip a beat, leaving you flustered and unsure how to respond.

One afternoon, the two of you were walking out of the library. Ni-ki was carrying your books again despite your protests, and the late afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the campus.

“So,” he began, his voice casual but laced with that teasing edge you’d come to expect, “are you ever going to admit you like spending time with me, or do I have to keep carrying your books until you do?”

You turned to him, startled by his boldness, and saw the playful smirk tugging at his lips. “I—what?!”

Ni-ki chuckled, leaning in slightly as he walked beside you. “You heard me,” he said, his voice soft but teasing. “You don’t have to be so shy about it. I mean, I am pretty great company.”

Your face burned, and you looked away, clutching your bag tightly. “Don’t flatter yourself,” you muttered, though your tone lacked any real bite.

His laugh was soft but warm, and it only made your cheeks grow hotter. “I’m just saying what’s true,” he said, his voice lowering as he added, “You’re cute when you get flustered, you know that?”

You didn’t respond, too busy trying to keep your heart from pounding out of your chest.

Later that evening, you found yourself at his dorm room again, another movie night he’d somehow convinced you to attend. As usual, he’d picked a horror film—one of his favorites, he said.

The room was dimly lit, the flickering glow of the TV the only source of light. You sat next to him on the small couch, your knees almost touching.

Halfway through the movie, a particularly tense scene made you jump, and without thinking, you grabbed onto Ni-ki’s arm.

“Scared?” he asked, his tone teasing but not unkind.

You quickly let go, crossing your arms over your chest. “No,” you said stubbornly, though the way your heart raced said otherwise.

Ni-ki laughed softly, leaning closer to you. “It’s okay to be scared. You can hold onto me if you want,” he said, his voice dropping just enough to make your breath catch.

You glanced at him, your cheeks burning again, and quickly looked back at the screen. “I’ll be fine,” you muttered, trying to ignore how close he was.

As the movie went on, though, the tension eased, and the warmth of Ni-ki’s presence lulled you into a sense of comfort. Before you knew it, your eyes were growing heavy, and the soft sound of his breathing beside you was the last thing you remembered before you drifted off.

When you woke up, the TV was off, and the room was quiet. You blinked groggily, realizing you were leaning against Ni-ki’s chest again, your head resting just over his heart. His arm was draped lightly over your shoulder, holding you close.

You froze, your face heating up as you tried to process the situation. Slowly, you sat up, careful not to wake him, only to find him already awake, his eyes half-lidded and watching you with a soft smile.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

“I—I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” you stammered, pulling away completely.

Ni-ki just shrugged, sitting up as well. “It’s fine,” he said, brushing it off like it was nothing. “You looked comfortable.”

You buried your face in your hands, groaning softly. “This is so embarrassing…”

He chuckled, reaching out to gently nudge your shoulder. “Relax. I told you, it’s fine. You can fall asleep on me anytime.”

His words only made your blush deepen, and you quickly got up, mumbling something about needing to leave. Ni-ki walked you to the door, still smiling in that soft, knowing way that made your heart ache.

--

It was a typical day in the cafeteria, the loud hum of conversation filling the air as you sat with your friends, idly picking at your food. The topic of discussion ranged from schoolwork to weekend plans, and you were halfway through telling a funny story when the sound of a tray nearly crashing to the ground caught your attention.

You looked up to see Ni-ki, standing awkwardly as he tried to steady himself after nearly colliding with a group of girls near the lunch line. His tray wobbled precariously, but he caught it just in time, flashing the girls an apologetic smile before quickly stepping aside.

The girls giggled, whispering to one another as Ni-ki walked off, looking slightly flustered. You could almost see the faint hint of red on his cheeks, though he composed himself quickly and made his way toward his usual spot.

“That’s Ni-ki, right?” one of your friends, Natty, said, nudging you with her elbow.

You blinked, realizing your friends were now watching him. “Yeah,” you said nonchalantly, though your gaze lingered on him as he passed by.

“He’s gotten so handsome lately,” another friend chimed in, resting her chin on her hand as she stared after him. “I mean, look at him! The hair, the way he’s dressing now… I swear, it’s like he had a total glow-up overnight.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, and you quickly looked down at your plate, hoping no one would notice.

“He’s always been cute,” Natty said, shrugging. “But now? It’s like… he’s confident. And confidence is hot.”

“I heard he’s been helping out in some of his classes too,” another friend added. “Like, tutoring and stuff. Smart and good-looking? Talk about the whole package.”

You tried to focus on your food, but the conversation buzzed around you, and you couldn’t help but feel a strange twinge in your chest as your friends continued to gush over Ni-ki.

“Hey,” Natty said suddenly, leaning closer to you. “You’ve been hanging out with him a lot lately, haven’t you? What’s that about?”

Your head shot up, eyes wide. “What? No, we’re just… friends,” you said quickly, waving off her question. “He likes crime novels, and we talk about them sometimes. That’s all.”

“Just friends?” Natty teased, raising an eyebrow. “Are you sure? Because he definitely looks at you like you’re more than just a friend.”

Your heart skipped a beat at her words, and you frowned, shaking your head. “You’re imagining things.”

But even as you said it, you couldn’t shake the memory of Ni-ki’s lingering glances, the way he leaned closer when he spoke to you, or how his hand would sometimes brush against yours when he handed you something.

Across the cafeteria, Ni-ki had taken a seat by himself, but before he started eating, his eyes flicked in your direction. It was only for a moment, but it was enough to make your stomach flip.

Natty noticed too, smirking as she nudged you again. “See? I told you. He’s totally into you.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Can we please change the subject?”

Your friends laughed, but they eventually let it go, moving on to other topics. Still, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at Ni-ki again, only to find him smiling softly to himself as he ate.

And for some reason, that little smile made your heart race even more than it already was.

The day had dragged on, the sun was low on the horizon as you started your walk home, the familiar path quiet except for the occasional car passing by. You had just popped in your earbuds when the sound of hurried footsteps broke through the music.

Frowning, you glanced over your shoulder, only to see Ni-ki sprinting toward you, waving one arm while clutching his bag with the other. His glasses were slightly crooked, his hair a little disheveled from the run, but he wore that familiar smile that seemed to make your day just a little brighter.

“Wait up!” he called, slightly breathless as he closed the distance between you.

You stopped, giving him time to catch his breath. “You okay there, track star?” you teased as he bent over, hands on his knees, trying to steady his breathing.

“Yeah,” he panted, straightening up and flashing you a grin. “Just… didn’t want to lose you before I asked.”

“Asked what?” you said, tilting your head.

He shifted his bag higher on his shoulder. “Do you want to come over and study? I mean, if you’re not busy or anything. I thought we could go over some of that exam stuff together, maybe watch something after…”

You raised an eyebrow at him, suppressing a smile. “You ran all the way here to ask me that?”

Ni-ki shrugged, a faint pink dusting his cheeks as he looked away. “Well… yeah. It seemed important.”

You chuckled softly, noticing how his glasses were sitting askew on his face from the sprint. Without thinking, you stepped closer, reaching up to gently adjust them. “There,” you said, your voice softer now. “That’s better.”

Ni-ki blinked at you, clearly startled by the gesture, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. For a moment, he just stood there, looking at you with an expression you couldn’t quite place—something warm, something soft, something that made your heart skip.

You cleared your throat, stepping back and turning toward the direction of his dorm building. “Alright, let’s go,” you said, trying to ignore the sudden heat rising to your face.

Ni-ki followed after you, his footsteps light but quick, and you didn’t notice the way his eyes lingered on you as he walked behind. There was a small, almost shy smile on his face, one he didn’t bother hiding now that you weren’t looking.

By the time you reached the building, the sky had darkened, the streetlights flickering on. Ni-ki held the door open for you, letting you step in first, and as you made your way toward the stairs, you felt his presence behind you—quiet but steady.

“You’ve really got a thing for last-minute plans, huh?” you said, glancing back at him with a teasing smile.

“Only with you,” he replied smoothly, his tone light, but there was a glimmer of sincerity in his eyes that caught you off guard.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s see if you can actually focus on studying this time.”

Ni-ki just grinned, following you up the stairs, his heart racing for reasons that had nothing to do with the earlier sprint.

The moment you stepped into Ni-ki’s apartment, you were greeted by the faint scent of laundry detergent and something sweet—probably the remnants of whatever he had for breakfast that morning.

“Make yourself at home,” he said, slipping off his shoes and gesturing toward his room.

You followed him in, setting your bag down on the floor.

“Alright,” Ni-ki said, plopping down onto the floor and pulling out his notebook. “Let’s get this over with before my brain decides to shut off completely.”

You laughed, sitting down across from him and pulling out your own notes. “You’re the one who wanted to study, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, flipping through his book. “Just don’t let me slack off too much.”

For a while, the two of you worked in relative silence, the sound of pages turning and pens scratching against paper filling the room. Every now and then, one of you would ask a question, leading to brief discussions as you helped each other out.

“Wait, is this right?” Ni-ki asked at one point, sliding his notebook over to you.

You leaned over to take a look, your brows furrowing as you scanned his work. “Almost. You forgot to carry this number over here,” you said, pointing it out with the tip of your pen.

Ni-ki groaned, dropping his head onto the desk dramatically. “Why is math like this? What did I ever do to deserve this kind of suffering?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his theatrics. “Come on, it’s not that bad. You’re just overthinking it.”

“Easy for you to say,” he grumbled, lifting his head to look at you. “You’re like a human calculator.”

“Flattery won’t get you out of this,” you teased, nudging his notebook back toward him.

He gave you a mock pout but picked up his pen again, dutifully fixing his mistake.

A little while later, you were both leaning back against the bed, taking a break as you sipped on the canned drinks Ni-ki had grabbed from his fridge.

“Okay, serious question,” Ni-ki said, turning to you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

You raised an eyebrow, wary but intrigued. “What?”

“If you had to choose between being stuck on a deserted island with me or having to solve a murder mystery with me, which one would you pick?”

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the random question. “Uh… I don’t know. What kind of murder mystery?”

“The really dramatic kind,” he said, leaning closer with an exaggerated serious expression. “Lots of twists, lots of danger. Like, we’d be running for our lives half the time.”

You pretended to think about it, tapping your chin. “In that case… definitely the murder mystery. At least then I’d have something to keep me entertained.”

Ni-ki gasped, clutching his chest like you’d just mortally wounded him. “Wow. I see how it is. I’m just boring company on a deserted island, huh?”

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “That’s not what I said!”

“Sure, sure,” he said, grinning as he took another sip of his drink. “I’ll remember this the next time you need my help with something.”

The banter continued as you both returned to studying, the playful energy making the work feel less tedious. Ni-ki had a way of turning even the most mundane moments into something fun, and you found yourself smiling more often than not.

At one point, he leaned over to steal a glance at your notebook, his shoulder brushing against yours. “Are you sure this is right?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

“Yes, it’s right,” you said, rolling your eyes. “You can double-check it if you don’t believe me.”

He smirked, leaning closer. “Nah, I trust you. You’re too smart to get it wrong.”

The compliment, paired with his proximity, made your cheeks heat up, and you quickly looked away, focusing on your notebook to hide your reaction.

Ni-ki noticed, of course. He always noticed. But instead of teasing you further, he simply chuckled and went back to his own work, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

After a while, Ni-ki let out a long sigh, dropping his pen dramatically onto his notebook. “I’m officially done. I can’t stare at numbers and letters any longer without my brain exploding.”

You glanced at him, amused. “You’re giving up already? I thought you wanted to study.”

“I did,” he said, flopping onto his back like a starfish. “But now I want to do something fun. Come on, let’s play a game.”

You raised an eyebrow. “A game? Like what?”

He sat up quickly, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “On my console. I’ve got a few multiplayer games. We’ll do a couple of rounds—you’re not scared to lose, are you?”

“Oh, please,” you said, rolling your eyes as you stood up to follow him to his console setup. “You’re the one who should be worried.”

He smirked, grabbing two controllers and handing you one. “We’ll see about that.”

As the game loaded, you both got comfortable on the floor, sitting cross-legged with a pile of snacks within reach. The first match started, and immediately, the competitive energy between you two ignited.

“Ni-ki, what are you doing?” you teased as his character fell off the map for the third time in a row. “You’re not even trying, are you?”

His ears turned red as he adjusted his glasses, fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. “I-I’m just warming up! Wait until the next round; you won’t even stand a chance.”

You grinned, loving the way he stumbled over his words. “Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

The next match started, and this time Ni-ki was clearly putting in more effort. He managed to take the lead, and when you lost the round, he leaned back with a triumphant smirk.

“Looks like you’re the one who should be worried,” he said, his tone dripping with playful confidence.

You felt your face heat up as you avoided his gaze, grumbling under your breath. “Lucky shot. I wasn’t even trying.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, leaning a little closer to nudge your shoulder. “Excuses, excuses. Just admit I’m better.”

You turned to glare at him, but the way his eyes sparkled with amusement made it hard to stay mad. Instead, you shoved his arm lightly. “Don’t get too cocky, Ni-ki. I’ll destroy you in the next one.”

The back-and-forth continued as you played match after match, the teasing only escalating as the wins and losses stacked up on both sides. Every time you won, Ni-ki would blush and fidget, either pushing his glasses up his nose or tugging on the sleeves of his hoodie.

“Seriously, how are you so good at this?” he muttered after losing another round, his voice a mix of frustration and awe.

“I told you, you should’ve been worried,” you said, grinning as you leaned back, basking in your victory.

But then Ni-ki got his revenge in the next game, and when you lost, he didn’t hold back.

“Aw, what happened?” he said, his voice dripping with mock concern. “I thought you were supposed to be good at this.”

You huffed, crossing your arms as your cheeks burned. “I just… got distracted, that’s all.”

“Sure,” he said, his grin widening. “Keep telling yourself that.”

The teasing was relentless, but you couldn’t deny how much fun you were having. Even as you tried to avoid looking at him after his jabs, you could feel his gaze on you, warm and amused.

When the final match ended—Ni-ki winning by a narrow margin—you let out a dramatic groan, flopping onto your back. “Ugh, I can’t believe you beat me.”

He laughed, leaning over you slightly. “See? I told you I’d win eventually.”

You looked up at him, your pout fading as you saw the way his eyes crinkled at the corners from his smile. For a moment, you forgot all about the game, too caught up in the way he looked so happy and carefree.

“Well,” you said finally, sitting up and brushing some imaginary dust off your pants. “Don’t get used to it. Next time, I’m coming for that win.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” he said, his voice softening slightly.

You weren’t sure what to say to that, so you busied yourself with tidying up the controllers and snack wrappers.

You glanced out the window and froze for a moment, realizing how dark it had gotten. The streetlights outside cast long, flickering shadows along the quiet road. Your heart dropped when you checked the time on your phone: 9:57 PM.

"Shit," you muttered under your breath, hurriedly grabbing your things and stuffing them into your bag. You barely noticed Ni-ki watching you, his head tilted curiously as he leaned back on his hands.

"Leaving already?" he asked, his tone light, though something in his voice felt... reluctant.

You slung your bag over your shoulder, giving him a quick, apologetic smile. "Yeah, I didn’t realize how late it got. I need to get home before it gets any darker out. I’ll see you Monday, okay?"

Ni-ki opened his mouth as if to say something, but then stopped himself, giving you a small nod instead. "Alright, be careful."

You waved at him, muttering a quick, "Bye!" before rushing out of his dorm room and into the hallway.

The building was eerily quiet as you made your way outside, the cool night air hitting your face the moment you stepped through the door. You tightened your grip on your bag, glancing around the street. It was unsettling how empty it felt, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it.

You walked quickly, your footsteps echoing on the pavement. Normally, you’d pop in your earbuds and listen to music to keep yourself company, but tonight, the thought of not hearing what was around you made your stomach twist. Instead, you kept your ears open, alert to every little sound.

The streets were mostly quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves or the faint hum of a car in the distance. Still, the shadows seemed to move differently tonight, stretching and shifting in ways that made your pulse quicken.

Your pace quickened as well. The faster you walked, the closer you got to home, where you could lock the door and feel safe.

Your heart leapt at the sound of footsteps echoing behind you. They were uneven, dragging slightly against the pavement. You froze mid-step, your breath catching in your throat, and slowly turned around.

A man stumbled a little ways behind you, his silhouette illuminated by the dim glow of a streetlamp. His gait was unsteady, his head lolling slightly to the side, and in his hand was a beer bottle, half-empty and dangling precariously.

The strong stench of alcohol hit you even from a distance, and your pulse eased slightly. Just a drunk guy, you told yourself.

Still, something about the way he moved unsettled you. His eyes seemed unfocused, yet he kept glancing up in your direction, like he was aware of you but trying not to be obvious about it.

You tightened your grip on your bag and turned back around, walking faster now. The sound of his footsteps didn’t fade; if anything, they seemed to quicken as well.

Your stomach twisted, and you glanced back again. The man was closer this time, his lips curling into a sloppy smirk.

“Hey!” he slurred, his voice loud and grating. “Where you goin’ in such a hurry?”

