#killer fic
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
Following an accident, Danny wakes up in Gotham City in a DC universe. Lacking any forms of ID or possessions beyond the clothes on his back, heâs forced to commit some crimes to survive. Minor crimes, but still.
And then he gets caught.
During the court proceedings, they come to the mistaken conclusion that heâs a Meta suffering from some psychiatric issues such as Cotardâs Syndrome (a real rare condition where a person holds the delusional belief that theyâre dead/donât exist/etc).
Thus, between his âneed for mental treatmentâ and the concerns about housing someone with his unique physical traits, he is sentenced to spend time in Arkham Asylum. Heâs under pretty low security aside from the anti-Meta stuff and has more freedoms than some other inmates, but itâs still not a great experience. Even at the best of times, Arkham is hardly a nice place.
Some of his fellow residents are decently chill all things considered, but lots very much arenât.
#dp x dc#dpxdc#dc x dp#dcxdp#danny phantom x dc#danny phantom x dc crossover#danny fenton in gotham city#just gonna slightly sidestep any questions about how the containment systems work or why âgenuinely a ghostâ is so unbelievable#i wanted to put Danny in Arkham so for whatever reason It Just Works#maybe danny had a bit of anti-ghost tech with him that they reverse engineered#or maybe something already existing in DC works#and as for the âdeadâ part⌠maybe his halfa/Realms nature is too unique so they assume he must be wrong about being ghostly? idk#also i think thisâd be a good opportunity for a dpxdc fic to explore non-woobified versions of the rogues#like. where they arenât watered down to be completely chill and barely criminals#e.g. yeah Poison Ivy cares for the environment and has protected kids but sheâs still a terrorist whoâs killed and mind controlled people#Or Killer Croc who is very much a victim of abuse/hate for his appearance but has also still attacked people and engaged in cannibalism#Theyâre not complete monsters but theyâre not wholly innocent either#The story idea takes place in a mental hospital for (mostly) criminals! Let them have done genuinely bad things even if theyâre improving!
1K notes
¡
View notes
Text
I made the somewhat questionable decision to spend the last two days slapping out a bunch of character portraits to pop into a planning document for a personal project Iâm working on!
So hereâs a bunch of au sans portraits.
Woooooo
Nightmare and dream by jokublog
Eclipseâs concept by llamagoddessofficial , design by me
Horror by sourapplestudios
Cross by jakei
Dust by askdusttale
Error by loverofpiggies
Killer by rahafwabas
#utmv fanart#utmv#sans#sans au#dreamtale#nightmare sans#dream sans#eclipse!sans#horror sans#horrortale#murder time trio#killer sans#something new#something new au#cross#cross sans#xtale#error sans#dust sans#dusttale#nightmares gang#this definitely wasnât just made to be little character portraits for character profiles#for a fic Iâm planning/writing in the background#not at all#it will not be a good fic by the way#my writing is dreadful#but Iâm not gonna get better without practice#just have to make myself actually do more of the writing part#hahahhahaha#Ough
2K notes
¡
View notes
Text
One Piece Fic Recs that occupy my mind nonstop
After really getting into One Piece this past spring, I've been reading as much as tumblr and AO3 have offered me in terms of One Piece content. It's been hard to keep track of everything that I have read, however, certain stories/headcanons/posts linger in my mind and I thought I'd share them with you!
Minors DNI with fics marked as NSFW and for anyone, be sure to read the content warnings the authors have mentioned!
Hope y'all enjoy!
Updated: October 1, 2024
Killer
Childhood Crush by @analogwriting
does involve violent themes, please be sure to read content warnings for each chapter
Will You Let Me? by @fanaticsnail
NSFW, Pollen AU
Dreaming of You by @fanaticsnail
this also includes Heat and Kid
NSFW
The Break (Kid x reader x Killer) by @standfucker
Gore, graphic description of injury/pain/first aid, hurt/comfort, confessions, highly oblivious reader
Rotation (Heat, Kid, Killer, Wire x reader) by @standfucker
explicit NSFW content
Loving you is easy by @sheerxfiction
NSFW
Three Times Killer Tried to Confess and The One Time That He Did by @nina-ya
SFW
Acid, Salt, Fat, and Heat (w/ Kid) by @fanaticsnail
NSFW
Ace
SFW:
A world we are both in by @my-love-is-sunlight
Kiss by @my-love-is-sunlight
Patching Up Ace's Wounds by @nina-ya SFW
there are more of this prompt with different characters btw!
Help by @sanjisprincesswifey
Blinders On by @froggiewrites
Taking the hit for him by @grandline-fics
NSFW:
Open Flame by @willowbelle
Ace + back dimples by @tetzoro
Fated Reunions by @tetzoro
Coward by @mimi-ya
Need by @maddddstuff
Ass or Tits? by @cloudzoro
Follow Through by @froggiewrites
My Pretty Little Thief by @turtletaubwrites
Zoro
SFW:
Bloom by @tetzoro
brazen by @mydearlybeloathed
"we should get married" by @grandlinedreams
wake him up! by @sleepymarimo
He Loves Me by @clare-875
Got me losin' my cool by @bitchimasnake-sss
Insomnia: owner's instruction by @revasserium
NSFW:
The Right Direction by @willowbelle
with hearts aligned by @eelnoise
2 years overdue by @heyitsdoe
pumpkin by @cloudzoro
beg for me by @angel1010xx
Waterflow by @otkuhotgirl
Law
SFW:
touch-starved Law by @maroronoa
the death of me by @weneeya
too sweet for me by @my-love-is-sunlight
there are no conditions by @cozage
Hidden symptoms by @escenariosinfumables
Unspoken affections by @avocadorablepirate
NSFW:
Tethered Together by @tetzoro
Luffy
A secret by @missmugiwara
18+, suggestive
SFW:
you can talk to me, but you already know by @mydearlybeloathed
clueless by @grandline-fics
Bachata by @fanaticsnail
Mihawk
Sapsorrow by @fanaticsnail
has both SFW and NSFW so make sure to read the chapter warnings!
Creative Cures by @discordantwritings
NSFW
Shanks
SFW:
Remember Me by @fanaticsnail
Dancando Lambada by @fanaticsnail
NSFW:
Always return to you by @discordantwritings
Sanji
NSFW:
Citrus by @otkuhotgirl
Multiple characters
Hey Doc by @fanaticsnail
some NSFW themes depending on the drabble
so very very funny
The Kissing Booth by @fanaticsnail
Paulie, Luffy, Hongo, Smoker, Aokiji, Heat, Crocodile, Sanji, Shachi, Law, and Zoro (right now)
my favorite ones are: Luffy, Smoker, Heat, Shachi !
Competency, Stupidity, Duality by @fanaticsnail
kid, zoro, and killer
SFW
Post Injury by @standfucker
law, shanks, rosinate, blackbeard, mihawk
gore content warnings
Gremlin Reader by @standfucker
Straw Hats, Whitebeard Pirates, Heart Pirates, and Kid Pirates
literally the funniest fucking thing I've ever read
they hurt you while controlled by a devil fruit by @grandline-fics
zoro, law, shanks
angst, descriptions of injury, and hurt/comfort
Beauty scars by @cozage
law, kidd
borderline NSFW
Truth or Dare by @cozage
Ace, Shanks, Luffy, and Law
SFW + NSFW, the NSFW section is clearly marked by the author
Oblivious flirting by @cozage
Law, Luffy, Ace
SFW
A Plushie Substitute by @cozage
Zoro, Luffy, Sanji, Ace, Law
SFW
Five things he says when he thinks you're asleep by @imasimpforshanks
Law, Ace, Shanks
SFW
the moment they knew you were the one by @imasimpforshanks
Luffy, Zoro, Ace, Sanji, Shanks, Law, Sabo
fluff
Falling in love with them by @imasimpforshanks
Ace, Law
SFW
OP to you being clueless to their flirting/feelings part 1 by @astelren
Ace, Luffy, Sabo, Zoro Sanji, Izou, Cavendish, Rayleigh, Law
fluff
there's a part 2!
Being scared to have sex with them by @strawhatsoraya
Zoro, Law, Kid, Ace
obviously NSFW
Calling them my love by @lehguru
Law, Sabo, Ace, Kid, Killer, Bartolomeo
SFW
Kid, Zoro, Law, & Sanji with a s/o afraid of having sex by @eustasskidagenda
NSFW
there are 2 other parts with different characters!
A celestial dragon wants their fem!s/o by @uramakimochi
Zoro, Sanji, Law
SFW
there's another part too!
Hand placement by @cloudzoro
Ace, Crocodile, Law, Mihawk, Nami, Reiju, Robin, Sanji, Tashigi, Zoro
NSFW
god the ones about the girls are SO GOOD
affectionate + strawhats by @lehguru
SFW
OP boys in a relationship by @moonydustx
SFW
growing old together by @usernameforaboredcat
Luffy, Sanji, Zoro, Ace, Sabo, Law, Kid
SFW
sobbed
one piece boys rescuing you by @badgerbl00d
law, zoro
sfw
heartstopper by @sleepymarimo
luffy, sanji, zoro, law
sfw
party games they'd play as an excuse to kiss you by @imasimpforshanks
luffy, zoro, nami, ace, law, shanks
sfw
Op characters reacting to you kissing them and running away by @princeoftheeternalbog
luffy, zoro, sanji, nami, robin, usopp, ace, marco, izou, sabo
slightly suggestive, mdni
Number Games by @turtletaubwrites
multi-chapter story with Cross Guild x reader
very NSFW, read the tags very carefully
Random Flirting Headcanons by @feral-artistry
Shanks, Buggy, Sanji, Ace, Law, Zoro
SFW
Here's part 2 with more characters
Jealousy fueled kiss w/ âDo you have any idea how much I want to kiss you right now?â by @grandline-fics
Ace, zoro, law, kid, lucci
sfw
Thinkin about: the monster, trio, ace ân law! Vs breeding kink! by @bitchimasnake-sss
luffy, zoro, sanji, ace, law
nsfw
Habits of touch by @clare-875
Zoro, sanji, luffy
sfw
Butterflies -- how they realize they have feelings for you (touch edition) with Luffy, Zoro, and Law by @radishaur
luffy, zoro, law
sfw
multiple versions! this one is just my favorite hehe
#one piece#one piece x reader#one piece fic recs#one piece imagines#one piece one shots#one piece killer#one piece luffy#one piece ace#one piece law#one piece zoro#roronoa zoro x reader#massacre soldier killer x reader#portgas d. ace x reader#monkey d luffy x reader#trafalgar d law x reader#one piece x you#mihawk x reader#dracule mihawk x reader#shanks x reader#akagami no shanks x reader#nami x reader#robin x reader#eustass kid x readaer#crocodile x reader#sabo x reader#sanji x reader#blackleg sanji x reader#buggy the clown x reader#one piece headcanons#eustass kid x reader
2K notes
¡
View notes
Text
Survive Till Daylight, My Dear - L.H
P: Dead By Daylight Killer!Heeseung X Survivor!Reader (recommended age: 17+)
Warnings: Stalking, Murder, Death, Chasing, Obsession, Blood/Injury, Psychological Thriller, Graphic Descriptions, Suggestive Content, Teasing, Hypnosis?, Yo he kinda sadistic.
Synopsis: Your life was ripped away when you were abducted into a twisted realm ruled by something called the Entity. But while most killers are fixated on winning, one seems dangerously fixated on you.
a/n: during a round of dead by daylight, this idea came when i kept stalking a survivor as ghostface on the withered isle map :3
disclaimer! all the killers and survivors in this is in dbd the game. I do not own any of them. the idea of heeseung was a creative endeavour. (Virtuoso: a person highly skilled in music or another artistic pursuit.)
now playing: the shadows by chris grey | fairytale (violin) by dramatic violin | runaway (violin) by dramatic violin | blood on white satin by naomi scott
--
You hated the times when you had to place your trust in other survivors during a trial because, more often than not, they'd leave you to fend for yourself. It wasnât that they were cruel or uncaringâit was survival instinct. The generators scattered across the map werenât going to fix themselves, and everyone knew the doors wouldnât open without power. Youâd done the same, sprinting past a screaming teammate once or twice. It wasnât personal. It was just the way the Entityâs sick little game worked.
This time, though, you were the one left hangingâliterally. The Deathslinger had caught you in his harpoon's grip, dragging you back like a trophy he was all too proud to display. Now, you dangled from the hook, the barbed steel biting into your shoulder. Blood trickled down your arm, warm and sticky, as the pain pulsed through you in sharp waves. Youâd been hooked beforeâmore times than youâd like to admitâbut the agony never dulled. The most you could do was endure it, keeping your body still to avoid making it worse. Attempting to pull yourself free was always a gamble, and one you werenât eager to take.
The Deathslinger lingered nearby, his rifle clutched tightly in his hands. His breaths came in ragged, heavy puffs, the sound grating like sandpaper against your ears. He wasnât going anywhere, that much was clear. You groaned, tilting your head to try and catch a glimpse of your teammates. Surely someone would come for youâright?
The faint hum of a generator in the distance made your stomach twist. They were close to getting it done. That was good for them, bad for you. If they got it running, theyâd bolt for the exit, and youâd be left to rot in the Entityâs clutches. A bitter laugh bubbled in your throat, but it died when you caught the glint of the Deathslingerâs weapon shifting toward the horizon. He was watching, waiting.
A flicker of movement in the corner of your eye caught your attention. Someone was comingâfinally. Your heart leaped, hope flaring like a matchstick, but it fizzled just as quickly when you realized how loud their footsteps were. No stealth, no crouching, just a dead sprint toward you.
âWhat the hell are they doing?â you muttered under your breath, wincing as the hook shifted with your movement.
The Deathslinger didnât need more than a second to notice. He turned on a dime, lifting his rifle to aim at the approaching figure. You clenched your teeth, bracing yourself for the sound of the chain snapping free, dragging yet another survivor into his grasp.
"Idiots," you hissed, though a small part of you couldnât help but admire their courageâor stupidity. Maybe both.
You watched as Adam stumbled right into the Deathslingerâs trap. His scream cut through the air as the harpoon slammed into his chest, the chain rattling as the killer yanked him closer, and within seconds, Adam was up on another hook, his scream loud as the barbed metal tore through him.
Movement caught your eye again, and you turned your head just enough to see Mikaela and Leon slipping out of the shadows. Mikaela was quick on her feet, darting into the Deathslingerâs line of sight with purpose. She waved her arms, yelling something you couldnât quite make out, and the killer turned to her immediately, his focus shifting.
âAbout time,â you muttered, feeling your heart race as Leon crouched low and made his way to you.
His hands were on you before you could say anything, quick and practiced as he worked the hook free from your shoulder. You bit down on your lip hard enough to taste blood, the searing pain making your vision blur for a moment. You fell to the ground, and Leon grabbed your arm, hauling you up to your feet.
âCome on!â he hissed, his voice urgent but calm.
You didnât need to be told twice. Stumbling at first, you forced your legs to move, ignoring the fiery ache in your shoulder as you followed Leon into a nearby building.
Leon pulled you to the far corner of the room, crouching down beside you. His hands were already moving, tearing strips of cloth from somewhere, probably from some medkit heâd grabbed earlier. You barely had time to think about it before he pressed the fabric against your wound.
You hissed at the contact, the pain sharp and immediate, but you bit it back, watching as blood dripped from your shoulder onto the cold cement floor. When Leonâs voice pulled you out of your thoughts. âYouâre gonna be fine. Just stay still.â
You nodded, swallowing hard as you tried to focus on something other than the pain. âAdam?â you asked, your voice hoarse.
âHeâll be okay,â Leon said quickly, though you werenât sure if he believed it. âMikaelaâs keeping the Deathslinger busy. Weâll figure something out.â
You wanted to argue, to say there was no âfiguring something outâ when someone was already on the hook, but you kept quiet. Leonâs hands worked steadily, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the urgency of the situation.
The faint hum of a generator powered up somewhere nearby, followed by the unmistakable sound of the gate alarms. Your heart sank. The others were getting ready to escape, and you were still bleeding out on the floor.
Leonâs hands froze for a moment as the sound echoed through the building, but he quickly resumed. âDonât worry,â he said, his voice steady, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of doubt. âWeâll get out of here.â
You wanted to believe him. God, you wanted to believe him. But as another scream tore through the airâMikaelaâs this timeâyou felt hopeless.
With your shoulder patched up, you didnât waste a second. Leon pulled you to your feet, and together you sprinted through the dim, foggy maze of the trial grounds. The air felt heavy, the dark sky above rumbling like it could cave in at any moment. You rolled your eyes at the theatricsâbecause apparently, the Entity couldnât help but crank up the dramatics just to remind you that you were always one bad move away from death.
Jumping over a pallet, you stumbled but recovered quickly, your feet pounding against the dirt as you wove around an old, rusted bench. The faint glow of the exit lights appeared ahead, like a beacon calling you home. Relief surged through you when you saw Steve standing there, frantically working the crank to open the massive steel doors.
His head whipped around when he heard your footsteps, his face tense with panic until his eyes landed on you and Leon. He let out a shaky sigh of relief, motioning for you to hurry. "Come on! Almost there!"
The door groaned loudly as it crept open, revealing the inky blackness beyond. Freedom was so close you could taste it. But just as your heart lifted, the sharp, metallic sound of a chain unspooling sent a jolt of terror down your spine.
You stopped running on pure instinct, your body frozen for a split second before the harpoon shot past you, embedding itself in a tree just inches away. The tensioned chain rattled, swaying as it recoiled. Your head snapped toward the Deathslinger, standing only a few meters away.
âGo!â Leon shouted, his voice breaking the trance as he pushed you forward.
You didnât need to be told twice. Heart pounding, you ducked under the chain, your body nearly brushing against it as you bolted toward the exit. The pounding of your feet grew louder in your ears, mingling with the heavy, ragged breaths you couldnât control. You threw yourself forward, crossing the threshold into the open landscape beyond just as the Deathslinger took another step closer.
Whipping around, you skidded to a stop and turned to look back. The Deathslinger stood just at the edge of the exit, his rifle lowered as he glared at you, seething. The dark, writhing tentacles of the Entity began to weave their way through the space between you, blocking his path and keeping him trapped inside the trial grounds.
Steve grabbed your arm, pulling you further away from the exit as the doors groaned shut behind you. "Come on, we donât have time to celebrate!"
You nodded, glancing at Leon, who gave you a reassuring pat on the shoulder before jogging to catch up with Steve.
You didnât look back again.
Suddenly, everything around you went dark. The ground beneath your feet gave way, and that all-too-familiar sensation of falling took hold. You didnât screamâyou never did anymore. Instead, you braced yourself for the impact that wouldnât come.
Moments later, you landed on solid ground, your body jolting slightly as the world around you shifted. When you opened your eyes, the oppressive fog of the trial was gone, replaced by the dim, flickering firelight of the survivorsâ camp.
You let out a long sigh, rolling your shoulder experimentally. As expected, the pain was gone, replaced by the dull, phantom ache that always lingered after a trial. You reached up to touch the spot where the hook had torn through your body, finding smooth, unbroken skin beneath your fingers. It was like it had never happened.
That was how it always was with the Entity. No matter how brutal the trial, no matter how close to death you cameâor how many times you actually diedâyou always woke up here, whole again. The physical wounds vanished, leaving nothing but the memory of pain.
You glanced around the camp, taking in the familiar sights. The fire crackled in the center, its warmth doing little to ease the chill that seemed to seep into your bones. A few other survivors were scattered around, some tending to the fire, others sitting quietly with haunted looks in their eyes. They were all like youâtrapped in this endless cycle of torment and survival, powerless to escape the Entityâs grasp.
Leon was already here, his jacket was draped over his shoulders, and he was absently cleaning the blood from his hands with a rag. When he saw you, he gave you a small, tired smile.
âMade it back,â he said, his voice low but steady.
You nodded, walking over to join him. âBarely.â
Steve, who had landed nearby, ran a hand through his hair. âThat was too close,â he muttered, shaking his head. âI thought he was gonna get all of us at the end.â
You sat down beside Leon, the phantom pain in your shoulder throbbing faintly as you rested your elbows on your knees. âHe almost did,â you said, glancing at the fire.
âThatâs how it goes,â Feng said softly, appearing from the shadows. She had a medkit slung over her shoulder, though she didnât need itânot here. âWe survive, we heal, and then we go back in.â
Her words were a reminder of the reality you all faced. There was no end to it, no escape. The Entity would call you back into another trial soon enough, and the chase would start again.
You sighed, leaning back and closing your eyes for a moment. The camp was supposed to be a place of safety, a brief reprieve from the horrors of the trials, but it never truly felt like it. The shadows seemed to watch you, the ever-present feeling of being watched lingering even here.
âHowâs Adam?â you asked after a moment, opening your eyes to look at Leon.
âHe made it back,â Leon said, his voice heavy with relief. âBarely. Mikaela got him up just before the door closed.â
You nodded, grateful but knowing better than to celebrate. It was just another trial, another near-death experience in an endless cycle of them.
For now, you were safe.
Luckily, during the next trial, you werenât one of the chosen ones. It was a relief, but it didnât stop the restless feeling gnawing at your muscles. The camp, despite being a sanctuary of sorts, always felt suffocating when others were off risking their lives in the fog. You needed to move, so you decided to take a walk.
Of course, you never strayed too far. Not anymore.
Youâd learned that lesson the hard way when you first arrived. Back then, youâd been terrified, too panicked to listen to anyone. The other survivors had tried to explain things to youâwhat this place was, what the trials meantâbut their words only blurred together in the haze of fear clouding your mind. All you knew was that you were somewhere you didnât belong, and you needed to get out.
So youâd run.
You sprinted as fast as your legs would carry you, ignoring the desperate calls of the others. You didnât know where you were going, only that you had to escape. The trees around you blurred as you pushed yourself harder, your lungs burning with every frantic breathâuntil you slammed face-first into something solid.
It wasnât a tree. No bark, no leavesâjust an invisible wall that sent you reeling backward, clutching your nose in pain. You stumbled, dazed and confused, but before you could even think about what youâd just hit, you heard it: deep, guttural breathing, slow and deliberate.
Your head snapped up, and your blood ran cold. A obese figure loomed just on the other side of the barrier. His face was grotesque, smeared with greasepaint that cracked like old plaster. The Clown.
You screamed, scrambling to your feet and bolting back toward the camp. The sound of his laughterâwet and wheezingâchased after you, but when you risked a glance over your shoulder, he wasnât following.
The Clown remained where he stood, staring at you with those cold eyes. Confusion flickered in your panicked mind, but you didnât stop running until you were safely back in the camp.
Later, after youâd calmed down and stopped trembling like a leaf, Dwight had sat you down by the fire. He was the first survivor here, or so they all said, and heâd taken it upon himself to explain how the realm worked to newcomers.
âThatâs why he didnât follow you,â Dwight had said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. âThereâs a barrier between us and them. The Entity doesnât let killers into our camp. Same way we canât go into their domain. Not unless itâs during a trial.â
It had taken time for the words to fully sink in, but eventually, you understood. The killers could watch you from the other side of that invisible wall if they wanted to, but they couldnât cross it. They werenât allowed to harm you outside of the trials.
Still, that didnât make the idea of running into them any less horrifying. You already saw enough of them during the trials. You didnât need to see them here, too.
Thatâs why, even now, as you wandered through the edges of the camp, you kept your distance. The boundary between the survivorsâ camp and the killersâ domain wasnât visible, but you could feel it, like an unseen pressure in the air. You never dared to go too close.
But alas the camp wasnât large, so it was almost impossible not to catch at least a glimpse of a killer lingering near the barrier from time to time. Youâd gotten used to it, in a wayâseeing their shadowy figures pacing just out of reach, watching.
But now, as you rounded a corner near the edge of the camp, you froze. There, just a few yards away, was Chucky.
The little doll hadnât noticed you, too busy pacing along the barrier and cussing up a storm. You crouched low behind a boulder, not out of fear but curiosity, your eyes narrowing as you caught bits and pieces of his tirade.
â...That smug prickâthinks heâs so damn smart, huh? Always with the âgrand plans.â Iâll show him a planâitâs called taking his head off with a kitchen knife!â
You tilted your head, straining to hear more. The Mastermindâyouâd heard that name before. Albert Wesker. Youâd faced him twice in trials, and both times, youâd died. He was fast, calculating, and far more terrifying than a doll with a knife. Where Chucky was a chaotic little bastard who relied on deception and sneak attacks, Wesker had power and strategy to back him up. You hadnât stood a chance.
Still, the idea of Chucky throwing a tantrum over Wesker made you stifle a small, ironic laugh. The Entity certainly had a sense of humor when it came to the killers it pulled into its realm.
You were about to leave, figuring youâd heard enough, when something Chucky said made you freeze.
â...And now thereâs a new guy? Already? What the hell does the Entity even need him for? We just got the Houndmaster! Isnât that freaky dog-pack enough?â
A new killer?
Your eyes widened, and your breath hitched. You instinctively leaned forward, your curiosity overtaking your caution. Youâd only just gotten used to the Houndmasterâanother recent addition to the roster of killers. And now the Entity was adding someone else?
You thought about how peculiar it was. The Entity usually gave some time before introducing new killers, letting survivors adjust (or break) under the current conditions. The Houndmaster was still fresh, and you with the other survivors were still learning how to navigate her brutal trial. So why now?
You shifted slightly, your knee brushing against the dirt, and froze when Chucky suddenly stopped pacing. His head snapped up, his plastic eyes scanning the horizon, and for a moment, you thought heâd spotted you.
âWhatever,â he muttered, resuming his rant. âIf this newbie thinks they can show me up, theyâve got another thing coming. Iâve been doing this way longer. Whatâre they gonna do? Kill me?â
You slowly backed away, keeping low until Chucky was out of sight. A new killer. The thought sent a ripple of unease through you. It wasnât like youâd gotten comfortable with the existing onesâthe trials were still brutal, the killers relentlessâbut the idea of facing someone new, someone whose abilities you didnât yet understand, made your stomach churn.
Whoâor whatâhad the Entity brought into its realm this time?
You couldnât shake the feeling of dread as you rushed back to the survivors' camp, your mind racing with the news youâd just learned. When you burst into the center of the camp and announced the new arrival, the reactions were varied.
Some survivors, like Dwight and Leon, looked concerned but stayed quiet. Others, like Steve and Yuna, were visibly stressed. But there were those like Yunjin and Yui, who didnât show any reaction at all.
Just as the murmurs of unease began to settle into the air, the survivors from the most recent trial landed back into the camp, their faces drawn with exhaustion. Before anyone could even ask about their experience, Claudette, always quick to speak, started rambling, her voice trembling with exhaustion.
âNew killer,â Claudette gasped, wiping sweat from her brow as she collapsed onto the log near the fire. âThe Virtuoso. Thatâs what heâs called. And heâs... terrifying.â
You felt a chill run down your spine at the name. The Virtuoso.
The other survivors gathered around, listening intently as Claudette, Meg, and Feng started explaining.
âHe has a violin,â Meg said, her voice low and shaky. âA violin. He uses it as a weapon. And when he plays it... itâs like... you canât hear anything. Our ears justâstop working. You lose all sound. Itâs like youâre in a void for a few minutes, and you canât even tell where he is. He would just come up behind us and we wouldnât hear him at all.â
Feng nodded, her eyes wide with the memory. âAnd when heâs chasing you, he doesnât stay silent. He hums or sings under his breath. Itâs so creepy.â
You exchanged a look with Leon, both of you registering the horror of their words. A violin as a weapon? That was something you had never imagined.
âSo, like the Huntress?â you asked quietly, trying to make sense of it. âHe relies on sound to track you?â
Meg gave you a grim nod. âKind of. But worse. Itâs not just about hunting youâitâs about taking away everything you rely on. You canât hear anything, canât even react properly. He disorients you. Makes you feel helpless.â
âThatâs... unsettling,â Leon muttered, the words heavy with the shared understanding that this new killer was unlike anything you had faced before.
It took a total of three trials before you finally faced the Virtuoso. The first round was against The Shape. You survived by a hair, heart pounding in your chest as you barely managed to escape through the exit. The second trial? Against Nemesis. You didnât survive that one. His relentless pursuit, aided by the terrifying zombie hordes, had been too much to handle. Youâd been caught and ended up on the hook. But the third trial was differentâyou faced Dracula, but somehow, against all odds, you survived. Youâd made it through with flying colors, your team working together to power up the generators and escape.
And now, here you were, entering your fourth trial. This time, it was a new mapâa small city that seemed stuck in time. Old, crumbling buildings lined the streets, abandoned cars scattered across the roads, rusted and forgotten. But the centerpiece of it all? A massive theatre that towered over everything, its marquee flickering like a faint ghost of a past long gone. The sight was eerie, and your instincts immediately kicked in.
You crouched low, moving as quietly as possible, not wanting to attract any attention. The map was unfamiliar, and you knew the key to surviving here would be finding a way to adapt quickly. You needed to figure out where the generators were, which killer you were facing this time, and if there were any survivors to find and help.
You made your way into one of the buildingsâan apartment complex, judging by the layout. You tried the first door you came to. Locked. The second one, same. You didnât linger long, knowing that if you wasted too much time, the killer would find you. You had to keep moving.
Your main focus now was to get a feel for the map. The theatre seemed to loom ominously in the distance, a place that probably had its own secrets. You had to remember that the killers loved these big, grandiose settings, where they could trap and hunt survivors in ways that felt like part of their twisted game.
As you cautiously made your way through the city, a sound broke the silenceâsomething distant, but it sent a cold shiver down your spine. It wasnât the usual rumbling of the Entityâs presence. This was something else. A soft, haunting melody, like the strains of a violin being played somewhere in the distance.
You froze.
That was the Virtuoso. The violin musicâit was unmistakable.
You didn't know if he was close or far, but you knew that he was out there. You needed to find a generator, and fast, before he tracked you down. The eerie melody seemed to seep into the air, twisting everything, making it harder to focus. You crouched even lower, scanning the streets, every creak of the buildings or rustle of the wind making you jump. You had to keep it together. This was a new map. The city would be full of hiding spots and escape routes.
You made your way past another apartment, your heartbeat quickening as you heard the faintest hum of the violin. You werenât sure if it was coming closer or just echoing off the buildings, but you couldn't risk staying in one place for too long. You kept your movements as quiet as possible, crouching behind abandoned cars and ducking into doorways when necessary.
And then you saw it. In the distance, hidden behind an alleyway, the faint outline of a generator. Your heart raced in your chest as you approached, the sound of the violin growing louder, now definitely closer. You had to power up the generator before it was too late.
You focused on the generator, keeping your hands steady as you worked to repair it. The rhythm of your actions matched the increasing intensity of the violin, the music growing louder, echoing through the alley like it was all around you.
Then, without warning, a sharp note sliced through the air, followed by a scream from a survivor nearby. It snapped you out of your concentration for a moment, but you forced yourself to ignore it, refocusing on the task. You had to finish this. But as you continued to work, you heard something elseâa short solo, a few drawn-out notes that struck like a delicate thread of sound, and then⌠everything changed.
Suddenly, your body felt heavy. It was subtle at first, just a slight shift, a tug in your muscles, but then it intensified. Your hands grew sluggish, and your vision blurred at the edges. The music seemed to seep deeper into your mind, invading your senses like a drug. You could feel the melody wrapping around your thoughts, pulling you into a soft, sleepy trance.
You tried to shake it off, to focus on the generator, but the exhaustion hit you hard. You gasped, dropping to your knees, hands gripping the dirt and debris on the ground as you tried to steady yourself. What was happening? You felt dizzy, but not in a sick and bad way, no this was differentâit was a comforting kind of dizziness, like being wrapped in a warm blanket that made you want to close your eyes and give in.
It was the strangest feeling. The violinâs notes was almost seductive, pulling you deeper, lulling you into a state of relaxed submission. It wasnât painfulâno, it was... pleasant. Your limbs felt like they were made of lead, and you found yourself slowing down, your movements growing languid, as if you were caught in some spell you couldnât break. You wanted more of it. Whatever this feeling was, it was unlike anything youâd ever experienced.
Was this the Virtuosoâs ability? You felt your thoughts fuzzing at the edges as his melody played on, each note wrapping around your mind like a gentle whisper, coaxing you further into this strange, hypnotic state. What was he doing to you? The question seemed far away, like it didnât matter. It was easier to just give in, to let the music take over and stop worrying about the generator, the trial, everything else.
But no. You couldnât let yourself fall into that trap. You forced your hands to push against the dirt, trying to stand up, to shake off the exhaustion. You had to keep moving, keep thinking. You couldnât afford to let him win. The Virtuoso was manipulating you with his music, using it to cloud your senses, to wear you down until you couldnât think straight anymore.
You gritted your teeth, pushing through the haze in your mind, forcing yourself to crawl back to the generator. You had to get it doneânow.
