#oh god I’ve never written Yandere stuff before

[bipanicoverthegravessiblings]

Spare a little Yandere Ashley, please?

Isn’t that just canon? Oh well!

TW: Possessive Behaviors, Swearing, and Suicide Mentioned

Yandere!Ashley Graves x GN!Reader

Ashley couldn’t explain why she felt so strongly towards you

Maybe it was your looks. The way your eyes lit up when talking about your interests. Your voice. Or…maybe it was cause you were the only person (who wasn’t Andrew) to make her feel cared about

It started with small, insignificant things. A hello in the morning when you crossed paths. Compliments on her hair or outfit that day. A look of pure adoration when she spoked.

It wasn’t until your actions became more noticeable did she truly realize you cared about her.

“Ah shit!” Ashley hissed under her breath at the falling droplets of water.

Of course it had to rain, the one day she didn’t bring a stupid umbrella- or have Andrew to shield her- it rained. She stomped her foot in frustration, her face puffing up in fury towards Mother Nature. She sighed and was about to step forward and seal her fate with the cold and wet when—

“Here,” a familiar voice called to her, “We can share my umbrella.”

Ashley blinked, surprised. Her head slowly turned to look back at the source of the voice. Her assumptions were correct, as you smiled at her- umbrella in hand.

“Uh-…thanks-“ wearily, Ashley stepped closer to you- her arms hugging her body cautiously.

She stayed close to you, her body practically pressed against yours as you both shared the safety of the umbrella. A small blush painted her cheeks as she felt…safe pressed against your form. You always were so kind to her…

From there, she noticed your kindness more and more. And each time it made her heart melt. She felt so loved. So cherished.

…but then she saw that you treated everyone that way. Basic human decency to everyone you came into contact with. She especially hated it when it was other women.

She wasn’t special- she wasn’t as important as she thought. And that pissed her the fuck off.

She ignored you at first- thinking the silent treatment would do you some good. Teach you a lesson.

But then…it hit her-

You’re so kind. And these hussies would do nothing but take advantage of you. That’s what they were doing….taking advantage of you.

Obviously she’d have to protect you.

Ashley clung to your arm, holding you back from chasing after the woman who just ran off. You stared off, wide eyed, before turning to look at Ashley.

“Wh- What was that about?” You sounded dumbfounded, “Why did you scare her off?”

“You couldn’t see it?” She replied, her head tilting slightly.

“See what?”

“She was taking advantage of you, Y/N!” She extended an arm out in the woman’s general direction.

No. She- she wasn’t. Right? How could Ashley know that?

“How do you know that?” Your eyes dared to leave Ashley’s as you looked off towards the fleeing woman again.

“Wow, you really are too nice for your own good.” Ashley grabbed your chin and turned your head to face her once again, “It was so obvious! Cold-hearted hussies like that see a good person like you and want to drain you for everything you’ve got. You’re just too sweet to see that hun.”

Ashley’s nails dug into your arm. You winced from the pain, but didn’t object.

“You need someone like me to help you see that..” her voice was low, her knuckles white from how hard she dug her nails into your arm, “To protect you.”

And protect you she did

You began gaining a reputation in the area, and not a good one.

“Stay away from Y/N, or their girlfriend will bite your head clean off!” “That crazy chick always hangs around them- best stay away.” “I heard their friend harassed a girl into jumping off a bridge.”

Your own friends became scared of you. They slowly stopped answering your calls- all until you confronted them and they gave you their official goodbyes

“Look it’s just..” your friend shoved their hands into their pockets, eyes glued to the ground to avoid your hurt expression, “I think it’s best if we just take some time apart.”

You felt like they had more to say…but you didn’t prod as they walked away from you.

You were now completely alone

Well…except for Ashley.

She comforted you when your friends left. She was protecting you against the people taking advantage of your kindness. She was there for you when everyone left.

You were hers. Forever.

[kingofbodyrolls]

Oh my god, Friendcation is a masterpiece! The way you wrote it was freaking excellent!

I never knew until now that you also write, but when I saw Friendcation on my FYP, I realized I should have known earlier because your works are fantastic! Although Friendcation is the only fic I've read from your works, I am certain that every fic you've made is a masterpiece, and I can't wait to read all of them!

I am still reading Friendcation and recently finished Chapter 2, and I can't wait to read more of it! I really love the concept; every scene is just a chef's kiss! Honestly, Yoongi is perfect for the male lead, and I can picture it in my head so well! You did a great job portraying Yoongi, MC, and the whole gang in the story. I am really a fan of the friends to lovers concept! I can't wait to read more!

One thing that I will commend you for is how you constructed the whole thing so perfectly! As a reader, I am a fan of "show don't tell" because it adds more thrill to imagining things, and you are by far the perfect writer who has the best "show don't tell," I fucking swear to god! Just by reading the first paragraph of Friendcation, my jaw dropped, literally! Everything is perfectly written! If I had the chance to swim inside your head, I would take the opportunity without any hesitation!