You ignored him, your heart racing as you picked up your pace.

“Hey! I’m talkin’ to you!” he called out again, louder this time. You heard the sound of glass clinking, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw him waving the beer bottle at you.

Panic bubbled in your chest. You debated breaking into a sprint, but you didn’t want to show fear—or worse, give him a reason to chase after you.

Instead, you ducked your head and turned sharply down a side street, hoping to lose him.

But the footsteps followed, faster now.

“Hey! Don’t walk away from me!” he shouted, his voice taking on an edge of irritation.

Your breathing quickened, your mind racing as you glanced around for an escape. The street was too empty, too quiet. There was no one to call for help, no open stores, no witnesses.

“C’mon, woman!” he slurred, closer than before. “Just talk to me for a second!”

He made your skin crawl, and without thinking, you broke into a run.

“Hey!” you heard him shout behind you, his footsteps pounding against the pavement as he gave chase.

You turned a corner sharply, your chest heaving as you pushed yourself to go faster. Your legs burned, your bag bouncing against your back, but you didn’t dare slow down.

When you glanced back over your shoulder, your stomach dropped. He was still following, his face twisted into a drunken snarl.

Your heart thundered as you looked ahead, desperately searching for somewhere—anywhere—to hide. That’s when you saw it: a narrow alleyway, tucked between two buildings.

Without thinking, you darted into it, pressing yourself against the wall and holding your breath. The shadows swallowed you whole, and you prayed he wouldn’t notice where you’d gone.

The sound of his footsteps grew louder, then slower, until finally, they stopped.

“Where the hell—” you heard him mutter, his voice slurred and irritated.

You peeked around the corner just in time to see him scratching his head and muttering to himself before walking away.

Relief flooded through you, and you let out a shaky breath, your back sliding against the wall as you sank to the ground.

Your hands trembled as you fumbled through your bag, desperately searching for your phone. After a frantic few moments, you realized with a sinking feeling—you’d left it at Ni-ki’s place.

“Damn it,” you muttered under your breath, running a hand through your hair. You were too shaken to think straight, but you needed your phone. It wasn’t safe to be out here without it.

With a reluctant sigh, you pushed yourself off the wall and started walking back toward Ni-ki’s dorm. The streets felt even quieter now, the darkness pressing in around you. Every step you took echoed loudly in your ears, and your heartbeat hadn’t fully calmed from the earlier chase.

You were halfway there when a sudden shout split through the silence, followed by a loud, sickening thud.

You froze in place, your head snapping toward the source of the sound. It came from an alley just a few steps ahead.

Instinct told you to keep walking, to pretend you hadn’t heard anything. But curiosity—morbid and insistent—had you inching closer to the alleyway. You peered into the darkness, your breath hitching as your eyes struggled to adjust.

At first, there was nothing. Just the oppressive blackness of the alley. You were about to turn away, deciding it wasn’t worth it, when you heard a faint shuffle.

And then he stumbled out.

The drunk man.

Your stomach churned at the sight of him—his steps were unsteady, but it wasn’t alcohol this time. No, it was the knife protruding from his chest, the hilt gleaming faintly under the dim streetlights. Blood poured from the wound, staining his shirt and dripping onto the ground in thick, steady splatters.

Your mind blanked as you stared, your body frozen in place. He staggered a few steps closer before collapsing onto the pavement, his lifeless eyes staring up at the sky.

You opened your mouth to scream, but the sound died in your throat as your gaze flicked upward.

He was there.

Standing in the shadows of the alley, his white mask almost glowing against the darkness, he tilted his head at you in that familiar, unnerving way, and though you couldn’t see his face, you could feel his eyes locked on you.

"Ah, sweetheart," his voice drawled, smooth and almost teasing. “We really have to stop meeting like this.”

Your heart nearly stopped. Without thinking, you spun around, ready to run—but you weren’t fast enough.

Before you could take more than a step, his hand shot out, grabbing your arm and yanking you back with a terrifying amount of strength. You barely had time to gasp before he twisted you around, pinning you against the cold, rough wall of the alley.

You struggled, kicking and thrashing, but he caught both your wrists in one hand, pressing them firmly behind your back. His chest pressed against your back, trapping you in place, and you could feel the heat of his breath as he leaned in close to your ear.

“He deserved it,” he whispered, his voice low and almost intimate. “Didn’t you see the way he was looking at you? Following you? Touching you with his eyes like you were something he could take?”

You tried to protest, to tell him to let you go, but your voice refused to cooperate.

“You should be thanking me,” he murmured, his tone laced with dark amusement. “If it weren’t for me, who knows what that disgusting piece of trash would’ve done to you?”

His words sent a chill down your spine, but the way he said them—like he truly believed he’d done you a favor—made your stomach twist.

“You should give me a reward, sweetheart,” he purred, his lips brushing dangerously close to your ear. “I’ve been so good to you, haven’t I? Taking care of all the people who hurt you.”

“L-let me go,” you managed to choke out, your voice trembling.

He chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “Oh, but I’m not done yet,” he said, his grip on your wrists tightening slightly. “Not until you say it.”

“S-say what?” you stammered.

“Thank you,” he said simply, his voice still teasing but with an edge that made it clear he wasn’t joking. “Go on, sweetheart. Say thank you to your savior.”

You writhed in his grip, twisting and struggling to free yourself, but his hold was unyielding. Every movement you made only seemed to amuse him further.

“Tsk, tsk,” he tutted softly, like a parent scolding a misbehaving child. “What’s this, sweetheart? Fighting me when I’ve done so much for you? That’s not very nice.”

“Let me go,” you hissed, your voice sharp despite the tremor in it.

Instead of responding, he shifted closer, his body pressing against yours as his free hand moved. You flinched, expecting the worst, but he simply brushed his gloved fingers against your neck, gently pushing your hair aside. The motion was slow, deliberate—almost tender.

“You really don’t know how to behave, do you?” he murmured, his voice soft but laced with something darker. “Here I am, protecting you, keeping you safe, and you don’t even say thank you. Instead, you fight me. Struggle against me. Like I’m the bad guy.”

The words sent a chill down your spine, the weight of them sinking into your chest.

“I didn’t ask for this!” you snapped, trying once more to pull your wrists free, but his grip only tightened.

“Ah, but that’s the beauty of it, sweetheart,” he said, his tone almost playful. “You didn’t have to. I wanted to do it. For you.”

His fingers trailed lightly over the nape of your neck, sending a shiver through your body that you couldn’t control.

“You don’t understand,” he whispered, leaning in closer until his masked face was right beside yours. “I see you. Every single day. You’re so… perfect. So pure. And they’re not. They don’t deserve to breathe the same air as you.”

“You’re insane,” you spat, your voice shaking.

“Maybe,” he admitted with a dark chuckle. “But I’m your kind of insane.”

His hand slid down, brushing over your shoulder in a mockery of comfort. “Say it,” he murmured again, his voice barely above a whisper now. “Say thank you. That’s all I want to hear.”

Your throat tightened, and you bit your lip, refusing to give him what he wanted. You wouldn’t play into whatever twisted game he was orchestrating.

But he sighed, the sound carrying a hint of disappointment. “Still being stubborn, huh?” he mused. “That’s okay. I like a challenge.”

His hand moved to your chin, tilting your face slightly to the side. Though you couldn’t see his expression behind the mask, you could feel his gaze burning into you, his intensity unnerving.

“You’ll come around,” he said softly, his voice dripping with certainty. “One day, you’ll see that I’m the only one who truly cares about you.”

Before you could respond, he pulled back slightly, his grip on your wrists loosening just enough for you to jerk free. Without looking back, you bolted, your heart pounding as your feet hit the pavement.

But even as you ran, his voice echoed in your mind, smooth and haunting.

“One day, sweetheart. You’ll thank me.”

You didn’t stop running until the bright lights of the police station came into view. Your chest burned, your breath coming in ragged gasps, but the overwhelming need for safety pushed you forward. Bursting through the station doors, you stumbled inside, drawing the attention of a few officers.

“I need help!” you blurted out, your voice trembling. “There’s been a... a murder. And I saw him. I saw the killer!”

The room went silent for a moment as the officers exchanged quick glances before one of them, a tall man with a kind but serious face, approached you.

“Alright, take a deep breath,” he said, guiding you to a chair. “Let’s get this sorted. Where did this happen?”

You described the location of the alleyway, your voice shaky as you recounted the events. The officer nodded, gesturing for another officer to dispatch units to the scene immediately. Within moments, two officers left the station, heading toward the area you described.

“Okay,” the tall officer said, sitting down across from you with a notepad. “We’re going to need a full report from you. Start from the beginning—everything you saw, everything you experienced.”

Your hands shook as you clasped them tightly together, trying to steady yourself. You closed your eyes for a moment, forcing yourself to recount every detail, no matter how horrifying.

You told them about walking home, the drunk man, and the sounds that had drawn you to the alley. You described the killer in as much detail as you could: the mask, the knife, the dark clothes. You hesitated when you got to the part where he cornered you, his words still ringing in your ears.

“He... he grabbed me,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Pinned me against the wall. He said he was protecting me. That I should... thank him.”

The officer’s pen paused briefly on the notepad, his brows furrowing.

“He said he killed the man for me,” you continued, your throat tightening as you forced the words out. “That he was doing it because he cared about me.”

The officer leaned back slightly, his expression a mix of concern and disbelief. “Did you recognize him? Anything distinctive about his voice, his build, his mannerisms?”

You shook your head, feeling a wave of frustration and helplessness wash over you. “No. He wore a mask, and his voice... it was muffled. But he was tall, and he moved... like he was confident. Like he’d done this before.”

The officer nodded, jotting down your words. “You did the right thing coming here. We’ll have officers sweep the area, and we’ll add this information to the ongoing investigation.”

--

You sat in the station for what felt like an eternity, the hum of conversations and ringing phones fading into the background as your nerves took over. Every second that passed felt like it stretched longer than the last, the events of the night playing on a loop in your head.

Finally, the door swung open, and a pair of officers walked in, their expressions grim. One of them leaned in to speak with the tall officer who had taken your statement. After a brief conversation, he turned back to you and gestured for you to come over.

“They found the body,” he said quietly, his voice steady but laced with tension. “It was hidden behind some trash cans in the alley. The killer’s gone. But there’s something you need to see.”

Your stomach dropped, but you forced yourself to follow him to a desk where a computer screen was lit with grainy black-and-white footage.

“This is from a nearby CCTV camera,” the officer explained, clicking to play the video.

You leaned forward, your heart pounding as the footage started. There you were, walking down the street, your bag slung over your shoulder. You saw the drunk man trailing behind you, stumbling slightly, clutching the beer bottle. Your pulse quickened as you watched yourself pause and glance back before speeding up, the man still following.

The video cut briefly to another angle. The drunk man was now heading back down the street after you’d run. Suddenly, a shadow emerged from the alleyway. A figure stepped out behind him, silent and deliberate. The killer.

You watched, frozen, as the killer grabbed the man and pulled him into the alley in one swift motion. The man barely had time to react before disappearing into the shadows.

The screen flickered and you appeared, cautiously approaching the alley and stopping as if trying to decide whether to investigate. Then, just as you remembered, you turned and began walking away—only to get dragged in.

The next part made your blood run cold.

The camera caught the moment the killer stepped into view, just as you ran off-screen. He stopped in the middle of the street, standing there like a statue, watching you flee. Then, slowly, his head tilted upward, and he looked directly at the camera.

Even through the grainy footage, the gleaming white mask was unmistakable.

The killer stared into the camera for a long moment, tilting his head like a predator examining prey. Then, without any sense of urgency, he turned and disappeared into the shadows.

The officer paused the video, his jaw tight as he glanced at you. “The way he looked at the camera… it’s almost like he wanted us to see him.”

You couldn’t speak. Your throat felt dry, and your hands were clammy as you clutched the edge of the desk. The image of the masked figure burned into your mind was now accompanied by that chilling motion—the way he’d looked at the camera, unafraid, almost playful.

“Do you know him?” the officer asked gently, his tone careful.

You shook your head quickly, maybe a little too quickly. “No. I—I don’t know anyone who’d…” You trailed off, your voice faltering.

The officer studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Alright,” he said finally. “We’re going to keep investigating, and we’ll need to keep in contact with you. If anything—anything at all—comes to mind, you let us know.”

You nodded, your mind still racing as the image of the killer’s mask lingered.

The officer sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “For now, we’ll have someone escort you home. You shouldn’t be out there alone.”

Home. The thought of being alone right now was terrifying, but staying here with the memory of that footage wasn’t much better.

As an officer prepared to walk you out, you glanced back at the frozen frame on the screen. The mask, the tilted head, the casual way he’d turned and walked away.

He wasn’t just watching.

He was toying with you.

The car ride was quiet, the hum of the engine filling the silence as you stared out the window, your mind racing with everything that had happened. The officer glanced at you occasionally, likely noticing your pale complexion and tense posture.

As you neared your neighborhood, you suddenly remembered your phone. "Wait," you blurted out, sitting up straighter. "Can we stop by my friend's place? I left my phone there earlier."

The officer hesitated but nodded. “Alright, just make it quick. What’s the address?”

You rattled it off, and within minutes, the car pulled up in front of Ni-ki’s building. You quickly unbuckled your seatbelt, mumbling a soft, "I’ll be right back," before stepping out and jogging up to the building. Your stomach churned with unease as you entered and climbed the stairs.

When you reached Ni-ki’s door, you paused, glancing back down the hall. It was quiet, almost too quiet. Taking a deep breath, you raised your hand and knocked.

It took a few moments, but the door finally opened.

Ni-ki stood there, his damp hair pushed back messily, droplets of water still clinging to his neck. He had clearly just stepped out of the shower, wearing a loose hoodie and sweatpants that hung lazily on his frame.

“Hey,” he greeted with a soft smile, his eyes lighting up when he saw you. “I was wondering when you’d come back for this.” He held up your phone, which had been sitting on his desk.

You gave him a sheepish smile, reaching for it. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I got distracted earlier and completely forgot.”

He chuckled, leaning against the doorframe as he handed it to you. “No problem. You okay, though? You seem… tense.”

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, clutching the phone to your chest. “Just—uh, long day. Thanks, Ni-ki.”

Before he could say anything else, you turned and started walking back down the hall.

“Wait—” Ni-ki called after you, his voice tinged with concern. “You sure you’re okay? You’re acting weird.”

You ignored him, speeding up your pace. “I’m fine! See you Monday!”

“(Y/N)—”

You didn’t stop, practically jogging back to the police car. You climbed in, shutting the door behind you and exhaling deeply as the officer glanced at you in the rearview mirror.

“Got what you needed?” she asked.

“Yeah,” you muttered, not meeting her gaze.

The drive home was just as silent as before, the weight of the night pressing down on your chest. When the officer pulled up outside your apartment, she gave you a small nod. “Stay inside tonight. Lock your doors. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, stepping out and heading to your door.

Once inside, you locked the door behind you, sliding the chain into place for extra security. You leaned against it, exhaling deeply as your heart continued to race.

You glanced at your phone, still clutched tightly in your hand, and felt a pang of guilt. Ni-ki had been nothing but kind to you, and you’d brushed him off so abruptly.

But you couldn’t stop thinking about the killer, about the way he’d spoken to you, about the way he’d looked at you. It was like his presence still lingered, even now, haunting you.

With a sigh, you set your phone down and headed to your room, determined to push the events of the night out of your mind. You needed sleep—desperately.

Your phone buzzed, pulling you from your thoughts. You glanced down, seeing a message from Ni-ki.

Ni-ki: Hey, you okay? I know you were in a rush earlier… If you need someone to talk to, I'm here.

A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips, but you couldn't quite shake off the tension in your chest. You quickly typed back.

You: Yeah, I’m fine. Just… been a weird day, you know?

You stared at the screen for a moment before adding:

You: Would you mind calling me? I could use someone to talk to…

It didn’t take long for him to reply.

Ni-ki: Of course. I’ll call you now.

A few moments later, your phone rang. You swiped to answer, bringing it to your ear.

“Hey,” Ni-ki’s voice came through, calm and warm, despite the underlying concern. “You doing okay now?”

You leaned back against the wall, feeling a sense of relief just hearing his voice.

“Yeah,” you replied softly. “Just… everything feels a little off tonight. I’m glad you messaged.”

He was quiet for a moment, and you could almost picture him thinking.

“I’m glad you reached out,” he said finally. “You don’t have to go through stuff like this alone. I know it might seem like everything’s chaotic, but you’ve got me. You can always talk to me.”

His words had an unexpected comfort to them, and you felt some of the weight lift off your shoulders.

“Thanks,” you said quietly. “I really appreciate it, Ni-ki.”

“I mean it,” he replied with a soft chuckle. “Anytime, seriously. If you need a distraction or just someone to listen, I’ve got you.”

You smiled to yourself, grateful for his kindness.

“Maybe we can talk more tomorrow, huh? I’ll make sure to check in on you again. Don’t want you feeling like this all night.”