Your fingers were slow, trembling as you worked, but the sound of the violin kept playing, surrounding you, tightening its grip on your senses. You were struggling to focus, the exhaustion clouding your thoughts.
Suddenly, you heard the soft shuffle of footsteps behind you. You glanced over, your blurry vision making it hard to see clearly. But then you recognized herâYui. She was stumbling, hurt, her clothes torn, and blood staining her skin. She looked dazed, her eyes half-lidded, like she was under the same spell you were. The exhaustion was evident in her posture, her steps unsteady as she approached.
You whispered, barely able to make the words come out, "Do you want me to heal you?"
But Yui didnât respond to your voice. She pointed to her ears, a subtle, desperate gesture. She couldnât hear you.
She crouched beside you, barely able to focus, but she reached for the generator. You could see the struggle in her expression as she tried to push through the same fog you were in. You both sat there working.
Then, you heard it. A scream. The unmistakable sound of a survivor being hooked. Your heart clenched, and panic began to creep in.
âCome on... finish...â You muttered under your breath, barely audible. You could barely focus, every part of you aching.
Yuiâs hands were slower than they should have been, her movements sluggish, but she kept working beside you.
But just as you thought the generator might finally be finished, the air grew colder. You could sense something was coming. The music stopped. The silence was deafening.
Your hands trembled, the generator almost done, but you knew you couldnât afford to be caught now. You had to finish this. You had to.
Just as the generator lit up and blared, signaling that it was finally done, Yui took off, her movements slow but determined. You exhaled in relief, ready to run yourself, but then something caught your eye. Yui was heading straight for a figure standing in the shadows, a tall, looming figure. She didnât see him until it was too late.
The sound of a sharp, slicing movement filled the air, and you gasped in horror as Yui screamed, the sound cut short by a sudden thud as she crumpled to the ground. Her blood pooled around her, and there, standing over her, was the figure. A man, tall and lean, dressed in a dark and tattered suit that was stained with blood. His white undershirt was ripped, exposing skin underneath. But it wasnât his clothing that made your heart raceâit was his face.
A cracked porcelain mask covered most of it, resembling that of a twisted theater performer. From the cracks, you could see his eyes, dark and hollow, and his lips, painted with an smug expression. His black hair was slicked back, and his white gloves were stained, a deep, crimson red. He was a nightmare made flesh, a figure from a forgotten stage play brought to life in the most terrifying way.
You froze, watching as the man wiped Yuiâs blood from the bow of his violin. Thatâs when you realizedâthis was him. The Virtuoso.
He looked up at you, and for a moment, you could have sworn there was no emotion in his gaze. His eyes were cold, detached. But then something shifted, the indifference was replaced with something elseâsomething more dangerous. Interest. And that terrified you more than anything else.
The Virtuosoâs hand stretched out, and you saw him pull a black violin from his back, its surface stained with dark splatters of blood. Your heart raced as he held it to his chin, the bow raised, and began to play.
The moment his fingers touched the strings, the haunting melody flooded the air. Your body tensed, your head spinning, and that all-too-familiar exhaustion swept over you again. You gasped, trying to steady yourself, but it was like the music was pulling you under, drowning you in its grip.
Your legs buckled beneath you, and you fell to the ground. Your hands trembled, your head pounding as the exhaustion began to take over. You couldnât think straight. Your mind felt like it was slipping away, like everything that was you was fading into the background, consumed by the tune he was playing.
Every muscle in your body thrummed with a dull, almost pleasurable ache, like your very essence was being swept away by the music. You couldnât fight it. You didnât want to fight it. The only thing that mattered now was the sound of that violin, that song that tugged at your soul.
But you had to stay conscious. You had toâstay awake.
You wanted to scream, to push through, but the tune was so lullingly beautiful. It was too hard to resist. Your eyes fluttered, the world around you starting to fade to black. You could see the Virtuosoâs face, his mask cracked but still emotionless, his cold gaze never leaving you as he played on, the haunting tune weaving its way deeper into your mind.
And then, everything went dark.
When you woke up, it was with a sharp, disorienting breath, your heart racing as your body jerked upright. You found yourself lying on something cold and hard, the rough texture of the floor beneath you. Confusion gripped you, and as you looked around, it hit you like a punch to the stomach: you were on a stage. The grand theater, the one youâd only glimpsed before.
How did you get here?
Did the Virtuoso bring you here? You could barely remember the last moments before everything went black. The music, his violinâit had all blurred together in a haze of exhaustion and pleasure. You shook your head, pushing yourself to your feet. Your legs wobbled slightly, but you managed to steady yourself.
The stage was crumbling around you. The curtains hung tattered and ripped, torn from years of neglect. The floorboards creaked beneath your weight, some of them so loose that they threatened to give way with even the slightest pressure. The way down was a steep, treacherous drop, the ground far below hidden by the darkness that seemed to consume the rest of the theater. The chairs facing the stage were old and covered in dust, their worn fabric peeling away like the remnants of a forgotten time. The air smelled faintly of blood, mixed with the scent of neglect.
A cold shiver ran down your spine as you looked around, your mind still foggy, struggling to grasp the situation. You needed to get out of here, but before you could take another step, you heard itâthe familiar, haunting melody.
The violin. It came from somewhere deep within the theater, its sound clear and insistent, just like before. And like before, you felt it. The pull. The music wrapped around your mind like a shroud, soft yet relentless, seeping into your thoughts, digging into the very core of your being. You tried to ignore it, but the pull was too strong.
Before you could even react, you fell to your knees, gasping for air as your hands instinctively flew to your head. The pain was sudden, sharp, like a thousand tiny needles pricking at your mind, but thenâthenâit melted into something else. Something worse.
It felt too good. Too intoxicating. It was as if the melody had found something deep within you, something buried, and was now scratching at it, pulling it to the surface. You hated it. You hated how it made your heart race and your body burn with a strange, unbidden desire. This was different from the shock therapy The Doctor used. It wasnât painful in the way you knew pain, like a jolt of electricity that shattered your thoughts. No. This was... pleasure of the mind, something so smooth and alluring, it felt like the essence of who you were was being coaxed from your very soul.
It was like drowning in euphoria and fear all at once. You wanted to stop it. You wanted to tear yourself away from it, but you couldnât.
The tune continued, crawling deeper into your head, pushing against your will. Every note felt like it was peeling away at your very identity, unraveling the pieces of your mind, piece by piece, until all you could hear, all you could feel, was the melody.
You gasped again, your chest tight as the world around you began to blur. Was this what he wanted? Was this how he claimed his victims? With the music?
Your mind screamed at you to move, to run, but your body refused to obey. The melody still reverberated in your skull, a lullaby of twisted euphoria. And then, you saw him.
He emerged from behind the backstage curtains, the black violin still held under his chin, his fingers expertly gliding over the strings, pulling out notes that made your head swim. His eyes remained fixed on you as he began to hum along, the sound vibrating in the air, setting your nerves on fire.
You groaned, struggling to shake the haze from your thoughts, but it was no use. He was here now, standing before you. His presence towered over you, and you could feel the coldness of his gaze piercing through the haze that clung to your senses.
He stopped playing, the sudden silence swallowing the air around you. Your heart pounded in your chest as he crouched down, bringing his face dangerously close to yours. You could feel the heat of his breath, steady and cold at the same time, but his eyes⌠those eyes pierced into you, unblinking and filled with an unsettling curiosity.
You tried to look away, to break free from his stare, but before you could move, his gloved hand shot out and grasped your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. His touch was firm, not painful, but there was no escaping it. You felt small, powerless under his grasp.
He studied you, his gaze moving from your face to the rest of your body, his expression unreadable. For a moment, he didnât speak, just letting the silence linger between you. Then, his voice broke through the tension, deep and smooth, almost like a melody of its own.
"Where has the Entity been hiding you, I wonder?" his words was laced with dark amusement. His voice was soft, but it held an edge, as if he was enjoying your discomfort, your inability to escape him.
You didnât know how to respond. Your body felt heavy, your mind clouded, but you could hear the taunting tone in his voice.
"Youâve been so quiet," he continued. "All you can do is whine, canât you? Letting me do whatever I want."
You wanted to fight, to scream, to tell him to stop, but all you could manage was a weak grip on his arm, your fingers barely able to hold onto the sleeve of his bloodstained suit. Your strength was gone, sapped by the music, by him.
His lips curved into a knowing smile, one that didnât reach his eyes, and he leaned in closer, his voice a soft whisper now.
"I canât wait to see how long you last."
His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you realized that, in this moment, you were nothing more than a puppet in his hands. You wanted to speak, to shout, to fight back, but you couldnât form the words. His hold on you was suffocating, his fingers warm and unforgiving as they gripped your face and tilted your head back.
"Youâre so adorable when you try to resist," he purred, his voice dripping with amusement. "You think you can escape, donât you?"
You were trying to gather strength, to push him away, but before you could react, his hands shot out, swift and sure. In one fluid motion, he lifted you off the ground, throwing you effortlessly over his shoulder. You gasped, the sudden shift making the world spin around you.
You would have fought back against any other killer. You were used to wiggling free, to finding a way to outsmart and escape. But not with him.
He started humming again, each note seemed to echo in your head, making it harder and harder to think clearly, and it lulled you into a stupor.
The two of you passed through the decaying theater, the doors creaking open as he made his way out. The world outside was dark, the streets eerily empty. You tried to shake yourself awake, to fight the haze, and finally, your lips parted in a slow, slurred speech.
"W-where... where is everyone?" you managed, the words feeling foreign as they left your mouth, thick with exhaustion.
The Virtuoso didnât even flinch, his pace steady as he continued walking, as if this was just another routine. He simply answered, his voice cold and casual.
"Theyâre gone," he replied, a slight edge of amusement in his tone. "Already given to the Entity. All of them."
The weight of his words sank in, and you froze, your breath catching in your throat as a realization dawned on you.
Oh. You were the only one left. The only survivor.
A wave of cold dread washed over you, and you couldnât shake the sick feeling that had settled in your stomach.
And now, you were alone with him.
"Youâll learn to enjoy this feeling," he murmured, almost as if he were speaking to himself.
The weight of his words lingered in the air, suffocating you with their twisted promise. "Youâll learn to enjoy this feeling."
Just then the rumbling began, the map trembling under the familiar pressure, you knew the Entity was growing impatient. It wanted this to end quicklyâits hunger insatiable. The last survivor, the final piece in its dark game, was about to be consumed. But then the Virtuoso suddenly released his grip on you. You were unceremoniously dropped to the ground, the rough texture of the pavement scraping your palms as you struggled to sit up.
You groaned, looking up to find the Virtuoso no longer watching you. Instead, his attention was fixed on his violin bow, the jagged edges glinting in the dim light, stained with blood.
âWhatâs happening?â you managed to ask, your voice shaky but filled with desperation.
Without looking up from his bow, he simply uttered one word, cold and commanding. âCrawl.â
You blinked, confusion settling in for a brief moment before your gaze drifted to the distance. Just a few meters away, the hatchâopen and waiting. The escape. The only chance you had. Without thinking, you began to crawl toward it. Every movement felt like an agonizingly slow struggle, but you pushed yourself forward, determined to get to the only possible way out.
But as you moved, you heard itâhis humming. It was soft at first, the haunting melody following you, filling the air around you. You dared a glance over your shoulder, and there he was. The Virtuoso was trailing behind you, his figure looming with a slow, deliberate pace. His bow was still clutched tightly in his hand, the faint sound of his humming growing louder as he moved closer. His lips curled into a manic smirk, one that sent a chill down your spine.
And then, in a voice that was far too cheerful for what was happening, he began to count.
âTen...â His voice was smooth, almost musical, like he was savoring each number.
You could feel your heart racing, pounding in your chest, the escape hatch tantalizingly close but still so far away.
â...NineâŚâ
Every second felt like an eternity, the weight of his presence bearing down on you as you forced yourself to crawl. The sound of his counting echoed in your ears, filling you with dread.
ââŚEightâŚâ
You looked back again, sweat beading on your forehead. His expression was twisted, like he was enjoying this far too much.
â...SevenâŚâ
The hatch was so close now. You could almost reach it.
â...SixâŚâ
You pushed yourself harder, faster, but each movement felt like it drained more of your energy.
â...FiveâŚâ
The Virtuosoâs steps were closer now, his bow gliding smoothly through the air as he followed behind you, still counting, still humming.
ââŚFourâŚâ
You gritted your teeth, pushing through the exhaustion, through the haze of his song, your body screaming at you to stop.
â...ThreeâŚâ
The hatch was just a few inches away now. You could see it beckoning you.
ââŚTwoâŚâ
His humming was louder, almost deafening in its intensity.
â...One.â
And then, in a heartbeat, he stopped. The silence that followed was deafening, as if the world had held its breath. You froze, barely a few inches from the escape hatch. You could hear the sound of his violin bow slicing through the air.
And then, his voice, smooth as silk, reached your ears. âSuch a shame, my dear.â
He walked past you, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the silence of the street. Without a word, he approached the escape hatch and closed it with a swift motion, the heavy metal door slamming shut behind him with an almost finality that made your heart race. When he turned back to face you, his smile was chilling, like a predator savoring the moment before the kill.
"Time to die," he said softly, his voice low, but filled with a cruel satisfaction.
He moved toward you slowly, deliberately, his every step measured as if he had all the time in the world. Your body trembled, your muscles stiff and weak from the exhaustion, the haze of the melody still clouding your mind. You struggled to move, but the world around you felt distant and blurry.
A haunting melody played in the background, filling the space between you and him, wrapping around your thoughts like a chain. Your vision swayed, the edges of the world fading into a soft blur as his presence grew closer. Then, with a gentleness that made the hairs on your neck stand on end, he positioned the bow against your throat, his touch light but firm.
His face was expressionless, calculating. His eyes locked onto yours as if studying you, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
He began to sing.
His voice was smooth, precise, almost like a lullaby. Each note slipped into your mind, soothing and terrifying all at once, as if he were performing an intimate, private piece just for you. The sound of his voice, along with the melody, distorted everything around you. The air thickened, pressing in from all sides, and you could feel your senses begin to unravel. The world seemed to twist, the music warping, growing louder, more dissonant, filling your head with confusion, a maddening disorientation that made it harder to breathe.
Your vision flickered in and out, the room around you stretching and bending with each note he sang. The pressure on your throat from the bow grew, the coldness of the violin's edge digging into your skin.
And then, without warning, in a single, fluid motion, he swept the bow across your throat.
The sharp strings bit into your skin, cutting deeply, and you gasped, feeling the hot rush of blood spilling from the wound. You fell to the ground, your body crumpling beneath the weight of the pain and the overwhelming sensation of his final song echoing in your ears.
Everything went dark.
The familiar feeling of falling overwhelmed you once more, a sinking sensation that seemed endless. And when you landed, it wasnât the cold streets of the trial. No. You were back.
You were back in the survivorsâ camp.
Alive.
Unhurt.
The sudden shift left you gasping for air, your heart racing as you blinked, trying to process what had just happened. You looked around. The camp was quiet, peaceful, almost like nothing had ever happened.
--
You sat there for what felt like an eternity, your back pressed against the rough bark of the tree. The camp was unusually quiet, save for the distant murmurs of other survivors. You had a clear view of the barrier between you and the killers, the oppressive feeling of the entityâs domain hanging in the air. It felt like days since youâd last faced a trial, days that stretched on, leaving you to wonder why you hadnât been called back into the horrors of the realm.
Time blurred together. Trials came and went, but for some reason, you were left untouched, as if the entity itself had decided to leave you be. You watched as others came back, their faces etched with exhaustion and fear. Some spoke of the Virtuoso in hushed tones, their words tinged with dread. You overheard their stories: how theyâd tried to outrun him, how theyâd failed to survive a single trial with him, how his music had driven them to madness before the end.
But none of them had managed to make it through. None of them had escaped him.
He had become a legend in the realm, and for good reason. His abilitiesâhis haunting song, his control over the survivorsâhad turned him into a killer of nightmares. No one had survived one trial against him.
You saw him in your dreams sometimes, his haunting music echoing in your ears, his voice soft and cruel. You shivered at the thought of facing him again, knowing that if the entity ever called you back, you wouldnât stand a chance.
Trials passed, and yet the call never came. You began to wonder if you had been forgottenâleft behind, abandoned in the shadows of the camp. Or maybe the entity was just waiting for the perfect moment to drag you back into the trial, to see if you would survive a second time.
--
Eventually, the call came. You were thrust back into the realm, pulled from the relative peace of the survivorsâ camp and thrown into the chaos of the trials once again.
First came the Dredge, you were constantly on edge, and you barely made it through, but you survived.
Next, you found yourself up against the Demogorgon. You escapedâbarelyâeach breath ragged, the taste of fear still fresh in your mouth.
Then, the Oni came, you barely manage to survive, barely.
The Doctor came next, his shock therapy was unbearable, his laughter echoing in your head. But again, somehow, you survived.
And then there was the Hillbilly, you sprinted, dodged, and hid, your heart pounding in your chest as you narrowly escaped the carnage.
You groaned loudly as the familiar feeling of being pulled into the trial washed over you, the world around you spinning before it all dropped away into darkness. When your feet hit the ground, you staggered, blinking against the sudden brightness.
Your eyes widened in horror as you looked around.
You were on his map.
The surroundings were hauntingly familiarâthe dilapidated theater looming in the distance, the cracked, decaying streets, the smell of dust and blood in the air. It was as if the very atmosphere of the map itself was alive, pulsing with a sinister energy, beckoning you to come face to face with your worst nightmare.
You had to survive him. You had no choice. You couldnât afford to fall victim to him again. The thought of hearing that haunting tune again, of being caught in his eerie, hypnotic grip, made your stomach turn. But there was no time for hesitation now.
With a deep breath, you forced yourself to focus. The trial had begun, and your survival depended on staying sharp, on staying one step ahead of him. You crouched low, scanning the environment for any signs of life, any survivors, and most importantlyâany generators. You had to find a way out.
The air grew colder, and then you heard itâthe soft, deliberate hum of his melody, distant at first, but slowly getting closer. You felt the weight of it, the pull in your chest, as the music seemed to crawl into your mind, trying to seduce you into a false sense of safety. You clenched your fists, forcing yourself not to give in. You couldnât afford that.
You started moving, every step measured, trying to remain as quiet as possible. Your heart pounded in your chest, and the hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you passed through the eerie streets, passing abandoned vehicles and broken-down walls.
You reached the edge of the map, your eyes scanning the horizon, but no sign of him yet. But you knew better than to relaxâhe could be anywhere, and the moment you let your guard down was the moment youâd pay for it. You had to stay focused.
Suddenly, you saw movement in the distance. Another survivor? Or was it him, creeping closer? You couldnât tell, but you had no intention of waiting around to find out. You bolted for the nearest building, hoping to find some semblance of safety.
As you ducked inside, the door creaked loudly behind you, and you froze. The sound of his humming was unmistakable now, closer, almost as if it were right behind you. Panic surged through your veins, but you forced yourself to stay calm. You had survived against killers like the Demogorgon, the Xenomorph, and the Nemesis. You could survive this.
You quickly turned to look for a generator, anything to give you a chance to escape. But before you could make a move, the faintest touch of a violin note reached your earsâand with it, the world around you began to blur.
You staggered, your head spinning, the familiar exhaustion sinking in as the haunting melody wove its way into your mind. It was him, so close now.
Then everything suddenly went quiet.
You froze, your breath shallow, listening intently. There was no sign of the Virtuosoâno sound, no humming. Just silence.
You dared to peek out from behind the window, your eyes scanning the desolate street outside. It was empty, the shadows stretching across the cracked pavement, but you didnât trust it. You couldnât trust it. Still, it seemed safe enough to move.
Just as you were about to vault over the low wall and make a break for it, you were hit by a wave of music, a sudden, intense surge that made you gasp. It was like the sound wrapped around your body, heavy, suffocating, and in an instant, your vision blurred. The world felt distorted, like a fog had rolled in, the edges of everything softening into nothingness.
No.
You blinked rapidly, trying to regain focus, and when you turned to your left, you saw him.
He was standing there, so still, his gaze fixed directly on you.
How long had he been standing there?
You didnât get the chance to ponder over that question, not with the sharp sting that followed.
His bow came down, slicing through the air with a sound that sent chills down your spine. You gasped in pain as the sharp edge slashed through your side, the blade cutting deep into your flesh.
The pain was immediate, and for a moment, everything stopped.
But instinct kicked in.
With a strangled cry, you vaulted, your body screaming in protest, but you didnât stop. You couldnât. You held your side tightly, feeling the blood seep through your fingers as you sprinted down the street, desperate to put distance between yourself and him.
Behind you, you could hear the faint hum of his violin, the melody now twisted and taunting, as if it was mocking your attempt to escape.
"Run," he teased, his voice soft and smooth, almost playful as it floated on the wind. "It wonât help."
Your heart hammered in your chest as you pushed yourself harder, the pain in your side nearly blinding, but you refused to stop. The sound of his footsteps echoed behind you, slow and measured, but every time you glanced over your shoulder, you saw him gaining on you, moving like a shadow, a predator closing in.
Your breath came in ragged gasps, each step taking everything out of you. The street stretched out in front of you, the buildings offering little cover. The world felt so small here.
You ran past two survivors, Yui and Meg, working on a generator in the distance. You barely spared them a glance as they turned to look at you, their faces filled with terror before the Virtuoso's haunting violin notes reached them. Their screams echoed behind you, sharp and full of pain as the bow sliced into them.
But you couldnât look back. You couldnât afford to stop. You had to keep moving.
With your heart pounding, you bolted for the theatre, slipping through the back door just as his music faded behind you. The building was dark and quiet, save for the creaking of the old floorboards.
Inside, you found a room. Dimly lit, but it had a palette lying against the far wall, a perfect place to take a breath, even for a moment.
You crouched down and pulled out the medkit you had brought with you for this trial, you hissed through your teeth as you started to treat the wound in your side, carefully bandaging it, the blood still dripping down your hands. The pain was a constant throb, but it was nothing you couldnât handle. You had learned to survive worse.
The violin music grew louder, and you could feel him getting closer, his presence near the door.
You couldnât stay in one place for too long. Not with him hunting you.
You took a deep breath and prepared to move again. You crept toward the door, every muscle tense, ready to spring into action the moment you heard his violin hum. The sound was becoming more insistent, like a heartbeat you couldn't escape from. You slowly cracked the door open, peering out into the dark hallway beyond.
No sign of him yet.
You made a break for the other side of the room, slipping past the shadowy corners and moving carefully toward a nearby window, hoping to get a glimpse of your surroundings. You had to figure out where the others were, or better yet, where a generator was.
Just as you reached the window, you heard itâa faint humming, followed by a low, dissonant note that made your spine stiffen.
He was here.
The unmistakable sound of the bow scraping against the strings pierced the silence, sending a shiver down your spine. You pressed yourself against the wall, barely breathing, trying to blend into the darkness.
You dared to peek out, your eyes scanning the edges of the room, and there he was. He was standing still, his back to you, seemingly unaware of your presence⌠but his head tilted slightly, as though sensing you.
Then, without warning, he turned, his eyes narrowed as he locked onto yours.
"Found you," he purred, his voice smooth.
In an instant, his violin was in his hands again, the bow raised, and before you could react, the first note rang out, and you felt itâthe exhaustion, the pull of his music sinking into your mind. Your vision blurred, the world spinning around you.
Your body rebelled, but your legs wouldnât move. It was like his melody had a grip on your very soul, twisting you with every note.
"Run," you whispered to yourself, but the word was drowned out by the haunting sound of the violin as he started moving toward you.
"Why run?" he hummed, his voice taunting as he advanced slowly.
You collapsed to your knees, gasping for air as the melody wrapped around your senses like a velvet noose. Each note sent a shiver down your spine, your body trembling with a mix of fear and something you hated to acknowledge.
The Virtuoso stopped a few feet in front of you, tilting his head as if admiring his handiwork. "Look at you," he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "On your knees, just like the music intended. Isn't it beautiful? The way it breaks you down, piece by piece."
You tried to push yourself up, to fight the pull of his haunting melody, but your arms gave out, and you slumped forward, your hands trembling against the floor.
"Stop..." you managed to choke out, though your voice was weak, barely audible over the sound of his violin.
The Virtuoso chuckled, low and smooth, as he crouched down in front of you. He gently rested the bow under your chin, tilting your head up to face him. The cold, sharp edge of the bow scraped lightly against your skin, sending a shiver through you.
"Stop?" he repeated, feigning surprise. "But you donât really want me to, do you?" His voice softened, almost a whisper. "The Entity chose you for a reason. You were made for this... to be shaped, to be played."
You tried to shake your head, to deny his words, but his gaze pinned you in place. His hand, gloved and stained with dirt and blood, reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face.
"Tell me," he continued, leaning closer, his voice dropping into a husky murmur. "How does it feel to be a part of something so... exquisite? To be at the mercy of art itself?"
You bit your lip, fighting the fog in your mind. Somewhere, deep inside, you knew this wasnât right. You were a survivorâyou had fought through so many trials, endured countless horrors. You had to fight this, too.
But his music was unlike anything youâd faced before. It wasnât just a weaponâit was a manipulation of your very being, twisting your will, blurring the line between fear and something darker.
He tilted his head, waiting for a response, his eyes glinting with cruel amusement when you stayed silent. "No answer?" he said, his tone mocking. "Perhaps you're finally starting to understand... There's no escape from me."
Your breath hitched as he slung the violin onto his back with an almost practiced elegance. You saw your chance and scrambled to your feet, trying to make a run for it. But you barely got a few steps before a sharp pain erupted across your back.
You screamed as his jagged violin bow slashed through your skin, the searing pain causing you to stumble and fall forward. Blood trickled down your side as you tried to crawl away, but before you could even attempt to push yourself up, his hand gripped your wrist like iron.
With alarming strength, he yanked you back and slammed you against the cold, crumbling wall. The force knocked the wind out of you, leaving you gasping as the world spun.
"Still trying to run?" he murmured, his tone dripping with amusement.
You tried to push him off, but he pressed his body against yours, trapping you between him and the wall.
"Let me go!" you gasped, writhing beneath his grip.
His response was to catch your wrists in one swift motion, slamming them above your head and pinning them there with a single hand. His strength was inhuman, and no amount of struggling could break you free.
With his other hand, he grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. His gloved fingers dug into your jaw, tilting your head back as his eyes roamed over your face.
"Such defiance," he said softly, almost as if he were admiring you. "But even fire can be tamed."
Before you could muster a reply, before you could even process the fear coursing through you, he leaned in. His lips crushed against yours with a sudden, ferocious intensity that left you utterly stunned.
Your muffled gasp filled the air as his mouth moved against yours, his kiss possessive and unrelenting. His grip on your wrists tightened as you tried to pull away, your attempts feeble against the strength that held you in place.
Your heart thundered in your chest, torn between fear, anger, and a bewildering sense of helplessness. The world seemed to narrow down to himâhis lips, his overwhelming presence, and the haunting melody of his violin still ringing faintly in the background.
When he finally pulled back, his eyes searched yours. "You can fight all you want," he murmured, his voice dangerously soft, his gloved thumb brushing against your trembling lip. "But youâll never escape me."
Your legs felt like jelly, trembling beneath you. The weight of his gaze pinned you in place. You shouldâve tried to run, screamed for help, done something, but your body betrayed you, too weak to move.
His thumb lingered on your lip, pressing lightly, as if testing your limits. He tilted his head, and that haunting hum escaped his throat againâa melody low and sinister that seemed to seep into your very bones.
âYouâre trembling,â he said, his voice smooth and mocking as he studied you. âIs it fear? Or something else?â
You glared at himâor tried toâbut the faint tremor in your chin betrayed your attempt at defiance.
He chuckled, low and dark, and his gloved hand left your face, sliding down to your neck. His fingers trailed lazily over your skin, the rough texture of the worn leather leaving a cold, ghostly sensation in their wake.
âYouâre so fragile,â he mused as his hand traveled further, tracing the curve of your shoulder and down your arm. âAnd yet, so strongâŚâ
His words trailed off as he moved closer again, his body pressing lightly against yours to keep you pinned to the wall. His free hand glided down your side, brushing over the torn fabric of your shirt and the faint wound left by his bow. His fingers paused there, pressing gently, almost mockingly.
You flinched, gasping softly at the sting of pain, and he hummed again, as if pleased by your reaction.
âEvery mark I leave on youâŚâ he whispered, his voice dripping with sadistic delight. âItâs a masterpiece in its own right.â
His hands didnât stop, exploring furtherâover your waist, down to your hips. Each touch was deliberate, calculated, as if he were memorizing every inch of you he could reach. You tried to push him away, but he didnât even budge.
âStill fighting?â he teased, his lips curling into a cruel smile as his eyes locked onto yours. âI admire your persistence⌠but we both know how this ends.â
Tears pricked at your eyes, frustration and helplessness bubbling as his hand continued. His touch wasnât violentâit was carefulâbut that only made it worse. It wasnât pain he was inflicting now, but a complete violation of your sense of control.
His gloved hand came back to your face, tilting your chin up so you were forced to look at him. His thumb brushed over your trembling lip again, his gaze piercing into yours.
âI could keep you here forever,â he said, the words chilling in their sincerity.
His lips crashed against yours again, firm and unrelenting, leaving you breathless. You struggled at first, your body instinctively trying to push him away, but his grip on your wrists remained iron-clad. The cold leather of his glove against your skin sent a shiver down your spine, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his mouth on yours.
You whimpered into the kiss, your resolve crumbling as the sheer intensity of it overwhelmed you. It wasnât just the act itselfâit was him. His presence, his control, the way he seemed to consume you entirely.
His hand on your chin slid down, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw before resting on your throat. The weight of his touch there, firm but not constricting, made your breath hitch, and that only seemed to fuel him further. His tongue brushed against your lower lip, demanding entrance, and though you wanted to resist, your body betrayed you.
You parted your lips, and he wasted no time, deepening the kiss with a hunger that sent sparks of something unfamiliar coursing through you. You shouldâve been disgusted, horrified even, but instead, a warmth began to bloom in your chest, spreading through your body like wildfire.
Why did this feel so good?
You had never had time for⌠this. Whatever this was. After being abducted by the Entity, survival had been your only focus. There was no room for affection, no space for intimacy, no chance to feel anything beyond fear and desperation. But now, under his touch, under his spell, you felt yourself slipping into something dangerously close to surrender.
And then it happened.
You kissed him back.
It was tentative at first, a soft, hesitant movement of your lips against his, as if testing the waters. But when he felt your response, his grip on your wrists tightened, and a low, satisfied hum rumbled in his chest. His other hand, still resting on your throat, flexed slightly, his fingers curling against your skin as if claiming you.
The kiss grew deeper, more intense, and you found yourself leaning into him despite everything. Your mind screamed at you to stop, to pull away, to fight, but your body refused to listen. Every brush of his lips, every flick of his tongue, every subtle shift of his body against yours sent another wave of that intoxicating warmth crashing over you.
You hated him. You feared him. And yet, in this moment, you couldnât bring yourself to resist.
When he finally pulled back, his lips parted from yours with a soft, wet sound, leaving you gasping for air. His eyes bored into yours, dark and unreadable, as he studied your flushed face.
âThere it is,â he murmured, his voice low and almost⌠tender? âI knew youâd come around.â
You tried to look away, shame and confusion twisting in your chest, but he wouldnât let you. His hand on your throat moved back to your chin, tilting your face up again so you had no choice but to meet his gaze.
âDonât look so conflicted,â he teased, his lips curling into a smirk. âYouâre mine now, remember? Thereâs no going back.â
His hand lingered on your chin, thumb brushing against your skin with an unsettling softness, as though savoring the moment. His smirk widened as he leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear.
âYou feel it too, donât you?â he murmured, his voice a velvet whisper that sent shivers down your spine. âThe pull⌠the surrender. Fighting me is pointless.â
You swallowed hard, your breath hitching as his free hand began to trail down your body, gliding over your shoulder, tracing the curve of your arm, and finally resting at your waist.
Your heart raced as you tried to push him away again, weakly pressing against his chest, but he didnât budge. If anything, the pressure of his body against yours only increased.
âShh,â he cooed, his lips ghosting over your ear. âWhy do you still resist? Havenât I shown you how⌠good this can feel?â
You hated how his words stirred something inside you, how the warmth from before was now spreading like fire under your skin.
He leaned back just enough to study your face, his gaze softened slightly, but there was still a glint of amusement in his eyes, as though he was enjoying watching you struggle with your own emotions.
âYouâre so used to running,â he said, almost thoughtfully, as if speaking to himself. âSo used to fighting. But here, with meâŚâ His hand on your waist tightened, pulling you closer. âYouâll learn to stay. To submit.â
The word sent a jolt through you, and your eyes widened as you finally found your voice.