I was really amazed by your work, and it's itching me to tell you already how excellent you are! I started reading Friendcation the other night, and most of the time, I read it before I slept. That's why it takes me forever to complete a chapter because I really take time reading every word, sentence, and paragraph because it's a fucking masterpiece! I will read your works as slowly as possible because I have to savour and enjoy everything! Continue doing your best! Love you!!!

Oh my god, Kai 😭😭😭😭😭

Thank you so much! I’ve been writing and posting for some time, but I never wanted to mix that with my montly fic recs – because I mainly just want to hype other people up and shine a light on their beautiful work, so it’s completely okay you didn’t know I wrote!

KFDSFAHDSHF – you are so damn kind with your words, you’re making me speechless and blushing too! I am so happy that you like it and that you can picture everything so vividly in your head 🥹 Makes me so truly happy!

You are so fucking sweet with your words and your review! You are both making me smile like a goddamn fool and bawl my eyes out at the same time. I feel so honored 😭I really like “show don’t tell,” and I tried my best to incorporate that! I mean, I am just so speechless by your lovely words and praise, I’ll treasure your words forever!!!

Seriously, you don’t know how happy you’ve made me with this ask! 🥹 You are amazing my lovely friend, truly a star ⭐ 

If you like the darker stuff, I’d recommend ‘Coming Home’, although it’s not nearly as dark and thriller as your amazing ‘Fragments of the Past’ (still the best yandere thriller I’ve read! 😘). Take your time love, don’t rush or stress, also remember to do your own stuff 😂 My fics will always be here.

I also like to take my time when reading (and to add to that, I’m a fucking slow reader because I don’t want to miss or skip anything). So please take your time, I really hope you enjoy it! I had a lot of fun writing it and I already miss this couple so much 😭

Again, thank you so much for taking your time to read it, and then write this freaking lovely message to me 😭 You have truly made my day! Although I don’t think it’s a masterpiece (don’t get me wrong, I love it very much!), I’ll try to take your words and praise completely to heart and use it to fuel and continue doing my best in my future writing 💜

[blupengu]

Oh… my god… I’ve been emotionally devastated by Le Salut 😂

Rambling and spoilers under the cut as usual! Still haven’t done any of the salvation ends though so no worries about those, not sure if I’ll make one post for all of them or reblog my individual posts from each route lmao

Wow this route was CHONKY Jesus! I guess my biggest initial thoughts after playing are:

1) I am boo boo the fool… cannot believe we were betrayed by Dahut like that… the signs were there but I dismissed because he was best (adult) boy and I loved him… to quote my other post: “Any time Dahut shows up now I’m like OH THANK GOD someone who doesn’t need therapy” 🤡 never before have I been so utterly devastated by a character’s betrayal 💀

And 2) Ankou being Adolphe punched me in the gut, stole my purse, and kicked my dog, I was thinking there had to be time travel or multiverse shenanigans but not like that… (I love Ankou but tbh Adolphe is just kinda, meh to me? So I’m conflicted…) Though the real kicker was the fact that HE WAS AMERICAN THIS WHOLE TIME HELL, YEAH USA!! USA!! USA!! 🔫 (LOL sorry jkjk… but no really when he pulled out a fucking gun I busted out laughing, bitch why did you not use this earlier 😂)

But anyways, back to the route itself! I very much loved the character interactions we got with Ceres, Adolphe, and Ankou! Very cute, very wholesome, and Ankou in lounge wear…? *chef’s kiss* 👀 Although this is when I noticed that they both had such shiny blue earrings… maybe in my heart I knew all along… I also still love the friendship between Nadia and Dahut… 😔 and Ankou meeting Yves was so sweet!(even though knowing the truth now makes it… oof in hindsight) but good to know we all support Yves being with Ceres 😂

This route kinda turned me off Salome though? Like yandere tendencies aside, in every other route she was just the loving, maybe a bit overprotective milf (yeah I said it fight me) with a complicated and tragic past… but damn really was not a fan of her actually being the queen and Dahut’s mom. Kinda mad she killed him in the end 😬 (also, my god the teenage pregnancies must be wild in this country)

Also I am SO. SICK. OF CAPUCINE!! PLEASE STOP SHOWING UP AND BEING CREEPY TOWARDS NADIA AND A DICK TO LUCAS!! Him, the Royal family, and honestly the vast majority of the people in Arpechele suck major donkey balls oh my god. Y’know what I kinda support Dahut’s plan to just burn the country to the ground, we stan a short king 👑

… is it bad though that Capucine’s kinda grown on me? LOL, like I still hate his guts (thank you Scien our god for blowing him up) but it’s kinda hilarious watching him when things don’t go his way 😂 idk if I find him a kind of well written villain or if I have Stockholm syndrome after we’ve been forced to see him in every route 💀

Jean on the other hand! I am so happy that my evil hot butler turned into a reluctant ally in this route!! The bit where he and Mathis had to help Scien was very super cute, and poor sweet Mathis you are so forgiving, you deserve so much better, I hope Jean treats you nicer 😔 I respect his one-track mind for Rosalie though, man has a mission to get his wife back and by god he’s not gonna let anything stop him lmao 🫡