You felt a slight pang of guilt but quickly pushed it away.

“I’ll be okay. And… thanks again. I’m just gonna try to get some sleep.”

“Sounds good. Get some rest, and if anything comes up, just text me, alright?”

“I will. Goodnight, Ni-ki.”

“Goodnight,” he said, the sincerity in his voice making you feel a little lighter.

As you ended the call, you leaned back into your pillow, feeling a bit more at ease.

--

The doorbell rang again the next morning, pulling you from your thoughts. You blinked, confused, before walking over to the door and pulling it open. To your surprise, there stood Ni-ki, looking as effortlessly stylish as ever, wearing a relaxed smile.

“I’m taking you to the mall,” he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

You stared at him for a moment, your eyes widening. “Wait, what? You’re... what?”

Ni-ki chuckled, clearly amused by your reaction. “I figured you could use a little break. You’ve been cooped up here long enough.”

You glanced at the clock. It was a bit earlier than you expected. “But I—”

Before you could protest any further, you heard the sound of your own feet hitting the floor as you dashed towards your bedroom. “Give me a second! I need to get dressed!”

Ni-ki didn’t seem to mind. He just chuckled again, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “Take your time. I’ll be here.”

You quickly pulled your clothes out of your closet, racing against the clock to change, but as you did, you could hear the soft sound of Ni-ki sitting on the couch, the hum of his phone as he likely scrolled through something. Even as you hurried to change, you couldn’t help but feel a little nervous—he was waiting for you.

After awhile, you stepped out, having finally gotten dressed in something comfortable but still cute enough for a day out. You were still adjusting your jacket when you caught sight of Ni-ki, his attention fixed on his phone.

“You ready?” he asked, glancing up from his phone when he noticed you stepping into the living room.

You nodded, feeling a little bashful but excited at the same time. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Ni-ki grinned and stood up, tossing his phone onto the couch. “I knew you’d be ready in no time.”

Ni-ki led the way out of the apartment, holding the door open for you. The cool air greeted you as you stepped outside, and for the first time in a while, you felt a sense of calm settle over you

As you both walked to the car, Ni-ki kept his usual easygoing demeanor, flashing you an occasional grin, but his eyes held a warmth that made you feel at ease.

Once you got to the car, Ni-ki opened the door for you with a dramatic bow. “After you, milady,” he teased, his smile playful.

You laughed, stepping into the car. “You’re a dork,” you said, shaking your head.

He slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine, the car pulling out of the parking lot as he hummed along to the song on the radio. The drive was smooth, with Ni-ki chatting casually, asking about how you’d been feeling lately, if you were still swamped with schoolwork, and if you had any specific things you wanted to do at the mall.

“I’m just along for the ride, really,” you said, feeling a little more relaxed with each passing moment. “I’m happy to just hang out.”

Ni-ki glanced at you, his lips curving upward. “Good, ‘cause I was planning on getting us some snacks, trying on some clothes, and maybe finding something ridiculous to make you laugh.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “I’m down for that,” you agreed.

The ride went by quickly, with the two of you talking and joking about random things, from bad fashion choices to the latest crime drama episode you both had watched recently. When the mall came into view, Ni-ki parked the car, giving you a quick glance. “Ready to have some fun?”

You nodded, your smile wide. “Absolutely.”

You and Ni-ki wandered through the mall, hopping from store to store, trying on ridiculous hats and laughing at each other’s choices. He picked out a bright pink beanie with oversized ears, putting it on your head and grinning mischievously. "You should totally rock this look," he teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

You rolled your eyes but played along, giving a dramatic twirl. "Do you think it brings out my eyes?" you joked, striking a pose.

Ni-ki’s smile widened, and he leaned in slightly, as if seriously considering the question. "Honestly? It definitely makes your eyes pop. Maybe not in the way you think, though."

You burst into laughter, nudging him playfully in the side. "You’re ridiculous," you said between giggles. But you didn’t mind—it felt good to laugh, to feel normal for once.

After some time, you both left the store, each with a few new items in hand, and wandered into the food court. Ni-ki, ever the expert in decision-making, immediately made a beeline for the bubble tea stand. “You want your usual?” he asked, already pulling out his wallet.

“Of course,” you said with a grin. “You know me too well.”

As you waited for your drinks, Ni-ki leaned against the counter casually, his expression relaxed. “This was fun, right? I’m glad you decided to come out with me today.” His tone was light, but there was something behind it—an undercurrent of sincerity that made you pause.

You smiled back at him, grateful for the day. “Yeah. I needed this... more than I thought.”

The bubble tea arrived, and the two of you walked over to a nearby table, settling in with your drinks. Ni-ki took a sip of his, then glanced over at you, his brow furrowing just slightly. "So, how have you been holding up? I know everything’s been... a little crazy lately."

You hesitated for a moment, not wanting to drag the mood down, but knowing Ni-ki would probably notice if you didn’t say something. You took a deep breath, sipping your tea as you tried to find the right words.

"I’ve been okay," you said, after a beat. "Some days are better than others, but... it’s easier when I’m with people I trust. Like you."

Ni-ki gave you a soft smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Good. I’m glad I’m one of those people,” he said, his voice gentle.

You both fell into a comfortable silence, sipping your drinks and occasionally exchanging a few words.

Afterwards you were strolling through the aisles of the store, enjoying the soft hum of the background music and the peaceful atmosphere, when something caught your eye—a shelf full of adorable plushies. You couldn’t resist, and you found yourself picking up a cute little bear, smiling at how soft it was. But in that moment of distraction, you didn’t realize that Ni-ki had wandered off somewhere else in the store.

A few moments later, you heard the voices.

At first, they were distant, but slowly they grew louder, the tone dripping with mockery. You turned to see a group of familiar faces from school—some guys and girls who were known for their snide remarks.

“Wow, look at this,” one of the guys sneered. “All grown up, and still playing with toys?”

You felt your stomach tighten, but you didn’t let it show. You had heard this all before. Still, the words felt heavier today.

“You know, you should really grow up,” another girl added, laughing with the rest of them. “It’s kind of embarrassing, don’t you think?”

Normally, you’d brush it off with a sarcastic remark or a clever comeback, but today was different. You just couldn’t summon the energy to fight back. Instead, you gave a quiet, “It’s just a plushie,” and shrugged, turning to walk away.

But that didn’t stop them.

“Really, you’re such a child. It’s honestly pathetic,” the girl said, her voice mocking.

You stopped in your tracks, taking a deep breath. You were about to walk away again when she added something that made your blood run cold.

“You’re just as pathetic as Ni-ki. He probably doesn’t even care about you?”

The words were like a slap to the face. Without thinking, your eyes snapped toward her, your glare icy.

“You don’t know anything about us,” you hissed, your voice low and sharp. “Maybe you should focus on your own life instead of judging others.”

The girl’s expression faltered, but she wasn’t done. With a malicious grin, she raised her hand, ready to slap you across the face.

But before she could, a strong hand shot out, gripping her wrist firmly.

“Don’t even think about it,” came a low, dangerous voice.

You looked up in surprise to see Ni-ki, towering over the group. His usual relaxed posture was gone, replaced by a stance of quiet fury. The others fell silent, their eyes wide.

Ni-ki’s grip on the girl’s wrist tightened, and she yelped, trying to pull away. But Ni-ki didn’t budge.

“They can make fun of me all they want,” he said, his voice cold and low, each word laced with intensity. “But if you ever, ever make fun of her again, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

The girl blinked up at him, looking stunned, but Ni-ki didn’t release his hold. He was a completely different person now, standing tall that made it clear he wasn’t going to let anyone make fun of you—not now, not ever.

The group shifted uncomfortably, clearly not used to seeing him like this. Ni-ki’s gaze never wavered from the girl, who was still trying to wriggle out of his grip. He spoke again, his words cutting through the tension like a knife.

“If I hear you even think about messing with her again, I’ll make sure it’s the last time. Got it?”

The girl’s face went pale, and after a moment, she finally pulled her wrist from his grasp. She didn’t say anything else—she didn’t have to. Ni-ki had made his point clear.

As the group scattered, you stood there in shock, your heart pounding in your chest. You weren’t sure whether to feel relieved or overwhelmed by the intensity of it all.

Ni-ki turned to you, his expression softening slightly, though there was still a hint of that protective edge. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice gentler now.

You nodded, still processing everything. “Yeah… Thanks. I guess I owe you one,” you said.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said with a shrug, his usual smile returning. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

With that, the two of you continued your walk through the store.

--

The rain poured down heavily, a soft, constant drumming against the window as you sat at your kitchen table. You were absentmindedly eating your cereal when the sound of the TV caught your attention. The news anchor’s voice was steady but the words were jarring.

“A group of teens, including some local college students, have been reported missing. Authorities are investigating their whereabouts, but no leads have been found as of now.”

You froze, the spoon in your hand slipping from your grip and clattering to the floor. The world around you seemed to freeze for a moment, your heart skipping a beat. It took a few seconds for the words to register—teens, a group, missing.

You couldn’t help but feel the creeping dread settle in your chest. You quickly stood up, your movements rushed and frantic.

You put your bowl down with shaking hands, grabbed your phone, keys, and bag, not even bothering to grab a proper breakfast. You yanked on your jacket, grabbed your umbrella, and rushed out the door, the sound of the rain growing louder as you fought against the storm.

When you finally reached the school grounds, the rain hadn’t let up. You were drenched, but it didn’t matter. You immediately zeroed in on Ni-ki’s tall frame, his head down as he rifled through his bag, clearly looking for something.

You took a deep breath and made your way toward him, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you.

"Ni-ki!" you called out, stepping forward.

He jumped in surprise, his body stiffening as he spun around to look at you. His wide eyes softened when he saw you, though there was an edge of confusion in his expression.

“Hey,” he said, his voice still heavy with sleep, probably because it was so early. "You okay? You’re all wet.”

You nodded quickly, shaking your umbrella as you stood in front of him. "Yeah, I’m fine. I just—" You paused, your heart hammering in your chest. "Did you hear about the missing teens?"

Ni-ki’s face went still for a moment, his eyes narrowing. Then he sighed and ran a hand through his damp hair, as if processing everything in his head. “Yeah. I heard. I don’t know… it’s weird, right? Some of them were people from school.”

You nodded, feeling a pit grow in your stomach. “Yeah. It’s just… strange, with everything that’s been happening lately.” You bit your lip, trying to read his face. He wasn’t showing any obvious signs of worry, but then again, Ni-ki had always been good at hiding his emotions when it suited him.

Ni-ki paused, his expression hardening for a moment. “I know. But we don’t know anything for sure yet. I’m sure the police will figure it out.”

You studied him for a moment, watching how composed he was despite the situation. He was always so calm, but today it was different. You noticed how his shoulders were just a little stiffer than usual, his gaze just a little more distant, though he quickly returned his focus to you.

“Come on,” he said after a moment, his smile returning, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Let’s get to class.”

You nodded, following him, but the unease that had settled in your chest refused to leave. Something felt off.

The entire day felt off, like there was an invisible weight pressing on you, pulling your attention in a thousand directions. As you sat in class, your fingers kept scrolling through your phone, searching for any new information about the missing students. Every news site you checked had the same vague updates, all of them repeating the same information—the authorities were still investigating, but there were no leads. The unease grew heavier in your chest with each passing minute.

You didn’t even realize you weren’t paying attention to the lesson until the teacher called on you, pulling you back to reality with a jolt. You hastily tried to catch up, your mind racing with thoughts about what might be happening. The missing students. The weird, unsettling feeling that something was wrong.

As the bell rang for the next class, you absentmindedly packed up your things, your mind still elsewhere. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t notice Ni-ki sitting next to you, watching you with a careful, intense gaze.

It wasn’t until he spoke that you realized he’d been looking at you for a while. His voice was low, almost dangerous in its calmness.

“You haven’t been paying attention all day,” he said, his tone not accusatory but focused, like he was analyzing every little thing. “What’s going on?”

You looked up, surprised by the directness in his tone. Ni-ki’s eyes weren’t his usual playful, teasing self—they were sharp, focused, and a little darker than usual. There was something in them that made your heart race, something you couldn’t quite place.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to tell him what you were feeling, or if it was just your imagination running wild. The tension in the air seemed to thicken as he waited for you to respond, and despite everything, you felt the need to be honest with him.

“I don’t know…” you trailed off, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you. “It’s just… something feels wrong, Ni-ki. There’s this whole thing with the missing students, and it doesn’t feel like it’s over. I keep thinking about all of it. I can’t stop.”

Ni-ki’s gaze never left you as you spoke, and he gave a slight nod, as if he understood. The tension in his eyes didn’t fade, though—if anything, it seemed to grow.

“You’re not the only one who feels it,” he said quietly. “But you’ve got to be careful. People don’t always show their true faces. And sometimes, the things that feel wrong are just the beginning.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking into you. There was something about the way he said it—like he knew more than he was letting on. You wanted to ask him more, to press him for details, but the way he looked at you made you think better of it.

Instead, you gave a small, uneasy nod. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you replied, though you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were already caught up in something much bigger than you realized.

Ni-ki turned his gaze away after a moment, but not before his eyes flickered down to your hand, which you had been fidgeting with absentmindedly. He seemed to think about something for a second, and then, without warning, he reached out and gently brushed his fingers over yours. The simple touch was enough to send a jolt through your body, but when he met your eyes again, his expression had softened, almost reassuring.

“Don’t let it consume you,” he said, his voice more tender now, as if trying to comfort you in his own way. “We’ll figure it out, together.”

You nodded, though you weren’t sure what he meant by together.

After school, you had made up your mind not to stay out too late. You just wanted to get home, rest, and focus on the things you needed to catch up on. The bus ride was uneventful, and you felt a small sense of relief as you stepped off and made your way home. The familiar walk up to your building gave you a little comfort, and you entered quickly, glad to be out of the rain.

Once inside, you kicked off your shoes, tossed your bag onto the couch, and went straight for the bathroom to wash away the stress of the day. The hot water from the shower was soothing, and you stood there for a while, letting it run over your shoulders as you closed your eyes, lost in the sensation of warmth and calm.

When you finally stepped out, wrapped in a towel, you dried off and got dressed in something comfortable, and started studying, but a few hours later your stomach growled loudly, a reminder that it had been far too long since you’d eaten.

You sighed, glancing at the clock. It was already late, and you had hardly eaten all day. You stood up from your desk, stretched, and made your way to the kitchen to see what you could scrounge up. As you opened the fridge, you found a few things—a block of cheese, some leftover rice, some random vegetables—but not nearly enough to make a decent meal. Your eyes landed on the empty shelf where you normally kept the essentials like eggs, bread, and a few other things.

You cursed under your breath.

You hadn’t gone grocery shopping in a while, and it was becoming apparent just how low on supplies you were. You’d been putting it off for days, but now you were paying the price. You pulled out your phone to make a quick list of the things you needed to pick up: eggs, bread, some fresh produce, and whatever else would make an easy dinner. You threw on a jacket, grabbed your phone and keys, and headed back out the door.

The chill of the evening air hit you as soon as you stepped outside. You pulled your jacket tighter around yourself, the rain still lightly falling from the sky. The store wasn’t too far, but you’d be walking through puddles, and you could already feel the dampness creeping into your shoes. Still, you needed the food, so you picked up your pace and headed in the direction of the local grocery store.

By the time you reached the entrance, you had that familiar grocery store smell—the faint scent of freshly baked bread mixed with the cool air of refrigeration—and you pushed open the door, ready to get what you needed and get back home.

You grabbed your essentials—some vegetables, some rice, and a few other ingredients to make the dinner you had planned.

You walked out of the store, the cold evening air hitting your face as you carefully balanced your bag of groceries. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you pulled it out, glancing at it absentmindedly as you began to make your way back to your apartment. You swiped through a few messages and notifications, barely paying attention to the route you were taking.

But when you finally looked up, you froze.

The street around you didn’t look familiar at all. You glanced back, realizing you must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. Your surroundings had shifted from the usual city bustle to an unfamiliar area with dilapidated houses lining the street. The buildings looked old, their windows boarded up, and the paint on the walls was chipped, peeling away from years of neglect. The street was quiet, almost eerily so, and the air felt still in a way that made your skin prickle.

You checked your phone to see your location, but it didn't help much. You could have sworn you’d taken the right path.

You stood for a moment, considering whether to retrace your steps or try to find another route back home. That’s when the sound reached your ears—a sharp, blood-curdling scream. Your heart skipped a beat. It echoed through the quiet, a cry filled with terror and desperation.

Your mind screamed at you to turn around, to keep walking and get back to the familiar streets. But something inside you stirred—a compulsion you couldn’t shake. Another scream, followed by a cry for help, rang out, louder this time. The desperation in the voice pulled at you like an invisible thread.

Without fully realizing it, you started moving toward the sound. You glanced around nervously, double-checking that you weren’t being followed, but all you could see were the looming, abandoned houses. The streetlights flickered sporadically, casting long, haunting shadows over the cracked pavement. The atmosphere felt heavy, suffocating.