âIâll neverââ
But before you could finish, his lips were on yours again, silencing your protest with a kiss far more intense than the last. It was consuming, overwhelming, and despite your words, you felt yourself melting into it. His grip on your wrists remained firm as his other hand moved to cup the back of your neck, holding you in place.
You tried to focus, to think, to fight, but his kiss drowned out every thought, leaving you with nothing but the sensation of him.
When he pulled back this time, he was breathing heavier, his dark eyes locked onto yours. âSee?â he said softly, his voice a mix of satisfaction and something deeper. âYouâre already mine.â
Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, frustration and confusion boiling inside you. You hated him. You hated how he made you feel, how he twisted your will, how he toyed with you like you were nothing more than a plaything. But most of all, you hated how a part of you wanted to stay.
He tilted his head, watching you with a curious expression, as though trying to decipher the storm of emotions on your face. Then, with a smirk, he leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear once more.
âDonât worry,â he whispered, his voice dripping with dark amusement. âWe have all the time in the world to figure this out.â
And with that, he released your wrists, stepping back and letting you collapse to the ground, your legs too weak to hold you up. You looked up at him, your body trembling, your mind spinning, as he simply stood there, staring down at you with that infuriatingly smug expression.
âRun,â he said, his voice almost playful as he gestured toward the door. âIâll even give you a head start.â
But you didnât move. You couldnât. You were trappedânot just by him, but by your own warring emotions.
He watched you with those sharp, unrelenting eyes as you remained frozen, staring up at him. His smirk faded, replaced by a look of amused annoyance.
âPathetic,â he muttered, shaking his head in mock disappointment. âI offer you a chance, and yet you just sit there like a lost little lamb.â
Before you could react, he moved with frightening speed, grabbing you and slinging you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing. You let out a small yelp, weakly squirming in his grip, but his hold was ironclad.
âKeep struggling if you want,â he said, his tone dripping with disdain. âIt wonât make a difference.â
He started walking, his steps slow and deliberate, as though savoring the moment. The sound of his boots against the cracked floorboards echoed through the empty halls of the theater. You hung limply over his shoulder, your mind racing as you tried to process what was happening.
Then, out of nowhere, he started talking.
âYou know,â he began, his voice calm and eerily conversational, âthey called me a genius once. A prodigy.â He chuckled darkly. âThe greatest violinist of my time. My performances brought crowds to their knees. They cried, they cheered⌠They worshipped me.â
You frowned, unsure of where he was going with this, but he continued, as though you werenât even there.
âBut it wasnât enough,â he said, his voice tightening with anger. âI wanted more. I needed to create the perfect symphony. Something timeless. Something unforgettable.â
His grip on you tightened slightly, his gloved hand pressing into your back.
âSo I poured everything into my masterpiece,â he went on, his tone shifting into something almost wistful. âYears of work. Painstaking detail. Every note, every pause, every crescendoâperfection.â
You hesitated, your curiosity getting the better of you. ââŚWhat happened?â
He stopped walking for a moment, his silence heavy and foreboding. Then, he let out a bitter laugh.
âThey rejected it,â he said, his voice cold. âThose self-important critics. They said it lacked âsoul,â that it was too mechanical, too precise. They dared to insult my work.â
You swallowed hard, already sensing where this was going.
âSo,â he continued, resuming his slow, steady pace, âI invited them all to a private concert. My âfinal performance,â I told them. And they came, eager to tear me apart one last time.â
He chuckled darkly, the sound sending a chill down your spine.
âBut this time, they didnât leave. Not alive, anyway.â
You stiffened, your breath catching as his words sank in.
âThey didnât understand art,â he said, his voice growing colder. âNot until they became part of it. Their screams, their fear⌠It was the most beautiful symphony I ever created.â
You could barely comprehend what you were hearing. He wasnât just madâhe was completely deranged.
âAnd then,â he said, his tone shifting into something almost reverent, âthe Entity came. It saw my genius, my passion, and it gave me a new stage. A new audience.â
He stopped walking, his gloved hand coming up to idly adjust the strap of his violin, which was still slung across his back.
âAnd now,â he said, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, âI perform for eternity. Each trial, a new composition. Each scream, a new note.â
You shuddered, your mind racing. His story was horrifying, but what scared you the most was the way he spoke about itâwith pride, with satisfaction.
âWhy are you telling me this?â you asked weakly, your voice trembling.
He tilted his head, as though considering your question. Then, he chuckled softly.
âBecause,â he said, his voice laced with amusement, âyouâll be part of my next masterpiece.â
Your blood ran cold as his words sank in. You wanted to scream, to fight, but your body felt too weak, too drained. All you could do was hang there, helpless, as he carried you deeper into the dark, abandoned theater.
And all you could think was, heâs completely mad.
He carried you through the desolate theater, his footsteps unhurried, as though he were savoring every moment of your despair. When he finally stopped, you felt your stomach churn as your gaze landed on a rusted, blood-stained hook.
âNo,â you croaked, struggling weakly in his grip, but he only chuckled darkly, his gloved hand tightening around you.
âOh, yes,â he replied, his voice dripping with mockery.
With terrifying ease, he lifted you off his shoulder and slammed you onto the hook. Pain shot through your body as the sharp metal pierced your flesh, forcing a scream from your lips. You writhed and struggled, the agony unbearable, but the hook held firm.
Your scream echoed through the empty halls, and his reaction was chilling. His head tilted back slightly, his lips parting as though he were savoring a fine wine. His eyes gleamed with a wild, crazed light, and the corners of his mouth curled into a manic grin.
âYes,â he whispered, his voice low and trembling with excitement. âThatâs it. Thatâs the sound Iâve been waiting for.â
You gasped for breath, tears stinging your eyes as you glared at him. âYouâre insane,â you spat weakly.
His grin only widened. He stepped closer, tilting his head, his gaze fixed on you with a kind of sick fascination.
âNext time I put you up here,â he said, his voice soft but dripping with menace, âI expect to hear you scream my name instead.â
You flinched at his words, your breath hitching. âIâI donât know your name,â you managed to choke out.
At that, his grin shifted into something even more unsettlingâa sickeningly sweet smile that made your blood run cold.
âThen let me enlighten you,â he said, leaning in closer. âItâs Heeseung. And youâd better not forget it.â
His voice dropped lower, dangerously smooth. âBecause if you do⌠Iâll make sure you never forget. Iâll carve it into your mind, your body, your soul.â
Your heart raced as his words sank in, his soft, mocking tone making your skin crawl.
He straightened up, pulling his violin from his back with a flourish. Heeseungâs eyes never left you as he adjusted the instrument beneath his chin, his gloved fingers dancing over the strings.
âAnd now,â he said, his voice almost playful, âI leave you with a parting gift.â
He raised his bow, but before he began to play, he blew you a kissâa mocking, exaggerated gesture that sent a chill down your spine.
âUntil next time, my dear,â he said, his voice dripping with malice.
Then, he walked away, the haunting melody of his violin filled the air. You hung there, trembling and bleeding, as his tune echoed through the empty theater.
And all you could think, through the haze of pain and exhaustion, was how he and Ghostface would make the best buddies. If they hadnât already.
You could practically imagine it: Ghostface with his twisted sense of humor, showing pictures of his victims, while Heeseung played a chilling melody in the background. The thought almost made you laughâa bitter, hysterical sound that was quickly swallowed by a wave of pain.
"Perfect little psychopaths," you muttered under your breath, your voice weak and trembling.
And yet, part of you wondered if they had met. The Entityâs domain wasnât small, and the killers had their own ways of crossing paths. You could imagine Ghostface mocking Heeseungâs perfectionism, while Heeseung would likely call Ghostfaceâs theatrics "childish." Still, their combined sadism would leave anyone unfortunate enough to cross their paths wishing for a quicker end.
âMaybe theyâre pen pals,â you muttered weakly, clinging to the absurdity of the thought to distract from the throbbing pain.
"How funny would that be," you mumbled to yourself, letting out a breathless, bitter laugh as the Entityâs claws dug deeper. The pain was unbearable, and you could feel your strength fading fast. The realization hit you like a brick wall: no one was coming.
You glanced around weakly, but the map was eerily quiet, void of footsteps or whispers of another survivor. It was just youâhooked, bleeding, and alone.
With a sigh of resignation, you let your hands drop, giving up the fight against the Entityâs claws. âGuess this is it,â you whispered to yourself, closing your eyes as the final pull of the Entity claimed you.
It wasnât like you hadnât been through this before. You knew youâd wake up in the survivorsâ camp, alive and unhurt. But this time⌠this time felt different.
When you opened your eyes again, you were sprawled beneath the familiar tree in the survivor camp, your body whole and your wounds gone. The gentle hum of the campfire reached your ears, and the familiar sounds of chatter surrounded you.
But you didnât join the others. Instead, you sat there, frozen, your thoughts a whirlwind.
Your fingers absentmindedly moved to your lips, grazing the soft skin as if to confirm something. Heeseungâs kiss had been like his musicâintoxicating, haunting, impossible to forget. You hated that you could still feel it, like a ghost of his touch lingering there.
You clenched your fists, cursing under your breath. What the hell was wrong with you? He was a killer. A deranged, sadistic monster who found joy in tormenting you. And yetâŚ
You shook your head, trying to banish the thought. But the image of him wouldnât leave your mind.
The other survivorsâ voices seemed to fade into the background as you stared into the campfire, lost in your thoughts. Youâd faced countless killers before, survived their wrath, even laughed off their brutality. But this⌠this was something else entirely.
Heeseung, you thought, his name echoing in your mind like a song you couldnât forget.
Heeseung.
Heeseung.
Heeseung.
âââââââšâąâźâ˝â°âšââââââ
Perm taglist: @ilyunjina @nshmrarki @laylasbunbunny
@wensurr @immelissaaa @simj4k3 @vegahrid @03sunoos
@hollxe1 @moonpri @cherriesfine @badtzsan @anushkaaaiaiiaiaia
@heeseungbabydoll @wondash @renjiishot @demigodmahash
@strawberrieswithchocolateo3o @honeybunnee @jjongstar111
@enhaprettystars @zorange13 @jiminie-08 @enhaprettystars
@enhamonsterghoul @mrsjjongstby @lunaritex @kiripimaspillow
@flwwon
Bold ones are untaggable* Wanna be in the perm taglist? Lmk <3
#enhypen x reader#heeseung x reader#heeseung fanfic#lee heesung x reader#lee heeseung#enhypen imagines#lee heeseung x you#lee heeseung x reader#enhypen fic#heeseung imagines#heeseung#enhypen heeseung#heeseung enhypen#enhypen#heeseung enha#killer au#heeseung x you#enhypen scenarios#enha#enha imagines#enha x reader#kpop fanfic#heeseung drabbles#heeseung scenarios#enhypen lee heeseung#heeseung lee#enha heeseung#dead by daylight au
492 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Astarion Jealousy Part 2
The graphic extension to this but a lil less serious and definitely not sfw.
CW: Jealous spawn astarion who is still a sweetheart, but the drow twins get under his skin. graphic sex scenes, oral, relatively tame honestly. The sex part will be under the cut btw which is m/f. Also vampire man drinks blood. mentionable incorrect language for sex workers
~
It was odd, being home in Baldurâs Gate without the threat of Cazador always looming. Odd, but equally as wonderful. It had been so thoughtful, if not a little idiotic for Cazador to end up being your first stop in the city. The fight itself had been a blur, a barrage of intense emotions and bloody violence. Astarion had come so close to losing himself back there, losing everything that made him better than the man who almost ruined him. But then⌠you stopped him. You saw something more in him, a chance for a better life. A more meaningful life, away from the shackles of vampiric power obsessions.Â
He was officially free. Now he could exist without any fear of his disgusting masterâs retribution. He could just⌠be. Well⌠not including his darlingâs own myriad of enemies that seemed to follow them about everywhere. And there was still the matter of defeating the elder brain, and lord knows if any of you made it through that alive. But at least his personal demons were slain and out of the picture.
Every little step counted after all. Perhaps some of your delusional hopefulness had finally started to rub off on him, but Astarion was actually starting to look forward to his future. Your future, together. All he had to do was get through a few more perilous adventures and then heâd really have you all to himself.Â
All that said, Astarion could really go without the frequent visits to the local brothel. Was it the best place in the city for gathering information? Yes. It seemed that every walk of life in Baldurâs Gate found their way into Sharâs Caress and if you were going to find alternative passage to the underworld, this would be the best place to find it. But that didnât mean he had to like it. For one there were the unwelcome advances to his own person, the concept of grace and personal space apparently left at the door. He was so very close to breaking the hand of the next person who thought it was appropriate to grab his ass. And if they could afford to get kicked out he would have by now. Your verbal, angry tirades in his defense could only scare off so many.Â
But as terrible as his own discomfort was, it was nothing in the face of how often you were being fawned over. What was it about you that seemed to drive everyone mad? Yes you were objectively attractive, but this was frankly getting out of hand. First there was the green skinned druid doing something sensual to your mind, then there were the general stares and whispers as you walked by, and now a pair of gorgeous drow twins trying and failing to proposition you.Â
It was getting tiresome. There were only so many times a man could take his lover being offered âfreeâ services before he snapped.Â
On one hand, he could respect the dedication they had to the craft. He could be considered something of a hired whore himself in his time, the old, âthe first oneâs freeâ was a tried and true trick. And he also knew, vaguely, that no one was actually trying to steal you from him. But on the other, he couldnât help the fact that he wanted to claw their eyes out for looking at you so brazenly.
He hadnât expected the eyes of the woman to wander over to him, like she was just noticing the possessive arm he had wrapped around your waist, âIs that your partner with you? How would you both feel about having a little fun?â
Absolutely fucking not. Maybe the old Astarion would have smiled and nodded, ready to do whatever was asked of him. But the man from that wretched era had died, or at the very least was dying. And he would be damned if he let you lay with another, never less participate in it.Â
Astarion interrupted your overly-polite attempts stuttering of a refusal. He glared at them both, a sneer painted on his face, âWeâll be passing on that. Youâd think the first no would have sufficed, but I suppose itâs not fair to expect everyone to have basic language comprehension. Now as illuminating as this conversation has been, we have places to be. Excuse us.â
Then he was pulling you away, happy to ignore the offended huffs of indignation he had left in his wake.Â
âWeâre supposed to be investigating, remember?â You said with a giggle, not even questioning him as he dragged you to the second floor, âBeing rude is not the way weâll find travel to the hells.â
âI highly doubt they would have been of use,â Astarion said as he pushed you into the first empty room he could find. He felt off, maybe even a little crazed as he turned to you, âTell me darling, what is it about you that makes you so irresistible, hm?â
He crowded you against the closed door, ducking his head into the crook of your neck to breath you in. You smelled heavenly, you always did. He could trace the barest whiff of your blood from beneath your skin, always calling to him. You were the sweetest thing he ever tasted. Delicious even, for more reasons than one.Â
âT-They just wanted my coin,â You gasped when he started to suck bruises into your skin, âThatâs all.â
âI think they wanted a bit more than that,â Astarion bit out as he shoved his thigh between your legs, âWhat will it take for others to realize youâre mine.â
His hands were wandering, resting low to grip your hips. He was using them to move you, forcing you to grind against his thigh. You grasped at his shoulders, trying to bite back a moan as you stared at him with wide eyes, âYou want to do it here? Does that door even lock?â
It looked like it didnât, not that Astarion cared. Maybe walking in on him ravishing you would finally start getting the point across of who you belonged to. Astarion shrugged, "There are less appropriate venues than literal whore houses."
âBut-â
âBut I can tell you want it,â Astarion interrupted with a smirk, his hands barely working to move your body anymore. But that wasnât stopping you from rubbing yourself all over him, âJust look at you darling. Desperate little thing. But if you really donât want toâŚâ
Astarion made a lazy attempt to step back, laughing out loud when your desperately pulled him back, your desire finally winning out over your common sense. But you were glaring at him, obviously annoyed that he was so good at riling you up. He had seen that look before, the one that just screamed that you were scheming something.Â
He just hadnât expected you to drop to your knees in front of him, huffing as you started to undo the fastenings to his pants, âHas anyone ever told you that youâre a bit of a shit?â
âMaybe,â Astarion said with a strained laugh, his breath catching when you pulled his half-hard cock out, âBut it seems to keep getting me the things I want.â
You rolled your eyes before licking a wide strip up his cock, like you werenât directly proving his point. You looked amazing own there, youâre half-hearted glare morphing into a blissful haze.Â
Gods, how were you real? Astarion wasnât quite sure why you were such a fan of getting him down your throat, but he knew that he was a lucky bastard for it.Â
âSweet girl,â Astarion sighed, letting a hand drift down to tangle in your hair, âSweet girl with a perfect mouth. And youâre all mine, arenât you?â
You made a small, affirmative noise around his cock, taking him in deeper as you clutched at his thighs. You were so good at this, so well-trained after months of being together. He loved the soft, wet sounds that would escape your lips as you swallowed him down, the pretty way your eyes would water as you encouraged him to fuck your throat, how you would squirm in place on your knees, no doubt ruining your panties with how wet you were getting.Â
And no one else would ever know. No one would get to see you like this again, feel you like this. Needy, desperate, and his. Oddly enough, that thought was what sent him over the edge. He came down your throat, groaning as you eagerly swallowed around him.Â
You pulled off of him slowly, panting while you smiled up at him. There was the smallest string of spit mixed with his come, connecting from the head of his cock to your lips. You licked it up, still clinging to his thighs as you hazily stared up at him. Sweet enough to make his heart skip a beat, and his dick give a valiant twitch.
He pulled you to your feet, not wasting any time in smashing your lips together. He spun you around, pushing you towards what he prayed was a clean bed.Â
He pushed you back onto the sheets, making quick work of tearing your pants down your legs as he grinned down at you, âYour turn.â
He kneeled in front of you; spreading his hands over your splayed thighs to peel off your underwear. The core of you was already glistening, slick enough to make Astarionâs mouth water. He licked his lips as he spread your legs further apart, shameless as he feasted on you with his eyes.Â
You were shaking in his hold, biting your bottom lip when you whined, âStop staring alreadyâŚâ
âBut youâre so pretty here my sweet,â Astarion cooed, tracing a single finger over the seam of your cunt, âAnd youâre dripping. Poor thing, have I kept you waiting too long?â
You nodded excitedly above him, your hips bucking when he let his fingers dip in further between your pussy lips. He lightly traced your clit, softly laughing at the way the simple touch made you whine.
It was his own fault that you were so needy, a fact that brought a smirk to his lips. You always got so wet after you had him down your throat, soaked and gorgeous.Â
Astarion dove right in, loudly moaning as he licked into your folds. He dragged his lips upward to suckle on your clit, basking in all the cries and whimpers escaping you.
He licked back down, teasing your hole with his tongue as your legs quivered around his head. He let the sharpness of his fangs scrape against you as he started to fuck you with his tongue, threatening your most intimate places.
He knew you liked that; little minx that you were. The slight risk of pain that was always looming. It made him want to sink his fangs in you for real, a hunger that he'd sate after he had you gushing into his mouth.
You were already close, he could tell from the way your cunt was tightening around his tongue; too worked up from the thrill of being in public and the taste of him still lingering on your tongue. Astarion trailed talented fingers up to rub against your clit, his tongue still curling inside of you as you cried out. Finally falling over the edge. But that wasn't stopping him from continuing to play with you.
You had to tug on Astarionâs hair for him to finally pull away, too over sensitive to handle his talented tongue. You were still trembling by the time he leaned back, licking his lips. He rested his head on your thigh, obviously pleased with himself as he grinned up at you. He could feel your heart racing against his cheek, the sound of your blood pumping singing through your veins. It had his mouth watering for a completely different reason.Â
He let his fangs drag against the delicate skin of your inner thigh, looking up at you through his lashes, "Can I?"
A superfluous question. Not when he already knew the answer before it escaped your lips.
âY-yeah," You mumbled, lovingly gazing down at him. He would never tire of seeing that look on your face, "But be gentle? Please?âÂ
"Of course my love," Astarion murmured, before promptly sinking his fangs into your flesh. He had to hold you down from the way you were still trembling, your quivering only getting worse at the pleasure mixed with pain. He didnât let himself go rabid, just enough to get a taste. He was pulling back too soon, smiling to himself at the little whine you let out. He gently licked over the wound before standing, not yet swallowing the last drops on his tongue.
Instead he leaned forward to kiss you, more than happy to share the sweet taste of your blood as he slipped his tongue into your mouth.
âThank you my dear,â Astarion sighed as he pulled away, âThat was exactly what I needed. Now I think thatâs enough investigating for one day.âÂ
You sighed, taking the time to card your fingers through his hair, âAgreed. Though you might have to carry me out of here now.â
Wasnât that a wonderful idea?
Astarion hummed as he pulled your clothing back on, âI think I like the sound of that," He didn't give you time to respond, too busy sweeping you up in his arms with a grin, "I'll be taking you up on that."
You squeaked when he hefted you up, bridal style, âI wasnât being serious!â
But it was too late, Astarion was already kicking the door open. He shrugged at you, completely shameless as he winked at a few onlookers, "Then you shouldn't have suggested it."
You groaned, hiding your face in his shirt as he happily took you outside, âIâm going to get you back for this. I hope you know that.â
Astarion laughed as he kissed the top of your head, âIâm sure you will.â
It was a childish stunt, borderline on par with a jealous tantrum, but gods, did it feel good. Good enough to sate Astarion's obsessive tendencies for an impressive amount of time. Under normal circumstances.Â
But what about your lives were normal?
#astarion#astarion x reader#astarion x tav#baldur's gate 3#you'll pry my long posts out of my cold dead hands#long fic#spoilers#and thats how later astarion found himself on stage with a killer clown#whoops#still fluffy i'd say#I got a soft (in comparison to cough alternatives) jealousy trilogy in mind so one more dirty part. Also#side note#in reality everyone in your party is attractive and probably gets flirted with an equal amount at the caress#but I love the idea of astarion being hyper focused on you.
3K notes
¡
View notes
Text
The reviews for Heart Burger must be spectacular:
"Free show with every meal. Service is so-so."
"slowest service on the planet. I think they make everything from scratch. Doesn't matter, you're not here to eat. Every day during the lunch rush this twink in a crop top appears like a comet foretelling a great doom. I'd assume it was a kink thing but I think he and his boyfriend (works in the kitchen) genuinely hate each other. Riveting."
"The carbonara is okay. The burger are pretty good. Whatever the owner has going on with his boyfriend is great tho."
#the heart killers#joong archen#dunk natachai#khaotung thanawat#first kanaphan#Thai BL#This one's for you joong#I'll write you a fic one day I swear
432 notes
¡
View notes
Text
all hallow's eve ŕż wm
summary: in which a bleeding woman shows up to your house asking for more than just help.
words: 8.0k
warnings: blood, dubcon/noncon, fingering, knifeplay, knifefucking, murder, death, horror, gore, top!wanda, fem!reader
this is a dark!fic for 18+ only. minors dni. read with discretion.
There were already chips in the paint of her fingernails which she had painted a thick coat of black only the night before. Wanda liked using her handsâit was a cathartic thing. It only meant she couldnât keep nail polish on for very long.
In her quiet kitchen, the gentle tink of a spoon again her black porcelain mug could be heard as she gingerly stirred her coffee, watching the cloudy white swirls of creamer fade into the black of her dark roast and turn walnut. She only liked a little bit of creamer. She enjoyed coffee for its depth and dark. Bits of brown splashed around the inner rim of the black mug as she tapped the spoon clean of remnants before gently setting it down in the sink.
Wanda kept a clean house, but her kitchen she kept clean most of all. She was not trained, but she considered herself something of a chef. She enjoyed carnivorous recipes most of all, beefy red ribeyes and delicately roasted chickens. Her kitchen was her wizard lair where she worked to perfect the most complex of dishes, so she kept it meticulously tidy. The clean black marble counters covered lower cabinets filled with pots and pans stacked neatly and drawers shockingly organized with tools and utensils no matter their irregular shape. She made everything fit perfectly because she was a little neurotic about her tools.
Now the kitchen filled with the lusty dark scent of coffee that she sensually inhaled through her nostrils as her ringed fingers clinked against her porcelain mug. The expensive, shiny coffee machine still clicked and steamed from the fresh batch, and it glimmered almost as much as the array of large knives that were set out neatly on the counter beside it. Wanda had also invested in nice lights for her kitchen, because she liked to take pictures of her dishes when she made them. The studioesque lights glared off the silver blades, some freshly sharpened, some awaiting the fate of the honing rod laying discarded next to the line of knives. Sharp knives were also one of the most important tools of a chef.
Wanda maintained the dark minimalist aesthetic of black and white throughout her upscale apartment. Her annual endeavors usually left her with enough cash to get through the year with lavish, hence the nice apartment. Draining a few bank accounts always amounted to more than expected. If she was saving up for something big she would target a nicer area of town.
Through her French windows was the view of the city framed by the bright orange leaves of the autumn tree outside. She had bought a few small baby pumpkins of different colors and shapes and set them along the windowsill. This time of year was always bittersweet. There was always that simmering sensation rising within her that starts near the end of July, when the dead summer heat goes quiet and still with the promise of no new births of nature, only the aging and deadening that future autumn will bring.
Maybe it was the quiet, or maybe it was just her pituitary gland recognizing when it was time for her to awaken, but it always starts at the same time of each year. It was even earlier this year, though. She could feel the first little scritch when the fireworks went off above all the skyscrapers outside her window. It was like the giant booms and bangs shook the thing inside her awake. Now at this point, late in October, it had turned into a ravenous clawing inside her head. She imagined the innards of her skull like a wooden wall caging a wild animalâscarred with desperate scratches to be released. The clawing reminded her of a beast begging to be slaughtered as it is once a year, so that it may enjoy peace and quiet until it starts to conceive itself again like a rebirthing flower.
It gets so hard to manage this late in the season. Usually, she is the most calm and collected person she knows. People compliment her on her otherworldly levelheadedness which they donât realize is just a lack of emotion. But in September she gets antsy, and in October she is wholly consumed with restlessness and need, constantly zoned out like a lion on the hunt, eyes laser focused for the bright stripes of a zebra amidst the tall African flora, jaw hung wide open, teeth buzzing with anticipation for the first tear of live flesh, ears constantly rounding its skull in search for the sound of food.
Even now, thinking about it as she stared out the window, she let her coffee go cold in her hand. Coming to, she cursed herself and put the mug in the microwave and turned it on. When warmed, she took the mug through her apartment and to her office, settling down in her chair. Her desk was probably the only thing about her apartment that could be considered messy, only because her planning was extensive and elaborate. It had to be for her to have gotten away with it for this many years. Her Octobers were spent stuck at her messy desk which, by the afternoon sun, becomes littered with empty coffee cups.
There were many papers scattered on her desks about many different things. Locations, demographics, news reports, police stations, everything there could be to know about a city. Underneath a stack of papers was another small stack stapled together. âDiagnosis Report.â She had thrown it on her desk carelessly when she took it home from the doctor, miffed that he was only telling her what sheâd already known for a long time. âControlled psychopathy.â
On the other corner of her desk was the most recent news report. âHALLOWEEN KILLER SET TO STRIKE AGAIN.â Sheâd been waiting for this for years now. She was surprised it didnât happen sooner.
That was why her planning was deeper this year. Too many patterns in the same city. She needed to branch out, to change it up. She couldnât complete her mission with cops stationed at every block. Theyâd even started tracking reports in the outer suburbs. She had to go farther this year.
She rolled out a wide roll of paper over the entire desk: a map of the entire city and its outer areas. Usually, the red circles were drawn on the yellowish vague blocks printed on the map to convey where urban areas were, more concrete and road. This year, her red marker circled farther to the side, almost to the very edge of the paper, where the paper turned green with curly printed lines to signify forested areas.
Wanda ran a shaky hand through her red hair, tugging harshly on the locks. She felt like a mad poet, a tortured artist. It was riskier this year. She wasnât as familiar with woods as she was with the city.
Letting out a deep sigh, Wanda rolled out of the desk and went over to the little couch against the wall of her office, plopping down with another huff, chewing on all the thoughts in her head that were becoming harder to manage with all the fucking clawing. Lower population out in the woods could mean fewer fish brought home. But it also meant lower income levels than that in the richest parts of the city. Then again, she did pretty good last year and didnât really need to worry about money this year. If money wasnât a bias, then it usually would be beauty and females. That was why all the reports were either rich old men or beautiful young women, which made it hard for them to find a pattern. Of course, with women it would take more tactic to get everything she would want out of them besides the main point. The main point would be easy, but the seduction would take more artiste.
Turning her head over her shoulder, she eyed the brand new pair of expensive hiking boots that sat in the corner of the office, the laces recently untightened to let the new leather relax. They were industrial, tactical, ready to climb a mountain. It was the pair of shoes that even the most experienced hikers longed for.
Sheâd never been hiking a day in her life.
ŕż
Youâre alone this year.
Sticky green icing melted on your fingers as you picked up the bag of black icing again, piping out little pupils on the Frankenstein cookie you were decorating. Your Halloween playlist played at medium volume through your tiny kitchen as you piped Frankensteinâs black hair on top of his head. Once you had perfected him, even with his messy bangs and uneven mouth, you picked up the sugar cookie and placed it next to other decorated ones which included pumpkins, ghosts, bats, and even graphically disfigured vampires. A delicious aroma in the air emanated from the dish of tomatoes, garlic, onion, and spices roasting in the oven, and on the rack below that, a loaf of bread baking to completion.
âJeez,â you murmured as you looked at the cookie in front of you that was supposed to be a black cat. One eye was twice the size of the other and its ears were more like Panda ears. You were going for cute, but horrific matched the theme anyways.
It was a cozy Halloween night in your little cabin. Orange pumpkin string lights were hanging from the ceiling, your little space cluttered with your accumulation of Halloween decorations that you just couldnât stop buying each year. This was another great thing about living so far out in the woodsâyou could enjoy holidays by yourself without having to worry about catering to bratty little kids asking for candy, or your house getting egged for deciding not to. You had nothing against enjoying the festivities of your favorite holiday, but you were happy you could do it alone without interruption.
Wiping your stained hands free of icing because you had licked so much that you couldnât take anymore, you slipped on your pumpkin-shaped oven mitts and took the dish out of the oven, feeling warmth on your face as the oil and tomato sizzled in the hot dish. Your kitchen was tiny, but it was cozy, and you could make all your favorite foods in it, so it was perfectly fine to you. And your cabin was smallâso small that the kitchen and the living room were basically one room, and you could see the TV in front of the couch from where you stood at the oven. As you very carefully spooned all the tomatoes and garlic and onion out of the dish and into a large red pot that was older than you, you could hear the TV clearly.
Out in the woods, you did not have very good service. The satellite sitting on your roof let you have very few channels, one of them being the local news channel. It was time for the evening news as you heard the familiar theme sound, trying to not let tomato splatter on your Halloween apron that was white donned with black spiderwebbing.
The news channel picked up news from the city, which was a good 30 miles away but the nearest civilization. You halfway listened as they spoke about local events like the highway construction that was branching the city out even farther into the woods, a special on the best places to go trick or treating which was just all the rich neighborhoods, and then they came to the recent crime segment, starting off with one that was the cityâs primary worry that night.
âYear after year, our city is faced with crime on this Halloween night that makes celebrating harder each year. For nearly a decade now, the city has experienced killing sprees that happen every October 31st from what locals call the Halloween Killer.â
You opened up your cabinets and waded through the messy piles of pots and pans and tools until you found your old beat-up food processor. The loud clanging muffled the news report that you were listening to with distracted but piqued interest until you found the processor.
ââŚPolice have been unable to find patterns in the killerâs targeted victims or locations, but this famed killer does strike seemingly randomized neighborhoods each year, though they have mostly only targeted areas with higher income levels. Thanks to local funding, police have been able to set up neighborhood watches all throughout the city, even setting up a police line around the border to keep watch of any suspicious activity. Any sightings of criminal or suspicious activity should be reported to your nearest station immediately. For those living outside city limits, please be on high alert, as police think that the killer may start seeking out further areas to evade the local watches. Your local news station sends a huge thanks to our police as they fight to keep our city safe and to track down this Halloween Killer. Please, everyone be safe out there tonight as you enjoy All Hallowâs Eve.â You glanced momentarily to the TV and saw the wide shiny grin of the blonde newscaster that did not match her grim tone as she swiftly moved on to a segment about Halloween party decorations.
At first, the segment about the Halloween Killer started to pass right through your brain, until your brain caught it, and a small seed of paranoia plummeted into the pit of your stomach. You fiddled with your food processor as you thought about the segment.