Gotta say though, I don’t remember exactly what triggered this but I just remember thinking, “oh more science to ignore!” So, yeah it… did not get better lmao. Like, some hand-wavey science is fine for world building and stuff, but when your plot hinges on the science and details, it’s really gotta have a more solid foundation than this. It’s not even nitpicking, it really doesn’t make sense if you think about it for more than one second 😂

Ngl I kinda wish that they had kept the supernatural aspect (not just because I’m not super keen on Ankou being Adolphe…), it would’ve made the nonsensical science easier to digest so they wouldn’t have been forced to explain everything away. Like, if it’s all grounded in reality, answer me this game! How did Ankou regenerate HIS CLOTHES after being just a HEAD IN A JAR??? 💀 the censoring was also kinda weird… like okay sure it’s all scientific but what, “the world” won’t let Ankou talk about specific things Adolphe doesn’t know yet?? Sure……. 😐

Although, no magic does make Ankou’s “vanishing” kinda hilarious since it meant he really did have to just run and hide behind whatever he could find. Like that’s inching towards JJBA part 3 DIO stopping time and carrying polnareff two steps down the staircase just to fuck with him levels of petty and dramatic LOL, but also have you seen how long and flowy this man’s hair and clothes are, Ceres how did you not notice?? Girl is you dumb??? 😂

Also I find adolphe being 25 while Ceres is 18 a little bit sus, and I’m really not a fan of the “big brother” figure becoming a love interest trope (I know they’re not blood related but still 😬). If Ankou had actually been a supernatural entity that was hundreds of years old, I would’ve been totally fine with that lmao, but him being Adolphe?? Mmmmm… mmmm unfortunately that’s a no from me, damn I’m actually kinda disappointed, just gonna make up something in my head and pretend that fact doesn’t exist 😔

I LOVE that all our boys + Jean(LOL) banded together in this route though!! Seeing them all alive made me so relieved oh my god 😭 wish we got a little bit more Lucas (yes I’m biased) but I get it, he’s too OP lmao, they literally had to nerf him with incurable anime disease before the game even started or else he’d be too much of a threat 💀

OH I FORGOT ABOUT HUGO LMAO, thanks for helping too, bud! I’m so glad you realize how Yvesexual you are in this final route!! 😂

Okay. I think that’s all the word vomit I have… tldr; Dahut is a short king, Salome kinda sucks to me, Ankou still >>> Adolphe (sorry Adolphe fans) and I wish there actually was a supernatural aspect, loved the squad of my boys + Jean helping out!

My personal character rankings now are Lucas > Jean(I know he’s not an LI just let me be delusional💀) > Ankou (took a hit being Adolphe but he’s so pretty it makes up for it) > Yves > Scien = Mathis > Adolphe

I’m still emotionally devastated but I’ll probably do the rest of the despair ends today and then all the salvation ends tomorrow/the day after depending on how long they take… I think I’ll just squeeze them all into one ramble lmao

Hoooo boy this was a doozy, still love the game despite my complaints, looking forward to being destroyed again by the salvation ends (I just know Lucas’s is gonna suck) 😂

[qierxing]

Any blog recommendations yandere x reader ?

POV you have activated my non stop talking NPC dialogue

Oh god I have so many people for you bestie —I rarely do get the chance to just gush sincerely.

Please check these wonderful people out and remember to read/heed any rules they have.

@galair - My bestie in the whole wide world, sexy painted fanarts and thotty excerpts galore (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ) Her artworks feel so buttery and smooth with her painted strokes and the colors is just off the charts. Composition for sexy tense scene? She gotchu — 10/10 would follow(And her commissions are open!!!).

@ddarker-dreams - A legend in the yandere Genshin community, her works are just phenomenal. I especially love how she does world building and context—I often easily lose attention with long subtext, but the way Lock does it is just artful in that it ends up being the beautiful ribbon that ties up the whole story. If you like a good balance of plot and yandere, she’s your author.

@yandere-daydreams - Love, love how they do prose. Don’t know how to explain it, but the way the sentences flow into each other…poetic cinema, if I dare say it(bestie please tell me how you manage to make your runon sentences super sexy). The way dialogue flows in their fics is just so natural and sometimes makes you laugh or gasp scandalously. You’d be hard pressed to find anyone else like them.

@saekogun - Known for their yandere Genshin college AU. I love how June sets up their world and how they explores their concepts—it’s almost you’re like a player in a game with how in-depth they go. Gave me so many brain worms about many fun different concepts of characters in different scenarios, it’s seriously impressive.

@stupid-sloot-headcanons - Amazing succinct and sweet excerpts/thoughts about many yandere stuff—perfect for a morning newspaper read. Will manage to get you horny within a couple sentences, mark my words.

@merakiui - Came for the yandere Genshin, stayed for the Azul thirst trap. No. 1 person to go to for Octavinelle brainrots (Need to get that Azul fix man). The way she writes visuals...beautiful. I swear I can see her words become actual pictures in my mind's eye.