You set your groceries down carefully on the ground, the sound of the bag crinkling in the quiet making you pause for a moment. You slowly made your way toward the large house where the screams had come from. It stood at the end of the street, a large, imposing structure with peeling paint and broken windows. It looked almost like a mansion at one point, but now it was barely standing, with decay eating away at its foundation.

You hesitated, but that instinct in you, the one telling you to keep moving, pushed you forward. You approached the front door, cautiously reaching out to try the handle. To your surprise, it turned easily, creaking as the door slowly opened with little resistance.

The inside was just as unsettling as the outside. It was dark, the only light coming from the weak glow of the streetlights outside, filtering through the broken windows. Dust clung to every surface, and the air smelled stale, like it hadn’t been disturbed in years. You hesitated for a moment, then pulled out your phone and turned on the flashlight. The small beam of light illuminated the eerie interior, casting long shadows along the walls.

You walked quietly, each step careful, your heart hammering in your chest. There was an unsettling silence now, the kind that makes every creak of the floorboard seem like an alarm ringing.

As you moved through the rooms, you found only remnants of the house’s former life—old furniture covered in dust, paintings half-faded with age, and broken mirrors hanging crookedly on the walls. It didn’t feel right, like the house itself was hiding something.

You continued forward, your pulse racing, until you saw the stairs. The narrow staircase creaked under your feet as you started to climb, the air thick with tension. You took each step slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible. The further you climbed, the more oppressive the silence became, making you feel like you were intruding on something dangerous.

At the top you found another hallway, dark and seemingly endless. The hair on the back of your neck stood up as you slowly moved forward, the sound of your breath heavy in your ears. You didn’t know what you were expecting to find, but with each step you took, the feeling of dread only deepened.

You were too far in now. Something had drawn you here, and no matter how much you wanted to turn back, you couldn’t.

You continued down the dark hallway at the top of the stairs, your flashlight flicking over the faded wallpaper and old doors that creaked slightly with the movement of the house. The air was thick with dust, and the floorboards groaned beneath your steps as you moved forward, every creak seeming louder in the stillness.

But despite the eerie surroundings, there was nothing—no signs of anyone being here, no more sounds of distress. The rooms you peeked into were abandoned, just like the rest of the house. Some were empty, their floors covered in broken glass or debris; others held old furniture, now falling apart with age.

You moved cautiously, stepping lightly to avoid making noise, but your mind was beginning to feel like it was playing tricks on you. The urgency that had pushed you to come this far was fading, replaced by a strange, unsettling feeling.

Your flashlight beam swept over more rooms—empty, forgotten, silent. You checked the windows of each room, but they were all boarded up or shattered, the light outside barely filtering through the gaps. Nothing moved, nothing stirred. The only sound was the slow rhythm of your own breath and the occasional rustle of your shoes against the old carpet.

The stairs seemed endless, but you couldn’t stop now. Something was pulling you forward, urging you to climb higher, even though you knew deep down it might be a mistake.

You reached the next floor, your heart racing with each step. This floor, just like the others, was coated in layers of dust and neglect. You didn’t dare touch anything; you just scanned each room quickly, hoping for a clue or something to justify your presence. But still, there was nothing.

You stood in the center of the hallway, a small sense of dread growing in your chest. There was no sign of anyone, no one to help. The house was as empty and cold as ever.

You sighed in frustration, about to turn and leave, when you noticed something different. A door at the end of the hall—a door that looked… newer, as though it hadn’t suffered the same wear as the rest of the house. Something about it caught your attention. It wasn’t the same peeling wood or faded paint. It was almost as if the door had been replaced, but not the rest of the house.

You slowly moved toward it, your hand hesitating on the doorknob.

You turned the knob, and the door creaked open.

On the other side was a small, dimly lit room. It was sparsely furnished—just a single chair in the center, facing a tall mirror that seemed too clean, too pristine in this neglected space. The rest of the room was dark, the corners shrouded in shadows.

But in the reflection of the mirror, you saw something that made your blood run cold.

A figure standing behind you.

You spun around, your breath catching in your throat, but the room was empty.

You turned back to the mirror, only to see your own wide-eyed expression, the flashlight still trembling in your hand.

Was it a trick of the light?

You couldn’t tell, but the sense of dread intensified, and every instinct you had screamed at you to leave.

Your heart raced in your chest as you hesitated in the hallway, the silence around you thick with dread, you stood frozen, unsure whether to retreat or continue forward. But the distant cries for help, desperate and pleading, pushed you onward.

You slowly climbed the last set of stairs, careful with every step, your breath shallow as you tried not to make a sound. The air seemed heavier here, colder, as if the building itself was alive with something sinister. Each creak of the floorboards under your feet was unnervingly loud in the silence, but you forced yourself to keep moving.

At the top of the stairs, the floor seemed different—newer, almost cleaner than the rest of the house. You could hear faint whimpers, like someone in pain. Your stomach churned, a wave of nausea washing over you, but you ignored it. You needed to know what was happening, needed to help whoever it was.

You crept down the hall, pausing only when you reached the door at the end. It was barely ajar, just enough to allow a glimpse of what lay beyond. Hesitantly, you peered through the crack, your heart nearly stopping when the scene before you registered.

It was a girl—someone you knew well from school. The same one from the mall, the one who had tried to hit you just days ago. But now, she was in a different state entirely. Bound to a chair, her body covered in blood, her eyes glazed with pain and fear. Her hair matted with sweat, her clothes torn and stained. It was a sight so revolting it made your stomach turn.

You gasped softly, the breath catching in your throat. The scene felt surreal, as if you were watching some horrible nightmare. The blood, both dried and fresh, had stained the chair she was tied to, the dark red splotches contrasting against the pale, almost sickly white of her skin. It was a haunting sight.

A few moments of stunned silence passed as your mind struggled to comprehend what you were seeing. Then, something inside you clicked—instinct, maybe, or the sheer desperation to do something. You couldn’t just leave her like this. Not after everything you had already witnessed.

You quickly opened the door just enough to squeeze through, the sharp creak of the hinges making your heart race even faster. As you stepped inside, your feet almost felt like they were dragging on their own. You moved toward her cautiously, afraid of alerting anyone who might be nearby.

Her breathing was shallow, but she was still alive. She winced, a painful sound escaping her as you approached, her eyes struggling to stay open. You couldn’t help but feel a surge of sympathy for her—no matter the past between you two, no one deserved to be in this state.

With trembling hands, you carefully assessed her wounds. The blood was coming from several places, mostly on her legs and arms, but there were deeper gashes across her torso. It was hard to tell how deep they were, but they were certainly serious.

You quickly pressed against the worst of her wounds. She let out a pained groan, weakly trying to shift her body, but she couldn’t move much. The bindings kept her in place, and all you could do was try to stem the flow of blood.

Her body tensed at the pressure, and she let out a strangled cry. You couldn’t bear to think of how long she had been like this, how much time had passed since she’d been brought here.

As you worked, a noise caught your attention—a soft mumbling, almost unintelligible. Your blood ran cold as you turned your head toward the sound, your eyes locking on a partially open door to another room, connected to where you were. The figure of someone moved within, their back to you.

You didn’t need to see their face to know who it was.

The hair on the back of your neck stood on end as panic surged through you, but you forced yourself to remain calm. You looked back at the girl, who was still breathing heavily but seemed barely conscious.

You couldn’t leave her. You couldn’t.

But you also knew that the moment the killer came back in, you’d both be in even more danger. You had to act fast.

Carefully, you stood and slowly, almost silently, backed away from the girl, your heart pounding in your ears. You closed the door behind you as quietly as possible, the faintest creak echoing in the silence of the house. You took a breath, holding it as you peered through the crack in the door.

Just as you thought you were safe, you saw the killer reappear in the room, the door creaking open. His cold gaze flicked to the girl, who was still bound to the chair. Without even glancing around, he stepped forward, his hands moving to adjust the knife in his grip.

You sucked in a breath, watching in silence as he leaned down, brushing his fingers over her bloodied face.

The knife glinted under the dim light as he loomed over her, speaking in a low, almost amused tone.

And then, your body tensed—your instincts screamed at you to leave, to run before he noticed you.

The moment you stepped back, the sharp crunch of broken glass beneath your foot was like a thunderclap in the otherwise silent house. Your heart froze in your chest, you lifted your foot, eyes immediately widening.

Your breath caught in your throat as you heard a slow, deliberate creak from behind the door. The hairs on the back of your neck prickled. Without even thinking, your gaze snapped toward the crack between the door and the frame. And there he was.

The killer. His white mask was the only thing visible, but it was enough. You could feel the weight of his gaze through the small sliver, cold, calculating. The mask seemed almost too calm, too collected. He hadn't even flinched at the noise. No, he was waiting. He was waiting for you to realize the mistake you'd just made.

The cruel, teasing voice that followed was enough to freeze you in place.

"Well, well," he purred from behind the door, his tone dripping with amusement. "Looks like we've got a curious little mouse here, don't we?"

Your stomach dropped as the fear, the raw terror, finally gripped you. You felt your pulse thunder in your ears as he slowly, almost deliberately, tilted his head, eyes still hidden behind that mask.

Before you could even think, before your body could process anything else, you screamed. The sound was torn from your throat, pure panic flooding every fiber of your being. You scrambled backward, your feet slipping slightly on the old wooden floor as you scrambled toward the staircase, your heartbeat pounding so loud in your chest that you could hardly hear anything else.

Your mind screamed at you to move faster, but your legs felt like they were made of lead. Every step you took seemed to echo in the vast, empty space, and you could already hear his footsteps behind you—closer, too close.

You shot a desperate glance over your shoulder as you reached the stairs. The killer was still there, stepping into the hallway, his slow, deliberate pace making your heart race even faster. His mask was almost inhuman in its stillness, but there was a look in his posture—predatory, like he was enjoying the chase.

You stumble down the creaking, narrow staircase, your breath coming in ragged gasps as panic claws at your chest. Tears blur your vision, streaking your face as the blood on your trembling hands smears across the banister. You don’t dare look back. You can’t.

Above you, his voice echoes through the decaying walls, low and mocking, sending chills down your spine.

“Run all you want,” he calls, his tone light, almost playful. “You know I’ll catch you.”

Your foot catches on a loose board, nearly sending you sprawling, but you grip the railing and push yourself forward. His words follow you, slithering into your ears like poison.

“You can’t hide from me. You know that, don’t you? I’ll always find you. Always.”

The air is heavy with the smell of dust and mildew, but it does nothing to muffle his voice.

“You and that little curiosity of yours,” he sneers, his footsteps steady and unhurried. “That’s what got you into this mess. You wanted to see what was behind the curtain, didn’t you?”

Your heart pounds in your chest, your legs screaming in protest as you take the steps two at a time.

“No one else deserves you,” he continues, his voice dipping into something darker, more possessive. “Only me. And if I can’t have you…”

You swallow back a sob as his words twist, their meaning sharp as a blade.

“…then no one can.”

Your foot hits the landing, and you dart into the next corridor, the peeling wallpaper and flickering lights a blur around you. Still, his voice lingers, wrapping around you like a noose.

“You’ll be mine in the end. You know it. Why keep running, darling? Why deny the inevitable?”

You bite down on your lip to stifle the cry threatening to escape. The hallway stretches endlessly before you, and the sound of his steps—slow, deliberate—echoes closer, as if he’s right behind you.

Your chest burns as you push forward, forcing your legs to move despite the overwhelming ache. The hallway feels endless, the dim, flickering lights above casting warped shadows that seem to close in on you. Each creak of the floorboards behind you makes your heart skip a beat, his taunting voice dripping into your ears like acid.

“You can’t run forever,” he hums, his tone like a lullaby meant to unsettle. “Every step you take just brings you closer to me. Don’t you see? This is fate. You were made for me.”

A sob escapes you before you can stifle it, your body betraying the terror that threatens to consume you whole. You glance frantically over your shoulder, but the staircase behind you is empty. He isn’t there, and yet his voice sounds as if it’s just over your shoulder, like he’s breathing down your neck.

You shove open a door at the end of the hall, the old wood groaning on its hinges as you stumble into what looks like a storage room. Rusted tools hang on the walls, their edges sharp and unforgiving, glinting faintly in the pale light from a single bare bulb swaying overhead. Your breath catches as you scan the room, desperately searching for a way out.

“There you go,” he purrs, his voice impossibly close now, like he’s whispering directly into your ear. “Hide, if it makes you feel safer. I like when you play hard to get. It makes it so much sweeter when I finally catch you.”

You slam the door shut and lock it, your shaking hands fumbling with the rusted bolt. The sound of his footsteps grows louder, heavier now, deliberate in their approach. You back away from the door, your eyes darting around the room. The windows are boarded up, thick planks of wood nailed across the frames, no hope of escape.

Your breathing is shallow, uneven. Your hands curl into fists, fingernails biting into your palms as you try to will yourself to think. Focus. Focus.

Then, silence.

The footsteps stop. His voice is gone.

Your heart pounds in the stillness, the quiet almost worse than his taunts. You strain your ears, listening for anything—any sign of movement, any sound that could tell you where he is. But there’s nothing.

A soft knock on the door shatters the quiet, making you jump back with a gasp.

“Are you scared?” he asks, his voice calm now, almost tender. “You don’t need to be. I’ll take care of you. I’ll make this quick.”

The doorknob jiggles. Once. Twice. Then, a violent bang as he slams against the door, rattling the frame.

You scramble backward, your hands blindly reaching for anything, and they land on something cold and solid—a wrench, heavy and covered in dust.

Another bang. The bolt starts to bend under the pressure.

“I’m coming in, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice filled with a sickening glee. “Let’s end this little game, shall we?”

The door bursts open, and there he is, silhouetted against the dim light of the hallway, his figure towering, his shadow stretching across the floor like it’s ready to swallow you whole.

But you’re ready this time. Your grip tightens on the wrench, and as he steps into the room, you swing.

Part 2 here

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Taglist: @totallynotj3zz @starfallia @jiryunn @yangjungwonnie

@miainthestarsss @caithefly @hhyvsstuff @kkamismom12

@ilyunjina @xiaoquanquans @heeseungspookie @flwwon

[sorcerersandskillusers]

I want to talk about one of the most terrifying and interesting bsd characters who almost no fan remembers.

This character nearly tore down the ADA without ever getting involved herself, yet the entire fandom has ignored her because of her terrible anime adaptation.

Who am I talking about?

Nobuko Sasaki

If you haven't read Dazai Osamu's Entrance Exam, then you probably don't even know who this character is, in the anime she is watered down to the lovesick girlfriend of an actual villain, and you probably dismissed her immediately. But in the light novel, we get to see how dangerous and cunning she really is, to the point she nearly gets the better of Dazai and almost causes the ADA to be shut down. (Fukuzawa says he would have closed the agency if they hadn't caught her)

In terms of intelligence I'd put her on the same level as Mori, just slightly below the super human genius characters i.e. Dazai, Fyodor and Ranpo

The Azure Apostle

For those who don't remember, Sasaki was the Azure Apostle, a mysterious figure who challenged the agency with several horrifying cases, which would all lead to mass casualties if the agency failed to stop them. These were; uncovering an underground organ smuggling operation (which the agency failed to stop and which massively hurt their reputation) stopping a bombing of Yokohama port which could have killed hundreds of people, and preventing a commercial aeroplane from crashing into the city (this was not included in the anime)

Each of the people, who committed these crimes, had no Idea they were being manipulated and thought it was their own idea the whole time. There was no evidence that anyone else had been involved at all, and the agency had no way to connect her to any of the crimes. And she even makes the genius move of framing Dazai, the mysterious new member with suspicious knowledge of the underworld and a hidden past, as the true culprit.

In fact, she only made one mistake, challenging Dazai. If Dazai had been basically anyone else, they would have been cornered and arrested, but since Dazai's mind works on a level even master strategists can't imagine, he was able to turn the tables on her.

But even after Dazai sees through her plans, the ADA still has to act exactly the way she wants them too and stop the plane crash. Even when they know they're being manipulated, they still have to do exactly what she wanted.

Finally, after Dazai and Kunikida confront her and get her to admit to being behind all those crimes, even then they are powerless to stop her.

Even after being involved with so many massive crimes, Sasaki herself hadn't done anything illegal, so within the law the ADA is completely powerless to stop her.

They can't arrest her, and if they try then the agency will be put in even more danger as will many innocent lives. She has completely trapped the ADA, and even Dazai in a choice to follow the law and let her go or take justice into their own hands and prove they will stoop as low as she did.

In the end, there she has them in a perfect deadlock, let her continue her mission, or kill her themselves. Both are bad outcomes for the ADA.

In the end, Dazai has her killed by using a third party (Rokuzo) to shoot her, so the agency can't be blamed for her murder, though this ends her plans it deeply scars Kunikida and shakes his resolve in his ideals.

The trauma from this event still haunts Kunikida to this day, we see that when he is affected by Q's curse, Sasaki is who he sees.