When you lived in the city, people always talked about the Halloween Killer. At some point, people started to make up their own ideas of what the killer looked like, creating different masks that seemed to change each year. Most of them just settled on a rip-off of Michael Meyers. You always ignored it, until one year the killer struck right near where you lived. That was only a small impetus of why you fled the city searching for a more peaceful life out in nature, but it certainly was a reason thrown in with all the other rising crime rates in the city. It was becoming like Gotham out there, and you wanted no part of it. Hence your cozy cabin life out in the forest.
Still, it made you nervous. You were a young girl all alone. You didnât have neighbors. If you screamed, it would be to the mercy of squirrels and foxes. And to be fair, though you lived in a forested area and got lucky to live on a plot of land with no other houses, you didnât live that far from the city. If you climbed the nearby hill all the way to the top, you could see the skyline good enough to track the movement of cars on the city highway. If the killer was trying to escape city limits, all they would have to do was choose East, and theyâd be right in your lap.
A shiver ran through you, and you gave a breathy laugh. Youâd been watching too many scary movies that Halloween season. It was making you paranoid. This was why each year you chose ParaNorman over Pet Sematary. You were too paranoid of a person.
Though you took your fretfulness with humor, it gnawed away at you. Wiping your hands on the towel on the oven door, you went over to your front door and opened it.
The air was cold that night. Fall had been teasing and tantalizing all month, but it seemed to rush in all at once that Halloween night. That was another thing you liked about living out hereâit wasnât a concrete jungle that trapped in all the heat like the city did. It was cooler out here and less humid. It was just easier to breathe.
You looked up at the dark, shadowy pines that rose so much higher than your squat little house. Their needles rustled in the gentle breeze. It was so dark, nothing like the ever-present source of light in the city. Beyond where your measly front porch light and the flickering glow of jack-o-lanterns on your porch steps touched, it was pitch black. You could hear the whistle of crickets, the belches of frogs all around.
Twigs snapping.
Fear roared up in you at once, but you quickly settled yourself. Twigs snap all the time out here in the forest given that there are twigs littering the whole ground. A pinecone falling, or a bird landing, or a squirrel sittingâit all could snap a twig. You were scaring yourself.
Nonetheless, you pulled yourself inside, closed the door, lock it, turned off the porch light, and closed all your blinds and curtains. Even though you didnât believe yourself to be at risk, it would be silly to ruin your own night by making yourself scared at the possibility of seeing a face at the window.
You slapped a piece of the bread on the buttered hot pan, deeply enjoying the loud immediate sizzle it made. You followed up with a slice of cheese and another piece of bread, and then flipped the grilled cheese, salivating at the perfect shade of brown the bread turned into.
You ladeled your tomato bisque into a bowl and topped it with some shreds of cheese and one singular basil leaf just to be extra. Bringing your soup and grilled cheese into the living room, you finally settled down on the couch with a sigh, setting your food down on the coffee table before searching for the perfect cutesy Halloween movie to watch. You settled on ParaNorman since youâd been thinking about it.
All traces of the news report had left your mind as you burned your mouth on the soup and did the most immaculate cheese pull with your grilled cheese. You didnât even think twice when you heard a creaking noise on the front porch.
When you heard it again, you surprised yourself by remaining calm. It was a breezy night. This was an old cabin, and that wooden porch was squeaky. A gush of wind is bound to move the wooden panels enough for it to squeak.
Squeak. It seemed closer now.
You still werenât worried, but just out of habit, you turned your head and looked back at the front door in the kitchen.
You didnât really see it at first. Or didnât recognize what it looked like, at least.
A dark shadow through the sheer curtains over the window of the front door. The perfect shadow for a head and shoulders.
Fear broiled deep in your gut, but you warred with yourself yet again. It was definitely just the way that the moon filtered through all the shapes of the forest trees and landed across the window of your door. That was all it was. You were just being paranoidâthe shadow wasnât even moving.
Youâd managed to fully convince yourself and was just about to turn your head back around when there was a knock at the door.
Adrenaline shot through your body so hard that your bowl of tomato soup slipped right out of your immediately sweaty palms, landing with a heartbreaking splash across your shirt.
âFuck!â you yelled as the hot soup instantly soaked through your shirt and gently burned the skin of your stomach. What was worse about how hot it was, was how sad you were at losing your tomato soup.
The knock came again, much more hurried this time.
âHello!?â a womanâs voice came from the other side of the door, and the sound of a personâs voice deepened your panic even more. No one had ever been out here except the few friends and family you had invited over a handful of times. No one lived near here. Your dirt road stretched on for three miles before it touched the highway. The dirt road only led to your house, nothing else. It was your own personal driveway. There was no reason for someone to be out here unless beckoned.
And you were all alone. There was no one to glance at with panicked eyes and telepathically ask who the fuck is at the front door. It was just you and your tomato soup-soaked shirt.
âHelp!â the voice cried, pounding on the door harder this time, so hard that your windows shook in their panes. âHelp me! Please!â
âWhat the fuck?â you whispered, your breathing picking up as you started to really freak out. Not only was there someone randomly at your door this late at night, but they were apparently in distress? Or at least pretending to be.
âPlease! Somebody help me! Please!â the woman screamed outside, and she slammed so hard on the door that it sounded like she was throwing her whole body against it. You could even see the door bulge from the wall, almost like she was trying to break it down.
Rule number one of living out alone in a cabin deep in the forest was to never, ever open your door to strangers. You were way too vulnerable for that. You knew that, and so your instinct was to hide and possibly call the police if she didnât give up. It could easily be a trick.
Then again, she was screaming for help. She herself was out here potentially alone in the woods, if this was real. What if you later learned that this girl needed help and couldnât find it from the single house she managed to stumble across?
âFuck fuck fuck,â you whispered, tugging at your hair as you ducked across the room, hiding behind your little kitchen island. If you made yourself seen, there was no way you could get out of it or even pretend to not be home. âPlease open the door!â she screamed with such desperation that her voice croaked, and you heard little sobs follow. âPlease just open it! I need help! Please!â
Something about the desperation in her voice panged you deeply in the gut, and for some reason you felt like it wasnât a trick. Nonetheless, you knew it was bad, whatever it was. She could be running from someone or something and leading them right into your house. The best outcome of this whole thing would be a cruel Halloween prank.
âPlease!â she screamed, slamming herself against your front door. You heard a horrible clicking noise that sounded an awful lot like your door coming undone from the hinges.
Internally groaning, you grabbed a knife from your knife drawer and held it as realistically as you could in your hand, slowly going towards the shadow at the front door window.
âPlease!â she screamed again.
Gritting your teeth, you gathered all your bravery, expecting anything to happen as you touched the doorknob. With a big breath in, you unlocked it and swung it open.
A scream involuntarily escaped your throat at what stood on the other side of that door.
Seeing a personâs face at your door for the first time in basically months was already a shocking thing, but seeing it covered in blood was even more shocking. The woman stood only an inch or two taller than you, her dark red hair stretching down past her shoulders. She wore a long sleeve white shirt, which you could only tell it was white from the sleeves because the entire front of it was soaked with dark red blood. The blood even caked the thighs of her jeans, and it dripped in long, thick lines down her face, with splatters over her cheeks. The worst part was that the blood glistened against the light that came from inside your home. In fact, it drippedâin horrible black splatters on the old wood of your porch. You could see bloody footprints going up the steps.
For a moment, she looked shocked to see you standing there. Had she started to think no one really was home? The shocked look faded as she glanced over you, her lips seeming to struggle to form words.
âHiâI need h-help,â she said quieter now, very breathlessly. She was tremblingâher eyes looked at you with a crazed, weakened look, like she was about to fall on you at any moment. That was when you realized that she must be bleedingâbleeding a fatal amount.
âOh my God,â you croaked, not knowing what to do. âWhatâIâCome in,â you hesitated, and then remembered that whatever cut her up this badly could be following her, so you goaded her. âCome on, come in!â
Quickly, she came inside, leading a trail of bloody prints on your precious wooden flooring as you closed the door and locked it shut. You turned around, pressing your back to the door and staring at her as your heart pounded hard in your chest. You noticed that her eyes were focused on your hand at your sideâyou looked down and remembered that you were holding a large knife in your hand. âSorryââ you apologized at first, thinking that she was probably just harmed with the same thing you were holding and wasnât too happy to see another person wielding it, but remembered to keep your guard up. She could be anyone, and anything could have happened to her. Anything could happen next.
âI need to sit downâŚâ she said, clutching her stomach and bending over. Her eyes, you noticed, were a vivid green against the darkness of the drying blood on her face. âIâŚâ The vivid green disappeared, and you realized she had closed her eyes and was starting to sway.
âOh God, yes, sit down,â you rushed, absentmindedly dropping your knife on the kitchen counter so that you could help her. Trying your best to avoid touching any blood, you barely held her arm and led her to the couch. She sat down heavily, flickering her eyes to look at you, those green orbs landing at your waist.
âYour shirtâŚâ she whispered croakily.
âOh,â you blurted as you looked at your own shirt that had an orangeish red splash over the front. âTomato soup,â you blushed, growing sick at the fact that the red splash on her shirt was, in fact, not tomato soup.
You looked around as this strange woman sat bleeding on your couch, her eyes opening and closing. She was probably losing a lot of blood. What were you supposed to do?
âThe police,â you blurted, and her eyes opened wider with a flash. âIâll call the police!â
You went to your landline phoneâthere was no cell service up here, so you depended on the weak telephone lines for any kind of communication. You typed in 9-1-1 and pressed the phone to your earâsilence. Confused, you dialed again, only to hear more silence. âWhat the hell?â
âWater.â
âHuh?â you asked, glancing at the woman on your couch.
âCan I please⌠have water?â
âOh, yes,â you said, feeling stupid and rude that you hadnât even tried to physically help the woman bleeding out on your couch. âIâm sorryâAre-are you okay?â you asked as you went to get a glass of water. It felt like an obviously stupid question to ask, but to be fair, you werenât entirely sure of her injuries nor her situation except that she was bleeding what appeared to be a lot of blood to you.
âI think so,â she said, coughing to clear her throat as you handed her the glass of water.
You ignored the stains of tomato soup on the other seat of your couch as she sipped the water with a shaky, bloody hand.
âYou wouldnât happen to have a phone on you, do you?â you questioned. It was obvious there was something wrong with your phone, which wasnât that unusual, and even though there was no cell service the last time you checked, you thought any effort might be worth it to get this girl some help.
She shook her head as she gulped the water down.
Sighing, you glanced toward the curtained window and thought of your car out front. You would need to drive her to help, you realized. You figured you could at least find out what the hell was going on first before you loaded her up in the car.
âWhat happened to you?â
She finished the glass of water and weakly handed it to you, her eyes flashing up at you. Something about it startled you. Maybe it was the visual connection that jarred you into realization of the situation, or maybe it was because you werenât used to being around people anymore. Either way, you suddenly felt scared with her eyes on you.
âSomeone attacked me,â she hoarsely spoke, wiping her mouth of water only to smear blood around her lips. She gritted her teeth, looking around your house for the first time. You suddenly thought of your knife on the counter.
âAttacked you?â you asked, trying to imagine the situation in your mind. âDo you know who?â
âNo, just some guy in a mask,â she exclaimed, sounding like she was starting to calm down and gather her wits. You noticed she wasnât breathless anymoreâin fact her chest rose and fell very slowly and calmly. Maybe she was a good self-soother.
âWhere?â you questioned.
âWhat?â she said, looking up at you with sewn brows.
You hesitated. âI mean, where were you attacked?â You looked towards the window again when she hesitated to answer. âItâs just⌠you mustâve ran at least like, three miles.â
The redheaded woman only stared at you with her vivid green eyes that you now noticed, with a slight chill in your spine, were oddly empty. Like doll eyes. Like a doll skeleton with human skin stretched over it.
You were starting to feel weird as you tried to explain. âThe main road is three miles down that driveway out there.â You vaguely pointed. âUnless you came through the woods. So I was just asking where were you attacked?â
Finally, she blinked. âOn the road,â she blurted out. âI was⌠walking to my friendâs house on the road when this car stopped. And he got out and just⌠attacked me.â She started to shake again as she looked down at the blood all over her.
But you were still and silent. âYour friendâs house?â
Her eyes met yours, and you could see that chilling emptiness again.
You swayed your weight from one foot to another, trying to think out the entire situation before you spoke. âThe nearest house in ten miles is abandoned.â
Her red brows sewed together in confusion, and for a moment you saw, through the blood on her face, that she was pretty. You wouldnât find it strange for someone to target her.
âIâm confused,â she suddenly sobbed, an illegible cry escaping her throat as she covered her face. âI donât know what happened.â
A flash of guilt shot through you. This girl is here bleeding out, obviously having just been attacked, and youâre questioning her. Sure, her story didnât make sense, but you knew if youâd been randomly stabbed in the middle of nowhere, you wouldnât be making much sense either. Itâs possible that she was drugged or kidnapped or all of the above. She certainly didnât look like she was from around here.
âHey, hey,â you gently said, starting to reach out a hand to touch her shoulder but deciding against it. She was fully crying now. âItâs gonna be okay. IâŚâ You took a deep breath and tried to be a better savior for this poor woman. âLook, Iâll get you some help, okay? We can take my car and take you to the nearestââ
âHeâs following me!â
You stopped in the middle of your sentence. âWhat?â
âWe canât leave. He was following me as I got away from himâŚâ She slowly turned her face to the window. âHe could be out there right nowâŚâ
That paranoia boiled within you again. On one hand, you thought it would be better to just risk it to get her the help she needs, but you knew that if someone were lurking out there, it would be just you versus him since this woman was in no condition to defend you.
âThe Halloween Killer,â she murmured. âI think it was him.â
Dizziness swirled in your head as your brain shot back to the news report. The Halloween Killer⌠the police guessed that he would be going out of city limits this year⌠You imagined the killer taking the nearest highway out of town which happened to be the one you lived by⌠Seeing a girl on the road⌠Maknig his first victim of the night⌠Except that he didnât kill her. There was no way he would let a witness get away. Especially since she probably saw his face and his vehicle.
âOkay,â you breathed, rushing to the nearest lamp and turning it off. âWeâll wait for a while.â You turned off the kitchen light, the string lights, the range light. âWe need to be quiet. If we donât hear anything in⌠an hour⌠we can go.â
You walked back over to her, noticing that she was looking at her stomach.
âCan you wait that long?â you gently asked. âIt looks like you bled a lot. Are you still bleeding?â
âI donât know,â she weakly said. âI canât tell.â
Biting your tongue, you thought for a moment. If you were going to make her wait an hour, the least you could do was clean her up a little. It was important to clean the wound, and if she was still bleeding, it looked like you needed to put pressure on it as soon as possible before she lost too much blood. You were already surprised she was still conscious with all that blood on her.
âIâll be right back. Stay right here.â
You left for a moment to get the first aid kit, a rag, and a cup of water, and came back to find her in the same spot, her head leaned back on the couch cushion. Carefully, you sat down next to her with the rag in your hand, dipping it into the water. âWeâll clean you up a little so we know the damage,â you said, laughing at your attempt to sound professional and steady-headed.
âThank you,â she croaked, turning to face you slowly on the couch. It was completely dark in your cabin now except for the little glare of moonlight that came through the curtains. It felt a little too close, sitting in the dark with her on your tiny couch, and it felt even more close when you started to wipe away the blood on her face with your rag.
âYouâre welcome,â you said. âIâm sorry Iâm not the best person to come running to for help,â you said with a little laugh.
Her lips curled into a smile, and you felt your heart murmur at how pretty she was. As you wiped away the blood on her face, wondering if she had a head injury to account for her confusion and the blood on her face, you saw that she was actually strikingly beautiful. It made you a little hot, sitting there so close to someone who looked like that.
âOkayâŚâ you said when her face was all clean, now looking at the front of her blood-soaked shirt, hesitating. âUmââ
Without speaking, she rolled up the hem of her shirt to show the flat expanse of her abdomen that was blotted with dark blood. Worried that you would freak out at the sight of stab wound, you very carefully and tensely cleaned away the blood on her stomach, rewetting the rag in the bowl of water which was now murky red.
You always hated how ignorant you could be sometimes.
It wasnât until you had wiped her entire abdomen clean that it dawned on you.
There were no stab wounds. Not a cut or a scratch.
Nothing felt real suddenly. Confused, you looked up at her.
The deeply malicious look on her face jarred you so suddenly you almost slipped off the couch, stumbling to your feet. Your ankle slammed against the coffee table as you backed away.
Her eyes were staring at you evilly, her lip set in a smirk. You suddenly felt small, tiny, helpless, stupid. So stupid!
âIs this the part where they say trick or treat?â the woman asked now in a gruff voice as she slowly stood up, looking suddenly a lot taller than she did at the door. You also noticed now a bulge in the sleeve of her shirt.
Wanda straightened her arm down at her side, letting the long, bloodied knife slide out of her sleeve, catching the long handle when it touched her palm. She held the knife up expertly, the moonlight glinting off of it.
This was one of her best tricks yet. Thereâd been times where she had to hide in the closet of the home of a victim, or in the backseat of their car, or sheâd even had to follow them several blocks down before striking, but sheâd never made herself so intimate with someone she was going to kill before, besides the ones that sparked out of intentional sexual encounters. Wanda had always been more of a grab and slash kind of serial killer, looting their belongings afterwards and moving right on to the next one. But this time, this girl⌠she was lingering.
You were just so pretty. Pretty girls were Wandaâs weakness, especially when they were vulnerable. And my, how you were vulnerable.
âAll alone out in these woods,â Wanda whispered as you both just stood staring at each other, her at your face, you at her knife. âYou never thought that one day the big bad wolf would come knocking?â
The fear in your eyes was delectable to her. Youâd been so easy to trick. You almost caught her about the friendâs houseâsheâd been so distracted thinking of all the things she was going to do to you that she slipped up. She blanked.
âPlease donât hurt me,â you whispered, raising your hands up like someone who was just caught by the police for vandalism. âI wonât do anythingâIâI wonât tell anyone.â
âIâd hope not,â Wanda interrupted you. âIf my plans go accordingly, which they will, which they always do, you will be in no state to do anything or speak to anyone. Ever.â Wanda grinned, chuckling at the way your fingers shook in the moonlight.
The Halloween Killer. You cursed yourself. You also cursed your luck. What were the chances the killer would decide to find you that night?
You realized then that the blood on her shirt was not hers. It was whoever else she had just murdered before coming to you. You were just another life to tick off her quota.
You thought of your knife on the counter. The woman stared at you with a cold, dead look, coupled with the look of enjoyment. She was enjoying this.
You hesitated for a moment before deciding that taking your chances was better than having no chance at all. You jumped over to the kitchen, reached over the counter, and had your fingers on the handle when you felt her warm body slam you against the counter, her hand reaching easily over you and slapping the knife away.
âNo!â you involuntarily cried out as you watched the knife slide off the counter and drop to the other side of the floor.
âBad girl,â Wanda grunted, and you felt the womanâs hands grab your hips. She pressed you harder into the counter, her hips flush against your bottom, grabbing a fistful of your hair and slamming your face down on the hard, cold counter.
âAh!â you cried as your head slammed into the rock-hard surface, dizzying you. She had you completely bent over the counter, pressing herself into you and holding your head down on the counter with blinding pressure.
âI wonât lie that I like the challenge of putting up a fight,â she whispered, resting her fist that held the knife against the small of your back. âBut Iâd rather you make it easy for both of us.â
âGet away from me!â you screamed, feeling your cheeks go red hot as your animalistic instincts to survive kicked in.
âShhhh sh sh,â the woman shushed right into your ear, making you jump at how close she was now, her body laid over on top of yours, her lips pressing right into the soft skin of your ear. âHush, baby,â she cooed, and the sound made the entire side of your face burn hot. âIâm not going to really hurt you. Iâm not that much of a sadist.â
Suddenly, you could feel something really cold on the back of your thigh. The tip of her knife pressed softly into the tender flesh of the back of your thigh, dragging slowly upwards. It caught the hem of your skirt, dragging it upwards and exposing you.
You whined and squirmed, to which she pressed herself harder down on you. The edge of the counter was pressing into your tummy so hard you could barely breathe.
âNow, stop moving, youâll hurt yourself,â she husked against the space behind your ear, and you shivered at the way your body reacted. You were trembling under her, helpless and confused as the tip of her knife pressed harder into your thigh.
You let out a long cry when she let the knife slice your soft skin, engraving a slash right below your butt cheek.
âOopsie,â she murmured as she breathed heavily into your ear, her fingers dragging your blood around the back of your thigh. âSorry about that, youâre just the prettiest one Iâve ever had.â You could feel her smirk against your ear. âI hated how I had to branch out this Halloween, but if I get you, itâs all worth it. I can go right on homeâstop moving!â
She grabbed your hip tightly, and your body reacted in the worst way possible. You arched for her, exposing your rear end to her hips even more.
âThatâs it,â she said with an air of shock that made you hate yourself. âSee? I donât mind you enjoying itâin fact I want you to.â
Her hand suddenly came down hard on your ass, making you squeak and jump. Your body was hot all over, throbbing against the coolness of the counter, your mind a complete mess.
âLetâs see you,â Wanda said, lifting your skirt fully over your ass to expose it in the moonlight. You felt her finger grab the back strap of your panties and tug them down. Your face grew hot in embarrassment as even you could feel how wet you were. This strange murderer had untapped something inside you that was making you spiral against that counter.
âI knew you were perfect,â she whispered as her fingers touched you, making you jump and whine, swimming in your soaking folds. She laughed against your upper back, her hand roaming over your ass and squeezing it before going back to your pussy, slowly pressing a finger in. You could feel both the blood from the cut and the wetness from your core dripping down your thighs.
Wanda grunted, feeling lost in you. In your fear, your body under hers, the control. This was the best kill she had, and she hadnât even killed you yet.
âSuch a tight little thing, I almost want to keep you.â She pulled out her finger, and you hated yourself for feeling empty because of it. Then you felt something foreign and hard against your entrance, panicking as it pushed into you. She harshly grabbed your hair and slammed your head down again, and that was enough to weaken you.
Your insides throbbed and tingled as she pushed the handle of her knife slowly inside you, grunting at the way you stretched around it. It was a nice knife, thick blade. âYouâre taking it so well.â
You squirmed helplessly on the counter, starting to sweat as the woman pushed the knife handle deeper inside you. You could feel it pushing against your cervix, and your legs trembled.
âItâs okay to feel good, you dirty little thing,â Wanda whispered, both a praise and a degradation that made you whimper. You were wordless, mindless, under this killerâs hands and body, and the last part of you that remained subconscious wondered what wouldâve happened if you never opened the door.
She pulled the handle almost all the way out before slamming it inside you again. You feared feeling the blade, but you didnât. She pumped the handle inside you over and over again, soft at first before that clawing inside of her head got the better of her.
âGood girl,â she breathed against the back of your neck, biting into it as she slammed her knife inside you. âThatâs it. Stay still.â
You heard a zipper unzip, and the sound of denim shifting, before you felt the warmth of her core pressing into your left cheek. Grabbing the back of your neck with one hand, the other ramming the handle of her knife into your pussy repeatedly, Wanda grinded her clit against your ass, shoving you against the counter over and over again. She was so helpless, so overwhelmed with both intensifying hunger and relief that she just needed to get off. Her cum smeared over the hill of your ass as she rutted herself against it, listening to the wonderful squeaks and whines you made.
âFuck,â Wanda whispered as she got close, watching the cum-soaked handle of her knife fuck harder into you as she got closer. âMmmm,â she grunted animalistically as she felt the edge near her.
You clawed helplessly at the counter, your walls spasming around the ribbed handle until finally you couldnât take it anymore, your hot face pressing hard into the cold, sweaty counter as you came around the handle of her knife. She rutted harder into you as you heard her vague sounds of orgasm, the tip of her knife accidentally making shallow stabs in your inner thighs as she lost control of how she angled the knife.
âOh fuck,â Wanda breathed as she slowed down, and you were lost under her, your brain far gone and body farther, trembling, thighs bloodied. Wanda hadnât even noticed that she ripped so hard into the back of your neck that it was bleeding.
Controlled psychopathy. Load of shit.
Pulling out of you, Wanda pulled away and turned your limp body over, looking at your reddened, tear-streaked face. You were such a pretty little thing. A diamond hidden out in the forest. It was a shame sheâd stumbled across you that night. If it had been any other night, she wouldâve kept youâcourted you, even. She could tell youâd make such a good girlfriend to her.
âWell,â Wanda whispered, gently stroking your sweat-soaked hair out of your face. âThat was great. I really enjoyed that,â she said softly, almost like a person with real emotions, and for a moment she had almost felt like one.
Controlled psychopathy.
âBut Iâm afraid Iâm going to enjoy this even more.â
The last thing you saw was the flash of her blade as it came down on you.
#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff#scarlet witch#scarlet witch x reader#serial killer#halloween#crimsonween#kinktober#marvel#lgbt#lesbian#dark!fic
554 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Bruce freaking the fuck out because someone vandalised his sonâs grave. He is pissed, and so sick at the thought of seeing what they did to the coffin that he barely even tries to look. Tim is the one who checks if the robbers left anything behind or did something to Jasons body, and is shocked to see an empty coffin. Then he remembers how paranoid Bruce is and the sensors he put in the coffin, but strangely enough none of them were activated. Then he remembers; the sensors only go off if the coffin is breached from outside. And upon inspection the wood certainly seems to be breaking outwardâŚ
#tim drake#bruce wayne#jason todd#dc comics#Tim rooting through the batcomputer for things that can bring people back to life: what is Lazarus pitâŚ?#batcomputer: access denied#Tim: aight bet#Tim either finds Jason on one of the civilian outings or patrols heâs taking to search for him#OR he does some more digging into Lazarus Pits and LoA and eventually hacks his way in#Tim to Young Justice: today weâre going to overthrow the biggest organization of killers in known history!#fic ideas#fandom thoughts#dc thoughts#batman thoughts#rewritten speaks
816 notes
¡
View notes
Text
small favours
â joel miller x fem!reader
â warnings: explicit content minors dni, smutttt, dirty talk, very minimal plot sorry not sorry, swearing, needles, mention of injuries/cuts
â a/n: happy tlou release week!! this is set in jackson between the first and second game, i wrote the first part before i saw the show but just imagine with me okay. and itâs literally just bc i saw joel in that denim shirt and went yeah⌠i wanna fuck him in that. lmao. also dedicated to @everybirdfellsilent because we have been waiting for this show for so long and itâs finally here and oaoxosoxosox. wow.
You hadnât asked for much.
It was a simple fix, you were sure of it. Yes, you donât know anything about how to fix hinges, nor do you have any clue about how you broke it in the first place. Either way, itâs just a few screws and a metal piece, so was it really that hard to find five minutes to fix it?
Leading another one of the horses into the stable, you pointedly step over the gate that now lays on the floor, too heavy for you to move it. The horse tramples it, of course, which is why you had asked for someone to come and fix it before the horses were brought back in from patrol. Clearly, no one gave a shit about your question, but you know theyâd all be the first to complain if it was their horse that got out through a broken gate.
It was late now, anyways. Too late for you to get anyone out, and even with the safety of Jacksonâs walls keeping you blocked off from the outside world, being out at night still freaked you. When you finally got the horse in your hand settled and fed, you promptly sat yourself on the floor of the stable. Without the front gate, it wasnât safe to leave the horses alone. With your luck, theyâd get spooked and run all the way through town, and the last thing you needed was more reason for the people in here to look at you.
It wasnât that you werenât likedâ you just kept to yourself. This life was hard enough as it is, and you didnât see the point in making friends when in five years this place would probably be full of strangers. People die every day out here, you knew that too well. You wanted to save yourself the heartache wherever you could.
All that anti social behaviour certainly didnât win you any favours thoughâ hence the still broken door. You loved itâ you were good with horses, having lived in a farm before the outbreak, so you decided to volunteer to help in the stables, but it was hard work sometimes. It kept you busy enough, though, and horses never wanted to make conversation, so⌠win-win.
There was only one problem with working in here. Truthfully, it wasnât so much as a problem and more of a chronic condition. At least, thatâs the way it felt every time Joel Miller made some kind of appearance. Most people just left the horses tied up out front for you to take care of, but Joel seemed to enjoy the peace the stable providedâ that and you never talked much, which seemed to work for him. On the days heâd come back from patrol, the two of you would share a few hushed conversations as you worked and he hid from the rest of Jackson, and then youâd fall into a comfortable silence, sometimes for hours at a time.
Weeks had passed like this, and every single day you got a little bit more interested in who the man really was, other than his clear infatuation with his horse. Right when he came in would be the time you talked the most, after about forty minutes it would get too busy and youâd work until the sun set. But those forty minutes started to stretch a little longer, and he seemed to gain interest in you, too. Maybe you were grasping at straws, but hearing Joelâs low voice rumble a few more words every time he spoke to you was doing wonders for your self esteem, and even you couldnât deny the way your face warmed when he smiled at you.
âHey, you stillâ damn. What happened here?â Joel calls from the gaping hole that is the stable door, and only because itâs his voice calling you do you look up.
âItâs been broken all day. I asked someone to fix it, butâŚâ You shrug, sighing and leaning your head back on the small gate that was the only thing holding the horse behind you from leaping out down the main street. âI guess they had other shit to do. I canât move it on my own.â
Joel considers you for a second, how your frame is backed against the gate, conveniently placed at the closest point to the open door. Then, he looks back to the door on the ground, and back up to you. He smirks.
âSo you were planninâ on sitting in here all night?â The weight of the day makes your shoulders slump forward, and for the first time you really consider your plan. âYou gonna body check a horse when he makes a run for it?â
âOkay, it was a dumb plan. But, itâs that or let them all out and get stuck cleaning up the bar floor or something.â He smiles again, the setting sun behind him washing over his shoulders in a pretty orange colour. A tilt of his head in your direction has you standing up, taking the lead of his horse that he offers to you.
âYou take him, Iâll go get my tools. Fix it up before sun down.â Before you can protest or tell him he doesnât have to, heâs walking off to the right up the hill where his house sits.
Youâd always been a bit jealous of the spot his house is. Itâs far away enough from everyone that you get some real privacy, but close to the stables if you need a quick exit. He had a porch, too. One you spent a little too much of your time staring at during your work hours, when he spent his off days strumming a guitar right in your line of sight. He was just⌠peaceful to observe. He brought a calm to you that no one else seemed to be able to do, almost enough that you could forget about the world outside and just exist in that little bubble for a while.
You lead Joelâs horse inside, hearing it trample the door again, and hang up his saddle next to the stable. Joels horse is much like himâ quiet unless provoked. You found it out the hard way when you first led it in with a routinely aggressive horse, thinking itâs demeanour would calm him down. The next morning you woke up to two very angry horses and a half bent gate of steel.
âSaved you your favourite spot.â You say to his horse, Old Beardy. You never asked how Joel picked the name, but for some reason it worked so wellâ at least, he was definitely older than most. âSee? Heâs right up there.â
The stable at the back was angled just right so that the small window at the height of a horses head pointed directly towards Joelâs porch. Not close enough to see anything other than the outside, but enough that you know itâs there. You donât come in here often, Joel always taking his own horse in, but when you do you canât help but notice the instant calming effect it has on Beardyâ you might have more in common with this horse than half the people in Jackson.
When you find your way back to the front, Joelâs footsteps are trudging back down the hill. Youâll be fairly useless as anything other than company while he fixes the door, but you canât seem to stop your heart from racing a million miles a minute as he gets closer and closer. Yes, he makes you forget about everything on the outside, but thatâs mainly due to how insane he drives you. All those conversations in the stables and too long looks in town are just all too consuming, and now, when you see him come into sight, you have to put some physical difference between him and you.
âYou donât have to, Joel. Really, Iâm sure someoneâllââ
âNo, they wonât. Knowinâ the people around here, youâll be sleepinâ on the floor till next year.â He bends down, and you drop yourself back to the floor and stare in some kind of mesmerised silence as he runs his hands over the broken hinges of the door.
In a few passing thoughts youâd never admit to yourself, you have an obsession with his hands. He was just soâŚcapable. He could do so many things so easilyâ and some kind of backward wire in your brain fizzled with electricity at the sight of him in his element. He starts fiddling with tools, first starting to remove the broken hinge, muscles flexing as he tears off the old bolts.
âWhat happened?â He says, the words muffled by the screwdriver in his mouth.
âI have no clue. When I woke up this morning it was blown in. I spent a good hour trying to move it but itâs soââ With one arm, he pulls it up to stand vertical, a fist wrapping around the edge of the gate. It doesnât even look like he tried. ââheavy.â
âCome âere and hold it straight.â He says, keeping one arm out in front of him, the other still holding the door up. âI wonât let it fall. Come on.â
âLike this?â You say, staring down at him as you finally reach the door and take a little bit of the weight. He flicks his eyes up, nodding and shifting on his knees to get a better angle on the door.