@love-toxin - Has a good variety of fics on different media, from Eddie Munson(you’re almost getting me bestie)from Stranger Things to Leon Kennedy(every day I think about that fic. you know what I’m talking about) to SPIRIT HUNTER(i’m not normal about this media period. the second game is coming next year). Truly an eye opener for the things that I never knew i was into; thank you for your service.

@99-nct - Cha, my beloved <3 Their writing has grit and an edge that always makes you keep coming back for more. Want to feel your heart clench? No other author has got you covered like Cha.

@jackplushie - Recent follow for my TWST fixation, they have cool and unique AUs and prompts that I’ve enjoyed perusing.

@yandere-sins - So many good fics, truly keeping us all fed here. I can swear by their smuts, it's the hot shit of the century. Their Alien series is to DIE for, literally.

@yanmaresu - Thrilling yandere x reader art, need I say more? They also have great excerpts with their pieces.

@shiny-jr- Another one of my fav TWST blogs—they explore lots of prompts and what-ifs' in TWST world and it's always a treat to read due to how fleshed out it's written.

-

There’s probably plenty more that I can’t remember right now, but please do check my tags if you would like to see more people. I run a queue on various works that I’ve enjoyed reading immensely, and the authors of those works are sure to deserve a reblog and a follow!

Also small reminder that I see your replies and send much love, I just can’t reply cuz this is a side blog and I will die before revealing my main blog handle.

[bepp-ers]

Only Human | Yandere! Solomon X Reader

oki oki so thankyu to this anon for requesting some Yandere! Solomon and Yandere! Satan. this is the first of two (2)! also, i am trying out the new Tumblr editor so if some things are different, you know why. second version should be up soon after this! <3

You watched with disinterest as your teacher went over some demon subject you weren't interested in enough to care, and quietly flicked through your notes.

Unfortunately, none of the brothers were in this class with you, so you'd have to meet with them afterwards.

'Thank god there's only a few more minutes...'

-

After gathering your things, you slipped away from the classroom, texting the group chat to tell people where you were.

Scanning the hallways, you grinned as you spotted the 2nd youngest of the brothers.

You were about to approach him, when someone tapped your shoulder. You jumped, spinning around quickly.

"Hey, [MC]." "Solomon! Don't sneak up on me like that, jeez." "Ahaha, did I scare you?" "Course not. Anyway, need something?"

His smiled widened. "Yes, actually, I could use an extra pair of hands back at Purgatory Hall. I was going to ask Simeon, but he and Luke are busy."

You glanced back to where you had seen Beel, but he was gone. You shrugged. "Sure, I like magical hijinks. Lemme just text Luci, and we can go."

You sent a text to Lucifer and walked with Solomon, leaving the school grounds together.

"Hey, [MC], where are ya goin'?" You turned at the sound of Mammon's voice, seeing that he was accompanied by Asmo and Beel.

"What Mammon meant was where are you two going without me?" Asmo sidled up to you and linked his arm with yours.

"Ah, [MC]'s just helping me back at Purgatory Hall. I'd love to have you along, but it requires assistance from a human. Otherwise I'd love to have you along."

"Aww. Fine, see you later [MC]! And you, Solomon!" "See ya." Beel was probably to focused on food to care that much.

Mammon, however, was not pleased. "Wait a sec' - You're a human! Ya' could just do it yourself!" Solomon chuckled, though you sensed it wasn't genuine.

"Well, [MC] here is my little helper. Now, if you'll excuse us." He put an arm around your shoulder and escorted you away, without further qualms.

-

"Sorry about Mammon, he can be such a meat head at times..." "Don't worry about it, I'm aware he's no angel." You giggled, and followed Solomon to his room.

You had always been fond of his room. There was so much going on, you could barely tell what was what.

In one corner, you saw several small ornate cauldrons sat upon an intricately carved table. You'd always thought of cauldrons as huge and old, but these looked brand new.

"As you can see, I've got everything ready. I need someone to add the ingredients in a specific order. Meanwhile, I need to prepare a separate concoction."

"Complicated stuff." "Eh, not really. I've written a list for the order of ingredients, and when to add them. Here," He handed you a list written on crisp parchment.

You scanned it, positive it was simple enough for you to follow.

"Your handwriting is surprisingly neat. Cool, I can do this. Just let me know when you want me to begin." “Mm, sure. You can start now, if you’d like.”

You nodded and got to work. First on the list: Angel Feather. ‘No guessing where he got that one.’

Secondly, Crushed Rubies. ‘Mammon would snort this stuff, hundred percent.’

You continued adding ingredients until there were none left, and you were left with a pastel pink mixture, with the texture of a smooth paint. You called Solomon to inspect it, and he beamed at you.

“That’s wonderful, you’re a natural. I’ll add the two together now,” He took your concoction and slowly began pouring it in. They swirled together, and you expected something crazy to happen.

It didn’t though, instead it simply all changed to that pinkish colour. “It looks pretty.” “Mm, I agree.” You thought for a moment, and then realised something.