So thats the Azure Apostle, a terrifying master mind who nearly brought down the Armed Detective Agency, but now lets look at the other side of this character.

Nobuko Sasaki Herself

We know several things about Sasaki as a character and her history from the light novel. That she was a brilliant criminal psychologist and was internationally recognised despite being so young

,that she was the ex-lover of the Azure King and the real mastermind behind his plans, and that she had very little motivation of her own.

That's not meant to be an insult to the character, she says herself that she never really had much direction in life, even with her incredible intelligence she never really had anything she wanted to achieve.

But the Azure King was the opposite, he had powerful drive and strong ideals, he wanted to punish criminals who couldn't be touched by the law and when he failed to change the law as a bureaucrat, she offered him an alternative.

A very important thing here is that neither of them were manipulating or forcing the other into this path, as far as we see they genuinely loved each other, each providing something the other couldn't, Sasaki her mind and the Azure King his drive.

When the Azure king died, Sasaki had no path of her own to follow, so she simply kept following his, even though she doesn't seem to have really cared about his cause.

All of this creates a very unique character, you can't say she was driven by revenge, because she wasn't really driven at all. It's more like she was running on momentum, she had chosen a path to follow and could not stop even though there was nothing pushing her down it any more.

She's a perfect antithesis of Kunikida and was the best possible villain a light novel about him could have had.

A man who brings his ideals into reality with his own hands against a woman who uses others to enforce ideals that were never hers to begin with.

Anyway, I made this because Sasaki is criminally underrated in this fandom, If you haven't read "Dazai Osamu's Entrance Exam" I highly recommend it, I've only put a tiny fraction of the amazing story here.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

kinktober: ghostface

words: 6.3k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, f masturbation, death/killing, blood, knives, f receiving oral, attempted rape (from not rafe), noncon/dubcon, p in v sex

taglist: @drewstarkeysbae @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv

"why do you keep looking at your phone, y/n?" your best friend, jennifer, asks, leaning over to look at the screen but you quickly click it off, setting it face down on the table.

"it's nothing." you shake your head. "ive just been getting some texts from an unknown number."

"what do they say?" your friend asks, and then presses further when you keep your mouth tightly closed, "are they creepy?"

"a bit…" you shrug.

"do you know who it is?" 

"clearly not!" you snap, the text messages have put you on such an edge. you don't mean to lash out on your friend, but you just can't help it. "sorry." you sigh, letting your head drop into your hands, rubbing your eyes with the pads of your fingers.

"y/n…" she sighs "i can tell how worked up you are, maybe just block the number?"

"yeah, maybe." you mumble, but you know that you're lying to her. it's too intoxicating, the obsessive attention that the anonymous texter gives you.

your phone dings and you jump, quickly picking it back up. you see something unexpected: a photo of yourself, sitting across the table from your friend, clearly taken just moments before it was sent, of course by the same unknown number. your head snaps up, scanning the tables on the other side of the restaurant, but there's so many faces you recognize along with this being the most popular lunch spot for college students attending your university.

"what is it?" jennifer asks. you almost forgot she was sitting across from you, attention solely on the mysterious texter. "y/n, is it the same number?"

"no." you shake your head, giving another glance around the restaurant. "just my ex boyfriend."

--

you look beautiful tonight. you read the text, speeding up your walk. you still aren’t replying, thinking it was best to let whoever was on the other end talk themselves bored, but they’ve continued with no response over the past week, showing no sign of letting up now.

are you scared? you pause briefly and look around. there’s no one that you can see. you turn up your pace into a light jog, regretting being out at night but needing to get from your evening class back to your apartment just off campus.

it would be a shame if someone took you right now. your heart is beating faster than ever as you break out into a full sprint, eyes blurring slightly with tears until you get to your apartment door, unlocking it quickly with shaking hands. you’re not sure you could hear someone walking up behind you with how loud your breathing is.

you rush in as soon as the door is unlocked, latching it behind you and then proceeding to draw all the curtains in the house. you run upstairs to your bed, needing the comfort of being under the sheets and locked behind several doors.

sleep tight, princess.

--

“did you hear?” jennifer asks, bursting through your door the second it’s unlocked.

“hear what?” you ask, slinging your backpack over your shoulder, knowing you need to head out soon to get to class on time.

“oh my god, it’s a tragic. a girl got murdered last night on campus.” “what?” your movements halt, turning to look at the wide eyed expression on jennifers face. “who?” “i don’t know, they’re not saying yet. they found her hanging in a tree! i guess she was really bloody because whoever saw her said they couldn’t make out her face.” “ugh, that’s horrible!” you say, feeling a shiver run through your body. you were just walking alone at campus late at night.

“but there’s good news! classes are canceled for today and all evening classes are moved to online until future notice, probably until they find the killer.” you don’t know how to respond to that, but at knowing you don’t need to head to class you do feel a bit of relief, even if the emotion is quickly followed by guilt. you close and relock the door, even more cautious knowing that there is a murderer on the loose along with your mysterious texter.

you sit down on your couch, curling your knees up into your chest. “do you think it’s related to that kasia girl who got killed last year?” “i mean it has to be, right?” jennifer plops down next to you. “what are the odds of two girls being violently killed and-” “okay, stop.” you sigh, rubbing your hands over your legs to quell the chills.

--

did you hear?

you gulp receiving the text. there’s no way anyone on campus could have missed the news, it’s all that’s been circling over the past three days, and you have no doubt thats what your mysterious texter is referring to.

yes. you type back, hitting send before even realizing that you were supposed to not be communicating back.

so lucky it wasn’t you. after all, i saw you walking that night. but i didn’t choose you.

your eyes widen. what does he mean choose? did you kill that girl? you text back quickly, hesitating only a moment before sending it. 

yes. because i can’t kill you.

--

“and you say you have no idea who has been sending you these text messages, ma’am?” the man asks.

“no, they started out of nowhere, and i thought they were creepy but i didn’t think it was… if i thought it was the killer i would have brought it to you earlier.” the police detective nods, jotting down some notes. “and you give us permission to keep the phone as evidence?” “yes, god, i don’t want it.” you already jotted down your important contacts, and have plans to head right to the store after and buy a new phone, with a whole new number.

“okay miss… you do understand that if we find this to be just an elaborate prank that there will be serious punishment for wasting our time.” you sit back in your chair, shocked that the detective would even suggest that. “it’s not a prank. they’ve been texting me before the girl was even murdered, i don’t know how you expect me to have planned all that.” “hm.” the detective just hums in dismissal, setting the phone to the side of his desk. you assume he’s not even going to look into it further, but you’re glad to be rid of it.

--

“i can’t believe classes are still going on today. another body was just found last night!” jennifer says, smearing her fry in ketchup before sticking it in her mouth.

“he was found just off campus, i think that’s their reasoning.” you say, looking nervously around the university cafeteria. “not that i agree.”

“oh my god!” your other friend, stephanie, gasps, looking up from her phone. “it was scott moss!”

“the football player?” you ask, also pulling out your phone. you unlock it, still getting used to the slight differences from your old phone. you search his name, and true enough, the first article that pops up is that the second (or third? as the article questions) body to be found has been identified as scott moss. the first body got identified a few days ago, but you didn’t know the girl.

“this is fucking crazy.” jennifer says, reaching for another fry.

“this article says the police are saying that the knife used to kill the girl last year is the same one used on the two new victims!” stephanie reads out.

“holy fuck, do you think they’re gonna investigate rafe again?” jennifer asks, turning to look at you.

“rafe got cleared, right? i think it’s unfair to hold it over his head just because he got questioned by the police.” you say.

“please, we all know he only got released because of his rich daddy.” your phone buzzes, and you flick your eyes down to the screen, blood turning cold.

you didn’t think you could get rid of me that easily, did you?

--

“hey, rafe.” you mumble, sliding into the seat next to him, able to feel the nervous energy in the room.

“hey.” he says in return, eyes on the desk in front of you. it’s clear from the moment you walked in that people were purposefully sitting further away from him than normal in the large lecture hall. over the past year, the fact that rafe was ever questioned about the first murder was forgotten, pushed to the back burner by whatever new gossip was sweeping campus, but with the new killing spree, he was back on their radar.

“surprised you’re sitting next to me.” rafe says, hands gripping his pencil tightly.

you know people are bound to whisper about you next, but you want to show that you don’t believe rafe could do it. you’re not that close to him, but he was your lab partner last semester and you believe yourself to be able to tell when someone is a crazy serial killer or not.

“why wouldn’t i?” you question, giving rafe a small smile. “besides, who else am i gonna get notes off of for when the professor changes the slides too fast again?” --

 you lay in your bed, wishing you could just go to sleep, but you’re too alert, waiting for something to happen, a noise or movement, but it doesn’t come. you pick up your phone, scrolling through instagram until you get bored of your repetitive feed.

your finger hovers over an app. you shouldn’t, but you do. you click open the text message thread, with only a single, taunting message sent so far.

hello.

you watch the screen for a response, surprised when they immediately begin typing back. miss me?

you catch yourself before you laugh. why did you kill scott?

why do you care?

you sit and think for a moment. i guess i don’t. you feel ashamed, but there is no judgment coming from the person on the other end.

i saw you on campus today. i like your hair in braids. wear it like that tomorrow.

you set your phone down on the nightstand, turning the screen face down. your sleep is constantly interrupted, waking up at every sound you hear, so by the time you drag yourself out of bed in the morning, it feels like you’ve gotten barely an hour all together, but still, when you head into the bathroom to get ready, you brush your teeth and then part your hair directly down the middle, braiding each side neatly.

your phone pings from the bedroom and you rush back in to look at it.

ATTENTION ALL STUDENTS: all classes and campus activity has been suspended effective immediately. common areas will remain open during the day, and we strongly advise all students to travel in pairs. a lockdown will be put into effect starting at 9pm every night, where all students must remain in their dormitories. 

you head into the living room, clicking on the tv while typing out a text to jennifer. 

“yet another murder has shocked the university.” you look up from your phone to watch the news report. “after linking the recent two killings of college students with the murder of kasia walters just over a year ago, a third murder has occured just last night, and we have exclusive details, including, an eye witness.”

you sit down on the couch, forgetting about your half drafted text as the news coverage reveals another classmate killed, again out in the open, but this time someone from inside one of the dorms happened to be looking out there window and witnessed someone dressed in all black except for a white ghost mask stab the girl multiple times. 

they show the ghost mask, apparently a popular one that can be bought at tons of stores, already starting to brandish the serial killer with the nickname ‘ghostface.’

your phone buzzes in your hand. she had her hair in braids like yours.

is that why you killed her?

i killed her because i can’t kill you.

part of you wants to ask why, but a bigger part of you doesn’t want to know.

--

you find yourself with nothing to do all day except scroll through social media. you don’t even have assignments to work on with classes being canceled instead of just moved online.

you open all the curtains in your apartment to get some natural light in, but keep every door and window firmly latched. you know you should start some routine to keep you from going crazy and thinking about the murderer.

you move from the couch to your bed, because why sit when you can lay down. you sigh and open up tumblr, scrolling through your feed until you get to a smut of your favorite character. you bite your lip and open it.

as you read, your hand drifts lower, rubbing your pussy from over your clothes as the words on your screen turn you on. you let out a soft moan, thankful for the soundproof walls of your apartment, and the fact that the unit next to yours is currently empty.

no better way to let out some stress with a good masturbation session. you push your hand down under your pants and underwear, sighing when you get a touch at your bare skin, fingers finding your clit and stroking over it as your eyes continue to follow the fanfiction.

dirty girl.

you jump at the text, glancing around the room, eyes landing on the open window. you can’t see anyone through it, but apparently they can see you.

don’t stop on my account.

you feel more turned on than you should, continuing to slowly move your fingers underneath you sweatpants. 

take them off for me. let me see your pretty pussy.

your cunt clenches around nothing at the words. you’ve never dirty talked with a man before, and really you’re not, responding with your body instead of replying to the texts. you stand up off the bed, knowing you shouldn’t, but you push your pants down, quickly followed by your underwear. you lay back on the bed, angling yourself slightly towards your window.

there you go. touch yourself again for me.

you begin to stroke over your pussy again, circling your clit as you wait for another text.

i would bury my head between your legs. i bet you taste delicious.

you let out a moan, moving faster.

i would have you cumming around my cock.

have you ever had that before baby? or are you a virgin?

you would never admit it to any of your friends, but you find yourself using one hand to type out the singular word: virgin.

the reply takes too long to come, you’re growing frustrated as your clit pulses.

i’ll be your first. cum for me, princess.

you toss your head back on the bed, flicking over your clit until you can’t hold it back any longer, cumming with a series of loud moans, spreading your legs wide to give whoever is watching you a good view as you cum, pussy clenching around nothing, practically inviting him in to fuck you.

you feel the shame the second your orgasm subsides, snapping your legs closed, standing up and shutting the shade, blocking out any view of your bedroom from the outside.

--

“no seriously, don’t you think a party is like the worst idea right now?” “no!” jennifer laughs. “it’s perfect. a bunch of people, all together. so literally nothing bad can happen!” 

you’re reluctant to agree, but it’s too hard to say no to your best friend, so you cave and get ready with her in your bedroom, applying some light makeup before spending half an hour choosing the right outfit. as much as you don’t want to go, if you are gonna, you are at least gonna look good.

you arrive at the party just before sunset, of course taking place at a frat house. thankfully it’s only about a three minute walk from your apartment, so both you and jennifer could drink as much as you pleased without being worried about finding a ride back, you could practically see your front door.

“gonna get us some drinks!” jennifer yells over the pumping music, and you nod, trying to find a place to stand that doesn’t have someone bumping into you every second. there’s nothing like a murder spree to bring a college campus together as you see some very unlikely people to be at a frat party.

“here you go!” jennifer hands you a cup of clear liquid. you know better than to smell it before you shoot it down your throat, cringing at the burn when you pull the plastic cup away from your lips.

“that’s fucking disgusting!” 

“i know isn’t it great!” jennifer yells in laughter, and you can’t help but join in the infectious sound.

“lets dance!” you say, feeling the alcohol moving through your system. the whole house is practically a dance floor, but it’s centralized in the living room, so you push through the outliers until you’re in the center of the crowd, laughing and jumping with jennifer as you move to the beat.

“i’m gonna get another cup, do you want more?” jennifer asks, having to yell practically in your ear for you to hear her over the music.

you shake your head, happy to keep dancing with just the lightest buzz. while jennifer is away, no doubt struggling to push her petite frame through the crowd, you feel a pair of hands on your hips. you turn to see who is trying to dance with you, frowning when its brandon richmond. he tried to hit on you so many times last year you lost count, but you turned him down every time.

you pull out of his grasp and put a couple of bodies between yours between dancing again, but when you see brandon following you throughout the crowd, you duck away, heading down the back hallway and out the door to the patio. you breathe in the fresh air, surprised to see no one else back here taking advantage of the quiet, even though the thump of base is still loud. 

you lean against the fence of the balcony, looking out past the backyard, realizing you can see the back of your apartment buildings from here, including right into your bedroom window. a shutter runs down your back thinking about someone watching you through it, even though you tend to keep the curtains drawn shut.

“what’re you doing?” you hear a voice slur, causing you to jump, turning around quickly to see brandon standing in the doorway.

“just needed some fresh air.” you say, trying to pull the hem of your skirt down farther, regretting the outfit choice.

“i hope you weren’t trying to get away from me.” brandon says, and his words have you pausing to consider that he may be the mysterious texter, the killer. after all, he raged after you finally firmly told him no. he didn’t hurt you, but you were afraid he might.

“n-no.” you back away, but there’s nowhere to go except down the steps and into the grass, into the darkness of the tree lined fence, but you’re willing to risk whatever is in the shadows before you stay this close to brandon.

you turn and retreat down the steps, hoping he will give up and go back inside, but when you feel his hands on your waist you know he’s not giving up any time soon.

“stop!” you shout, feeling one hand move up and grip your breast tightly, squeezing so hard it hurts.

brandon turns you around in his grasp, leaning forward in a clear attempt to kiss you, when suddenly he stops, face going slack as he pitches forward, making you step out of his way so he falls on the grass instead of on you.

your eyes travel from his body, not moving, to where he previously stood. you take a step back before releasing a scream. it’s him, it’s ghostface, standing there with a bloodied knife in his hand.

he takes no interest in you as he bends over brandon, stabbing him again in the back, and that’s when you realize theres blood spurting out of him. on the third swing of the blade you finally realize you need to move, turning away and heading towards home. you run as fast as you can between the houses, keeping your eyes on your apartment, not wanting to know how closely he was following you.

you feel your phone buzz in your pocket and you wonder briefly if it’s ghostface or if it’s jennifer asking where you disappeared to.

you reach your door, thankful for briefly being in track in middle school for your ability to run fast. your hands fumble with your key, letting out a curse when you drop it from your hands shaking too hard, feeling like you’re in a horror movie as you finally get it unlocked.

you go to swing the door shut behind you, but it doesn’t latch. you fearfully turn around, realizing that his hand stopped the door from closing.