âPerfect.â He says softly, looking up at you for another split second before clearing his throat and screwing on a new hinge.
âYou really didnât have to do this, but thank-you.â Joel shakes his head, his fingers fiddling with a latch.
âLeast I can do. Everyone should be up here helpinâ you anyways.â He stands up, and with only a barrier the width of a gated door, you can feel his body heat keeping you warm when he towers over you. âKeep holding it still.â
âYeah.â You manage, eyes fluttering closed. âPeople help, though.â
âOh, I bet.â He says, sarcasm dripping off his words as he laughs dryly.
âThey do! Sometimes⌠I mean, itâs not their fault. Iâm kind of a hermit up here. I donât really make an effort, so I canât blame them.â He stops working, his knuckles white over the railing of the gate, and looks to you.
âYouâve trained all these new horses to track better than those guys ever could. Theyâd die out there without âem. Carl doesnât know his left from rightâ he got lost eight times last patrol. Itâs cause of your horses he got back safe.â Joelâs face is more serious, his eyes sharp but still with a hint of softness that he often looks at you with. âDoesnât matter if you ainât makinâ friends. This ainât middle school, and people should be helpinâ you no matter what. Least of all fixing a door.â
âThatâs why I keep you around, Joel.â You smile lightly, his voice getting lower the angrier he gets.
âGood. You tell me next time, and Iâll come round and help. Avoid the whole town all together.â You hum, letting go of the gate as he hauls it up in the air and shuffled backward, setting it against the hinges. âHow do you know so much about horses?â
âI lived on a farm, way back when. Besides, theyâre easy to navigate once you get to know them.â Joel puts the screwdriver back in his mouth, and you canât help but stare at him. The small scars on his face, peppered around his cheeks. Some are older, worn and faded, while the one across his nose is new. Itâs not even scarred yet, still fresh
âYou okay?â He says softly, tilting his head.
âYour face.â His eyebrows furrow, and you shake your head. âSorry. You⌠did something happen on patrol? You have a cutââ
âJust a few clickers. Real old, hauled up in a caravan out west. Nothing we couldnât handle.â The door drops into place, and he swings it out towards him. It sounds less squeaky than it usually did. âGood as new.â
âYou should clean it.â You say, worry edging in your voice. âIf it was clickers.â
âIâm fine.â He shrugs it off.
âCome on. Itâs the least I can do. I have a first aid kit in the back, and then we can call it even.â He relents, locking the door behind him and stepping further into the stables. âSit. Iâll get the kit.â
âYes, maâam.â You can hear a small smirk on his voice, and you roll your eyes, turning around to find the kit. âWhy you got a first aid kit in here anyways?â
âYouâre using it now, arenât you?â You turn around, raising your eyebrows. âYouâd be surprised how many people come here before going to medical. I started to stock up a little, do what I can. Itâs not much, but I can clean it off and do some botched stitches until they see a real doctor.â
âAnd none of those guys came up to fix the god damn door?â He was getting angry again, and you tried to ignore the shiver that went up your spine when he spoke like that.
He was sitting on a small stool, putting him about waist height. When you stepped closer, shuffling your feet on the floor, he tilted his head up. His open legs invited you closer, nearly drawing you in with a magnetic field he was completely unaware of.
Armed with a cotton ball and disinfectant, your fingers were light enough to breeze along his jaw to hold him in place. He stares up at you, watching your eyes as they flit between the cut on his nose and his wandering gaze. His face is warm when you work up the courage to place your palm on his cheek, thumb gently smoothing over the salt and pepper flecks of his beard. He doesnât flinch away when you press the cotton ball to his face, swiping across the bridge of his nose.
âDoes it hurt?â You whisper, feeling the need to keep your voice low.
âNo.â He does the same, the heat of his body making you shuffle slightly closer. His hands are in fists on his knees, like heâs straining to keep himself still. âTold you it was fine.â
âAnd I told you I wanted to help.â When youâre satisfied with the results, you take a fresh cotton pad and dry it up. âYou might need stitches. Itâs deep.â
âGo on.â He says, and you lean back, eyes wide.
âYou want me to stitch your face together?â
âGood practise, and I trust you.â The simple words have your heart slamming against your rib cage, but instead of showing it you kneel in between his legs and search the contents of the kit for a needle.
âIf I mess up your face, you knew what you signed up for.â When you find what youâre looking for, you straighten, Joelâs face is right in front of you. It takes you a second to realise just how close he is, and the position isnât lost on him either. Itâs probably the most emotive youâve seen him, his jaw going tight from how hard heâs biting down.
âItâs already messed up. Youâre fine.â He manages, his voice strained.
âHold still.â Whispering the words, you lean closer and bring the needle to his skin. His eyes close, and itâs when you press the point into his nose that his hands shoot out in front of him, holding your hips gently.
âSorry. Shitââ
âItâs fine. Are you okay?â He grunts in a way you think is affirming, so you keep threading the needle. You only need one stitch for a spot this small. âYour face isnât messed up.â
âHuh?â
âItâs not. Messed up.â You feel his thumbs stroke along the bone of your hip just once before he stills again. You tie off the stitch, and his eyes open. âThere. Youâre pretty again.â
Your breathing was rapid even though you didnât have a true reason for it, but neither of you moved. His handsâ strong and so fucking capable, holding you still on your knees in front of him. His eyes were pools, inviting you in with a gleam of something shiny, and where you were nearly gasping he was calm and collected. In his element, like he was right where he should be.
The whole stable was a dull orange now, the colours dusting through the strands of Joelâs hair. Itâs never really sitting right, wind whipping it out of control on patrol, but you have the urge to run your hands through it anyway. You let yourself explore one small piece of him, like he has to you, and your fingertips run back over the shell of his ear, tangling in his hair. He sucks in a short breath, leaning into the hold of your hand.
âJoel.â You say, voice so soft he would of never heard you if you werenât so close, but you call for him and he leans closer. Your foreheads nearly touch, and his hands tighten their hold on you.
âThank you, darlinâ.â You sigh deeply, unable to keep yourself upright at the nickname. It rings through you, his accent strong and adding an entire other layer to why heâs so easy to fall into. You donât even really notice how dark itâs gottenâ you usually have sprinted home by now. But Joelâs here, and with him this close, you canât think of anything else. He leans closer, and your eyes flutter closed.
âCan I kiss you?â He says, the brush of his lips against yours sending a tidal wave of need from your head to your feet.
âOnly if you hurry up.â You answer helplessly, voice cracking, and he smiles against you and finally brings his mouth to yours.
Itâs anything but calm. That peaceful energy of the stables is completely shattered and sorted into something electrical and sizzling. He yanks you forward, bodies pressing together as you use the leverage of your hand fisted in his hair to kiss him harder and deeper. It doesnât take long before his tongue is swiping along your bottom lip, seeking permission.
You let him inâ youâd let him do whatever he asked for if he kept pouring himself into you like this. He tasted good, which should be impossible but when youâve been starved of something for this long it doesnât matter what he does itâs just that heâs giving it to you. He moves his hands to the small of your back, pressing your hips right in the middle of his open legs, his other hand on the back of your head.
You feel him groan when you press together, the sound waking up parts of you that had been dormant for far too long. It was like he had access to each nerve in your body, and every little sound or touch had them blaring red and sparking.
âFuck, darlinâ. Come closer.â He groans into your mouth before kissing you again. You smile for a moment, not entirely sure how you could get any closer, and then itâs wiped off when he hauls you upward, hooking your legs around his waist on the stool. âYeah. Right here.â
Your arms cling around his neck, his own searching up and down your body. Your shirt rides up with the movements and you moan every time he grazed along your skin. Thereâs something equally hard and soft about his handsâ rough from years of work but soft with the way they hold you up, how theyâre careful not to dip too low or high. You arch your back, giving him wordless permission, and he groans into your mouth again.
At some point you have to breathâ both of you gasping for air in the quiet of the darkened stables. He brings his hands to your face, holding you against his forehead so he can look into your eyes. He was smiling tooâ like actually smiling, not that half smirk youâve seen so often.
âWhat are we doinâ?â He laughs, kissing you again.
âI donât know, but can we keep going somewhere that doesnât smell like horse shit?â You whisper and he laughs again. Itâs sounds so goodâ like the sound of the beginning of your favourite song. It makes your heart sing, melting you into the tune. âPlease, Joel. I really wantâŚâ
âTell me, baby.â He moves, angles your head with swift moves of his fingers so he can kiss you lower. Under your jaw, and then he drags his mouth down, along your neck, teeth nipping softly⌠âFuck knows I wanna hear you say it.â
âYou. I really want you.â He hums against your skin, one arm hooking under your ass as he stands easily. You squeal, muffling the sound in the mop of hair on his head. As you walk outside, thereâs only a few people still mulling around, and they turn their heads towards you when they hear your soft laughter mixed with Joelâsâ two sounds that seem to alarm them more than clickers.
For the first time since youâd been here, you really donât care if people are looking at you, or what theyâre saying. When Joel locks the gate behind you and slides you down his chest to let your feet touch the floor, you are reminded once again of his ability to remove every single thought from your mind except him. Just him, and his hands on your hips, spinning you around and leading you up the hill towards his house. How every so often heâll bend down, pressing his lips lightly to the back of your neck, and how you can feel his smile on your skin.
He guides you easily, your body on auto pilot to his small gestures, and when you finally rush up the few steps of his porchâ one youâve spent way too much time staring at from afar, youâre both attached to each others face like horny teenagers. He fumbles with the doors lock, jamming keys with aggressive force while his other hand stays soft and sweet on your waist, holding you against him. When the door gives out behind you he never lets you stumble, taking you in his stride with practised precision. Youâve seen the inside of his house, but never the layout, so as he guides you blindly through the hallway, your shut eyes and occupied mouth never see it coming when you fall backwards onto a bed.
âLet me take this off.â He mumbles against your lips, tugging at your shirt and jacket. In a tangle of limbs you both shove at the material, finally hooking it over your head. He presses you flat against the mattress again, hanging over you and running his hands up and down your sides in long, soothing strokes. âGod damn gorgeous.â
âYour turn.â The blaze in his eyes dulls slightly at your comment, and he just bends to kiss you again. He links your hands in his own, pulling you away from where they were tugging at his shirt. âJoel.â
âNothinâ there you wanna see, baby. Just let me look at you.â As sweet as his voice sounds, and as much as you want him to continue, you pull away from his greedy mouth.
âPlease take your fucking shirt off.â You say harshly, biting at his bottom lip hard enough for his eyes to open again. He looks over you, taking in the sight of you under him with your arms pinned above your head, back arched towards him. Heâs clearly contemplating how difficult it would be to ignore you, smirking a little when he looks up at your hands again.
âOr what? You gonna make me stop?â He kisses under your jaw, his free hand skating along your side, only stopping when his fingers reach the hem of your jeans. When he hears you gasp as his hand disappears under the fabric, he laughs. âNah, you wonât make me stop. Want it just as bad as I do, donât you?â
âBut I wantââ
âShh, shh. Iâll give you what you want.â His mouth his dizzyingâ words and movements hot against your skin as his hand bypasses your underwear and drags slow circles against your clit, immediately drawing his name from your lips again. âThere you go, darlinâ. Feels good?â
âGodâ yeah, faster. Please.â Your chest was rising and falling so fast, trying to pull the air he was punching out of your lungs with every quick movement of his fingers. He hums at the praise, and you feel him shift above you, sitting up so he could slip one finger inside of you. âFuck, Joel!â
âI know, baby.â He tilts his head up to kiss you again, tongue matching the fast and unpredictable pace of his hand. You can feel it buildingâ pleasure rippling up your spine and fizzing low in your stomach, and your hands tug under Joelâs unrelenting grip.
He seems to forget he was meant to be holding you, his groans and concentration all focused on the way he was fucking you with his hand, so he lets you go, his hand going to hold your face. It makes you smile under him, but it quickly gets lost when you moan his name again, rolling your hips against him.
Now your hands are free, you have a moment of clarity when your eyes flutter open and see him staring at you; eyes flitting between your face and your chest. You want to have thatâ to see skin youâve only thought about in the late hours of the night when you were alone, never admitting it to yourself when you woke the next day. You grab onto the hem of his shirt, ripping the denim up as far as you can, getting your hands on the bare skin of his back.
He doesnât help youâ too obsessed with the way you are writhing and moaning so loud the poeple down the street will know what your doing. Neither of you care about anything else than this, right here, and the fiery hot spark thatâs lighting you up inside.
âShirt, Joel.â You tug at the collar, then card your fingers through his hair and pull. He grumbles something, and then you whimper when his hand leaves you and he sits up on his knees. He was out of breath, towering over you and keeping you caged underneath him as he tore the shirt over his head and threw it behind him. When he leans back down, he doesnât give you the time to admire him that youâd like, but you take what he gives you. He shoves your own jeans down, shaking them off you in one tug, and your eyes hardly have time to open before you feel the backs of your calves press against the flexing muscles of his bare shoulders.
âPerfect.â He says, speech almost slurred, and the look he gives you reminds you of the one he gave you in the barn. Before you can think enough on it, both of his hands hold your hips down and he gives you one last look before he buried his face in your pussy.
It doesnât take much to have you screaming his name again, that sweet hot pleasure that was building so quickly comes rushing back with the wet heat of his mouth. He eats you out like heâs fucking hungry for itâ pulling borderline shouts from deep in your chest, like something is bashing against your ribcage, only awoken by his complete and utter devotion. His tongue swirls and fingers curl, and you lose sense of direction, clawing at his hair and feeling his groan when you pull him into you.
Thereâs no where to go, stuck under his weight as he dives into your taste, at his mercy entirely. It was so different to see him undoneâ a sight you wouldnât be able to forget next time he came into the stables all soft eyes and short words. No, here he was holding your eye contact, groaning your name as if you were the one doing this to him. He gave you no choice but to hurtle towards the edge of consciousness, knowing you wouldnât be able to hold out under him much longer.
âJoel. Joelâ fuck.â His lips wrap around your clit, sucking gently while his fingers curl inside you in a spot that has you seeing stars. âOh, godââ
He doesnât say anything when you cum, just groans into your pussy as he guides you through it. He sets pace and intensity, both of which are hard and almost unbearable, and he only drags himself away when you beg him to. Your legs shake, his hands smoothing over your thighs as his mouth presses wet kisses up your skin, over your stomach and chest, finally reaching your mouth with an overwhelming force.
You hum, tasting the combination of you and him together on his tongue, taking everything he needs to give you. He shuffles up, and you feel his cock pressing hard against your thigh, still straining in his jeans. You let him kiss you lazily, let him explore you this way while your hands busy themselves between your bodies, unzipping his jeans. When your palm brushes over his length still covered by his boxers, he hisses and his eyebrows furrow, like the pleasure is almost painful. You do it again and he shudders, pressing his forehead to yours.
âYouâre so soft.â He murmurs past your ear when you slip your hand under the waistband. When your fingers wrap around him, you stay true to his word and stay light with your touch, not wanting him to finish just yet. You want to make it good for himâ draw it out. Pay him back for everything he gave to you; not just tonight, but every night. âSo fucking soft. Sweet.â
âYou like that?â You ask innocently, stroking him again. Your thumb brushes over his tip and he shudders again, nearly shivering. âI can be gentle. Want you inside me, though.â
âWhatever you want. Fuckâ anything you want to do to me. Please, baby. Not gonna last long if you keep doing that.â A single please was enough to grant him a thousand wishes, but youâll settle for giving him just one.
He helps rid himself of the rest of his clothes, no insecurity in sight with the lower half of his body. There was no need to be⌠he was big. It made senseâ he was a big guy, but it wasnât just that. He was just⌠perfect.
âEyes on me.â He says, pulling your gaze away from where your bodies are about to meet. âI want to see your face when IâŚâ
He trails off when his tip lines up with your entrance. You bite your lip in anticipation, feeling the soaked pleasure coating him as he finally slides himself further and further. You both sigh, like a weight is being lifted from both of you. As if this was the way you were both meant to be.
He bottoms out, head buried in the crook of your neck as he chokes out your name. You feel fullâ the weight and stretch holding you to the bed, your arms strung lazily around his neck. Your fingers wander down his spine, keeping that soft lilt to your touch that he seems to thrive under. For all his hardness and strength, itâs the lightest touches that seem to crumble him the most.
âFuck, baby. Feel so good around me.â Joel never speaks for the fun of it, but he says these things like he needs to. Strained and focused, like itâs a compulsion to tell you how good it feels. âNeeded to fuck you for so long. You gonna let me make you feel good, arenât you?â
âYes, Joel. Please, I needâ need you to move.â You whine like a spoilt child, and you are now that youâve had a taste. He laughs once, a breathless sound, and then pulls out nearly all the way, only to slide back in with that same trained pace.
âGood girl.â He groans, and then picks up the pace.
Itâs devastating. Itâs the only way to describe it. He fucks you hard and slow, slowly etching himself into parts of your being you arenât entirely sure he didnât just create himself. Like heâs forged apart of you just for him, something low and hot, and he hits it with every, perfectly timed thrust. The bed rocks under him, but he doesnât seem to care. Its creaks and groans are drowned out by his words and both of your moans.
You are incoherentâ overcome by pleasure that shocks even the nerves in your fingers and toes, but it seems to have the opposite effect on Joel. He doesnât fucking shut upâ and itâs about the hottest thing youâve ever experienced.
âSo fucking tight around me.â
âGod, you feel good.â
âYou are so beautiful.â
âGonna fuck you for days.â Is the last one you hear before his groans turn to borderline whimpers, his pace stuttering as you feel the coil in your stomach tighten and snap all at once. âOh, fuck thatâs it. Cum again for me. Jesus Christââ
âJoel.â You can only whisper nowâ voice so strained that nothing could come out but his name. Your eyes roll back and you feel him fuck into you one or two more times, and then he pulls out and replaces himself with his hand. You ride out your pleasure on his skilled fingers, another wave of heat numbing you when you feel him spill onto your stomach, your back arching off the bed.
The room is suddenly dead quiet, nothing but panting breaths filling the silent house. He is still hanging over you, you can feel both of his forearms next to your head as he leans down to kiss you again. The warmth of his body is lifted just enough for him to use something soft to clean you off, and then he collapses beside you, tugging you onto his chest.
He runs his hand through your hair, stopping at your jaw to tilt you up. He kisses you again, the lack of oxygen making you giddy and dizzy, and you break the kiss only because your smiling so wide.
âWhatâs so funny?â He says, trying to be serious, but even in the dark you can see his matching grin.
âJust happy. Can I be happy?â Itâs meant to be light hearted, but you feel him stop for a second, and then he tugs you a little closer.
âYeah. Yeah, you can be.â He tucks you under his chin, sighing deeply as the rest of your body turns into him and tangles itself with him. âI am.â
You open your eyes a final time, seeing the pitch black dark outside. If it was light, youâd be able to see the stable from here, but itâs black out there. Usually it would make you uneasy, but tucked up under Joelâs safe arms, thereâs nothing in the world that could make you feel more at peace.
#joel miller#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#joel killer x y/n#joel miller fic#joel miller smut#the last of us#the last of us fic#the last of us fanfic#joel miller fanfiction#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal x reader
12K notes
¡
View notes
Note
owner!price trying to teach puppy!soap restraint but he canât stop humping puppy!reader all hours of the day :( <3
tw://hybrid smut, denial, noncon(?), electrostimulation, edited by someone with dyslexia
ghost who goes on deployment, forcing him to leave pup!soap with price. he has no other choice, after all, soap is known to be rather.... energetic.
the other hybrid practically sends you into an early heat. every opportunity he gets, johnny pushes you down, rutting his leaky cock against your ass.
he can't help it! johnny's never been exposed to something like you. you're so soft, sweet and submissive. he's never been allowed to bully something so pretty. it's not his fault that your cunt is always drooling for him, or that your back arches so pretty when he bites your neck.
he's relentless, always shoving his big hands under your shirt. if he's not grinding against your ass, he's groping your tits. face buried in your chest as he sucks and bites your nipples. he makes you cry and whine, trying desperately to escape while he holds you still. he won't stop until you cum just from him mouthing your tits.
price doesn't mind at first. he enjoys the way you become even more sensitive. how you whine and cry in his lap after johnny's been particularly rough. but that changes once he slips his fingers in your abused cunt, finding the other mutts cum stuffed deep inside.
it's the following morning that he calls simon, speaking lowly on the phone. not even two hours later, and johnny's sporting a brand new collar.
now each time he touches your pretty body, a jolt of electricity runs up his spine. it's painful. and what's even worse is that it leaves his poor cock flushed and red, pre leaking. all he wants is your pretty cunt wrapped around him, whimpering and whining at your feet.
but price isn't known for being merciful. he doesn't take the collar off, nor does he give the pup any toys. johnny ends up spending days trying to get off. rutting against his hands, the couch, your panties. but nothing helps.
and to make it worse, price fucks you hard each night. not even letting johnny see how your pretty cunt gets all swollen and flushed when price forces his cock in you, or how your tits bounce with each harsh thrust.
poor johnny can only listen as you whine and cry, the wet smacks from price hips slamming against your ass. all while he whimper on the other side of the door, rutting his neglected cock against one of your pillows.
#this has given me such a KILLER idea for another fic#i wrote this on my phone#so please excuse typos#writing in the tags is my favourite part of writing fics#OH AND SEEING PEOPLES REBLOGS/COMMENTS#mw2 x reader#mw2 smut#price x reader#john price x reader#price x chubby!puppygirl#price x female reader#price x reader smut#female reader#captain price x reader smut#john price x reader smut#captain price x reader#john price smut#johnny x reader#johnny x reader smut#johnny mctavish x reader#johnny mctavish x reader smut#soap x reader#soap x reader smut#price x puppygirl#soap x puppygirl#pupsoap x pupreader x ownerprice#pupsoap x pupreader
2K notes
¡
View notes
Note
A nice character with a yandere split persona. The Yandere persona was born out of the abandonment of the character by a loved one, maybe mom. Did he kill her just so she could stay? Maybe. Only the Yandere persona knows, the character is oblivious, he just knows his mom left him. But he oddly feels ok about it as though the situation has been reconciled... which is weird to him.
Now he meets and falls in love with yn. She must not leave. It's f around and find out
Btw I love you â¤ď¸â¤ď¸â¤ď¸ The Yokai series is my fave
Oooh, Iâve been thinking of a context for your idea and I somehow got stuck on a serial killer who is unaware of it most of the time. Since you mentioned abandonment and obsession, my mind wandered to some of the typical habits, such as collecting trophies. Iâve also been wanting to try my hand at writing a serial killer, so hopefully it turns out to your liking. (Sending back the love, always a pleasure to see your comments â¤)
Although let me include a little disclaimer, because I am aware many things in the sphere of true crime are problematic: this in no way glorifies or romanticizes serial killers. Just a reminder that this is a work of fiction and all behaviors displayed are for the sake of an interesting story, not to be admired in real life.
Yandere! Serial Killer x Reader
You're temporarily staying with a kind, quiet man renting out a room in the house he inherited. It's just the two of you, and a locked bedroom he claims to be vacant. Yet as night falls, you hear the whispered arguing of a voice you don't recognize. Is anyone else there?
[Part 2] | [More original works]
Content/TW: female reader, mentions of murder, obsessive behavior, horror
You must break the pattern today, or the loop with repeat tomorrow
He stares at the locked drawer of the bureau. The clock ticking in the background fades into an irritating buzz, drumming against his ears at irregular intervals like a swarm of insects. Once again, he cannot remember where the key is. Yet he does not feel compelled to search for it. It cannot be anything of significance, he tells himself. Forgotten knick-knacks, perhaps. Despite the apparent lack of curiosity, he is drawn here every morning. He wakes up, carefully folds the sheets, and goes to sit in the office. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Until, at last, the noon hour strikes, and the hallways are flooded with ghastly chimes.
Lately, however, other sounds have taken over the usual silence that envelops the house. The main door rattles faintly before opening with a creak.
âThey were out of our bread rolls. I got a baguette instead.â
Itâs you.
He stands up, as if startled from deep slumber, and hurries downstairs to greet you. He takes the grocery bags from your hands, flashing a smile of gratitude. Somehow, the idea of another person living here is still foreign to him. Heâs gotten so used to the solitude, the quietness of the house. Time stands still when thereâs no one else to remind you of it.
You glance up at the tall man, noticing his slight frown.
âAnother brain fog?â You ask, worried.
âDonât mind me. Itâs a morning routine at this pointâ, he jokes. âMore importantly, what would you like for breakfast?â
He always cooks for both of you. Initially, you were rather hesitant to go for his offer. Youâd been looking for temporary accommodation and stumbled upon his advertisement. A cozy, vintage house the man had inherited from his lamentably departed mother, with one too many spare rooms. He had no need for all the space, he said in his description. You paid him a visit and were taken aback by his appearance. A massive, muscular frame that did not fit the rest of his mannerisms and features. He was soft-spoken, polite, and terribly shy. His eyes reflected the kind of gloom to be expected from anyone in his situation.
A sweet, gentle soul looking for company. On top of that, if you are to be technical, heâs a housemate difficult to compete against. Well-kept, mannered, organized, and thoughtful. He keeps to himself. Youâd learned, soon after moving in, that he suffers from the occasional brain fog and memory loss. He goes for walks at odd hours to clear his mind. Enjoys reading in his office, although youâve caught him just staring into space many times. Terribly inconvenient for the poor lad, you imagine.
The house itself is also not a bad deal by any means. Old fashioned, littered with trinkets and paintings. âMy mother liked to collect many thingsâ, heâd told you. It certainly has personality, to put it mildly. Some belongings are more bizarre than others: portraits of faceless people, with features smudged or distorted, doll heads in pompous, feathered collars hanging in clusters across the musty walls. Peculiar, but manageable.
Only at night does it become unsettling.
âGoing for a walk?â
Youâre curled in one of the armchairs, flipping through a magazine you found. Itâs been hours since your little breakfast together and now the sun is beginning to set. The man is buttoning up his coat, standing in the doorframe and gazing at you with a smile.
âYeah. Iâm starting to detach a little. Maybe some fresh air will help.â
Itâs nice, he thinks, having you here. He didnât expect much when he ventured to rent out a room. He just wanted to hear the murmur of life again. Ever since his mother has passedâŚwhen did it happen, again? Better yet, how did it happen? Christ, he canât remember. The last memory he has of her is not something to cherish. She was angrily shoving him out of the way, visibly annoyed by his cries and pleading. âPlease donât leave meâ, he kept croaking in a pathetic tone, dragging his knees like a beggar. Then itâs all black. Black, like the cover they kept over her body at the morgue, to hide the mutilated remains. Black, like the tie he struggled to knot before her funeral. At that time, the sheets of her bed were still scattered, as if she never left. He could almost see her there, reflected onto the mirrorâs surface â rather dirty as a matter of fact, he should wipe it soon â sitting melancholically on the edge of the mattress.
To think heâd be hearing footsteps again. A soothing voice. Even if itâs temporary, your presence in the house has been a blessing. Even if you must leave eventually. His lips purse involuntarily.
You hear the door close, followed by the key twisting inside the lock. Youâre alone now.
With haste, you get up and sprint upstairs. You pull out a hairpin from your pocket and discreetly insert it in the cylinder. Today you find out if the spare bedroom truly is as vacant as your housemate claims.
When you first viewed the house, he mentioned that only this room will remain locked. It was his motherâs and heâd rather not look at it, he said. Let it gather dust, for all he cares.
Only at night, youâve been hearing someone elseâs voice. It didnât happen immediately. Weeks after youâd moved in, you woke up thirsty and tiptoed on your way to the kitchen for a glass of water. On your return, you were surprised to see dim light coming from underneath the door of the forbidden bedroom. Visitors of your housemate? You hurried back into your bed, not wanting to intrude. But the following night you jolted up from the same mumbled voice. Strange that heâd invite someone over this late - twice in a row! - without saying a word to you. Even more, they were arguing like this. Curiosity got the better of you, so you snuck out and placed your cupped ear against the wall.
âNo, no, no, no. Iâm telling you, itâs different. Sheâs different from the others.â A deep, ragged voice retorted angrily.
Suddenly, there was a loud thud, a fist smashing against something, then glass shattering over exasperated, shouted curses. You ran back to your room, baffled. Who on Earth was there? You could feel your heart throbbing inside your chest.
Morning couldnât come quick enough. You marched over to your housemate, demanding to know who this stranger was. He stared at you, wide eyed and incredulous. âThereâs no one else here, dear. Just you and me.â Nonsense. You knew what you heard. Youâd been wide awake! He gently placed the back of his hand against your forehead. âCould it be that youâre sick? Weather has been dreadful lately.â You scanned his face with hitched breath. Was he mocking you? Yet his features betrayed no such intent. The man seemed genuinely worried; face twisted in a caring frown.
Then what? A ghost? An intruder that fancied having a chat in a dead womanâs bedroom?
You fiddle with the pin until you hear the click. Finally. Surely whoever has been frequenting the place mustâve left some clues behind. You carefully open the door and peek inside. A broken mirror and some furniture covered in webs. Thereâs a lingering rusty smell that tickles your nostrils, and soon enough you find the source. Next to the old bed lays a cloth splattered red. On top of it, a leather folder from which scalpels and other surgical tools fell out haphazardly. Blood? Your mouth curls in disgust. You crouch to the floor to inspect the odd items and notice a jar glistening from underneath the bed. You pull it towards you and give it a rattle. Nothing heavy. You lift the jar into the light for a better look and gasp.
Fingernails.
âOh, I forgot to put those away.â
Itâs the same deep voice youâve been hearing at night. Your stomach drops and you turn, slowly, towards the entrance. Horror is swiftly replaced by confusion once you realize itâs none other than your housemate.
âY-youâre back from your walk?â You blurt out.
âWalk?â He inquires. âAh, thatâs what he told you.â He steps towards you and lowers himself to your level with a grin.
âHave you come to say hello?â He points towards the tall, shattered mirror. âThis is (Y/N), mother. See, I told you sheâs stunning. You didnât believe me.â
He ruffles your hair with a boldness completely unfamiliar.
Nausea overwhelms you and your ears ring in panic. Whatever is happening right now is beyond your understanding.
âIâd like to go to my room now.â
âI recognize that speech all too well. You want to run away.â
Within seconds, he grabs one of the scalpels and points it towards your throat, poking your skin with its cold tip.
âNow, donât embarrass me in front of her like that. Do you know how hard it is to convince this bitch of anything? I told her youâre not like them, (Y/N). Donât prove me wrong.â
âThem?â You whisper, lungs devoid of air.
âCome, letâs put this with the others first.â He pockets the scalpel and lifts you up by the hand, tenderly kissing your fingers in the process. âThen we can talk.â
You follow him into the office, and he unlocks one of the desk drawers. Against your better judgment, you stretch over his shoulder and glance inside. ID cards of various women, jewelry, lipsticks. Teeth. Fingernails.
You want to cry.
He nonchalantly dumps the contents of the jar into the drawer and slams it back shut, then throws himself in the chair and pats his thigh, eyeing you. With a sob, you clumsily climb onto his lap.
âBack to our matters. What were you planning on doing?â
âI just wanted to lay in bed.â
He takes out the scalpel and draws a line across your cheek. It stings.
âDonât lie, (Y/N). You have nothing to gain from being naughty with me.â He coos, placing a kiss over the fresh wound.
âI wanted to run away.â You confess, petrified.
âGood. Do you now understand what happens if you try to run away?â
You briefly look at the drawer and nod.
âI knew you would. Youâre so smart.â He strokes your hair fondly. âNot an easy decision to make, mind you. I love you more than anything in this world. Whoâd enjoy killing their one and only?â
The man ponders his next words with a hum.
âDonât count on getting away while heâs awake, either.â He taps his temple and chuckles. âHe has no idea and wonât stop you, but I can easily find you again.â
The eggs sizzle in the pan as you stare at your plate, background sounds melting into shapeless static. After a couple more minutes, the man turns off the stove and places the food on the table with a cheerful whistle.
âEat up!â He encourages you.
You hold onto your fork with faintly trembling hands.
âThis might be the last breakfast I cook for you, after all. Youâre leaving tomorrow, arenât you?â His last sentence trails off and he smiles, dejected.
âActually, I was wondering if I couldâŚstay here instead.â
He gazes at you in disbelief.
âTruly? I-âŚThatâd be fantastic.â He laughs awkwardly and scratches the back of his head, a deep red blush spreading over his cheeks. âDo excuse my rudeness. To be honest with you, Iâve grown quite fond of our arrangement. I really do like having you here.â
You return the smile without responding.
âMost exciting news. Iâll get the documents from the office after we eat, so we can draft a new lease.â
âThatâd be lovelyâ, you answer curtly.