You had no idea what this magical mixture did. “So, what does this stuff do, exactly?” He glanced over at you, and then shrugged. 

“You don’t know??” “Maybe. I have a feeling I know, but the tome I found it in never actually specified.” “Oh. So... how are you gonna find out?” 

He grinned. “Well, there’s a few ways. I think I’m going to go with testing it out on someone, though.” 

You blinked. “That’s gonna be me, isn’t it?” “You’re so clever, [MC] . Just sit there for a moment please.”

You rolled your eyes as he turned around. Of course you’d ended up trying another mystery concoction. You just prayed it wasn’t as bad as his cooking.

“Viola. Here you go.” He turned to face you, holding a little bowl of the pink potion. You took it, and held it closely to your face.

“It won’t kill you, you know.” “I know, it just... it smells familiar. Bottoms up I guess...” 

You took a sip of the substance, and then a larger gulp. Finishing the dregs, you licked your lips. “Well? Did I grow antlers or something cool?”

Solomon shook his head. “That’s a shame, it doesn’t seem to work. How did it taste, anyway?”

You paused. “I don’t know, like strawberry mi-- ack!!”

Coughing, you raised a hand to your mouth. Your eyes widened when you took it away and there was blood dripping down your palm.

“Solomon...?” You spluttered, the bowl clattering to the floor. With a shriek, you followed suit, more blood pouring from your mouth. “Sol....Solomon help! Wh-- agh- what was that potion?!”

You keeled over, clutching at your torso and mouth. To your horror, he simply smiled, kneeling down besides you. He reached a hand out, gently moving your hair from your face.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m glad the potion worked, aren’t you?”

-

Strawberries. That sweet taste mixed with blood danced on your lips, as you bolted up from the chair you were sat on. 

Was it all just a cruel dream? Maybe Belphie was controlling your dreams for fun again...

Nope. Looking around, you didn’t recall your surroundings. 

An room, whites, blues and golden hues trimming every surface, every edge.

The only issue was simply that there were no windows, and only one door. You rushed over to it, but as you neared your hand, the air around it pulsed and a shock rippled through your arm.

You voiced your pain out loud, and staggered over to the nearby mirror.

“W-wait, my pact mark...”

Scorched. That was all you could use to describe the bare skin on your neck, where the Avatar of Lust had made a pact with you.

Frantically scouring your body, you noted that all of your pacts had been damaged in one way or another, leaving you unable to summon any of the Brothers.

“Aw, did you lose something, MC?” 

That voice. Smug, arrogant, silvery... You turned to glare at the sorcerer, seething. He stood by the grand bed, carefully observing you.

“W-what did you do?!” Was all you could manage, before collapsing from a sudden wave of exhaustion.

“I’m doing this for you, love. It’s only necessary, after all..”

“...You’re only human, [MC].”

-

i really hope this is okay as i come back into writing for this account. there’s so much i have done, and i just got overwhelmed. i’m back and i’m gonna try to look after me a bit more. i got back into obey me! swd? so that’s good. feel free to request, my tiny rat brain thrived on inboxes. love you guys! <3

[angel-anoetic]

first, i absolutely love you wringing. second i'm a huge music nerd and my taste in music is shitty pop punk right. this leads to me to, can i request yandere (if you write yandere) Dream (or whoever you think would fit here) with inspiration from the song Mrs. Infamous (My Sweetness) by Palaye Royale. if you're not cool with this for any reason don't take it, but this has been plaguing my mind and since i love your writing i think i'd be really cool to see how you would write this. if you decide to take this request (and even if you don't just reading my ramblings is more than enough) thank you!!!!

Okay so tbh, i've never read or written anything remotely yandere, but i do know what it is. while this may not be the most yandere compared to fics, i really tried!! i also enjoy pop-punk and this song was super nice to listen to. thank you and i hope you enjoy <3

Don't forget to like to save and reblog to share!

yandere! c!Dream x gn!Reader - Mrs.Infamous

genre: yandere!, unrequited /rom, angst, song inspiration

warnings: yandere, stalking, slight violence

masterlist <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He hadn't slept in almost three weeks. The constant thought of you was the only thing that ran through his mind. The way your hair fell so naturally, how your laugh would basically echo throughout the server, the way you could handle anything that came your way.

Most of all he thought about those nights. The ones when the two of you had been so close he could feel your warmth. You had once stared into his eyes with so much fire and had held him close.

"My sweetness! Where are you going to be tonight?" He passed an apple between his hands, leaning against your door.

"I happen to have some very important business to do with Puffy and Niki. But after that, I should be free, why?" You packed everything into your inventory.

He shrugged, giving a crooked smile, "I thought maybe we could hang out, I could take you around the server...show you the secrets I've found."

You had grinned at the proposition. Dream and you always found a way to get into trouble, Sam usually had to tell you two off.

"I would love to."

That night after causing a few explosions near the BadLands and stealing some materials from a few places around the server you both made your way back to Dreams house. Well, 'house' was an overstatement. It was more of a hole in the side of the mountain with a door than anything but at least it was a place for him to stay.