“p-please, i-” you back away as he steps into your space, your home, what was supposed to be the one place you were safe. he closes the door behind him, and you shudder hearing the click of the lock.

you turn and run towards the kitchen, hearing his footfalls close behind as you round the island counter in any attempt to get away, taking a cookie tray from off the counter and tossing it behind you as you run. it gives you enough time to head into your room, locking the door behind you. 

you head immediately to the window, knowing your apartment is no longer safe. you open it up, thankful for once to live on the first floor. you try to pull yourself up and over, but it’s too high off the ground and you’re wasting precious time struggling. 

you grab your chair from your desk, pushing it under the window and climbing onto it. you get one leg over the ledge, when a hand grabs your thigh, pushing you back into the room and onto the floor.

you scream as ghostface catapults through your window, smashing the pane shut behind him. locked in. you turn onto your back, trying to inch away as he begins to rant.

“i told you i would not kill you!” he screams. “i told you yet you still run from me!” your brow furrows as you try to place the voice. it’s so familiar. 

“i killed that boy for trying to rape you, and your thanks is to scream and run?”

“rafe.” you let out a sigh in realization. 

ghostface takes the mask and pulls it off his head, revealing a face that has your heart breaking. no. there’s no way he could be the murderer. the stalker.

“please don’t hurt me.” you whimper, using your bedpost to help pull yourself up off the floor.

“i could never hurt you.” rafe steps closer, reaching out to you, his glove leaving a smear of cold wetness on your cheek as he gently rubs it, and it takes you a second to realize it’s blood. “even though i want to.” “wh-why do you want to hurt me?” you ask.

“i love you too much. it’s the same reason i can’t.” rafe sighs. 

“thank you.” you whisper, unsure if this is the right course of action, but not wanting to anger him. “thank you for saving me.” rafe gives you a smile, one that dazzles you even after knowing the truth. “i knew you would understand me. you were the only person who knew i didn’t kill kasia.”

your eyes widen, “you didn’t.” it’s not a question, it’s a realization. 

“no. and no one believed me. i was in jail for a week, questioned for hours on end. nobody even cared to look at her boyfriend.” “i didn’t know she had a boyfriend…” you try to rack your brain to remember who she was often seen with, “scott moss.” “i knew nobody would believe me that scott murdered her. i had to get rid of him myself.” “and the other girls you killed?” you question, trying to back away from rafe but he just follows, not letting you get more than a foot apart.

“they reminded me of you.” 

“no.” you let out a sob, unable to hold it back anymore. “no, it can’t be my fault.” “shh.” rafe tugs his gloves off his hands, dropping them onto your floor. he cups your face in his hand, making you look up at him. “don’t cry. i hate seeing you cry. it makes me want to kill.” that sobers you up quickly, sniffling as you try to stop the tears. “i’m sorry.” you whisper.

“it’s okay… can i cheer you up baby? can i make you feel better?” “how would you do that?” you ask, and rafe leans forward to show you, pressing his lips against yours gently. you hesitate, realizing how absolutely wrong this is. you just saw rafe kill someone, but the feel of his lips against yours has you feeling dizzy, starting to slowly kiss back.

as soon as you show some initiative, rafe becomes feral, mouth dominating yours in harsh kisses as he moves his hands to your waist, fingers slipping into the space between your skirt and crop top. you wrap your arms around his shoulders, keeping him pulled tight to you. 

“get undressed.” rafe says, pulling away harshly. he pulls the costume off over his head, revealing plain clothes underneath it. you stand transfixed as he begins to unbutton his shirt, revealing golden skin. rafe looks up, realizing that you’re not moving.

he reaches around his back to pull something out of your waistband. your eyes widen when the silver glint of the knife shines in the low light, “i said, get undressed!” rafe yells, pointing the knife at you.

you’re quick to move, toeing off your heels, pulling your skirt down and tugging your shirt off. you look up to see rafe removing his underwear. your eyes widen at his hard cock. you unclip your bra, tugging it off and then followed by your underwear, leaving you completely nude.

rafe looks at you, eyes moving all the way from your toes to your head, examining every inch of your body.

“you’re so beautiful.” he steps closer, hand cupping your breast, thumb gently rubbing over the side of it. “i would have been soft with you tonight, knowing you’re a virgin. but that was before you ran from me, and disobeyed me. get on the bed.”

you don’t hesitate this time, laying on the bed, with your head against the pillows. rafe sets the hunting knife on the nightstand, draping his body over yours, and you can’t help the rush of wetness that floods your pussy when you feel his cock rest against your thigh.

“i’m going to make you feel so good. so much better than brandon or any other guy ever could.” rafe smashes his lips against yours, battling with your tongue. his hands grip your jaw, squeezing your face as he moans into your mouth, rutting his cock against your skin.

rafe pulls his mouth away, moving it to your neck, sucking harshly. you can feel the blood rushing to the spot, forming deep bruises as he moves lower to your chest, marking your decolletage.

“i’ve wanted this for so long. now i finally get to taste your skin.” he wraps his mouth around your nipple, forcing a moan out of you. you arch your back, pushing your chest further into his mouth. rafe sucks harshly, like he’s trying to leave a hicky there too, before he pulls away, moving to your other breast.

instead of sucking this time, he sticks his tongue out, flicking over your nipple until it’s completely hard before taking it in between his teeth, making you shout as he tugs on the hard bud.

“rafe! oh my god!” 

rafe moans against your chest, moving slightly off your nipple before biting your breast, leaving a bite mark on your skin as he continues down, kissing and licking your stomach as he moves himself down the bed, settling between your legs.

“rafe, i-” you gasp out as he kisses your thighs. you try to pull them closed, not wanting his eyes on the most intimate part of you, especially knowing how wet you are. “i’ve never-”

“never had anyone eat your pussy before?” he questions, hands shoving your legs open. 

“no, i haven’t, i-” rafe cuts you off by shoving his face into your cunt. his tongue laps over your entrance, his own moans from tasting you matching your own from the unfamiliar sensation.

rafe is quick to shove his tongue into your pussy, thrusting it in and out as you bring your hands down to grip his hair, eyes briefly flashing to the knife sitting on the nightstand, knowing rafe isn’t paying any attention to it.

“more, more, more.” you beg, eyes moving back to look at rafe. the need is too great to consider doing anything to stop it. 

“gonna stretch you out with my fingers, baby.” rafe says, moving his mouth up to your clit. you let out a scream at the feeling, reaching down to grip his hair in your hands. you can feel rafe smile against you, sinking his teeth into your clit as he bites it. 

you squirm under the harsh feeling, it’s just too much, but he won’t let up as he pushes the tip of his finger against your puckering entrance, briefly circling it before shoving the digit inside in one firm push. your back arches off the bed as he lets go of your clit with his teeth, stroking over it with his soft tongue.

his finger pumps in and out of you, and you spread your legs wider, giving him more space to abuse your cunt as a second finger pushes in along with his first. rafe looks up at you, wicked smile on his face, “for a virgin you’re certainly acting like a slut.” you whine, feeling tears come to your eyes. “it feels too good.” “i know baby, i promised i’d make you feel better and i’m doing it, right? do you feel better?” “yeah.” you breathe out, his head dropping again to suck harshly at your clit, “yes! oh my god, rafe!”

“call me by my other name.” rafe says, only briefly pulling away from your pussy to speak before continuing to attack your clit.

you shake your head no, but rafe just gets a determined look in his eye, somehow managing to fit a third finger inside of you, stuffing your cunt full as it squeezes tightly around them, his fingers angling upward to hit the spot inside of you that has you seeing stars.

rafe pulls his mouth away, thumb quickly taking its place over your clit, the rough pad rubbing harshly, tucking underneath to rub your most sensitive spot, and you can’t hold back any longer, as much as you try, “ghostface!” you shout, wetness flooding from your pussy and soaking his hands and the bed as you cum, entire body shaking as the sensation overwhelms your body, vision going black as you squeeze your eyes shut, hearing rafes laugh echoing throughout the room as he finger fucks you through your orgasm.

he pulls out suddenly and you can’t help but whine at the loss, your hole clenching around nothing. you blink your eyes open to see rafe kneeling between your legs, using the wetness from his hands to stroke his cock, coating himself in your slick.

“are you going to fuck me?” you ask, suddenly afraid of his size hurting.

“i’m sorry, princess.” rafe says, draping his body over yours, rubbing his dick against your messy cunt. “i would have been so gentle with you if you’d just behaved for me tonight.” “i’m sorry, rafe, i promise i’ll be good from now on, please go slow.” rafe frowns, like he’s seriously considering your pleas for a moment before he shakes his head, placing an elbow on one side of your head, reaching down with his other hand and lining himself up with your entrance. you breathe deeply, trying to keep your body from tensing, knowing that being relaxed will make it easier.

you cry out as rafe pushes his cock inside of you, not giving you any time to adjust as he immediately begins thrusting in and out. you watch as the eyes roll back in his head from finally being inside you.

“you’re so fucking tight, my little virgin.” rafe laughs, but it turns into a moan as he looks down at where his body is connecting with yours. “not a little virgin any longer though, huh?” rafe is bringing his entire body weight down with every thrust, and even though the stretch was painful at first, it just feels good now, the way his skin rubs against your clit every time he presses deep inside of you.

you can’t help it, when he pushes in and grinds his hips against you, your cunt flutters around his cock, squeezing it tightly, completely involuntarily from how good it feels.

“god, fuck!” rafe shouts out, making you flinch in fear.

“i’m sorry.” you whimper, eyes wide as he looks down at you, unable to read his emotions.

“you’re too fucking good.” rafe groans, hand coming up and gripping your throat, squeezing it tightly as he looks down on you. “i wish i could just fucking kill you.” your breathing is restricted, black flaring into your vision as rafe holds you by your throat, using it for leverage as he takes you repeatedly.

you try to form words, try to call out for him, and just as you start to slip into unconsciousness, rafe lowers his hand to your breast, gripping the skin there instead as you take in large gulps of air.

“i told you i wouldn’t kill you.” rafe says with a grunt, smashing your lips together in a kiss that steals your air just as much as his hand around your neck. 

“it feels so good.” you cry, pleasure sparking as he pulls at your nipple before switching to the other one, his cock pushing against your sweet spot with every thrust.

“yeah?” rafe laughs harshly. “gonna cum on my cock? i told you that you would baby.”

“i can’t, i can’t-” you sob, tears flowing down your face, unable to hold back your orgasm even though you’d like to. your entire body shakes as rafe is unforgiving with his thrusts, bending and licking at your face, collecting the salty tears from your cheeks with his rough tongue. 

“cum for me.” rafe grunts, pulling away to kneel between your legs, pulling your hips up off the bed to keep a deep angle as he smashes into you. “i said, cum for me!” the anger in rafes voice pushes you over the edge, scared of what he will do if you don’t follow his directions, your high washing over you, and for a second you feel like you’re floating over your body as pleasure takes over, until the sharp pain of overstimulation greets you as rafe continues to fuck you.

“please.” you try to shove him away, but he just smacks your hands away like they’re nothing more than an annoying little bug. you try next to squeeze your thighs together, but it clenches your sore cunt at the same time, making rafe moan.

“gonna cum in you.” rafe says, moving a hand to your clit, rubbing over it harshly with his palm.

“stop, stop!” you shout, your back arching and heels pushing against the bed as you try to get away from it, the overwhelmingly good feeling turning quickly to displeasure.

“never gonna stop, baby.” rafe grinds his dick inside of you, not caring for your pleasure. “now that you know who i am, i’m going to have to keep coming back here every night and fucking you silly so you can’t tell anyone.” “i won’t tell, i promise.” you try to look at rafe, but your tears cloud your vision. “i promise, rafe, please, just stop.”

you know your words aren’t what convinces him, but rather your pussy squeezing his cock, causing him to shoot his load deep inside of you as he moans, keeping your hips pushed firmly against his body. you whine as you feel him flood your insides, of course he didn’t use any protection, and you’re not on birth control, but you can’t even begin to think of the implications as long as rafe kneels over you.

“good girl.” rafe hums, patting your lower tummy as he slowly pulls out, cum falling in dollops onto your comforter.

“r-rafe.” you whimper as he lays down next to you. 

“shh, baby.” he pushes your hair out of your face, leaning over your body and giving you a light kiss on the lips. your eyes fluttering closed in pure exhaustion. “i told you i won’t kill you. go to sleep. i’ll be here in the morning. i’ll always be here.” 

you don’t protest as rafe pulls you into him, your body is too tired to move away from the murderer. you rest your head against his chest, still slick with sweat from fucking you. 

“are you going to keep killing?” you ask quietly. you’re unsure if he hears you, as the minutes tick by, the silence of the room now deafening. “i either keep killing them or i kill you.” rafe finally says, making you shudder. “which would you rather it be?”

guilt pangs in your chest as you whisper your response, “keep killing them.”

[ceaselesswatchersspecialboy]

Do the twins ever get attached to stanfraud? Does bill get attached to them too? what is their relationship like? and what is their immediate reaction to finding out everything was a lie -- first impressions? GAAHH I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS i'm ur biggest fan bro

Thank you so much!! It really means a lot that people are enjoying my madness this much!

It’s funny because earlier I was actually doodling him and the twins!

He absolutely gets attached and they get attached in return. While their initial introduction to him is very rocky, they come to enjoy his quirks and unusual interests, especially once Dipper puts together he was the author, and he regularly supervises them on adventures, mainly because Stan asked him too, but also because it’s strangely fun. He will repeatedly claim he hasn’t gone soft to Stan, but then Stan will find him fast asleep with the twins curled up against him, or he’ll catch him helping the twins in their respective Dipper and Mabel’s guide videos. He also likes Mabel Juice! Mabel won’t take his suggestion of adding eyeballs though. Alas.

His feelings towards them are made complicated by his own denial. He doesn’t like the idea that he’s changed much at all, and these new doubts he’s experiencing about his original plans are not thoughts he’s willing to entertain for long. He gets snappy when Stan tries to reassure him it’s okay that he cares, because he doesn’t care, he’s just… playing a role. That’s all. It’s all one big lie. He can do lies. But that doesn’t really explain the genuine panic he experiences when Dipper and Mabel are in danger, and how quickly he jumps in to protect them nor does it explain the fuzzy feeling in his chest when Mabel knits him a sweater.

He’s not the same as he was thirty years ago. That’s a fact. And thirty years was once just a blip for him, but this has felt like he’s lived a whole new life.

And on the flip side, Dipper and Mabel care a lot too. He’s off-putting and he’s strange and he says some things that imply he may have committed murder and gotten away with it, but they like being around him. It isn’t always perfect, same as it is with Stan, but the rougher patches don’t tend to last, and they reconcile by the end of the day (although, Bill is usually incapable of saying sorry verbally and shows his apology through actions instead).

Dipper for one hasn’t really had anyone he can just ramble about nerd stuff with. Bill can actually keep up with Dipper, and they both find themselves enjoying the debate they have about inter dimensional travel, or what sort of haunting would be the most annoying to deal with. Dipper does sometimes catch his uncle looking at him strangely though, almost as though he’s seeing right through Dipper and looking at someone else, but he blinks and the odd look is gone, so he must have imagined it.

Bill does sometimes push Dipper’s buttons, of course, and never gives him direct answers, usually making him look for the answer himself, or read between the lines, which Dipper comes to appreciate as it, so he claims, trains his mind for mysteries. They have a very fun back and forth, honestly. Dipper thinks Stanfraud is the coolest despite all the annoyances, and he really does try his best to impress him.

Mabel meanwhile is just her usual bundle of energy, and charms her great uncle by involving him in her unhinged hijinks, and showing him the art of glitter bombing. She meets him where he’s at! Even though he can sometimes be a little extreme, even for her, she pushes herself out of her comfort zone, mainly because of what Stan told her, about how Ford lost his mind while alone. Well, she can’t have that! She makes a real effort trying to understand him, and why he thinks the way he does.

He also weirdly gives her some good advice whenever Pacifica tries to bring her down, and Mabel is both comforted and inspired by how weird he is, even in his old age. He never lets anyone shame him out of it, and he encourages Mabel to just “Be weird! Your fleshbag life is short! Why waste it caring what lesser skin puppets think?”

Bill unknowingly allows both Dipper and Mabel to feel more comfortable in themselves because of how unapologetically ‘him’ he is.

Sorry if this is messy, by the way, I’m just writing my thoughts as I go along.

Anywho, I think all of this makes finding out everything was a lie very hard hitting for them. Mabel tries to rationalise it, that sure, maybe he wasn’t really their Grunkle, but he still loved them like he was, and they loved him like a Grunkle, meanwhile Dipper reacts very negatively, because he really thought he had found someone like him, someone he confided a lot in, and now he thinks he made the wrong choice, that he was an idiot.

And Stan lied too. He admits the biggest mistake he made was not telling them, but it’s too late for that now.