âSay, have you by any chance stumbled upon a small key around the house? I wanted to finally unlock the drawer upstairs, but I canât remember where I couldâve left it.â
The knot in your stomach tightens.
âNot at all.â
âDonât sweat it. Iâm sure itâs nothing important, anyways. Old memorabilia, most likely.â
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x darling#yandere x you#yandere fic#yandere imagines#yandere imagine#yandere scenarios#yandere male#yandere killer#yandere male x reader#yandere oc#yandere oc x reader#yandere serial killer#yandere original character#horror#split personality#tw yandere
2K notes
¡
View notes
Text
Really sleepy and so like sleeping with you headcannons lets go
I'm not sure half of these are even on the same vibe so uhm like do with that what you will, this is so long and it's atrocious but oh well. Also sorry if its oocđť
I think maybe one line of suggestive in Franky's and Namis.
I feel like i forgot someone tbh..
Luffy
Sleeps anywhere and everywhere but sleeps better and longer next to you. Thus he is obsessed with sleeping with you and whenever he wants to sleep now you have no choice you must take sleep too. He snores and drools but that's kind of a win because then he doesn't care if you do yk? Loves taking naps with you and it's a way he likes to connect with you. Always kisses you before you sleep and after you wake up. He's so comfortable to lie next to because he's so squishy and he holds you in like every way possible because he doesn't have to worry about circulation being cut off or anything.
Zoro
Again he will sleep literally anywhere. He sleeps like a log but somehow you are the only person able to wake him up, Robin theorises it's his observation haki keeping an eye on you but whatever it is you are Zoros designated alarm clock. However, there is about a 30% chance that when you wake him up, he will just snatch you to cuddle and go back to sleep. You cannot escape his hold and if you keep trying to wake him up he'll just bite you(gently) idk he's feral. Depends on his schedule if he's comfortable or not, usually when he's bulking up he's squishier and it's nice to cushion your head on.
Sanji
Never naps and it's so alarming. How does he survive on like 6 hours everyday we will never know. Anyways he's very clingy when he's sleepy but in like a 'I don't want to bother you so I'll just sit over here looking really forlorn', just take the man to bed. Is somehow so comfy to sleep with it's actually annoying because after a certain point you just can't sleep alone anymore. Always tucks you in if you don't get up at the same time as him and he'll leave little snacks and drinks on your bedside table for when you do wake up. Sanji has a more lean muscly build so it's more comfortable to have him lie on top of you and he is not complaining in the slightest.
Nami
Loves cuddling in the winter, hates it in the summer. She's really sensitive to the temperature yk it's that innate sense of the weather, so when it's hot she is hot. But she really likes being able to touch you, so after a certain point she just forces franky to install(invent) air conditioning and it makes the summer so much more bearable. After this there's no escape, you will be cuddling every night (unless boundaries yk). She always tries to convince you stay in bed in the morning...and it always works. She's very persuasive okay. Lets you use her as a pillow, like her chest or thighs or tummy, she just wants to be next to you.
Usopp
Really shy about sleeping with you the first time. Only the first time. After that well lets just say you created a monster. He's really good at telling when you need a nap, especially when you won't admit it. He just subtly ushers you to a comfy spot and then oh what a surprise your eyes are getting really heavy and hm Usopp wouldn't mind if you leant on him for a bit and then snoreville. He thinks you're so pretty when you're sleeping because you look so peaceful and relaxed, so even if he's not tired he will always agree to a nap. He will carry you to bed. And he's so casual about it too, I guess because you're not like watching him directly so he's just like really chill.
Robin
Actually has a nap schedule with her sleep schedule, she usually takes a very short one after lunch because her power can be quite draining and so once you find this out it's just a big cuddle session which she loves. She tends to keep you to a sleep schedule too but she won't force you if you are really insistent on staying up, but she will say I told you so when you're grumpy and feel sick the next day. So lovely to sleep with, she barely moves, never hogs the blanket, doesn't snore and somehow always stays very cool even in the summer. She also always makes sure you get into bed safely if you're drunk or ill, even if she is too, she really cares about you.
Franky
I won't lie...he builds himself an entire like cushion add-on thing so you can comfortably sleep next to him. He looks like a giant marshmallow man it's so funny. But also it's so cute because he takes your comfort so seriously and he runs multiple tests to make sure it's the absolute comfiest he can be for you. Loves naps but absolutely adores actual bedtime because of the whole like rituals and because he knows he doesn't have to get up in like an hour. Sometimes he will seriously overwork into the night, but on those occasions it's fairly easy to coax him to bed(đ). Also he wears one of those stupid scrooge hats tbh. And yes he says super in his sleep.
Brook
Really insecure about sleeping together because he thinks he'll be uncomfortable to lie next to or cuddle :(. On the other hand, you're also really worried because you don't want to accidentally hurt him while he's asleep, so for the first few months you sleep in beds that are close enough to hold hands instead. Eventually when you both become comfortable with the idea, you end up sleeping together almost every night and you occasionally nap together too. He wears really soft padded pajamas to make sure you're comfy. It's surprisingly more comfy to sleep next to him than you thought it would be.
I won't lie sometimes you do shit yourself waking up and seeing a skeleton.
Jinbei
So responsible, absolutely will stop you from napping if it's too close to bedtime. He knows sleep is important but he also knows a routine is important...and he can't bear watching you sleep alone so if you mess up your schedule then you're messing up his. This also works for if you try to stay up late too, he'll straight up snatch you off the ground and just carry you to bed no matter how much you complain. Really good cuddler, like really good. He always knows how much pressure to use while holding you and when you want more or less contact, knows when you need extra blankets, when you want to sleep in a hammock instead of a bed. He's got a sixth sense for your sleeping habits (read: he's desperately in love with you).
Law
Really grumpy about it. And really shy. Also he's a hypocrite, he'll stay up working till early hours of the morning but if you dare even try he's stood there staring at you like the mf eyes of notre dame. He always wants to cuddle but absolutely despises asking so again he just stares, you can always tell though because his ears go really red. Once you're in the bed though he's suddenly mr suave i will arrange everything, he will literally pick you up to manoeuvre you both into a better sleeping position and doesn't even bat an eye. He will nap but you have to trick him into it, he secretly loves it and lets you do it even when he knows what's happening.
Kidd
Needs like 15 million blankets to sleep. Uses one of said 15 million blankets to wrap you up like a burrito if you refuse to come sleep/nap with him. But actually it kinda does hurt his feelings so you can make up for it by playing with his hair until he falls asleep. Loves napping, he's like an overgrown cat and he'll sleep literally anywhere. But if it's anywhere other than his or yours (or killers) room he somehow? manages? to scowl? in his sleep? Yeah I don't know but it just stops his crew from messing with him because he looks so angry. Like Zoro he will literally just snatch you if you're in his vicinity, like you walk past for two seconds and then suddenly your vision flips and you're just stuck in this iron grip. He won't let you go and the crew just walk past you too.
Killer
You literally don't sleep together until you've been dating for like a fucking year. He really values his privacy and you really respect it which culminates in neither of you asking for such a long time that you both forget its a common couple thing. Until someone asks why you don't sleep together and then you guys are like huh idk and then that's the day you finally do. He's a good cuddler but he's a blanket hogger and you have to braid his hair before bed or it will end up in your mouth. On the plus side, he will make and leave breakfast or coffee (or anything you want) on your bedside table if he wakes up first. Also he always picks the best bedsheets and eventually buys two quilts so you can at least have some blanket when he snatches it all.
Ace
Naturally runs like a furnance and is hell to sleep next to in the summer. But he gets really grumpy if you dont sleep next to him so the crew make you suck it up I'm sorry. Literally you're like clawing at the walls as they throw you in and lock the door. Anyways he's a really good cuddler and so comfy to sleep with, and he always takes naps with his head in your lap. He loves to have you sleep on him too because he loves to look at your face and stroke you hair, idk he likes being slow with you even though he's really energetic. Being naturally sleepy and like a little radiator also tends to make the people around him sleepy so you two are banned from working next to each other because you both just end up napping.
Marco
He doesn't sleep a lot because well he doesn't really need to. But he adores sleeping with you. It's one of his like favourite 'bonding' activities, especially if you haven't been able to be alone for a while, he just loves being that close and the intimacy of sleeping in each others beds. On another note he's obsessed with making your bed really comfy because as a doctor he knows sleep hygiene is important and as a bird...well yk...nest. He's not shy about it but don't tease him because it will hurt his feelings and he won't tell you to save your feelings, beautiful sweet man that he is. LOVES a good nap/cuddle especially in the winter, if you both have spare time he just bundles you both in a big fluffy blanket and just exists with you for a bit.
Izou
He is surprisingly a really undignified sleeper, which is why you don't sleep in the same room for months when you first get togetherđ. When you finally do, you wake up with his arm in your face, his hair is everywhere, there's a pillow across the room, the blanket is somehow under the bed, you're just like wtf how. And Izou is just (â  â ´â âĄâ âżâĄâ `â ). But he gets better over time because his brain becomes more aware of your presence as you become more important to him and then bedtime settles into comfy chaos. Pillows still end up everywhere but he is now your cushion so you don't really care. He doesn't really nap anywhere that's not his room but if you do then he carries you to bed :).
#one piece x reader#x reader#luffy x reader#nami x reader#nico robin x reader#sanji x reader#zoro x reader#marco the phoenix x reader#franky x reader#brook x reader#jinbe x reader#jinbei x reader#portagas d. ace x reader#izou x reader#usopp x reader#trafalgar law x reader#eustass kid x reader#killer x reader#strawhats x reader#op fics#one piece fics#one piece x gn reader
2K notes
¡
View notes
Text
The Scottish Cabin in the Woods - last update: 4/4/24
"Let's go camping," Soap said.
"It'll be fun," Soap said.
"A lot of fun," the psychopathic serial killer said.
You didn't say anything, you were too busy trying not to get kidnapped - and failing.
Content: Serial Killer AU, Dark Content, Kidnapping, Violence and Murder, (Mentions of) Torture, BDSM Elements and Dynamics, (Mild) Pet Play, Predator/Prey Kink, Dacryphilia, Impact Play (Spanking), Humiliation Kink, Dub-Con, One (1) Ableist Slur (and the guy ends up dying)
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
#cod#my writing#fanfiction#reader fic#dark fic#scottish cabin in the woods#scitw#serial killer ghost#serial killer au#unhealthy polyamory#throuple#john soap mactavish#simon ghost riley#masterlist
646 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Dream A Little Dream
DESCRIPTION: They hear you say their name in your sleep
WARNINGS: just fluff
CHARACTERS: Killer, Smoker, | Law, Sabo
WORDS: 1,790
A/N: I've been hating how some of the requests I've been working on were turning out so I've paused them to go back to this idea with some other characters. Hope you all enjoy
*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*
DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST
âââââââ
KILLER
âNo I donât.â
âYes, you do!â
âNo. I donât.â Killer looked up from the stove at the sound of your argument with Wire came closer to the kitchen. Nothing disputes were always common around the ship so usually he didnât pay them much mind but Killer always found himself taking a little more notice to things when they involved you.
âHow do you even know? Youâre asleep.â Wire argued as you both entered the kitchen, not noticing the vice-captain right away. Killer watched as you leaned against the counter and rolled your eyes at your crewmate. âWhatâs the big deal anyway? So what if you talk in your sleep?â
âItâs not the claim I talk in my sleep, itâs just that I donât believe you, Wire.â You explained, turning to stare at your crewmate suspiciously. âI mean it wouldnât be the first time youâve tried to prank me. Unless you can get proof that I talk in my sleep or someone else- that isnât just Heat- confirms it, then Iâll believe you.â You shrugged simply and finally turned to acknowledge your vice-captain with a smile now that the matter was dropped. âWhatâs for dinner?â
Late that night, Killer rose from the heavy haze of sleep that he had to force himself to resist falling back into. With a long, low groan, he stretched out his body and rubbed his tired eyes before settling his mask firmly into place. Rolling his shoulders and pulling his clothes on he dragged his heavy limbs out of his bed and absently walked through the ship until he was climbing the Crowâs Nest to relieve Gig. Wishing the other crew member a goodnight, Killer settled back and readied himself for what he could already tell would be a calm and uneventful watch shift. However he was surprised after a couple hours to see the hatch open and you appeared.Â
âYouâre not on the roster for tonightâŚâ He noted, watching you close the hatch and adjust the blanket and pillow under your other arm.Â
âNope, tomorrow night.â You confirmed. âI always come up here when I have trouble sleeping. Is it okay if I join you?â
âOf course it is, make yourself comfortable.â Killer gestured you to pick somewhere to sit. You smiled happily and Killer returned it despite his smile being hidden beneath his mask. As you moved to settle in the seats near him, he tried to remain as relaxed as he could. Even with a single seat separating you both, he could still feel the natural warmth you always exuded, both a comfort and distraction for him.Â
Killer watched as you placed the pillow on the windowsill and tucked your arms underneath it, deciding to forgo actually lying down so you could face him properly and idly chat with him through his watch. Eventually though Killer noticed your eyes were drooping and your voice would thicken, your statements broken by yawns in a signal that youâd finally fall to sleep. It wasnât long before your breathing evened out and the peaceful silence fell. Killer turned his head away from you, deciding to actually finish his task and keep watch. He only had another couple hours and heâd be finished. Every so often through that time heâd hear you shift slightly and let out soft mumbles but for the most part you slept completely silent. Then your voice drifted up. âHmâŚKilâŚâ
âYeah? Whatâs-â Killer turned his head only to pause to see you were still fast asleep. Immediately he shut his mouth and continued to watch you sleep. While youâd said the beginning of his name, he wasnât going to jump to conclusions that you were actually dreaming about him. After all a lot of words started with âkilâ and you could have been saying anything.Â
âKillerâŚask me out alreadyâŚâ Killer all but choked on his tongue, not expecting that but he definitely wasnât complaining. Clearing his throat he composed himself just in time for the hatch to fly open and crash loudly against the floor causing you to jump awake and look around in startled confusion. Your eyes landed on Wire who arrived for his watch and with a huff you controlled your racing heart.Â
âOh oops, you were sleeping?â Wire asked before his eyes lit up. âYou were sleeping! Killer, did they talk?â Immediately your heart began to race again and you looked to Killer who remained outwardly calm.Â
âNope, not a word.â He stated while getting up and stretched his stiff muscles, glad to go back to his own bed. Just before he could close his door, you appeared, hand bracing against the wood and stopping him. âWhatâs up?â
âYou lied to Wire.â You stated and Killerâs eyebrows rose slightly. âI always win at poker because I know your tell when you lie. I did talk in my sleep, why didnât you tell him what I said?â
âWell I think what was said would be best kept between us.â Killer smirked, emboldened by how adorably confused you looked. Then in the depths of your mind you must have recalled what you were dreaming about because your eyes widened and a small gasp broke free.Â
âNight Kil, see you in the morning.â You quickly uttered, stepping back and hurrying to your room, your steps faltering when he called after you. âItâs a date.âÂ
SMOKER
You stared at the mountain of paperwork already waiting on your desk as you entered your office that morning. Youâd stayed up so late clearing your desk only to see even more waiting for you. Slowly you looked at the mug of coffee in your hand and back to the paperwork and sighed heavily. It was going to be a long day and most likely night, you could already tell. Bracing yourself you sat down at your desk and lifted the first file waiting for you and your eye twitched immediately. Yeah, it was going to be a very, very long day. By midmorning your patience all but snapped and you made a list of the people responsible for your swiftly soured mood and left to go to the transmission room. Lifting the receiver you couldnât help but feel a small sense of satisfaction stir within you as you began your announcement.Â
âAttention G-5. Due to personnel ignoring protocol and handing in multiple reports from previous missions at once, a backlog has occurred. Until these reports have been fully processed the following Marines are prohibited from active duty off base. No exceptions.â You paused to let the beginning announcement set in, already you could hear a chorus of voices coming from outside the room. Then you began to clearly and concisely read out the long list of names of the offenders.Â
From the training yard, Smoker and the others stopped to listen to the names being echoed through the speakers. As he ground his teeth against the cigars in his mouth he couldnât help the mounting frustration as he recognised a lot of the names on his list were part of the unit he was meant to be going out on a mission with in just a couple days time. As Commander of the base he was sorely tempted to go against the transmission but at the same time he supposed these Marines needed to be taught a lesson in not just handing in bulk reports last minute. He also recognised the voice as yours and he didnât want to annoy you given he was attracted to you too. Perhaps he could convince you to process certain Marines first. âThe personnel on this list will be notified when they are cleared for duty again. Thank you.â
Smoker sighed heavily and within seconds he heard the multitude of voices surging up, all of them calling for him. Before heâd even gotten out of the training yard he was already swarmed by those whoâd now been placed off-duty and asking him to pull strings or pull rank and still let them go on their missions. With a headache growing, Smoker glared at them all into shutting up and backing off before he made his way to your office. He knocked once and entered.
âHow long will they take to process? Thereâs a mission-â
âThatâs occurring in two days time, Iâm aware.â You noted with a small nod, not even bothering to look up at him. You werenât even surprised that heâd come here. It was inevitable heâd appear sooner rather than later. âI can only go as fast as I can and like I said, multiple reports are handed in at once. Itâs a lot to go through.â
âCan the other administrators assist you-â
âNot without them neglecting their reports to process and this incident ends up getting larger.â You shook your head before settling your hands on the desk and looking up at him, Smoker immediately saw the tiredness in your eyes. He began to wonder how long this kept happening and today was the first time you decided to finally take action to prove a point.Â
âDo you need anything?â He asked, eyeing the stacks of reports warily. He had to admit paperwork wasnât his strength. You smiled softly, appreciating his offer but you shook your head.Â
âThank you but Iâm fine.âÂ
Late that night Smoker was making his way through the corridors in his usual patrol before going to bed when he spotted the light coming through your open door. He knew you had a habit of staying up late but this was bad even for you. Were you forcing yourself to stay up even later to see process everyone as soon as possible? Smoker approached the door and saw you sleeping on the sofa against the wall in the room. You must have only intended to only take a small nap before going back to work again but your body had other ideas. Stepping inside he kept his steps as quiet as he could but it seemed he wasnât quiet enough because you started to stir. âSmokerâŚâ
âSorry, didnât mean to wake you.â Smoker told you but stopped beside you and saw you were still completely unconscious. You were dreaming and saying his name? Smoker couldnât help but smirk when his name slipped from your lips again and you let out a small sigh.
âBe safe, SmokerâŚâ You mumbled, your face scrunching in adorable annoyance. âHand your report in on time.â
âSure, you got it.â Smoker chuckled before reaching down to grab the blanket off the back of the sofa a drape it over you before leaving you to rest while also making sure to see to it that from now on everyone handed in their reports on time.
------------------------------------------------
TAG LIST (If I've missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf
#one piece#one piece imagines#one piece scenario#one piece fic#one piece x you#one piece x reader#one piece fanfiction#killer x you#killer x reader#smoker x you#smoker x reader#massacre soldier killer#killer one piece#killer op#white hunter smoker#smoker one piece#smoker op
444 notes
¡
View notes
Text
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: Youâve 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, youâre thrust into a deadly game where youâre not just a targetâyouâre 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
--
Youâve always had a fascination with crime shows. The ones without too many jump scares or unnecessary goreâyou could do without that. What hooked you wasnât 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 wasnât 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 thrillersâyou read them all.
Your classmates noticed, of course. Theyâd whisper about it in passing, sometimes teasing you for being "obsessed with murder books." But you didnât care. If anything, you found their reactions amusing. They didnât get it, didnât 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, âIf I ever go missing, Iâll trust you to solve the case,â while glancing at the battered mystery novel lying atop your open notebook.
But it wasnât just about books or shows anymore. Over time, the skills you picked up seeped into your daily life. Youâd notice thingsâdetails others overlooked. A friendâs new haircut no one mentioned, the faint smell of smoke lingering on someoneâs jacket, or the way peopleâs stories didnât quite line up. Youâd trained your brain to analyze, to question, to search for answers.
You didnât really have anyone to share your interest with, but that didnât bother you much. Most people at school had their own cliques, their own hobbies, and their own little dramas to focus on. You didnât 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 natureâcatching 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 courseâit was just your way of passing the time.
But every so often, youâd 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. Youâd glance up, scanning the crowd, but no one would be looking your way. It was frustrating in a way that didnât make sense, like trying to solve a puzzle without all the pieces.
And yet, the gaze itself was never uncomfortable. It didnât feel like the sharp, judgmental stares you were used to when people whispered about your âmurder books.â No, this one was different. It was soft, almost curious, like whoever it was didnât 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 youâd 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 couldnât 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 werenât entirely sure you wanted to solve it. Because, in some inexplicable way, that gaze felt⌠safe. Like someone had taken the time to notice youânot as the âgirl with the crime books,â 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 didnât 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 itâa 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 hadnât 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 wasnât exactly invisible, but he never drew attention to himselfânot 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 thoughtâyou just swung. Your fist connected with the guyâs 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, youâd kept an eye outânot just for Ni-ki, but for anyone being harassed. You couldnât stand it, couldnât 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 heâd looked at you that dayâwide-eyed, stunned, like he couldnât quite believe someone had stood up for himâit 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 hadnât even realized he knew who you were, let alone that heâd 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 didnât 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.
âHey,â you said, keeping your voice low to avoid disturbing the others. âGot room for one more?â
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.
âYeah,â he murmured, his voice quiet but steady. âSure.â
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 wasnât awkward. If anything, it felt⌠comfortable.
You sat there for a while, the silence punctuated only by the faint scratch of Ni-kiâs pencil against his notebook and the soft rustle of turning pages. But your curiosity wouldnât let you sit still for long. You closed your book, leaning forward slightly.
âCan I ask you something?â 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. âYeah?â
âWhy were you looking at me earlier?â you asked, tilting your head slightly. âItâs not the first time, is it?â
His eyes widened, and a faint flush crept up his neck. âOh, IâuhâŚâ 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. âIâve seen you reading crime novels. A lot. And⌠I like them too.â
You blinked, surprised. âYou do?â
He nodded, glancing down at his notebook like he was embarrassed to admit it. âYeah. I mean, I donât talk about it much, but Iâve always been into them. Mysteries, thrillers, true crime⌠all of it. I guess I just noticed because youâre always reading them too.â
A grin spread across your face before you could stop it. âSeriously? I didnât think anyone else here cared about that stuff.â
Ni-kiâs lips twitched into a small smile. âYeah, well⌠itâs not exactly the kind of thing people talk about, you know? But Iâve always thought it was coolâhow detectives figure everything out, all the little clues coming together.â
âExactly!â you said, leaning forward a little more, your excitement bubbling over. âThatâs the best part. Like, the storyâs great and all, but the process of solving it? The way everything clicks in the end? Itâs so satisfying.â
His smile widened, and for the first time, he looked genuinely at ease. âRight? And when you figure it out before the characters do? Thatâs the best feeling.â
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 youâd seen. Ni-ki talked about his love for true crime documentaries, how heâd binge-watch them whenever he had a free weekend. You shared your obsession with whodunits, confessing how youâd 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. âGuess weâll have to pick this up later. Iâve got class.â
Ni-ki nodded, but there was a flicker of something in his eyesâdisappointment, maybe? It was subtle, but you caught it.
âHey,â you said as you stood, slinging your bag over your shoulder. âWe should talk more about this sometime. Maybe⌠tomorrow?â
His gaze snapped up to yours, and for a moment, he just stared at you, like he couldnât quite believe you were serious. Then he nodded, his smile small but genuine. âYeah. Iâd like that.â
You grinned and gave him a quick wave before heading toward the door.
The rest of the day felt oddly brighter. You couldnât quite put your finger on why, but something about that conversation with Ni-ki lingered with you. Maybe it was because youâd finally found someone who shared your interest, someone who didnât just dismiss it as âweirdâ or âcreepy.â Or maybe it was because, for the first time, Ni-ki hadnât seemed like the quiet, distant figure youâd 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 wasâsitting 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 wasnât 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.
âHey,â you said, trying to sound casual.
âHey,â he replied, his tone soft but warm.
It didnât take long for the conversation to pick up where youâd 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 heâd started the night before.
As the days went by, it became a routine. Every lunch break, youâd 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 topicsâfavorite genres, books youâd loved as kids, even the little quirks youâd 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 youâd always loved the idea of uncovering the truth. You joked that maybe youâd 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.
âHey,â he said, his voice quieter than usual.
You looked up, slinging your bag over your shoulder. âYeah?â
âI just⌠I wanted to say thanks,â he said, not quite meeting your eyes. âFor, you know⌠sticking up for me. Back then. And now.â
You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. âYou donât have to thank me for that, Ni-ki. No one deserves to be treated like that.â
He nodded, his fingers fidgeting with the strap of his bag. âI know, but⌠it meant a lot. And so does this. Talking to you, I mean. Itâs⌠nice.â
You felt a warmth spread through your chest, the same kind youâd felt every time you caught him watching you. âItâs nice for me too,â 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.
âSame time tomorrow?â he asked.
âOf course,â 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.
âIâve got a project due for history,â you said, groaning. âIâll probably be stuck in the library all afternoon. What about you?â
âStudying for the calculus test,â Ni-ki replied with a faint smile. âThough, knowing me, Iâll still probably bomb it.â
âYou wonât,â you assured him. âYou just need to stop doubting yourself so much.â
He chuckled softly at that, and the sound was warmâgenuine. 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. âAlright, this is me. Iâll see you at lunch later?â
âYeah, Iâllââ
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.
âOops,â the voice sneered mockingly from behind. âDidnât see you there, nerd.â
You whipped around, your blood instantly boiling. It was one of the usual suspectsâone of the guys who seemed to make it his personal mission to make Ni-kiâs life miserable. His smug smirk widened as he stood there, hands in his pockets, his posture radiating mock innocence.
âWhat the hell is wrong with you?â you snapped, your voice echoing in the hallway.
The guy raised an eyebrow, shrugging nonchalantly. âRelax, it was an accident.â
âAccident, my ass,â you shot back, stepping forward. âYouâve got the brainpower of a rock, but even you know how to avoid people in a hallway.â
A few students nearby paused to watch, their conversations trailing off as they sensed the tension.
The guyâs smirk faltered for a second, his eyes narrowing. âWatch your mouth.â
âOr what?â you challenged, crossing your arms. âYouâll try to push me too? Letâs see how far you get.â
He opened his mouth, likely to hurl an insult your way, but before he could get the words out, a stern voice interrupted.
âIs there a problem here?â
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. âNo problem, sir. Just a little accident.â
The teacherâs eyes lingered on him for a moment, skeptical but unwilling to escalate without proof. âThen I suggest you keep moving before youâre late to class.â
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.
âYou okay?â 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. âYeah. Thanks.â
You stood and offered him your hand. He hesitated for a moment before taking it, and you pulled him to his feet.
âDonât let jerks like that get to you,â you said firmly, your voice softer now. âHeâs just miserable with his own life, so heâs trying to make you feel the same way. But he doesnât get to win.â
Ni-kiâs lips twitched into the smallest of smiles as he adjusted the books in his arms. âIâm starting to think you like fighting my battles more than I do.â
You laughed, nudging his arm lightly. âSomeoneâs gotta have your back.â
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 wasnât that you didnât understand the way people like that bully operatedâpeople 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 didnât fight back, didnât make a scene, and kept everything buried under that quiet, almost invisible demeanor of his.
You didnât know why you cared so much. Maybe it was because he was finally someone who shared your interests, someone who didnât 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 didnât 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 hadnât seen him on your way out, but he wasnât 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.
âYou good?â 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. âYeah, Iâm fine,â he replied, his voice soft but steady. âThanks again for earlier. You didnât have to do that.â
You shrugged, trying to downplay it. âItâs not a big deal. Heâs just a jerk. Besides, if no one stands up for you, who will?â
Ni-ki didnât 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. âI guess⌠Iâve never really thought about it like that.â
âWell, now you know,â you said with a grin. âIf you ever need backup, Iâm around.â 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. âThanks. I⌠I appreciate it.â
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 wasnât always the same faces; sometimes it was a random group, sometimes it was a repeat offender. But every time, you couldnât 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-kiâs chest, laughing as he made some cruel remark about Ni-kiâs glasses being too big for his face. Ni-kiâs eyes were lowered, his shoulders tense, his voice barely a whisper as he tried to back away, but the guys werenât letting him go.
Without thinking, you rushed forward, your heart pounding in your chest. âHey!â you called out, your voice cutting through the laughter. âWhat the hell is wrong with you?â
The guys turned to face you, their expressions mocking. âOh, look, itâs the weird kid whoâs always reading those detective books,â one of them sneered. âWhat, you gonna cry for him too?â
You didnât flinch. âIâll cry if it means you get a reality check. You think picking on people makes you cool? It doesnât.â
The bully smirked, stepping closer. âMaybe you should mind your own business, huh? No one cares what you think.â
âThatâs where youâre wrong,â you snapped, standing your ground. âI do care. And I donât let people get away with treating others like crap. So if youâve got a problem with him, youâve got a problem with me.â You took a step forward, matching his arrogance with a calm confidence. âGo ahead, say something back. I dare you.â
The guyâs face twisted in frustration, but before he could retort, another voice interrupted.
âIs there a problem here?â 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, âWhatever, itâs just a joke.â
âThen keep your âjokesâ to yourself,â 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 didnât speak for a moment, just staring at you like you had just pulled him out of the depths of something he didnât know how to escape.
âYou alright?â you asked quietly, your voice softer now.
Ni-ki nodded slowly, though he still looked like he wasnât quite sure how to respond. âIâIâm fine. Thanks again. But you really didnât have to do that.â
âI did,â you said, giving him a smile. âI donât let people get away with stuff like that. You deserve better than being treated like that, and so does everyone else.â
Ni-kiâs eyes met yours for a moment, something unreadable flickering behind them before he spoke. âMaybe⌠maybe I donât know how to stand up for myself the way you do.â
âThatâs alright,â you said with a shrug. âNot everyone does. But itâs not too late to start.â
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 didnât feel awkward. You had his back, and that was what mattered.
You didnât always receive praise for standing up to people. You didnât always get the support you mightâve hoped for. Sometimes youâd get the sneers and judgment from those who didnât understand, those who thought that letting things slide or keeping their heads down was the easier way to go.
But you didnât care.
You didnât care about the sideways glances, or the occasional whispered insults behind your back. You couldnât stand by and do nothing.
And if that meant dealing with the backlash, so be it. Youâd rather face that than let someone else feel alone.
A few days later, you woke up feeling offâhead 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 wouldnât 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, donât worry."
The next few days were rougher than youâd 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?" "Donât push yourself, okay?" "I can drop off notes if you need them."
Youâd chuckle at the last one, imagining Ni-ki walking up to your door with a stack of papers and books. "Thanks, but Iâll survive. Just focus on yourself," youâd reply, even though you appreciated the thought more than you could express.
Despite his reassurances that everything was fine, you couldnât help but worry. Ni-ki wasnât 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: "Howâs school been?"
A few minutes passed before his reply came in. "Same as always. Donât worry about me."
You frowned. That was exactly the kind of response youâd been expectingâand dreading.
"You sure? No oneâs bothering you?"
The three little dots indicating he was typing popped up, then disappeared, then reappeared again. Finally, he sent: "Iâm 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 wasnât telling you the whole truth. On the other hand, pushing him for answers over text wouldnât 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 youâd 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 couldnât find Ni-ki anywhere.
When you reached your locker, you spotted one of his friendsâsomeone youâd occasionally seen him study with. You hesitated before calling out, âHey, have you seen Ni-ki?â
The guy looked up, his face shadowed with something you couldnât quite place. âHeâs in the library,â he said after a moment. âHeâs been there a lot lately.â
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 didnât take long to spot Ni-ki, sitting at a table in the far corner, his head down as he scribbled something into a notebook.
âNi-ki,â 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. âHey,â he said, closing his notebook and sitting up straighter. âYouâre back.â
âI am,â you said, pulling out a chair and sitting across from him. âWhatâs been going on? And donât say ânothing,â because I know thatâs not true.â
Ni-ki hesitated, his fingers fidgeting with the corner of his notebook. âItâs⌠not a big deal,â he finally said, his voice low. âJust the usual stuff.â
Your jaw tightened. Youâd expected as much, but hearing it still made your blood boil. âWhat happened?â
He sighed, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. âTheyâve just been⌠pushing things a little more since you werenât here. Itâs fine, though. Iâm used to it.â
âUsed to it doesnât make it okay,â you said firmly. âDid anyone step in? Tell a teacher? Anything?â
Ni-ki shook his head. âNo one really noticed. Or if they did, they didnât care.â
Your fists clenched under the table. It was exactly what youâd feared, and it only made you more determined. âWell, Iâm back now,â you said, your voice steady. âAnd theyâre not getting away with it anymore. Not while Iâm around.â
Ni-ki looked at you, a flicker of somethingâgratitude, maybeâcrossing his face. âYou donât have to keep doing this, you know,â he said quietly. âStanding up for me all the time. Itâs not your responsibility.â
âItâs not about responsibility,â you replied, meeting his gaze. âI want to stand up. And no one deserves to feel like theyâre alone in this.â
âThanks,â Ni-ki said eventually, his voice barely above a whisper.