The cigarette you two passed back and forth went out, and you two found yourself swaying back and forth to the music, enjoying the nightlight. Jokes and topics floated in the air until you packed up your stuff to leave.

Now? Things had changed so much compared to the beginning of the server. Dream had always been some pretty boy that had enjoyed your attention. You loved him as a friend, he could never be anything more as much as you knew he wanted.

In his mind, though you had led him on. Pulled him around like some puppy that couldn't guide itself. It had started slowly. You couldn't hang out one day, and the destruction got worse and worse each time.

"Hey, Niki! I was wondering if you've heard from Y/N. They're not answering my calls and I'm a little worried."

"Oh yeah um they had something to do today, so they're just out and about haha." She lied. He knew because he showed up at your house and found you scuffling about, making dinner, and enjoying a show.

He had gone home that night wondering what he did wrong to make you ignore him.

It wasn't long after that things had started escalating. Him showing up more and more and then seemingly disappearing. Or so you had thought.

It was supposed to be an easy-going day, you and Fundy planned to go looking for some new places to explore and then walk around the server. Until he had shown up. You saw him out of the corner of your eyes, the mask giving away his location.

"Dream?" He had tried to stay hidden but came out once you approached the tree he was behind.

"Dream? What are you doing here?"

"You were ignoring me. I thought maybe you were mad."

"What? No, I've just been busy lately."

"Doing what, hanging out with him?" The look he gave Fundy turned your stomach upside down. It was filled with rage, jealousy.

"Dream I think you need to leave."

"What?" He whispered.

"Leave. Please."

And so he did. For that day.

These last few days the feelings in his head had been taking over, pushing him to do something, anything to get you back and keep you.

"Y/N! Please just let me explain myself! Please!" You stopped dead in your tracks and turned to face him.

"What Dream? What could possibly so important that you need to tell me right now?"

"Why have you been ignoring me? You won't answer your calls and you never answer the door. Niki and Puffy have started asking me to leave you alone...I just need to know what I did wrong."

"You cannot be serious right now. You want to know what you did wrong? How about terrorizing Fundy so badly he won't get anywhere near me? Or calling me more than a hundred times a day? Leave me alone. I don't want anything to do with you and I don't need anything from you ever again! So god help me if I ever see you again I will leave and never come back!"

Your words left him cold. Every inch of him just lost.

You began walking away but you didn't make it far before the handle of the ax was brought down on your head. You fell to the ground, unconscious.

He stared down at you, admiring the way the moonlight hit you. The deja vu of that night in his home hit hard. Oh, how different things had been. And how much had changed?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For future reference, I don't think I'll be writing yandere until I get more experience with it hehe

[jackrrabbit]

it will come back [pt. 2] /// Yandere Shigaraki x f!Reader

Summary: You have a bad habit of picking up strays, and the half-dead villain you find bleeding out in a dumpster is no exception. [Part 1] [Part 3]

A/N: Title from the Hozier song—“don’t let it in with no intention to keep it / jesus christ, don’t be kind to it / oh honey don’t feed it / it will come back.”

Tags/warnings: yandere, violence (not directed toward reader), crying, Shiggy REALLY likes you, reader needs a friend and a good night’s sleep, non-explicit sexual content. [In later parts: 18+, sex, other stuff]

He—Tomura—keeps visiting.

At first you think it’s because of the free medical care, and you wish you had the spine to tell him to suck it up and go see a professional. After a couple weeks turn into a couple months and his wounds fade into ragged purple scars, though, you start to think differently.

Within a short time Tomura has figured out your work schedule, and he does a decent job of not showing up after your long shifts. The unavoidable consequence of this is that he ends up monopolizing your precious days off, but you come to the realization about a month and a half in that you don’t actually mind. You like it. It’s like spending time with a friend.

Mostly you guys talk. It doesn’t seem like Tomura really has anyone to talk to the way the two of you do, but that’s probably just you projecting. It’s usually shallow stuff—TV shows you like, video games he plays, funny stories from patients you treated. Sometimes when you’re cooking for yourself, you make extra for him. (It happens a lot, actually, and at one point you bring up how much his appetite is costing you and the next time you see him he brings a bag of rice and makes you a porridge that crunches between your teeth when you try to eat it. You can’t finish yours, but he eats an entire bowl and insists that you’re being picky.)

Sometimes he sleeps over on the couch, but he’s always gone when you wake up.

The two of you skirt around the heavier stuff, and you know it’s intentional on his part. You have to resist the urge to ask him about being a villain—he’s all but confirmed it for you, and it’s human nature to be curious, isn’t it? In the same way you can’t help looking at a car crash, you want to poke and prod and find out what it is, exactly, that Tomura does for a living. That part of his life is suspiciously absent from your discussions—if you didn’t know better, you’d think he spends all of his time sleeping and playing games and breaking into your place.

On the other hand, you don’t want to know. Plausible deniability. You can accept criminality in the abstract, but you’ve treated too many victims of the bullshit hero–villain battle to be comfortable really knowing why Tomura avoids public places.