The one bright side, if you can call it that, is Stan and Bill do tell them before they get Ford back. They think they’ve finally found the way to do it, and Stan wants the kids to know before they try it, give them time to process.

Okay I’ll end there for now! Thank you so much again!

[baphmochii]

Inmate Sal x f!reader ~ PenPal (HC's)

18+/CW: SFW with a dash of NSFW. PenPal turned Romantic. Reader is female and of age (adult).

°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°

This is something I thought of and I'm hoping it doesn't turn out awful. I know that no one's perfect when it comes to writing anything but.. *exhale* here we go.

°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°

✯ (How it Started): You're close friend had told you about inmate penpal's, they would read you their letters of what their penpal would write and it sparked an interest if you wanting to have a penpal.

✯ After getting set up and registering for a penpal, to your luck you manage to get Sal. It started off as (surprisingly) friendly back and forth conversation. It felt as if you were talking with an old friend you haven't seen in years, you would write Sal about your day, what you plans you had, college and other normie things. Sal would write to you about his day and what goes on in prison. (ex: riots, stabbings, etc.) The usual of what happens in a prison.

✯ You would eventually send Sal a photo of yourself after some time of talking and getting to know each other via letters, you slipped your photo in with the most recent letter you sent off to him. Once he got that letter and opened it, seeing your gorgeous face.. something changed in him.

✯ Sal was infatuated with you. Truth behold.. Sal was starting to gain feelings for you, strong romantic and sexual feelings. To admit, there were a few times Sal beat his cock silly to the photo of you, he felt shame afterwards, perverted too. He would imagine that it was you on your hands and knees, sucking his thick cock, taking it as deep as it would go down your tiny throat. The things he wanted to do to you... and you didn't even know it. Yet.

✯ Sal would manage to send a photo of himself to you (making a trade with another inmate), he would also slip his photo into his recent letter he sent off to you. Once you got it, you got to see him. Yes, you've seen mugshots of him before but that was along time ago and this was recent. He was.. handsome, he looked quite mysterious. His prosthetic made you feel.. tingly. You wanted to see more of him, especially his face. That would be asking for too much.

✯ The both you would still have conversations but there would also be.. "interesting" conversation. You would engage first with the explicit talk: "I have to be honest Sal.. I played with myself to your photo. I really want you inside of me, I really.. just want you to break me til' I'm unable to walk or form a sentence." You wrote in one letter. In return, Sal would praise you, call you his "good girl", his. Only his.

. . "You make me go feral inside of my cell. You're all I can think about, day and night, princess. I really want to feel your skin, you look so soft." . .

. . "In the showers when I'm alone. All I can think about is wanting to shower with you, our bare skin pressed together as we get each other clean." . .

. . "How are you doing today, princess? Did you remember to eat today? How were your finals today, too? I hope you did your best on it, you're my smart girl." . .

✯ I forgot to mention: Aside from the usual conversation and sexual talk/teasing of each other. Sal would regularly make sure you were eating, making your bed, brushing your teeth, just overall genuinely caring about you. Sal doesn't see you as his "little fuck toy" he sees you as his princess. His precious girl to care for you, he desperately wishes he wasn't behind bars so he can be with you. Sal has never felt this way in a long time with anyone, he's been through so much. Sal is quite surprised you feel the same way towards him.

✯ Being in love with an inmate and yes, a murderer despite him not having a choice. You loved the man, you shared personal things with him, shared many things with him actually. If only there was a way to get him out, to get him his freedom he deserved so badly.

✯ In your recent letters, you and Sal scheduled a meetup at Nockfell Prison. You two would finally see each other face-to-face for the first time. It made the both your hearts beat and flutter like there was no tomorrow, he had so much to tell you and you, the same. You'd finally be able to see his beautiful face (even if it's his prosthetic). It was a face you'd grow to love.

... Bonus!!🎉 (18+) 🥵

✯ Remember how you and Sal would send each other photos yourselves? Well, yes, the both of you would send naughty pictures to each other too.

✯ Sal loved when you would send photos of your naked body. He yearned to touch your curves, feel your breasts and squeeze them in his large hands. He wanted to feel every inch of you.

✯ I do think at one point Sal had manage to photograph his cock (a dick pic lol) and when you saw the image - THIS MAN IS HUNG. You always wondered how big or what it looked like but, the guy is big (8inches).

✯ Ah sending each other naughty pics was what got both of you through your days. Sal made a private folder (somehow) of all the naked/lewd pics of you, his girl. His little shrine~

°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°°.✯🖤✯.°

Phew! I hope I did good at writing this, this was all off the top of my head but I really wanted to write a penpal turned romantic type of thing, I guess? If you all want more or wanna ask questions (it can be SFW/NSFW questions)

Reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

Inbox is Open - 24/7 - SFW/NSFW Asks/Questions are Allowed ❤️

- Aki✯

[taevbears]

Movie Night

When horror movies don't scare you anymore, your boyfriend wants to figure out what you are afraid of.

⤑ pairing: Jungkook x fem!reader (feat. the Daegu boys) ⤑ genre: horror, mystery, suspense, one-shot ⤑ rating: 18+ ⤑ word count: 6.1k ⤑ warnings: obsessive behavior, stalking, depictions of kidnapping, torture, and multiple murders, hidden camera, non-explicit sex, a bit of angst, open ending. this fic gets pretty dark, so please be cautious of the warnings! ⤑ note: happy halloween! this started as a little spooky shower thought i had a little over a month ago and became this lol. i love reading scary stories, but lmao, i feel like i'm not very good at writing them. thank you @angelicyoongie for assuring me that this isn't as terrible as i think it is. also please note that this is a work of fiction and i don't think IRL jungkook is like the character in this fic at all

“No, please! Don’t hurt me!”

The shadow of a muscular, male figure looms over the female protagonist. His breaths are heavy from chasing her around, barely visible against the chilly, October air. Finally, he has her cornered. He holds up a sharp knife in the air.

The woman trembles on the ground, sobbing and pleading for her life to be spared. Mascara runs down her cheeks, and a look of hopelessness and despair fills her eyes. She holds her hands in front of her in a feeble attempt to defend herself.

The camera pans away as the killer violently stabs the woman. Her terrifying screams of pain and anguish echoes from the TV screen as fake blood splatters on the wall.

Blue and white light bathes over you and your date in the dim living room. You try to suppress a long yawn with the back of your hand.

You’re so bored, you’re practically in tears.

“You didn’t like it?” Jungkook asks you, chuckling at your reaction.

“It didn’t scare me,” you admit sheepishly, hoping he doesn’t get the wrong idea.

You love horror movies. It’s what inspired you to become a film student. You love being on the edge of your seat from the thrill and suspense that the main character acts out. You love being genuinely shocked from unexpected twists and jump-scares. You love a good ghost story that haunts you long after the credits roll, or the paranoia of a similar terrifying incident happening to you.

But perhaps, over time, they’ve lost a bit of their magic.

Although the production of movies has become phenomenal in recent years, movies these days seem to rely too heavily on shock value and nostalgia. Once popular franchises are milking out their legacies to a newer audience. There are so many retellings of the same, old stories that you can already accurately predict what will happen before you reach the ending. Even some of the most climactic scenes of the movie are so over-the-top, they’re almost comical.

Honestly, it has nothing to do with your date or even the so-called horror movie itself. You just don’t scare as easily anymore.

Jungkook peers are you curiously, a boyish grin on his face. “Then, what are you scared of?”

“I don’t know. Probably nothing.”

“Yeah? That’s a bold statement.”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

Jungkook laughs. “You have to be scared of something.”

You throw the question back at him. “Then, what are you afraid of?”

He thinks about it, rubbing his chin in thought and pushing his tongue against the lip rings on his mouth. Then, he meets your gaze. There’s a sparkle in his eyes as he smiles at you. “Hmm, I think I’d be scared to lose you.”

You find yourself smiling back at him.

“You’re so sweet, Kook,” you tell him, leaning over to kiss him.

Only recently, you and Jungkook started dating officially, and you really like him a lot. He’s very cute, funny, handsome, and perfect in many ways. Butterflies flutter in your stomach when you’re around him, and there’s still that exciting giddiness and eagerness of new love whenever he messages you or visits you in the evening.

In some ways, Jungkook is almost too good to be true.

Part of you wonders if there’s a catch.

But with his lips on yours, it’s easy to push that thought aside.

Credits roll on the screen as the movie comes to an end. His fingers glide up your thigh as yours tangle into his hair. The cool piercing on his lips presses against your bottom lip as he slips his tongue in your mouth, and a soft moan escapes you.

Suddenly, Jungkook pulls away and faces the TV. He uses the remote to tap out of the movie credits and browse through the list of recommended shows on your streaming service. Casually, trying to hide a teasing smirk, he asks, “How about we watch a different movie, then?”

You stare back at him, a bit stunned and flustered. But your own smile touches your lips.

“Or,” you suggest, grabbing his wrist to lower the remote. He turns away from the screen to look at you, eyes lingering on the sultry smile on your lips. “I know something else we can do instead.”

When you first saw Jungkook, you thought you were being catfished.

His selfie on the dating app included a slight head tilt, a pucker of his pierced lips, and a peace sign. Big, doe-shaped eyes stared back at you from your phone screen, and you noticed the tiny moles below his lip, on the tip of his nose, and on his cheek.

The second picture was of him and his brown doberman, affectionately named Bam. The picture was taken of them outside. One of his hands was holding a tennis ball and the other was gently touching the dog’s long ears. A small, fond smile tugged on your lips when you looked between them and realized that they kind of looked alike.

The third picture was him at the gym. It was a back-shot where he was using the equipment. Broad shoulders, buff arms and back, a tiny waist. You stared way too long at his strong muscles and the ink on his arm before you finally swiped right.

Turned out, much to your surprise, he liked your pictures too. The two of you were a match.

And it wasn’t long until he sent his first message to you. In your inbox, a simple: “hey :)”

On your first date, the two of you agreed to meet at a very public, very crowded bistro. You stood nervously by the building, dressed nice for the occasion. And in case anything went wrong or if this Jungkook guy wasn’t who you expected him to be, you shared your location and had a “send help lol” message on standby for your bestie, Min Yoongi.

As you waited, scrolling through and jumping around different apps on your phone, you found yourself to be surprised yet again.

Someone who looked like the guy you’ve been chatting with called out your name. And soon, he was standing in front of you: big eyes, bigger muscles, tiny beauty marks on his face, colorful ink on his arm, a charming smile, and a simple, “Hey, I’m Jungkook.”

One date turned to a second date. Then, a third. And by the fourth date, as he laid in your bed that night and snuggled close to you, it finally started to sink in that Jungkook wasn’t some figment of your imagination.

He was real, and sweet, and seemed to really like you as well.

Jungkook, like you, had an interest in filming. He especially liked editing videos for his dance challenges, short clips, and a series he called “Golden Closet Film” on his channel. While you imagined yourself to be a big director, working in movie sets, and making scripts come to life with your vision, Jungkook told you he’d like to film a project where you’re the star.

“I don’t think I’m on-screen material,” you replied, amused by the idea. You’re not an actress. You don’t think you have the kind of beauty filmmakers seek out for their lead roles. Hell, if anything, Jungkook would be a better fit for an acting gig.

“You are,” he insisted, brushing his thumb against your knuckles. “To me, you’re perfect.”

You smiled at him then, your heart fluttering by his words. “You are to me, too.”

It was shortly after that conversation when you both decided to date each other exclusively. And it felt like the kind of romance you’d see in the movies. Picture perfect, a little corny at times, and a thrilling whirlwind of laughter, teasing remarks, and intimate touches.

“Am I who you thought I’d be?” Jungkook asks you the next morning after the movie-night bust, propping himself up on the side and peering down on you. His arm flexes, colorful ink decorating it, as the thick comforter wraps around his bare body.

“No,” you confessed, still a bit tired from last night. You keep your eyes closed as you quietly murmur, “You’re even better.”

“Yeah?”

You don’t need to open your eyes to see the pleased look on his face. As you feel him press his lips against your cheek, you ask, “What about me? Am I who you thought I’d be?”

Had you opened your eyes then, perhaps you would’ve seen it. The blank look on his face as he pulls away from you, how the light in his eyes suddenly seems to vanish, as if he isn’t really looking at you anymore.

Jungkook doesn’t answer you right away. When you open your eyes, you see him shaking his head. The same, sweet boyish smile appears on his lips.

“You’re exactly what I’m looking for.”

The topic about exes inevitably came up early on in your relationship with Jungkook. You’ve dated casually before. Even thought you’d be getting somewhere with some of the guys you were talking to.

But none of them quite compared to Kim Taehyung.

You were a film student. He was a photography major. The two of you were bound to end up in some of the same classes together in the art division.

To you, it was love at first sight. You fell for him so hard and so fast.

What started as bumping into each other at the library and helping each other with assignments led to making out at each other’s dorms with the text books left unopened. Coffee dates between classes became anniversary dinners at nice restaurants. He introduced you to his parents, and you proposed going on a romantic getaway together.

The day you didn’t think you’d ever love anyone else was when he snapped a photo of you looking out at the scenery during that weekend trip. It was just you and him, and a natural setting that looked straight out of a movie.

He smiled to himself as he looked at the picture through his camera. That day, he called you his muse.

And in return, you told him that you loved him.

When you fell for Taehyung, you fell hard and fast. Eventually, it occurred to you that Taehyung didn’t do the same.

Sure, he cared about you. Sure, he loved you. But while you heard wedding bells and dreamed about your future with him, Taehyung was just starting to put himself out there in the world. His art was being recognized, and he was getting booked to shoot at weddings, parties, and other big events every week.

Soon, the dates happened less frequently. The romantic gestures of bringing you flowers, surprising you on nice dates or small gifts, or even renting your favorite movies to watch together happened even less. He would promise that he’d make it to a party or an important event to you, just to let you down. And it felt like him giving you a bit of affection or attention was a chore.

Taehyung was the world to you, but the petty arguments and the distance that started growing between you two made it clear to you where his priorities were. And it wasn’t with you.

Breaking up with him was the hardest thing you had to do. Both of you knew it was coming. It was just a matter of who broke up with who first.

Just as Taehyung came into your life, quickly and effortlessly, he was gone. Nothing but bittersweet memories of what once was and what could have been weighed heavily on you for months.

What made it worse was that Taehyung, a man you loved with all your heart, had moved on from you so fast and so easily.

You saw him and his new girlfriend at a mutual friend’s party. You were warned that he’d be there, that he was already seeing someone. But it still hurt like hell to see him happy and in love with another person.

But if Taehyung could move on, so could you.

It felt weird at first, but you started to put yourself out there again. You joined dating apps. You went out with the people that fancied your interest. You met Jungkook.

And from there, everything was history.

With Jungkook, you started to think about Taehyung a lot less. The plaguing “what ifs” have quieted down, and the hurt from heartbreak began to heal. With Jungkook, you started to feel like yourself again: you started to smile more, laugh more loudly, enjoy watching movies again, became passionate about cinematic ideas you’d like to create one day.

With Jungkook, you’re also cautiously optimistic.

Because like Taehyung, you feel yourself falling hard and fast for Jungkook. It’s almost scary how truly perfect he is.

“I think you’re just psyching yourself out,” Yoongi tells you, sliding into the chair opposite of you with two cups of coffee in his hands. He smells like freshly-baked cookies. A spot of flour stains his apron as he uses his fifteen-minute break to hang out with you.

“Maybe,” you sigh, gratefully taking the drink he hands you. “What do you think about him?”

“Does my opinion even matter at this point? You’re in love with him,” he drawls before taking a sip of his Iced Americano.

“Of course it does, best friend. Why else would I keep you around?” you remark, taking a sip of your own drink. “Besides the free coffee and cookies. Thank you, by the way.”

He rolls his eyes. The perks of being friends with the cookie boy at your local bakery is a free cup of coffee and getting dibs on leftover treats that didn’t sell the day.

“He’s fine. Kind of annoying. A little too energetic,” he answers as his eyes flit toward the TV screen that his boss keeps on. A woman dressed in bright, business clothing holds a microphone as she reports on the recent news. There’s a grim look on her face.

You have your back turned to it, but you can hear Yoongi’s boss turning up the volume.

Breaking news. Missing woman found dead near home. The victim has succumbed to multiple stab wounds. It is believed that she has been kidnapped and tortured prior to her violent death. The attacker is currently unknown and still at large. Local authorities advise staying indoors and to please report any suspicious activity.

Your heart sinks as you look over your shoulder, seeing police taping off the crime scene and answering what they can to the news outlets. The location is so close to where you are.

“This is the second victim,” a customer mutters with a frown.

The person they’re with nods their head and asks, “Do you think they’re connected?”

“I don’t know. I hope not. We’ll have a serial killer in our hands.”

“Hey,” Yoongi calls your attention. When you look at him, there’s concern on his face. “If you need a ride anywhere, make sure you call me. Doesn’t matter what time.”

“I’ll be okay, Yoongi. Jungkook usually comes to my place anyway.”