You gave him a small smile. âAnytime.â
--
It started out subtlyâso subtle, in fact, that you almost missed it the first few times. Youâd 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-kiâs demeanor had started to change.
The next time someone shoved him in the hallway, you caught it. The twist in his face.
It wasnât the usual resignation or silent frustration youâd 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 thereâa spark you hadnât noticed before.
âWatch where youâre going, idiot,â 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, âMaybe you should watch where youâre going.â
It wasnât loud, and it certainly wasnât 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 didnât 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 wasnât like himânot the Ni-ki youâd grown used to protecting, the one who usually avoided confrontation at all costs.
âNi-ki,â you said, catching up to him as he bent down to pick up his books. âWhat was that?â
He glanced up at you, his expression unreadable. âWhat was what?â
âThat,â you said, gesturing vaguely toward the hallway where the bullies had just left. âYou⌠you stood up for yourself.â
He shrugged, tucking his books under his arm. âYeah, well⌠I figured I might as well try it.â
You blinked, surprised by how nonchalant he sounded. âTry it?â
He paused, glancing at you with a small, almost shy smile. âIâve been watching you, you know. How you donât let people push youâor anyone elseâaround. It made me think⌠maybe I could do that too.â
For a moment, you didnât 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.
âWell,â you said finally, your voice soft, âIâm glad youâre trying. But you know you donât have to do it alone, right? Iâve got your back.â
He nodded, his smile growing a little. âI know. But⌠it feels kind of good. Not letting them have all the power.â
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 didnât just look away. He turned, his voice steady as he asked, âWhat did you just say?â It wasnât a shout, wasnât 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 didnât 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 youâd both been reading. As you turned the corner, you saw one of the usual suspectsâone of the guys whoâd made Ni-kiâs life a nightmare for as long as you could remember.
The guy stepped into Ni-kiâs path, blocking his way. âHey, got a minute?â
You tensed immediately, ready to step forward, but Ni-ki held up a hand, stopping you.
âWhat do you want?â Ni-ki asked, his voice calm but firm.
The bully smirked, leaning in closer. âJust wondering how long itâll take before you crawl back into that little shell of yours. You think youâre tough now? That youâve got people to back you up?â
Ni-ki didnât even blink. âI think youâre wasting your time. Find someone else to bother.â
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 hadnât 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. âOkay, what was that? Who are you, and what have you done with the Ni-ki I know?â
He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. âI told you, Iâve been watching you. Guess I finally got tired of being the guy everyone picks on.â
You couldnât help but smile, your chest swelling with pride. âWell, Iâm glad youâre finding your voice. Just⌠donât get yourself in too much trouble, okay?â
âDonât worry,â he said, his smile soft but confident. âI know youâll be there to save me if I do.â
You chuckled at his confidence, feeling that familiar warmth bubble up inside you. âOf course,â you replied. âBut remember, you donât have to rely on me all the time. Youâve got this, Ni-ki.â
He met your gaze, his eyes bright with something that looked almost like gratitude, but with a touch of pride as well. âMaybe. But it feels good knowing Iâve got someone watching my back.â
You nodded, feeling your heart skip a beat. It wasnât just about protecting him anymoreâit 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 couldnât 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. Youâd 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 otherâuntil 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 happenedâsomething big.
Spotting Natty near the lockers, you hurried over, catching her arm gently. âWhatâs going on? Why are the police here?â
Natty turned, her expression somber and anxious. âYou didnât hear?â
You shook your head, your stomach twisting. âNo. What happened?â
She glanced around nervously before leaning in closer. âTwo students have been reported missing,â she said in a low voice.
Your heart skipped a beat. âMissing? Who?â
Natty hesitated, her voice dropping even lower. âItâs those two guys⌠you know, the ones who usually mess with people. The ones whoââ
âThe ones who pick on peopleâ you finished for her, your voice barely above a whisper.
She nodded, her expression grim. âYeah. Them. Apparently, they didnât come home last night. Their parents called the school this morning, and now the police are involved.â
You stood there, processing her words. The two bulliesâknown for tormenting Ni-ki and plenty of other studentsâwere missing? The news left you unsettled, a mix of emotions swirling in your chest.
âWhat do you think happened to them?â you asked, your voice cautious.
Natty shrugged, glancing over at the police officers. âI donât know. Everyoneâs talking about it, but no one seems to know anything for sure. Some people are saying they mightâve run away, butâŚâ She trailed off, biting her lip.
âBut?â
She leaned in closer, her voice barely audible now. âBut people are also saying it doesnât feel like that. Theyâre saying itâs... suspicious.â
You frowned, your mind racing. Suspicious. The word lingered in your thoughts like a dark cloud. You couldnât help but think about Ni-kiâthe way heâd started standing up for himself, the way the bullies had been pushing back harder in recent weeks. And now, suddenly, they were gone?
âDo they have any leads?â you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.
Natty shook her head. âNot that Iâve heard. The police are just starting their investigation.â
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.
âIâll catch up with you later,â you said, already stepping away.
Natty called after you, âWhere are you going?â
âTo check on someone,â you replied over your shoulder, your mind set on finding Ni-ki.
You searched the usual spotsâthe bench near the library, the quiet corner by the art roomâbut he was nowhere to be found. Finally, you spotted him by the vending machines, standing alone with his hands in his pockets.
âNi-ki,â you called softly as you approached.
He looked up, his expression unreadable. âHey.â
âDid you hear?â you asked, lowering your voice.
He nodded, his gaze dropping again. âYeah. Everyoneâs talking about it.â
You studied him for a moment, trying to gauge his emotions. He didnât look shocked or upsetâjust⌠thoughtful.
âHow are you feeling about it?â you asked gently.
He shrugged, his voice quiet. âI donât know. Itâs... weird. They were horrible to everyone, but this? Itâs⌠I donât know.â
You nodded, understanding the conflict in his tone.
âTheyâll figure it out,â you said, more to reassure yourself than him. âThe police are here, and theyâll get to the bottom of it.â
Ni-ki glanced at you, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he nodded. âYeah. I guess.â
You walked side by side with Ni-ki, the buzz of conversations and murmurs about the missing students fading into the background. He didnât seem as unsettled as you wouldâve expected. In fact, he looked⌠composed. Too composed. There was a calmness about him, a quiet confidence that hadnât been there before.
It wasnât like he didnât careâat least, you didnât think so. But he wasnât 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. âYou seem⌠okay about all this,â you said carefully, not wanting to come off as accusing.
Ni-ki shrugged, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. âWhat do you mean?â
âI donât know,â you said, tilting your head. âItâs just⌠two people are missing. People who used to make your life hell, and you donât look⌠bothered.â
He stopped walking for a moment, turning to face you. His lips curved into the faintest smile, but it didnât quite reach his eyes. âShould I be?â
The question caught you off guard. You blinked, unsure how to respond. âWell, I mean⌠itâs weird, right? Theyâre still people. Even if they were awful, itâs not like they deserved to⌠you know, vanish.â
Ni-ki held your gaze for a moment longer before looking away, his expression unreadable. âI guess Iâve just learned not to waste my energy on people like them,â he said, his voice steady. âThey made their choices. Itâs not my job to care.â
You frowned, his words sticking with you as you both continued walking. There was something about the way he spokeâcalm, measured, almost detachedâthat made you uneasy. But you didnât push him further. Ni-ki had grown a lot lately, standing up for himself in ways you hadnât expected. Maybe this was just part of that changeâhis way of not letting the past hold power over him anymore.
Still, you couldnât help but notice how his posture seemed different now. Straighter, more self-assured. He wasnât the same Ni-ki who used to avoid eye contact in the hallways or flinch at the sound of the bulliesâ voices. This Ni-ki was someone who carried himself with quiet confidence, someone who looked like he had nothing to fear.
And yet, you couldnât shake the feeling that there was something more to it. Something he wasnât 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 werenât sure you wanted to know.
âAnyway,â Ni-ki said, breaking the silence, âwhatâs your plan for the rest of the day?â
The abrupt shift in topic caught you off guard, but you decided to go with it. âNot much,â you said, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. âProbably just try to catch up on homework and maybe watch something later.â
He nodded, his smile softening into something more genuine. âSounds good. Let me know if you find a good mystery to watch.â
âWill do,â you replied, smiling back.
As you parted ways and headed to your respective classes, you couldnât help but glance back at him. The way he walked, the way he carried himself nowâit was almost like he was a completely different person.
And though you didnât say it out loud, the unease lingered. There was something about Ni-ki that had changed, something you couldnât 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 werenât 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.
âWaiting for me?â he asked, tilting his head slightly.
You shrugged, trying to play it off. âJust thought we could walk together.â
âSure,â he said, falling into step beside you.
The walk home started out quiet, the kind of comfortable silence youâd gotten used to with him. But as you neared the park, you couldnât hold back your curiosity any longer.
âNi-ki,â you began carefully, âIâve been thinking about what you said earlier.â
He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. âWhat about it?â
âAbout not caring. About how itâs not your job to care about... people like them.â You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. âIt just feels like... I donât know, youâve changed a lot lately. Youâre more confident, and thatâs great, but... itâs like youâre not bothered by anything anymore.â
Ni-ki didnât respond right away. He kept walking, his gaze focused straight ahead, his expression calm. Finally, he sighed, his shoulders rising and falling.
âI guess I just realized thereâs no point in letting things get to me,â he said, his tone measured. âPeople like them... theyâre not worth my time. They never were.â
You frowned, your unease growing. âBut... donât you think itâs weird? That they just disappeared like that?â
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.
âWhat are you trying to say?â he asked, his voice quiet but firm.
Your breath hitched, caught off guard by the sudden intensity in his gaze. âIâm not saying anything,â you said quickly, though your heart was racing. âIâm just... curious. Thatâs all.â
Ni-ki studied you for a moment longer before his expression softened, the faintest smile returning to his lips. âItâs probably nothing,â he said. âPeople like that... they always have enemies. Maybe someone else decided to deal with them.â
The way he said it sent a chill down your spine. He didnât sound defensive, or even particularly concerned. If anything, he sounded... amused.
You forced a smile, not wanting to push him further. âYeah, maybe,â you said, your voice quieter than you intended.
Ni-ki started walking again, and you followed, your mind racing with questions you didnât 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.
âHey,â he said casually, though his tone had a shy edge. âDo you⌠maybe want to come up? We could study together or something. I know exams are coming up, and itâs easier with company.â
You hesitated, clutching the strap of your bag. âI donât know⌠I should probably just head home and get some rest.â
Ni-kiâs 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 youâhopeful and a little nervousâmade something inside you falter.
âAre you sure?â he asked, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably. âItâll be quiet. I promise I wonât distract you too much.â
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.
âAlright,â you finally said, relenting with a small smile. âIâll stay for a little while.â
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.
âCome on,â he said, his tone suddenly brighter as he led you inside the building. âItâs not too messy, I promise. Well⌠not that messy.â
You laughed softly, letting him lead you into the lobby and toward the elevator. There was something about the way he was actingâlighthearted and a little goofyâthat 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. âIâll even let you pick the first topic we study. Fair deal?â
âDeal,â you said, shaking your head at him.
As the elevator climbed, you realized that, despite your earlier hesitation, you didnât 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.
âWelcome to my humble abode,â 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 aroundâheadphones, a hoodie draped over the back of a chair, a half-empty mug on the windowsill.
âItâs cozy,â you said, setting your bag down by the door.
Ni-ki grinned. âThatâs code for âsmall,â isnât it?â
You laughed, shaking your head. âNo, I mean it. It feels⌠nice.â
âGood,â he said, closing the door behind you. âMake yourself comfortable. Iâll grab us some water, and then we can get started.â
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 couldnât 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.
âSo,â Ni-ki began, pulling a notebook toward him, âwhat subject do you want to start with?â His eyes flickered toward you, waiting for your answer.
You considered for a moment. âI guess⌠letâs tackle history first? Thatâs the one Iâm struggling with the most.â
âHistory it is,â 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 studiedâfocused but relaxed, as if heâd 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. âWhat? Is something wrong?â he asked, glancing up from his book.
âNo, no, I was just⌠thinking.â You gave him a small smile, hoping to ease whatever concern he might have had. âYouâre a good study buddy. Youâre very⌠focused.â
Ni-ki chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. âI try. Itâs just easier when you actually care about what youâre learning, you know?â
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-kiâs presence. Every now and then, heâd 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.
âWe should probably call it a night,â you said, stretching your arms above your head.
Ni-ki nodded, though his expression was a little reluctant. âYeah, I guess youâre right. Time really flew by.â He stood up, walking over to the desk and gathering his things. He paused for a moment, glancing back at you. âThanks for hanging out tonight. It was⌠really nice.â
You smiled at him, your heart warming at his words. âOf course. Iâm glad we did this.â
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.
âHey,â he said quietly, his voice softer than usual.
You turned to look at him, eyebrows raised in question.
âI just wanted to sayâŚâ He paused, as if thinking carefully about his words. âIâm glad youâre⌠in my life. You know, youâve really made things a lot easier for me.â
Your heart skipped a beat. The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and you werenât sure how to respond.
âIâm glad, too,â you managed, your voice a little quieter than intended. âI think we make a good team.â
Ni-kiâs 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 wasnât sure what to do next.
You both stood there for a moment, before Ni-ki spoke again, his tone soft but teasing.
âSee you tomorrow, then?â
You nodded, feeling the smile tug at your own lips. âSee you tomorrow.â
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 didnât 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 youâd been staring for too long. His face twisted in annoyance, and he barked, âWhat the hell are you looking at?â
Startled, you quickly shrugged, averting your gaze and picking up your pace. You didnât have time for his nonsense tonight. The plan was simple: get home, maybe text Ni-ki, and bury yourself under your covers.
But you hadnât 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 outâwhat sent chills racing down your spineâwas 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 bullyâs 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 didnât move toward youânot 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 canât be real, you thought. This canât 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 didnât 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 werenât runningâthey were following you. Like they knew you couldnât 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 werenât far, and their steady pace somehow made it worse. They didnât need to run. They knew they had the upper hand.
âNo, no, no...â you whispered to yourself, your voice shaky. You turned a sharp corner into a narrower street, your eyes darting around for any sign of helpâa 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 closeâtoo 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 donât see me, please donât see me.
But then they tilted their head, and you knew theyâd 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 somewhereâanywhereâbut 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.
âW-what do you want?â 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 didnât 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.
âPlease,â you tried again, your voice cracking. âI wonât tell anyone. Justâjust let me go.â
Still, no response. They stopped just a few feet away, the knife glinting under the faint light. The blade wasnât just bloodiedâit was still dripping. Fresh.
You swallowed hard, your mind racing for a way out. Running wasnât 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 maskâright where the mouth would be. A deliberate, mocking gesture.
The message was clear: Donât 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 strongâtoo strongâand no matter how much you writhed or twisted, you couldnât break free.
The knife gleamed dangerously close to your side, but it wasnât moving. Instead, the figure leaned in, their mask mere inches from your face.
âWhy are you doing this?â you hissed, your voice shaking but desperate.
They didnât 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, calmâeerily 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.
âStop,â you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper now. âPlease.â
They leaned in even closer, the blank mask filling your vision. The faint scent of something metallicâbloodâwafted 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.
âWhy are you so scared?â 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. âWho are you?â you managed to croak, but they ignored your question.
They leaned even closer, their voice dropping to a whisper. âYouâve been watching people. Reading their actions. Studying them.â
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.
âYouâre just like me,â they murmured, their voice soft but laced with something dangerous. âArenât you curious about what happens next?â
The words struck you like a blow, and you felt the air leave your lungs. âIâm nothing like you,â you spat, trying to summon any ounce of courage left in you.
The figure chuckled softlyâa sound that was more unsettling than anything elseâand 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 didnât move, your body frozen in place as your mind raced. Their words echoed in your head.
Youâre 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 wouldnât 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 figureâthose hollow, unfeeling eyesâkept 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 someoneâanyoneâbut 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-kiâs name for a moment, but you hesitated. You didnât want to scare him. What would you even say?
You knew heâd be worried, and maybe thatâs 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 couldnât 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 couldnât stay locked inside forever. But you couldnât 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 Yunaânothing 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 nightâthe 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 didnât offer many details yet, but the police were investigating, and they had a few leadsâseeing 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 couldnât bring yourself to tell anyone. The thought of speaking up made your stomach churn. What could you even say? That youâd seen a masked figure with a bloody knife standing over the body, and then youâd just run? That youâd been too scared to do anything but watch?
No, you couldnât. It felt wrong. Almost like you were too close to the danger.
For a moment, you thought about calling Ni-ki. Heâd want to know. Heâd be concerned. But even the thought of telling him made you hesitate. You didnât want to burden him with this. And besides, you didnât 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 didnât know why. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was guilt. But you couldnât 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 somethingâmaybe self-preservation, maybe the fear of the unknownâstopped you from speaking.
You didnât 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 didnât 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 youâd never seen before. There was a glint in his eyes that made your stomach flip.
âMorning,â he greeted smoothly, his tone lighter than usual. His gaze swept over you briefly before he added, âYou look cute today.â
The comment hit you like a bolt out of the blue, and you felt your cheeks flush instantly. âW-what?â you stammered, staring at him wide-eyed. Ni-ki wasnât the type to flirtâor, at least, you didnât think he was.
He chuckled at your reaction, his lips curling into a small, amused smile. âRelax. Iâm just being honest.â
You ducked your head, pretending to fumble with your bag to hide the warmth spreading across your face. âWell⌠thanks, I guess,â 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 youâd ever seen him.
But as the two of you passed through the crowded hallway, you noticed somethingâevery time someone called out to him, a snide remark or a mocking laugh in their tone, Ni-kiâs shoulders would stiffen ever so slightly.
âHey, Ni-ki, looking sharp today!â someone sneered from behind, the tone far from genuine.
âTrying to impress someone? Not like anyone cares,â another voice added with a laugh.
You glanced over at him, expecting to see some hint of his reactionâannoyance, 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.
âSo, whatâs the plan for today?â 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 didnât reach his eyes. There was something guarded behind that mask of confidence, a wall he didnât want youâor anyone elseâto see behind.
âAre you okay?â you asked carefully, your voice low enough that no one else could hear.
Ni-kiâs smile didnât falter, but there was a flicker of something in his eyesâbrief, almost imperceptible. âWhy wouldnât I be?â 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 couldnât help but steal a few glances at him. Ni-ki had changedâthere was no denying that. He seemed stronger, more confident, even⌠untouchable in a way. But that didnât mean he wasnât still carrying the weight of what heâd 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 wasnât the same one youâd first met.
The days passed, and Ni-kiâs transformation became even more apparent. He wasnât just confident nowâhe was bold, almost playful in the way he interacted with you. And you couldnât deny the effect it had on you.
âMorning,â 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.
âNi-ki, can you not sneak up on me like that?â you huffed, glaring half-heartedly.
He smirked, leaning down to your eye level, far too close for comfort. âWhat, canât handle a little excitement in the morning?â 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.
âHey! I can carry my own bag,â you protested, grabbing for the strap.
Ni-ki dodged your hand effortlessly, his smirk growing. âI know. But I want to. Let me be a gentleman for once,â he said, winking at you.
You huffed again, but the way your cheeks warmed betrayed how much it flustered you.
It wasnât 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 hadnât expected. Sometimes, heâd lean casually against the locker next to yours, his proximity far too close to be casual.
âHave you ever read this one?â he asked once, holding out a crime novel you hadnât even heard of. âI thought of you when I saw it.â
You blinked at the book in his hands, touched by the gesture. âYou thought of me?â
He grinned, tilting his head. âWell, yeah. Itâs about solving crimes. Sound familiar?â
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 didâbringing 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, youâd end up dozing off halfway through, only to wake up hours later, cuddled up against his chest.
The first time it happened, youâd pulled away so quickly you nearly fell off the couch. âI-Iâm sorry! I didnât mean toââ
Ni-ki just laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. âItâs fine. You looked comfortable,â 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 couldnât deny how Ni-ki made you feel. His presence was becoming something you looked forward toâhis teasing, his warmth, his surprising thoughtfulness.
He was always thereâwaiting 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.
âSo,â he began, his voice casual but laced with that teasing edge youâd come to expect, âare you ever going to admit you like spending time with me, or do I have to keep carrying your books until you do?â
You turned to him, startled by his boldness, and saw the playful smirk tugging at his lips. âIâwhat?!â
Ni-ki chuckled, leaning in slightly as he walked beside you. âYou heard me,â he said, his voice soft but teasing. âYou donât have to be so shy about it. I mean, I am pretty great company.â
Your face burned, and you looked away, clutching your bag tightly. âDonât flatter yourself,â you muttered, though your tone lacked any real bite.
His laugh was soft but warm, and it only made your cheeks grow hotter. âIâm just saying whatâs true,â he said, his voice lowering as he added, âYouâre cute when you get flustered, you know that?â
You didnât 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 heâd somehow convinced you to attend. As usual, heâd picked a horror filmâone 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-kiâs arm.
âScared?â he asked, his tone teasing but not unkind.
You quickly let go, crossing your arms over your chest. âNo,â you said stubbornly, though the way your heart raced said otherwise.
Ni-ki laughed softly, leaning closer to you. âItâs okay to be scared. You can hold onto me if you want,â 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. âIâll be fine,â you muttered, trying to ignore how close he was.
As the movie went on, though, the tension eased, and the warmth of Ni-kiâs 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-kiâs 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.
âGood morning, sleepyhead,â he said, his voice low and teasing.
âIâI didnât mean to fall asleep,â you stammered, pulling away completely.
Ni-ki just shrugged, sitting up as well. âItâs fine,â he said, brushing it off like it was nothing. âYou looked comfortable.â
You buried your face in your hands, groaning softly. âThis is so embarrassingâŚâ
He chuckled, reaching out to gently nudge your shoulder. âRelax. I told you, itâs fine. You can fall asleep on me anytime.â
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.
âThatâs Ni-ki, right?â one of your friends, Natty, said, nudging you with her elbow.
You blinked, realizing your friends were now watching him. âYeah,â you said nonchalantly, though your gaze lingered on him as he passed by.
âHeâs gotten so handsome lately,â another friend chimed in, resting her chin on her hand as she stared after him. âI mean, look at him! The hair, the way heâs dressing now⌠I swear, itâs like he had a total glow-up overnight.â
You felt your cheeks heat up, and you quickly looked down at your plate, hoping no one would notice.
âHeâs always been cute,â Natty said, shrugging. âBut now? Itâs like⌠heâs confident. And confidence is hot.â
âI heard heâs been helping out in some of his classes too,â another friend added. âLike, tutoring and stuff. Smart and good-looking? Talk about the whole package.â
You tried to focus on your food, but the conversation buzzed around you, and you couldnât help but feel a strange twinge in your chest as your friends continued to gush over Ni-ki.
âHey,â Natty said suddenly, leaning closer to you. âYouâve been hanging out with him a lot lately, havenât you? Whatâs that about?â
Your head shot up, eyes wide. âWhat? No, weâre just⌠friends,â you said quickly, waving off her question. âHe likes crime novels, and we talk about them sometimes. Thatâs all.â
âJust friends?â Natty teased, raising an eyebrow. âAre you sure? Because he definitely looks at you like youâre more than just a friend.â
Your heart skipped a beat at her words, and you frowned, shaking your head. âYouâre imagining things.â
But even as you said it, you couldnât shake the memory of Ni-kiâs 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. âSee? I told you. Heâs totally into you.â
You groaned, burying your face in your hands. âCan we please change the subject?â
Your friends laughed, but they eventually let it go, moving on to other topics. Still, you couldnât 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.
âWait up!â he called, slightly breathless as he closed the distance between you.
You stopped, giving him time to catch his breath. âYou okay there, track star?â you teased as he bent over, hands on his knees, trying to steady his breathing.
âYeah,â he panted, straightening up and flashing you a grin. âJust⌠didnât want to lose you before I asked.â
âAsked what?â you said, tilting your head.
He shifted his bag higher on his shoulder. âDo you want to come over and study? I mean, if youâre not busy or anything. I thought we could go over some of that exam stuff together, maybe watch something afterâŚâ
You raised an eyebrow at him, suppressing a smile. âYou ran all the way here to ask me that?â
Ni-ki shrugged, a faint pink dusting his cheeks as he looked away. âWell⌠yeah. It seemed important.â
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. âThere,â you said, your voice softer now. âThatâs better.â
Ni-ki blinked at you, clearly startled by the gesture, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something but couldnât find the words. For a moment, he just stood there, looking at you with an expression you couldnât quite placeâsomething warm, something soft, something that made your heart skip.
You cleared your throat, stepping back and turning toward the direction of his dorm building. âAlright, letâs go,â you said, trying to ignore the sudden heat rising to your face.
Ni-ki followed after you, his footsteps light but quick, and you didnât notice the way his eyes lingered on you as he walked behind. There was a small, almost shy smile on his face, one he didnât bother hiding now that you werenât 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 youâquiet but steady.
âYouâve really got a thing for last-minute plans, huh?â you said, glancing back at him with a teasing smile.
âOnly with you,â 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. âYeah, yeah. Letâs see if you can actually focus on studying this time.â
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-kiâs apartment, you were greeted by the faint scent of laundry detergent and something sweetâprobably the remnants of whatever he had for breakfast that morning.
âMake yourself at home,â he said, slipping off his shoes and gesturing toward his room.
You followed him in, setting your bag down on the floor.
âAlright,â Ni-ki said, plopping down onto the floor and pulling out his notebook. âLetâs get this over with before my brain decides to shut off completely.â
You laughed, sitting down across from him and pulling out your own notes. âYouâre the one who wanted to study, remember?â
âYeah, yeah,â he muttered, flipping through his book. âJust donât let me slack off too much.â
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.
âWait, is this right?â 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. âAlmost. You forgot to carry this number over here,â you said, pointing it out with the tip of your pen.
Ni-ki groaned, dropping his head onto the desk dramatically. âWhy is math like this? What did I ever do to deserve this kind of suffering?â
You couldnât help but laugh at his theatrics. âCome on, itâs not that bad. Youâre just overthinking it.â
âEasy for you to say,â he grumbled, lifting his head to look at you. âYouâre like a human calculator.â
âFlattery wonât get you out of this,â 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.
âOkay, serious question,â Ni-ki said, turning to you with a mischievous glint in his eye.
You raised an eyebrow, wary but intrigued. âWhat?â
âIf 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?â
You blinked at him, caught off guard by the random question. âUh⌠I donât know. What kind of murder mystery?â
âThe really dramatic kind,â he said, leaning closer with an exaggerated serious expression. âLots of twists, lots of danger. Like, weâd be running for our lives half the time.â
You pretended to think about it, tapping your chin. âIn that case⌠definitely the murder mystery. At least then Iâd have something to keep me entertained.â
Ni-ki gasped, clutching his chest like youâd just mortally wounded him. âWow. I see how it is. Iâm just boring company on a deserted island, huh?â
You laughed, nudging him playfully. âThatâs not what I said!â
âSure, sure,â he said, grinning as he took another sip of his drink. âIâll remember this the next time you need my help with something.â
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. âAre you sure this is right?â he asked, his voice low and teasing.
âYes, itâs right,â you said, rolling your eyes. âYou can double-check it if you donât believe me.â
He smirked, leaning closer. âNah, I trust you. Youâre too smart to get it wrong.â
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. âIâm officially done. I canât stare at numbers and letters any longer without my brain exploding.â
You glanced at him, amused. âYouâre giving up already? I thought you wanted to study.â
âI did,â he said, flopping onto his back like a starfish. âBut now I want to do something fun. Come on, letâs play a game.â
You raised an eyebrow. âA game? Like what?â
He sat up quickly, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. âOn my console. Iâve got a few multiplayer games. Weâll do a couple of roundsâyouâre not scared to lose, are you?â
âOh, please,â you said, rolling your eyes as you stood up to follow him to his console setup. âYouâre the one who should be worried.â
He smirked, grabbing two controllers and handing you one. âWeâll see about that.â
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.
âNi-ki, what are you doing?â you teased as his character fell off the map for the third time in a row. âYouâre not even trying, are you?â
His ears turned red as he adjusted his glasses, fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. âI-Iâm just warming up! Wait until the next round; you wonât even stand a chance.â
You grinned, loving the way he stumbled over his words. âSure, sure. Keep telling yourself that.â
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.
âLooks like youâre the one who should be worried,â he said, his tone dripping with playful confidence.
You felt your face heat up as you avoided his gaze, grumbling under your breath. âLucky shot. I wasnât even trying.â
âUh-huh,â he said, leaning a little closer to nudge your shoulder. âExcuses, excuses. Just admit Iâm better.â
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. âDonât get too cocky, Ni-ki. Iâll destroy you in the next one.â
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.
âSeriously, how are you so good at this?â he muttered after losing another round, his voice a mix of frustration and awe.
âI told you, you shouldâve been worried,â 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 didnât hold back.
âAw, what happened?â he said, his voice dripping with mock concern. âI thought you were supposed to be good at this.â
You huffed, crossing your arms as your cheeks burned. âI just⌠got distracted, thatâs all.â
âSure,â he said, his grin widening. âKeep telling yourself that.â
The teasing was relentless, but you couldnât 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 endedâNi-ki winning by a narrow marginâyou let out a dramatic groan, flopping onto your back. âUgh, I canât believe you beat me.â
He laughed, leaning over you slightly. âSee? I told you Iâd win eventually.â
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.
âWell,â you said finally, sitting up and brushing some imaginary dust off your pants. âDonât get used to it. Next time, Iâm coming for that win.â
âIâm looking forward to it,â he said, his voice softening slightly.
You werenât 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 didnât realize how late it got. I need to get home before it gets any darker out. Iâll 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 didnât have time to dwell on it.
You walked quickly, your footsteps echoing on the pavement. Normally, youâd 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 didnât 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.
âHey!â he slurred, his voice loud and grating. âWhere you goinâ in such a hurry?â
You ignored him, your heart racing as you picked up your pace.
âHey! Iâm talkinâ to you!â 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 didnât want to show fearâor 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.
âHey! Donât walk away from me!â 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.
âCâmon, woman!â he slurred, closer than before. âJust talk to me for a second!â
He made your skin crawl, and without thinking, you broke into a run.
âHey!â 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 didnât 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 somewhereâanywhereâto hide. Thatâs 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 wouldnât notice where youâd gone.
The sound of his footsteps grew louder, then slower, until finally, they stopped.
âWhere the hellââ 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 feelingâyouâd left it at Ni-kiâs place.
âDamn it,â you muttered under your breath, running a hand through your hair. You were too shaken to think straight, but you needed your phone. It wasnât safe to be out here without it.
With a reluctant sigh, you pushed yourself off the wall and started walking back toward Ni-kiâs 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 hadnât 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 hadnât heard anything. But curiosityâmorbid and insistentâhad 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 wasnât worth it, when you heard a faint shuffle.
And then he stumbled out.
The drunk man.
Your stomach churned at the sight of himâhis steps were unsteady, but it wasnât 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 couldnât see his face, you could feel his eyes locked on you.
"Ah, sweetheart," his voice drawled, smooth and almost teasing. âWe really have to stop meeting like this.â
Your heart nearly stopped. Without thinking, you spun around, ready to runâbut you werenât 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.
âHe deserved it,â he whispered, his voice low and almost intimate. âDidnât you see the way he was looking at you? Following you? Touching you with his eyes like you were something he could take?â
You tried to protest, to tell him to let you go, but your voice refused to cooperate.
âYou should be thanking me,â he murmured, his tone laced with dark amusement. âIf it werenât for me, who knows what that disgusting piece of trash wouldâve done to you?â
His words sent a chill down your spine, but the way he said themâlike he truly believed heâd done you a favorâmade your stomach twist.
âYou should give me a reward, sweetheart,â he purred, his lips brushing dangerously close to your ear. âIâve been so good to you, havenât I? Taking care of all the people who hurt you.â
âL-let me go,â you managed to choke out, your voice trembling.
He chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. âOh, but Iâm not done yet,â he said, his grip on your wrists tightening slightly. âNot until you say it.â
âS-say what?â you stammered.
âThank you,â he said simply, his voice still teasing but with an edge that made it clear he wasnât joking. âGo on, sweetheart. Say thank you to your savior.â
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.