So you don’t ask about it, and Tomura doesn’t tell, and you don’t look up his name. And it’s easy. It’s nice. You’d forgotten what it’s like to come back to a home that isn’t empty.

And then one day when you get off a few hours early from your shift, you stop by a convenience store to pick up some snacks for yourself (hey, you’ve been working hard, you’re entitled to binge a little on foods that you’re afraid to look at the fat content for), and you think, Hm, I wonder if Tomura wants some.

[You: 7:49 PM] > Are you coming over today? [T: 7:49 PM] > Yeah why [You: 7:51 PM] > Getting snacks > Want some? [T: 7:51 PM] > No

[T: 8:12 PM] > When r u coming back to ur place

[T: 8:58 PM] > Hey where are you

[T: 9:39 PM] > (Y/N)?

There’s a man with a gun in the convenience store.

It takes you a second to process at first. You’re standing in the snack food aisle seeking out Oreos and debating the merits of Double Stuf vs. Mega when you catch the mumbled demand and the metallic clicking noise you’ve only ever heard in movies before. It’s a gun—you know that, but your mind dismisses it because it’s ridiculous. Guns are rare in hero society. People don’t go around robbing bodegas at gunpoint anymore.

(You should know better. You work in a goddamn ER. But you compartmentalize, and the crimes you see written across your patients’ bodies stay out of the realm of your personal life because you need them to.)

It’s only when you see the muzzle of a hunting rifle pushed up to the cashier’s sweaty neck that you really understand what’s happening.

You drop to the ground immediately, looking toward the exit but it’s shut and there’s some kind of metal…thing holding the door closed. The cashier mumbles a denial and you can hear him fumble around with the cash drawer for what feels like ages.

It’s real. This is real. You’re in the middle of a robbery. Where are the heroes? Why isn’t anyone doing anything?

God, you’re a hypocrite, cowering behind the aisle divider and waiting for someone to step up while the robber’s demands get increasingly louder and more frantic. He wants money, and the cashier (who, you remember, is a man in his sixties with hands that shake with Parkinson’s when he holds out your receipt) isn’t being fast enough.

“That’s it? There’s no more? Are you fucking kidding me, there’s gotta be a safe or something—“

“No! No, p-please, I’m sorry, this is all I have!”

You cringe, crushing your eyes closed as if that will make it go away. You’re surprised you can hear at all over the sound of your blood rushing in your ears.

“Don’t fuck with me old man, I know there’s more! Show me the safe or I’ll blow your goddamn brains out!”

No! You have to do something. You can’t just sit here. You’ve heard plenty of death threats from your patients (not to mention that one from Tomura), and you know the difference between a bluff and a serious warning. Maybe you can catch the robber off guard, try to pull the gun away? You stand up quickly, hoping against hope that you won’t regret this, but in a split second you see that the cashier has the same idea and he’s trying to pull the rifle out of the robber’s hand and—

BANG.

Something warm and wet splatters across your face.

///

Tomura is angry when you get back to the apartment. As soon as he hears your key in the lock he rises from your couch so he can grab your collar with three fingers, jerking your head up to force you to look at him. “Where have you been? Do you know how long I’ve been waiting—“

But he cuts short in the middle of his sentence. Maybe because he sees the look on your face. Or maybe he just notices the traces of blood you haven’t been able to wipe off.

“What happened,” Tomura says. It’s not a question. He adjusts his grip slightly so it’s not quite as punishing, but you hold still anyway.

You have to force your mouth open in order to speak, but when your voice comes out it’s more steady than you thought it would be. “It’s not my blood. There was a robbery at the store. The cashier got shot.”

“Oh.” He releases you and frowns. “That’s it?”

“Fuck you.” You push past him into the kitchen to get yourself a drink with trembling hands. Pantry’s out of shōchū, whiskey will just make you sicker—ahh, there it is. Baijiu. The glug glug glug of the liquor into the glass does nothing to put your nerves at ease, but you pour yourself a double anyway.

“Wait—wait.” Tomura’s hands twitch and rub over his arms like he’s trying to stop himself from grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking you. “Calm down. Why are you so upset? Don’t you see this stuff every day?”

You do. You’re an ER nurse. There’s no injury you haven’t seen. But it’s not about the blood. “I...I knew him. The cashier. He was nice. He had a grandkid on the way. I—“ You bite your lip and down the baijiu in one gulp. It burns.

Tomura clearly doesn’t know how to comfort you; probably doesn’t even really know why you need to be comforted. What does it mean that death is so meaningless to him? you wonder. But you need someone to listen to you, clueless or not, and Tomura will have to do.

The baijiu is still bitter and hot down your throat when you speak again. “You know something? Know what they asked me when the heroes finally showed up and pulled us out of there, me and the corpse?”

“…What?” Tomura asks warily.