“Still. Just let me know that you’re still alive when I check in, all right?” he says as he stares at the screen. You don’t blame him for being worried. As you follow his gaze, you see a picture of the latest victim of the ongoing case that has the whole town on edge.

This woman, like the others, kind of looks like you.

“If you’re with me, you have nothing to worry about,” Jungkook assures you, throwing a tennis ball as Bam hurriedly chases after it. 

The two of you are at a park with his dobermann. Despite how scary it’s been lately with the news, it’s a nice day. Children are screaming and playing together on the playground as their parents watch them nearby. A group of teenage boys are playing basketball on the outdoor court. Middle-aged and elderly couples are paired up and are getting their daily steps in.

“My hero,” you joke half-heartedly, but you’re still a bit concerned. Yoongi being worried about you makes you feel paranoid.

Jungkook turns to you. He holds out his hand as Bam retrieves the ball and drops it for another throw. “I thought you weren't afraid of anything.”

“Movie-wise, I’m not. But this is different.”

Jungkook throws the slobbery ball again. Further this time as Bam barks happily and takes off. He takes a seat next to you on the park bench. “I can leave Bam with you when I have my evening shifts. He makes a good guard dog.”

He works as an editor and cameraman for a big content creator, which gives him lots of flexible hours to work on his projects when he isn’t busy filming. Since the beginning of autumn, his boss has been giving him evening work to film ghost-hunting videos and other spooky content for Halloween.

“That’ll be nice,” you reply with a small smile. The two of them have been coming to your place so often, it might as well be their second home.

From a short distance, Bam lies on the grass with the tennis ball by his paws. His tongue is out, needing a short break from running around, as he faces you and Jungkook. Even with other dogs and kids around, he’s very well-behaved.

Just as Jungkook tells you that he’ll get Bam, the sound of small, excited barks grab your attention. A familiar black and brown pomeranian approaches you like an old friend, wagging its tail and perking its ears up when it sees you.

Your heart nearly jumps when you recognize the dog.

“Tan!”

You know that voice. How could you not?

That deep, smooth baritone has haunted you for months.

Taehyung, your ex-boyfriend, stops in his tracks when he realizes why his pomeranian took off. The two of you were still together when he adopted Yeontan, and you were there to help raise him when he was still a puppy.

“Who’s this?” Jungkook asks, drawing your attention back to him. He reaches out to pet Yeontan, but the pomeranian growls at him. Almost like he wants to protect you from him.

“Sorry, he’s mine,” Taehyung apologizes, stepping closer to you two and picking his dog up. He looks at you as he tries to soothe the agitated Yeontan in his arms. “It’s been a while. How’ve you been?”

“Good,” you reply politely. Old feelings start to pull on your heart strings that you fervently try to ignore. “I’m good.”

“You look good,” Taehyung starts, but then he purses his lips in regret. It’s obvious that he’s nervous to talk to you. Maybe he feels the same as you.

Softly, you reply, “You do, too.”

“Who’s this?” Jungkook repeats. This time, there’s an annoyed look on his face as he stares at Taehyung. 

It puts you off a bit. Jungkook is usually a friendly guy.

“Oh, this is Taehyung. We used to date,” you tell him honestly. Though, the information seems to just annoy him more. “Taehyung, this is—”

“I’m Jungkook. She’s my girlfriend now.”

His arm snakes around you possessively. He holds a steady gaze, but it’s a look you’ve never seen on him before. Dark, threatening, and angry. It’s almost unnerving.

“I see…” Taehyung trails off as his gaze shifts toward him. Yeontan is still in his arms, growling and barking at Jungkook. You don’t think you’ve ever seen the pup so aggressive toward someone. Even Bam comes over, ditching his ball to guard over you and Jungkook.

“It was nice to see you, Taehyung,” you tell him, sensing the tension in the air and deciding to cut things off. He seems reluctant to leave.

“Yeah…” he continues to trail off, finally pulling his gaze away to look at you. It looks like there’s a million things he wants to say to you. In a lower tone, he tells you, “My number is still the same. If you ever want to talk.”

You frown. After the breakup, you’ve deleted his number and unfollowed him on social media. “Oh, I don’t—”

“Then I’ll call you,” he promises, firm with his decision.

You don’t get it. You and Taehyung have run into each other after the breakup before, and he’s never had an issue with you dating anyone after him. He clearly has moved on, and so have you. 

Why now?

What is it about Jungkook that has him worried for you?

“I don’t like that guy.”

Jungkook is still heated as he drives you home. His grip is tight around the steering wheel, and the tires screech when he makes a sharp turn. Bam stumbles a bit in the back before sticking his head out the window again.

“Slow down, Kook. You have nothing to be worried about.”

The radio blasts in the car, too much in a rush to connect his playlist to the stereo. It’s playing the week’s top music, and a catchy song from a popular artist fills the car.

Curious, you open your phone and check your followers. You’ve unfollowed Taehyung a long time ago on all your social platforms, finding it hard to look at any of his recent pictures – even just his scenic photography – without thinking about how he had once called you his muse.

But Taehyung never unfollowed you. He had always kept his inbox open for you.

“Did you see the way he was looking at me? It’s like he was looking down on me,” he continues to rant, speeding over a yellow light. He glances over at you and sees that you’re distracted with your phone. “I don’t like how you were looking at him either.”

“Are you serious?” you ask, turning your attention to him. “We barely talked. What the hell are you trying to insinuate?”

On the radio, the program is interrupted. One of the hosts makes a grim announcement.

Ladies and gentlemen, we just received unfortunate news that a third body has been found pertaining to a series of brutal deaths. 

“You still love him! You’ll go back and leave me again!” he suddenly snaps, throwing you off guard.

Silence follows the tension.

Then, you inquire, “Again?”

The third victim is a young female. Hair color and eye color match the previous victims as well, indicating that this might be a targeted attack by the killer.

Not once have you been unfaithful to Jungkook. Even when you were starting to message each other, you weren’t talking to anyone else. The two of you haven’t even been dating that long.

“Forget I said anything,” he starts with a frustrated sigh. But he realizes he’s fucked up.

“No, I’m not just going to forget it. What do you mean by that, Jungkook?”

As of now, authorities have no leads on a suspect. All victims have been kidnapped, tied up, and tortured prior to their deaths. We are led to believe that this is the work of a potential serial killer. 

He nearly slams to a stop. The seatbelt around you yanks you back from hitting the dashboard. Bam falls to the floor and you gasp as the back of your head hits your seat.

Jungkook doesn’t answer you, but for the first time, it feels like the rose-tinted glasses you have on him have fallen off. He’s always been perfect to you: sweet, athletic, talented, and kind. But the Jungkook before you is someone completely different.

This Jungkook scares you.

Stay inside. Lock your doors. Call the police if you see anything suspicious. Be safe out there, folks.

“I told you to forget about it, didn’t I?” he asks through gritted teeth and a harsh look in his eye.

You nod your head, hands trembling a bit as you hold onto your vibrating phone. The screen shows an unknown number trying to contact you.

“Is there a reason why your boyfriend called me?” Yoongi asks you from the other line. He has you on face-time, awkwardly propping up the camera to show his elbow as he mixes a batch of cookies.

It’s been about a week since you saw Jungkook.

After he dropped you off at home, he wanted to put it all behind him. He kissed you sweetly and murmured apologies for overreacting as his hands slipped under your shirt. But you sent him home before he could convince you to sleep with him. You were still upset about how hostile he was toward Taehyung, his accusations about you, and what his outburst meant.

That hasn’t stopped him from trying to get back to your good graces, though.

The number of missed calls from him keeps increasing by the hour. Ones that you leave unanswered or send straight to your voicemail. 

You don’t want to talk to him.

At your door, you hear him rapping his knuckles against the wooden frame and insistently ringing at your doorbell. From the other side of the door, he begs for a chance to explain. 

You don’t want to see him.

Clearly, after reaching you directly hasn’t worked, he’s starting to contact your friends.

“He’s probably trying to find me,” you tell Yoongi, poking at a bowl of fresh strawberries. You’re still dressed in your pajamas, sitting on a stool by the kitchen counter.

The sound of a small dog can be heard in the background of your line. It dawns on him that you’re not at your place or Jungkook’s.

Yoongi is silent for a moment. Then, he grabs the phone and asks, “What do you mean? Where are you?”

You don’t feel safe in your own home. And that day, while you were in Jungkook’s car, Taehyung called to check up on you. He was always good at reading people, and he warned you that he had a bad vibe about Jungkook.

And you’re starting to see what he meant.

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

When you turn your phone, you reveal Taehyung busy in the kitchen, cutting off the crusts from his sandwiches. He looks over his shoulder and gives a sheepish smile at the scandalized expression on your best friend’s face. “Hey Yoongi.”

“Can you please explain what’s going on? Why are you at your ex’s?”

So, you do. You tell him that Jungkook wouldn’t leave you alone, that you needed some space to cool off but he wouldn’t let you breathe. It was becoming overbearing and overwhelming.

Against your better judgment, you call Taehyung. He invites you to stay over at his place until you’re ready to talk things out with Jungkook. Because even if you’re not together, he still cares about you. Because a part of him will always love you. And at the time, it seemed like a good idea.

“I didn’t want to be alone, especially with a killer targeting women like me out there,” you explain quietly. It feels like the murders have increased in a shorter period of time. If the town wasn’t on edge before, they certainly are now. “But I was still mad at Jungkook, and he was starting to scare me.”

“So the first person you go to is your ex-boyfriend?”

“There’s nothing going on between us.”

That ship has sailed. You know it has when you walked in and saw his engagement pictures hanging on the wall.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“I’m sure he would’ve figured out that I’d be with you,” you tell him with a frown.

“I just wanted to help her, hyung,” Taehyung adds as he stands behind you. “I worry about her too. That guy gives me and Tan a bad feeling.”

Yoongi sighs. “Listen, I don’t think this is a good idea either. You shouldn’t stay with Taehyung. It’ll just make things look a lot worse.”

“I guess you’re right,” you reluctantly agree. Taehyung grimaces, but he can see Yoongi’s point too.

“I’ll pick you up after my shift. You can stay with me until you’re ready to talk to Jungkook,” Yoongi tells you, looking rather serious. “Don’t do anything stupid in the meantime, okay?”

Hey. It’s Jungkook.

You stare at the message on your phone. Three dots that indicate that he’s typing something, but he keeps erasing and re-typing them again. As if he’s trying to properly convey his words.

Are we breaking up?

You stare at that message even longer. It feels childish to break up with him without trying to talk to him. For the first time in a week, you pick up your phone and type back.

You scared me, Kook.

His response is immediate.

I thought you weren’t scared of anything.

You huff when you realize he’s teasing you, even now.

Movie-wise, I’m not. But this. This is different, Kook. You were really scaring me.

Again, you see the dots appear and disappear before a handful of responses appear.

I know, babe. I’m sorry. Can you please come over? I want to show you something I’ve been working on.

You think about it.

I miss you. Bam misses you too.

Yoongi said not to do anything stupid.

Please, baby. We can just watch a movie, if you want.

But, like in every horror movie, the protagonist finds themselves making a plethora of stupid decisions.

Okay, Kook. I’ll come tonight.

Movie nights with Jungkook was one of the things you always looked forward to throughout the week. Nothing appealed to you more than a night-in with your boyfriend, food delivered at your door, and checking out new shows and movies.

You have your list of favorites, but nothing quite holds a place in your heart than a good ol’ horror movie. Tellings of urban legends, supernatural forces, paranormal activities, true crime, and slasher films. 

As you step into Jungkook’s house, it almost feels like you’re in one of those movies.

His place is dark, almost pitched black. You could barely see what’s in front of you.

“Come inside,” Jungkook says, grabbing your hand. He pulls you in and deadbolts the door behind you.

“It’s so dark,” you remark, gingerly stepping forward. You have a bad feeling about this. You almost pull back toward the door, thinking of waiting for Yoongi or going back to Taehyung instead.

But Jungkook has a firm grip on you. “I thought you weren’t afraid of anything.”

“This is different, Kook,” you try to reason. “You’re really freaking me out.”

He pulls you further inside. In the living room, nothing but the TV is on. The screen is paused on a homemade film.

This must be the project that Jungkook is talking about.

Everything is set. The living room is clean, a bowl of popcorn and a couple bottles of alcohol sits on the coffee table, the lights are off, and the show is ready to play. He sits you down in the middle and keeps an arm around you.

“You know, when we met, you were exactly what I was looking for,” he starts as he presses play.

The tape shows you. Bam lying on your lap as you affectionately pet his face and kiss the top of his head. You, holding Jungkook’s hand and leading him down a busy sidewalk. You, in the kitchen, trying to swat his hand away as he steals your ingredients. You and Jungkook, peering into the camera lens, and your bashful face as he kisses your cheek. 

A smile tugs on your lips as you watch yourself on the screen. Jungkook leans over, copying his onscreen self and kisses your face.

One thing you liked about filming is seeing things from a different perspective. In this case, seeing yourself through Jungkook’s eyes. You look so happy, so incredibly in love with him.

Like with Taehyung, you fell for Jungkook hard and fast.

But Jungkook fell for you harder and faster.

Your smile fades as the next scene shows.

The camera points to the bed, and a couple walks in. It’s you and Jungkook, stumbling in together after drinks at a bar. You’re laughing and trying to wrap your arms around him as he leads you onto the bed. The kiss you share is messy, heated. You tug off his clothes to feel more of him.

You remember that night, but…

“Jungkook. When did you record this?”

You had no idea he was filming you then.

You don’t realize it then, but he makes eye contact with the camera, as if to check that it’s on. He maneuvers you to get a good angle of your body as you busy yourself with your own clothes, wanting him to touch you more as well.

“Jungkook, stop. I didn’t—” 

You feel so sick to your stomach.

“Don’t cry, baby. Here, I’ll fast-forward.”

But you don’t want to watch anymore. You want to leave. You shouldn’t have come here.

The screen shows you and Yoongi. The two of you are at the bakery he works at, and you’re wearing an old cardigan that you got rid of . You smile and eagerly reach for one of the coffees in his hands and take the bag of cookies he’s holding between his lips. He rolls his eyes at something you say before he takes his first sip of his Iced Americano. It’s a typical hangout between you and him.

It looks like it was taken across the street. Your heart plummets even further when you realize that the old cardigan you’re wearing was a piece of clothing you got rid of before you met Jungkook.

The scene changes. You’re sitting at the fountain at your university, looking over a script you wrote for an assignment. Taehyung comes to take a seat next to you. He greets you with a boxy smile and a kiss. The two of you were still dating at the time.

How long has Jungkook known about you?

How long has he been targeting you?

It’s you and Taehyung again. This time, it was filmed from the other night. When Taehyung came to pick you up from your house. He helps you carry some of your things into his car and hugs you when he sees the distressed look on your face. 

“Jungkook, what the fuck?”

It dawns on you that you don’t really know your boyfriend at all.

You try to stand up, but Jungkook has a firm hold on you. His grip tightens when you try to resist him, and his hand seizes your neck as he pushes you down. Your heart hammers against your ribs when you quickly realize you can’t escape him. Jungkook is much stronger and faster than you are.

More images flash through the screen. It’s Jungkook this time, taking a mirror-selfie of himself dressed in all black. He has his hood up and a Halloween mask covering his face. 

It cuts to his feet walking across the sidewalk. Carefully, the camera tilts up, showing that there’s a woman just ahead of him. She’s about your height, her hair the same as yours. She doesn’t notice him as she listens to music playing in her earbuds. 

The scene cuts again, and the same woman is bound and gagged on a chair. Fear shines through her eyes as a shadow of a knife reflects from her body. Behind the camera, Jungkook demands, “Say your line.”

He removes the gag from her mouth. Her voice pitches in a high shrill as she quickly says, “I-I love you. I won’t leave you.”

You recognize her as the latest victim of the latest killings.

And the realization hits you like a truck. Jungkook and his night shifts, the increasing deaths, his interest in filming, having you as the star.

“I practiced, you know. I’ll get it right this time,” he tells you, pulling out some rope he had hidden behind the cushion. You’re trembling as he wraps them tightly around your wrist. “I’ll make sure you don’t leave me again.”

“You’re so bad,” the Jungkook on the screen says, showing what looks like an abandoned warehouse. It’s dimly lit, but you can hear someone running from him. But he doesn’t seem worried, his heavy footsteps casually echo across the concrete. In his hand is a sharp and bloody knife. Mockingly, he asks, “Where did you think you’d go?”

The victim has been let go, but she isn’t free. Ahead, she finds herself cornered as Jungkook catches up to her. Terrified, she holds her hands out in front of her, as if that would stop him.

It’s like seeing your own fate on the screen.

The woman begs and screams before her blood splatters across the floor. You find yourself quoting her, staring up at his darkened eyes. “No, please. Don’t hurt me.”

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks, staring right at you. His mouth twitches, fighting a smile. “I thought you liked horror movies.”

Thank you for reading ♡ Comments & reviews are greatly appreciated!