âTsk, tsk,â he tutted softly, like a parent scolding a misbehaving child. âWhatâs this, sweetheart? Fighting me when Iâve done so much for you? Thatâs not very nice.â
âLet me go,â 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, deliberateâalmost tender.
âYou really donât know how to behave, do you?â he murmured, his voice soft but laced with something darker. âHere I am, protecting you, keeping you safe, and you donât even say thank you. Instead, you fight me. Struggle against me. Like Iâm the bad guy.â
The words sent a chill down your spine, the weight of them sinking into your chest.
âI didnât ask for this!â you snapped, trying once more to pull your wrists free, but his grip only tightened.
âAh, but thatâs the beauty of it, sweetheart,â he said, his tone almost playful. âYou didnât have to. I wanted to do it. For you.â
His fingers trailed lightly over the nape of your neck, sending a shiver through your body that you couldnât control.
âYou donât understand,â he whispered, leaning in closer until his masked face was right beside yours. âI see you. Every single day. Youâre so⌠perfect. So pure. And theyâre not. They donât deserve to breathe the same air as you.â
âYouâre insane,â you spat, your voice shaking.
âMaybe,â he admitted with a dark chuckle. âBut Iâm your kind of insane.â
His hand slid down, brushing over your shoulder in a mockery of comfort. âSay it,â he murmured again, his voice barely above a whisper now. âSay thank you. Thatâs all I want to hear.â
Your throat tightened, and you bit your lip, refusing to give him what he wanted. You wouldnât play into whatever twisted game he was orchestrating.
But he sighed, the sound carrying a hint of disappointment. âStill being stubborn, huh?â he mused. âThatâs okay. I like a challenge.â
His hand moved to your chin, tilting your face slightly to the side. Though you couldnât see his expression behind the mask, you could feel his gaze burning into you, his intensity unnerving.
âYouâll come around,â he said softly, his voice dripping with certainty. âOne day, youâll see that Iâm the only one who truly cares about you.â
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.
âOne day, sweetheart. Youâll thank me.â
You didnât 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.
âI need help!â you blurted out, your voice trembling. âThereâs been a... a murder. And I saw him. I saw the killer!â
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.
âAlright, take a deep breath,â he said, guiding you to a chair. âLetâs get this sorted. Where did this happen?â
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.
âOkay,â the tall officer said, sitting down across from you with a notepad. âWeâre going to need a full report from you. Start from the beginningâeverything you saw, everything you experienced.â
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.
âHe... he grabbed me,â you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. âPinned me against the wall. He said he was protecting me. That I should... thank him.â
The officerâs pen paused briefly on the notepad, his brows furrowing.
âHe said he killed the man for me,â you continued, your throat tightening as you forced the words out. âThat he was doing it because he cared about me.â
The officer leaned back slightly, his expression a mix of concern and disbelief. âDid you recognize him? Anything distinctive about his voice, his build, his mannerisms?â
You shook your head, feeling a wave of frustration and helplessness wash over you. âNo. He wore a mask, and his voice... it was muffled. But he was tall, and he moved... like he was confident. Like heâd done this before.â
The officer nodded, jotting down your words. âYou did the right thing coming here. Weâll have officers sweep the area, and weâll add this information to the ongoing investigation.â
--
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.
âThey found the body,â he said quietly, his voice steady but laced with tension. âIt was hidden behind some trash cans in the alley. The killerâs gone. But thereâs something you need to see.â
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.
âThis is from a nearby CCTV camera,â 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 youâd 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 awayâonly 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. âThe way he looked at the camera⌠itâs almost like he wanted us to see him.â
You couldnât 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 motionâthe way heâd looked at the camera, unafraid, almost playful.
âDo you know him?â the officer asked gently, his tone careful.
You shook your head quickly, maybe a little too quickly. âNo. IâI donât know anyone whoâdâŚâ You trailed off, your voice faltering.
The officer studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. âAlright,â he said finally. âWeâre going to keep investigating, and weâll need to keep in contact with you. If anythingâanything at allâcomes to mind, you let us know.â
You nodded, your mind still racing as the image of the killerâs mask lingered.
The officer sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. âFor now, weâll have someone escort you home. You shouldnât be out there alone.â
Home. The thought of being alone right now was terrifying, but staying here with the memory of that footage wasnât 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 heâd turned and walked away.
He wasnât 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. âAlright, just make it quick. Whatâs the address?â
You rattled it off, and within minutes, the car pulled up in front of Ni-kiâs building. You quickly unbuckled your seatbelt, mumbling a soft, "Iâll 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-kiâs 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.
âHey,â he greeted with a soft smile, his eyes lighting up when he saw you. âI was wondering when youâd come back for this.â He held up your phone, which had been sitting on his desk.
You gave him a sheepish smile, reaching for it. âYeah, Iâm sorry. I got distracted earlier and completely forgot.â
He chuckled, leaning against the doorframe as he handed it to you. âNo problem. You okay, though? You seem⌠tense.â
âIâm fine,â you said quickly, clutching the phone to your chest. âJustâuh, long day. Thanks, Ni-ki.â
Before he could say anything else, you turned and started walking back down the hall.
âWaitââ Ni-ki called after you, his voice tinged with concern. âYou sure youâre okay? Youâre acting weird.â
You ignored him, speeding up your pace. âIâm fine! See you Monday!â
â(Y/N)ââ
You didnât 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.
âGot what you needed?â she asked.
âYeah,â 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. âStay inside tonight. Lock your doors. If you need anything, donât hesitate to call.â
âThank you,â 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 youâd brushed him off so abruptly.
But you couldnât stop thinking about the killer, about the way heâd spoken to you, about the way heâd 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 sleepâdesperately.
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, Iâm 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 toâŚ
It didnât take long for him to reply.
Ni-ki: Of course. Iâll call you now.
A few moments later, your phone rang. You swiped to answer, bringing it to your ear.
âHey,â Ni-kiâs voice came through, calm and warm, despite the underlying concern. âYou doing okay now?â
You leaned back against the wall, feeling a sense of relief just hearing his voice.
âYeah,â you replied softly. âJust⌠everything feels a little off tonight. Iâm glad you messaged.â
He was quiet for a moment, and you could almost picture him thinking.
âIâm glad you reached out,â he said finally. âYou donât have to go through stuff like this alone. I know it might seem like everythingâs chaotic, but youâve got me. You can always talk to me.â
His words had an unexpected comfort to them, and you felt some of the weight lift off your shoulders.
âThanks,â you said quietly. âI really appreciate it, Ni-ki.â
âI mean it,â he replied with a soft chuckle. âAnytime, seriously. If you need a distraction or just someone to listen, Iâve got you.â
You smiled to yourself, grateful for his kindness.
âMaybe we can talk more tomorrow, huh? Iâll make sure to check in on you again. Donât want you feeling like this all night.â
You felt a slight pang of guilt but quickly pushed it away.
âIâll be okay. And⌠thanks again. Iâm just gonna try to get some sleep.â
âSounds good. Get some rest, and if anything comes up, just text me, alright?â
âI will. Goodnight, Ni-ki.â
âGoodnight,â 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.
âIâm taking you to the mall,â he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
You stared at him for a moment, your eyes widening. âWait, what? Youâre... what?â
Ni-ki chuckled, clearly amused by your reaction. âI figured you could use a little break. Youâve been cooped up here long enough.â
You glanced at the clock. It was a bit earlier than you expected. âBut Iââ
Before you could protest any further, you heard the sound of your own feet hitting the floor as you dashed towards your bedroom. âGive me a second! I need to get dressed!â
Ni-ki didnât seem to mind. He just chuckled again, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. âTake your time. Iâll be here.â
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 couldnât help but feel a little nervousâhe 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.
âYou ready?â 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. âYeah, letâs go.â
Ni-ki grinned and stood up, tossing his phone onto the couch. âI knew youâd be ready in no time.â
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. âAfter you, milady,â he teased, his smile playful.
You laughed, stepping into the car. âYouâre a dork,â you said, shaking your head.
He slid into the driverâs 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 youâd been feeling lately, if you were still swamped with schoolwork, and if you had any specific things you wanted to do at the mall.
âIâm just along for the ride, really,â you said, feeling a little more relaxed with each passing moment. âIâm happy to just hang out.â
Ni-ki glanced at you, his lips curving upward. âGood, âcause I was planning on getting us some snacks, trying on some clothes, and maybe finding something ridiculous to make you laugh.â
You couldnât help but chuckle at that. âIâm down for that,â 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. âReady to have some fun?â
You nodded, your smile wide. âAbsolutely.â
You and Ni-ki wandered through the mall, hopping from store to store, trying on ridiculous hats and laughing at each otherâs 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-kiâs 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. "Youâre ridiculous," you said between giggles. But you didnât mindâit 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. âYou want your usual?â he asked, already pulling out his wallet.
âOf course,â you said with a grin. âYou know me too well.â
As you waited for your drinks, Ni-ki leaned against the counter casually, his expression relaxed. âThis was fun, right? Iâm glad you decided to come out with me today.â His tone was light, but there was something behind itâan undercurrent of sincerity that made you pause.
You smiled back at him, grateful for the day. âYeah. I needed this... more than I thought.â
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 everythingâs 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 didnât say something. You took a deep breath, sipping your tea as you tried to find the right words.
"Iâve been okay," you said, after a beat. "Some days are better than others, but... itâs easier when Iâm with people I trust. Like you."
Ni-ki gave you a soft smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. âGood. Iâm glad Iâm one of those people,â 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 eyeâa shelf full of adorable plushies. You couldnât resist, and you found yourself picking up a cute little bear, smiling at how soft it was. But in that moment of distraction, you didnât 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 schoolâsome guys and girls who were known for their snide remarks.
âWow, look at this,â one of the guys sneered. âAll grown up, and still playing with toys?â
You felt your stomach tighten, but you didnât let it show. You had heard this all before. Still, the words felt heavier today.
âYou know, you should really grow up,â another girl added, laughing with the rest of them. âItâs kind of embarrassing, donât you think?â
Normally, youâd brush it off with a sarcastic remark or a clever comeback, but today was different. You just couldnât summon the energy to fight back. Instead, you gave a quiet, âItâs just a plushie,â and shrugged, turning to walk away.
But that didnât stop them.
âReally, youâre such a child. Itâs honestly pathetic,â 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.
âYouâre just as pathetic as Ni-ki. He probably doesnât even care about you?â
The words were like a slap to the face. Without thinking, your eyes snapped toward her, your glare icy.
âYou donât know anything about us,â you hissed, your voice low and sharp. âMaybe you should focus on your own life instead of judging others.â
The girlâs expression faltered, but she wasnât 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.
âDonât even think about it,â 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-kiâs grip on the girlâs wrist tightened, and she yelped, trying to pull away. But Ni-ki didnât budge.
âThey can make fun of me all they want,â he said, his voice cold and low, each word laced with intensity. âBut if you ever, ever make fun of her again, Iâll make sure you regret it.â
The girl blinked up at him, looking stunned, but Ni-ki didnât release his hold. He was a completely different person now, standing tall that made it clear he wasnât going to let anyone make fun of youânot now, not ever.
The group shifted uncomfortably, clearly not used to seeing him like this. Ni-kiâs 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.
âIf I hear you even think about messing with her again, Iâll make sure itâs the last time. Got it?â
The girlâs face went pale, and after a moment, she finally pulled her wrist from his grasp. She didnât say anything elseâshe didnât 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 werenât 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. âAre you okay?â he asked, his voice gentler now.
You nodded, still processing everything. âYeah⌠Thanks. I guess I owe you one,â you said.
âDonât worry about it,â he said with a shrug, his usual smile returning. âIâd do it again in a heartbeat.â
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 anchorâs voice was steady but the words were jarring.
âA 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.â
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 registerâteens, a group, missing.
You couldnât 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 hadnât let up. You were drenched, but it didnât matter. You immediately zeroed in on Ni-kiâs 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.
âHey,â he said, his voice still heavy with sleep, probably because it was so early. "You okay? Youâre all wet.â
You nodded quickly, shaking your umbrella as you stood in front of him. "Yeah, Iâm fine. I justâ" You paused, your heart hammering in your chest. "Did you hear about the missing teens?"
Ni-kiâs 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. âYeah. I heard. I donât know⌠itâs weird, right? Some of them were people from school.â
You nodded, feeling a pit grow in your stomach. âYeah. Itâs just⌠strange, with everything thatâs been happening lately.â You bit your lip, trying to read his face. He wasnât 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. âI know. But we donât know anything for sure yet. Iâm sure the police will figure it out.â
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.
âCome on,â he said after a moment, his smile returning, though it didnât quite reach his eyes. âLetâs get to class.â
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 informationâthe authorities were still investigating, but there were no leads. The unease grew heavier in your chest with each passing minute.
You didnât even realize you werenât 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 didnât notice Ni-ki sitting next to you, watching you with a careful, intense gaze.
It wasnât until he spoke that you realized heâd been looking at you for a while. His voice was low, almost dangerous in its calmness.
âYou havenât been paying attention all day,â he said, his tone not accusatory but focused, like he was analyzing every little thing. âWhatâs going on?â
You looked up, surprised by the directness in his tone. Ni-kiâs eyes werenât his usual playful, teasing selfâthey were sharp, focused, and a little darker than usual. There was something in them that made your heart race, something you couldnât 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.
âI donât knowâŚâ you trailed off, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you. âItâs just⌠something feels wrong, Ni-ki. Thereâs this whole thing with the missing students, and it doesnât feel like itâs over. I keep thinking about all of it. I canât stop.â
Ni-kiâs gaze never left you as you spoke, and he gave a slight nod, as if he understood. The tension in his eyes didnât fade, thoughâif anything, it seemed to grow.
âYouâre not the only one who feels it,â he said quietly. âBut youâve got to be careful. People donât always show their true faces. And sometimes, the things that feel wrong are just the beginning.â
You swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking into you. There was something about the way he said itâlike 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. âIâll keep that in mind,â you replied, though you couldnât 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.
âDonât let it consume you,â he said, his voice more tender now, as if trying to comfort you in his own way. âWeâll figure it out, together.â
You nodded, though you werenât 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 youâd 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 thingsâa block of cheese, some leftover rice, some random vegetablesâbut 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 hadnât gone grocery shopping in a while, and it was becoming apparent just how low on supplies you were. Youâd 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 wasnât too far, but youâd 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 smellâthe faint scent of freshly baked bread mixed with the cool air of refrigerationâand you pushed open the door, ready to get what you needed and get back home.
You grabbed your essentialsâsome 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 didnât 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 youâd taken the right path.
You stood for a moment, considering whether to retrace your steps or try to find another route back home. Thatâs when the sound reached your earsâa 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 stirredâa compulsion you couldnât 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 werenât 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 hadnât 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 houseâs former lifeâold furniture covered in dust, paintings half-faded with age, and broken mirrors hanging crookedly on the walls. It didnât 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 didnât 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 couldnât.
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 nothingâno 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 roomsâempty, 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 couldnât 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 didnât 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 hallâa door that looked⌠newer, as though it hadnât suffered the same wear as the rest of the house. Something about it caught your attention. It wasnât 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 furnishedâjust 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 couldnât 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 differentânewer, 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 girlâsomeone 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 clickedâinstinct, maybe, or the sheer desperation to do something. You couldnât 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 couldnât help but feel a surge of sympathy for herâno 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 couldnât 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 couldnât bear to think of how long she had been like this, how much time had passed since sheâd been brought here.
As you worked, a noise caught your attentionâa 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 didnât 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 couldnât leave her. You couldnât.
But you also knew that the moment the killer came back in, youâd 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 tensedâyour 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 youâcloser, 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 postureâpredatory, 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 donât dare look back. You canât.
Above you, his voice echoes through the decaying walls, low and mocking, sending chills down your spine.
âRun all you want,â he calls, his tone light, almost playful. âYou know Iâll catch you.â
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.
âYou canât hide from me. You know that, donât you? Iâll always find you. Always.â
The air is heavy with the smell of dust and mildew, but it does nothing to muffle his voice.
âYou and that little curiosity of yours,â he sneers, his footsteps steady and unhurried. âThatâs what got you into this mess. You wanted to see what was behind the curtain, didnât you?â
Your heart pounds in your chest, your legs screaming in protest as you take the steps two at a time.
âNo one else deserves you,â he continues, his voice dipping into something darker, more possessive. âOnly me. And if I canât have youâŚâ
You swallow back a sob as his words twist, their meaning sharp as a blade.
ââŚthen no one can.â
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.
âYouâll be mine in the end. You know it. Why keep running, darling? Why deny the inevitable?â
You bite down on your lip to stifle the cry threatening to escape. The hallway stretches endlessly before you, and the sound of his stepsâslow, deliberateâechoes closer, as if heâs 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.
âYou canât run forever,â he hums, his tone like a lullaby meant to unsettle. âEvery step you take just brings you closer to me. Donât you see? This is fate. You were made for me.â
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 isnât there, and yet his voice sounds as if itâs just over your shoulder, like heâs 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.
âThere you go,â he purrs, his voice impossibly close now, like heâs whispering directly into your ear. âHide, 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.â
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 anythingâany sign of movement, any sound that could tell you where he is. But thereâs nothing.
A soft knock on the door shatters the quiet, making you jump back with a gasp.
âAre you scared?â he asks, his voice calm now, almost tender. âYou donât need to be. Iâll take care of you. Iâll make this quick.â
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 solidâa wrench, heavy and covered in dust.
Another bang. The bolt starts to bend under the pressure.
âIâm coming in, sweetheart,â he murmurs, his voice filled with a sickening glee. âLetâs end this little game, shall we?â
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 itâs ready to swallow you whole.
But youâre ready this time. Your grip tightens on the wrench, and as he steps into the room, you swing.
Part 2 here
âââââââšâąâźâ˝â°âšââââââ
Taglist: @totallynotj3zz @starfallia @jiryunn @yangjungwonnie
@miainthestarsss @caithefly @hhyvsstuff @kkamismom12
@ilyunjina @xiaoquanquans @heeseungspookie @flwwon
#enhypen x reader#niki x reader#enhypen niki#ni ki#ni ki enhypen#enhypen#enhypen imagines#enhypen fic#niki enhypen#niki imagines#niki fluff#niki nishimura#riki nishimura x reader#nishimura riki#nishimura niki#enhypen riki#riki imagines#riki x reader#enhypen drabbles#niki drabbles#killer au#kpop fanfic
582 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Steddie
Iâm joining the s3 steddie train :D
âŚ
Steve was late. He was so late and so dead. Robin was going to kill himâ heâd never make it out of Scoops Ahoy alive.
This was his thought process after dropping Will Lucas and Max off at Mikes. This was also his thought process the entirety of the way to Scoops while he shoved his way through the mall.
The moment he entered the small shop Robins eyes locked on him in a glare. Steve barely gave her a second before he was going to the back room to get ready for his shift.
He heard the back room door open behind him.
âYouâreââ
â24 minutes late I know,â he said as calmly as he could while trying to relax his breathing.
âYeah andââ
âAnd you get an extra 25 minutes for your break, yes Robin I know!â
Steve finally closed his employee cubby and turned to look at Robin. âLook. Im sorry I was so late today but Will, Lucas and Max are assholes when theyâre being petty and they needed a ride to Mikes cause all the others were busy! Iâll take closing shift today to if youâre really that mad.â
Robin stared at him angrily from the doorway. âFine.â She uncrossed her arms. âAnd yes, you will be taking the closing shift tonight. I have a study date with a friend that I canât miss.â
âItâs summer vacation?â
âShut up!â
Steve shrugged when the door closed.
He closed the door to his employee locker with a little more force than necessary. He had a migraine building and the bright, florescent lights of the mall werenât helping in the slightest.
He walked out and began his shift.
âŚ
Eddie wanted to enjoy his day off. Preferably by himself. But Gareth and Jeff decided that his personal life was their personal life. So here they were.
He had wanted to spend the day away from the mall, considering that that was where everyone seemed to be nowadays. But the guys were insistent.
So they were walking around. It wasnât too bad, considering Eddie had gotten himself a new record and tape with his newest paycheck. They were sitting at the fountain when Gareth shouted right in Eddieâs ear:
âHOLY SHIT!â
Eddie just about punched him with how hard he jumped. Jeff spit out his Pepsi all over Eddie.
While Eddie was worrying about getting the sticky drink off of his skin, Gareth continued with; âis that HARRINGTON in Scoops?â
Well. Now he has Eddieâs attention.
Sure enough, just in Eddieâs line of sight, was Steve Harrington in a sailors uniform and a dorky hat.
A dorky hat that was soon snatched up by his current customer, Billy Hargrove.
Jeff clapped him on the shoulder and leaned over him to get a better view. âIs that Hargrove?â
âYep.â Eddie popped the P.
âIt looks like heâs messing with Harrington.â
âYep.â Another pop on the P.
âAnd Harrington looks like heâs gonna fucking explode.â
Eddie agreed. Harrington was red in the face and not in the cute blushy-way he usually gets (donât ask why Eddie knows that). He was talking back to Hargrove, probably something bitchy and sarcastic in typical Harrington-fashion based on the way Hargrove seemed to recoil for a moment before jumping back.
âShould we do something?â Gareth asked skeptically. Jeff shrugged where he was pressed against Eddieâs back.
âIâm going in.â Eddie stood and nearly knocked Jeff down in the process.
âHang onââ
âNope! Wish me luck, boys!â Eddie yelled over his shoulder while he dashed over. He heard them both get up and follow him.
âŚ
Steve wanted to cry.
His head hurt so fucking bad and his back was killing him and he had ran into a shelf earlier and had a killer bruise on his arm and leg from it and everything was too fucking much.
Then, in all his asshole and dick glory, in came Billy Hargrove.
At this point, Steve would rather take another plate to the head then have to deal with his annoyingly aggravating voice. Hargrove came in, probably expecting Robin to be there, but got Steve instead. And honestly Steve would rather deal with him then leave Robin with him.
So heâs been enduring it, giving his own comments and comebacks but overall hating his life and just wanting to curl up and die.
Then his savior showed up. In all his black leather and chains, Eddie fucking Munson.
Hallelujah.
Hargrove seemed to back down the moment Munson showed up. Which wasnât too strange considering that Munson supplied over half of Hawkinsâ weed supply. Including Steveâs own for a while. He hasnât bought in a while cause of the brat brigade.
But not the point.
Hargrove nodded to Munson. âMunson.â
Wow. Real cool, Billy. Steve held back a snicker.
âHeeyyy, Hargrove!â Munson cheerily greeted. But there was something about his smile that was off, to Steve. It seemed tighter than usual, his eyes not crinkling with the motion like normal. Donât ask why Steve knows this.
Munsonâs eyes seemed darker, too. Like he was angry. Maybe Hargrove didnât pay him? Steve couldnât bother to care with how bad his head started to pound.
He shouldnât be at work with this migraine. He knows that. His doctorâs told him this multiple times. But he owes it to Robin for being late so much and he needs to prove to his dad that he can take care of himself.
âSo what brings you here, Billy?â Munson asks casually, stepping farther into the shop. Steve seems to finally be forgotten about, and he places his head down on the counter. The cooled surface definitely helps with the spinning room.
He hears Hargrove say something back, but he isnât paying attention anymore. His eyes are stating to go blurry and he really needs to sit down. But then Munson says something that catches his attention:
âJust leave Harrington alone, man. Last I checked he did nothing to you.â
What the hell? Steve wished he could lift his head and see what Munson was doing. What he looked like when he said that. If he looked as mean as he sounded.
Steve only lifts his head a few moments later when he feels a hand on his back. He shoots up quicker than he intends, and nearly falls back down if not for the hands still holding him up.
âShit,â he grumbles quietly to himself, whining even quieter at the sudden rush of pain and the black dots in his vision.
âEasy there, your highness.â Munson.
Steve blinks slowly, letting Munson set him down in a booth. He doesnât remember walking over but heâll take it. He puts his head back down and intertwines his fingers behind his head. He groans quietly again, the pounding slowly receding.
âHey man, is there something we could do? Do you need anything?â He heard Munson ask.
We? Steve wants to ask, but finds himself not caring. âWater, and my bag from the back please,â he rasps out. Talking makes the pounding worse.
He hears someone rush off to the back and a moment later a hands on his back again and is helping him sit up.
âHere ya go sweetheart.â Munson slides the glass of water and bag over to him.
Steve silently reaches into his bag and pulls out his small âto-goâ med-kit. He carries it around mainly for the kids. Mike tends to be clumsier than he comes off as and Max is always trying out some new skateboarding tricks. From inside the kit he pulls out a pill bottle and swallows 2 with the water and goes for another 2 before a hand stops him.
âIâm pretty sure youâre not supposed to take more than 2.â This voice is new but familiar. Steve squints past the blurriness and makes out someone he recognizes from school; Gareth Emerson.
â4,â Steve manages past the lump in his throat. Munson, Emerson, and someone else Steve doesnât quite know look at him. Munson continues to hold Steveâs hand on the table, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles. It weirdly intimate but the comfort is very welcome.
â4 what?â The other guy asks.
â4 pills. I usually take 4.â
Munson and Emerson both wince. The third guy looks at him like heâs insane. Steve finally recognizes him as Jeff,⌠something. He actually never got his last name.
âDudeâ are you trying to overdose!?â
Steve winced at the sudden loudness, whining quietly. Munson shushed Jeff and Steve heard him rush out an apology.
The bell over the door dinged at that moment, and Steve found himself face to face with Max, Mike, Will, Lucas, andâ for some reasonâ Jonathan.
âUhâ hi?â Steve attempted for a greeting.
ââHi!?ââ Mike yelled. âHi yourself man! We called your walkie at least 4 times!! What the hell?â
âAre you ok? Why didnât you answer?â Will asked in a much quieter tone.
Lucas and Max wasted no time before slotting themselves in the booth with Steve. Munson remained across from Steve, and Emerson and Jeff now hovered farther away, but Lucas slid right in next to Munson and Max next to Steve.
âWhat the fuck, Harrington?â Max demanded. But she clung to his shirt tightly.
âLanguage, Mayfield,â he reprimanded quietly.
Mike paused where he stood. âWhy are you talking so quietly? Shitâ do you have a migraine?â
Suddenly 4 pairs of little eyes were gazing at him with unmasked concern. Holy shit was this overwhelming.
âGuysââ
âWhy didnât you say that, Steve?â Lucas asked.
âAre you ok? How long has it been going on for? Asked Will.
âWhy are even here if youâre not able to function properly?â Mike reprimanded in his own caring-ness.
Max clutched to him tighter. âWhy arenât you at home? You couldâve called in sick or something!â
âShhh!â Mike shushed her.
âDonât shush meââ
âShut up!â He whisper shouted. âYou have to be quiet and try to control your temperature while resting in a dark, quiet room to try and help with migraines. Pain killers help to but no more than 3.â
Everyone stared at him. He went a little pink under the sudden attention.
âNancy gets migraines a lot from reading in the dark.â
Jonathan came over right then. Steve was suddenly overwhelmed by all the people surrounding him.
âUhmââ
âHey,â Munson called. Steve forgot about him for a good moment. âThis is cute and all, but maybe we should not surround him? Poor boy looks like heâs gonna cry.â
Everyone turned to look at him. Tears hadâ in factâ sprung to his eyes.
âSorry!â All the kids rushed out quietly at the same time. Max climbed out of the booth and Munson and Jonathan both assisted with helping Steve to the break room. Jeff and Emerson stayed with the kids, but Mike came with them since he seemed to know what he was doing better than the 3 of them.
On their way back to the room though, Steveâs legs nearly gave out from under him. Shit. Itâs one of those days. Munson just barely managed to catch him under the armpits while Jonathan got him by the waist.
âWoah there, sweetheart.â Munson grunted.
âCareful, Steve,â Jonathan said quietly.
âSorry. Spinning.â Steve exhaled shakily.
Mike came rushing back after realized they werenât with him. âDamn. Spinning? Are you able to walk? Or are they gonna have to carry you?â
Jonathan looked up at the mention of having to carry Steve. âYeahâ Iâm not able to carry him. I am so not strong enough for that.â He had the decency to look apologetic.
Munson chuckled quietly and the sound reverberated through his chest where Steveâs head was. It was soothing.
âDonât worry Big Byers. Iâve got him no problem.â
Steve was given no warning before he was being picked up in a bridal carry. He winced sharply and laid his head on Munsonâs shoulder. Jonathan whistled lowly from somewhere beside them and Steve blindly kicked his leg in his direction, scoring in kicking him in the arm. Jonathan snickered.
âŚ
When Munson chased off Hargrove he didnât expect for Harrington to all but collapse in on himself and try to fucking overdose on like 5 pain killers. He also hadnât expected to be bombarded by 4 kids and 1 Jonathan Byers. Least of all did he expect to be carrying Harrington bridal style to the break room of Scoops Ahoy.
Somewhere behind him, Gareth turned the sign on the door to closed. Eddie silently thanked him.
The kidâ who he vaguely remembers as Nancy Wheelerâs younger brotherâ opens the door and startles a half asleep Robin Buckley.
âHello,â Jonathan throws her way before pulling a chair out for Eddie to sit on.
âUhâ hi? What the hellââ
Eddie takes the seat with Harrington in his lap. Robin looks dumbfounded.
âMigraine,â Jonathan helpfully supplies.
âReally, really bad migraine. Vertigo included. Full package tonight, folks.â Mike adds.
âOkâ um, is he ok? He doesnât look ok. If it was so bad why didnât he just call in sick?â
âThatâs a good question,â Mike retorts quietly while rooting around in a freezer.
âWhat are you looking forâ, Robin asks.
âIce pack. The dumbass has everything in that first aid kit of his except a damn ice pack.â
âLanguage,â Harrington reprimanded quietly from where his cheek was against Eddieâs chest. Eddie chuckled quietly when Mike retorted with a half-assed âsorryâ.
Eddie couldnât help but admire the now sleeping Harrington in his lap. He bent in half like a shrimp, his knees just about to his chest, and his hands gripping tightly onto Eddieâs still-Pepsi-soaked t-shirt. But he looked so at peace while asleep. Like he hadnât just had the worst migraine Eddieâs ever seen and wasnât just about to pass out on his feet. Eddie smiled.
Mike comes over silently, managing to sneak up on Eddie and make him jump slightly and causing Harrington to whine. Heâd been whining a lot today. And under âdifferent circumstancesâ Eddie wouldâve found it hot as fuck.
âSorry,â Mike whispered. He seemed to be able mellow out a lot when he actually tried. He seemed like such an asshole out at the booth but now he seems quieter. These kids really cared about Harrington, huh?
âHere.â Jonathan helped him out and gently picked up Harringtonâs head. Eddie caught Harrington actually kind of leaning into his touch. A strange but endearing friendship. Mike placed the ice packâ now wrapped in a clothâ on Eddieâs chest where Harringtonâs head lays.
Harrington lays back down and is out like a light soon enough.
Eddie zoned out until thereâs a very, very soft knock on the door. When he looks up, Jonathan is letting the other 3 kids in while Jeff and Gareth stand in the doorway.
âIs he ok?â Asks Jonathanâs little brother.
Jonathan nods and pats his head. âHeâs ok, Will.â
The redhead walks over and takes a silent seat next to Eddie so sheâs next to Harrington. She takes Harringtonâs hand in hers and proceeds to just sit there and hold it.
âHeâs ok, Max. Just a migraine,â the third kid, Lucas he thinks, reassures with a hand on Maxâs shoulder.
âThatâs what he said before. And then he was in the hospital.â
Woah, what?
âHm?â Lucas looks at him.
Oh. He said that aloud.
âWait what?â Robin asked quietly.
Jonathanâs whistled lowly. It seems to be a bit of a tic for him. âYeah uhâ funny story. Hargrove broke a plate over Steveâs head last year and nobody realized how bad it actually was until he passed out after claiming it was only a migraine.â
âHe ended up in the hospital for like 2 weeks,â added Lucas.
âHe needed several stitches on the side of his head.â Max unhappily supplied. Lucas squeezed her shoulder.
âIt was a stage 4 concussion,â muttered Will and Mike put his head on his shoulder.
Eddie caught Gareth and Jeffâs eyes across the break room. Huh.
The Will kid came up to Eddie suddenly. âThank you. For uhâ helping with Steve. It means a lot to us. He means a lot to us.â
Mike, Max, and Lucas all nodded.
âHang on,â Lucas piped up. âWho are you?â
âŚ
So uhâ set myself up for a part 2 there :âD
Part 2
#stranger things#steve harrington#dustin henderson#mike wheeler#eddie munson#robin buckley#will byers#max mayfield#lucas sinclair#jonathan byers#nancy wheeler#corroded coffin#steve harrington x eddie munson#steddie hcs#steddie fics#steddie#steve harrington whump#steve harrington gets killer migraines#the boy has 3 and counting concussions
2K notes
¡
View notes