“They stuck a camera in my face and asked me if there was anything I wanted to say to the hero who saved me. Any words of gratitude I wanted to share,” you spit. Now it’s your turn to feel your hands making fists at your sides. Your fingernails scratch into your palms like the pain can be an outlet for the sudden overwhelming fury spilling over you. “They didn’t save him. They were too late.”

Tomura’s eyes widen, and through your curtain of anger you can tell he’s looking at you in a way he’s never looked at you before. It’s unlike him to even look directly at you, and when he does it’s usually in disinterest or half-sincere irritation. This, though…this is different. He’s watching you like a believer watches a prophet. You can tell—or at least some deep, ugly part of you that you hope is wrong can tell—that he’s trying not to smile.

“I hate this,” you say, and the first tear drips out of your eye and runs down your cheek. It’s awful. You don’t want to cry in front of Tomura. You don’t want to show him how weak you are. But before you can wipe it away, Tomura’s hand comes up and does it for you, smearing the tear over your cheek in a gesture that—for him—is oddly tender.

Then he hugs you.

It’s stiff and awkward, like he’s forgotten how to do it, but the intention is clear. His arms fold around your back, pulling you into his chest while his chin makes its way to rest on your shoulder. He’s leaning into you so deeply that your spine is arched back, and you stagger away from him only for him to step closer again to make up the distance.

“It’s not fair, hm,” he murmurs into your hair. His tone is the closest thing to sympathy you’ve ever heard from him, but there’s an undercurrent of excitement you can’t ignore. “They’re always too late, aren’t they? The heroes… And everyone will watch that video of you thanking the heroes, and they’ll think they’re safe too. They’ll keep going about their lives and think that nothing bad can happen to them because a hero will always be around to save them…but you and I know that’s a lie.”

It takes you a second to recognize the emotion that’s raising goosebumps over your arms while Tomura rubs circles into your back, but when it clicks you shiver because it’s fear. You’ve never really been afraid of Tomura before, even when you should’ve been. Does he realize he’s backing you up with how forcefully he’s pushing himself into you? The backs of your knees hit the arm of your couch and you topple onto it with Tomura following.

He holds himself above you on his hands, legs tangled with yours. His eyes are wild and he’s not even trying to suppress his grin now. You’re trapped lying on your back under him—pinned like a butterfly under glass.

“Get off of me,” you say as calmly as you can.

“It’s all a lie, all of it…” A hand comes up and strokes your cheek, rubbing with two fingers at a stray fleck of blood on your neck. “I’m sorry it had to be like this, but I’m so glad you understand…”

“Let me up now, Tomura.”

He holds still for a long moment—waiting, thinking, considering—and then sits up, still straddling you but loosely enough that you can scramble back away from him on the couch. Your heart is racing, but you try to slow your breaths so he doesn’t pick up on how scared you are.

“Don’t freak out. You’re no fun,” Tomura says, and you exhale a sigh of relief at how normal he sounds. You never thought you’d be so happy about him looking at you like you’re nothing.

“I think you should go,” you say carefully.

He rocks back on his heels and runs a hand through his hair. “Are you mad? I thought I could stay here tonight, like usual. Since I waited for so long.”

“I’m not mad. I just…want to be alone.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be alone tonight. Not after what you’ve been through.”

Oh, now you care. “Fine. Okay? Fine. You can sleep on the couch.” You’re too tired to argue any more, and you’ve never really been good at convincing Tomura to do anything he doesn’t want to. It’s a miracle he listened to you when you told him to get off you. Considering how often he breaks into your apartment, it’s not like you could keep him out anyway.

So he stays the night. He doesn’t bother you when you take a shower and go to bed, he just lies on the couch in his street clothes. When you wake up in the morning he’s disappeared like he always does, and for the first time since you met him you’re truly relieved that he’s gone.

///

You always thought it would take some level of courage you don’t possess to actually bite the bullet and look Tomura up. To do so would mean saying goodbye to whatever strange relationship the two of you have built over the months, and you’re just not brave enough to risk it.

Turns out it’s not courage that makes you type his name into the search bar. It’s cowardice. You’re lying in bed under the covers when you do it, and the blue-white screen of your laptop is the only light in the room. Your comforter is pulled up almost over your head like it’s a wall that can block out reality.

“tomura”, you enter into the search bar, but you don’t hit return. Instead, you look at the search suggestions.

> tomura shigaraki > tomura shigaraki league of villains > tomura shigaraki decay

Something about it sounds familiar. But you’re not ready. Still, after everything, you’d rather keep your eyes closed. You backspace and snap your laptop shut, and when you do your room is so dark that you think the emptiness might swallow you up.

///

[T: 5:52 PM] > Are u going to be at home tn

[T: 6:14 PM] > Hey check ur phone

[T: 6:42 PM] > Stop ignoring me > (Y/N) > (Y/N) > (Y/N) > (Y/N) > (Y/N)

[T: 6:46 PM] 3 MISSED CALLS [You: 6:50 PM] > I’m at work [T: 6:50 PM] > Don’t lie > you finished an hour ago

[T: 7:13 PM] 1 MISSED CALL [T: 7:14 PM] > You said you werent mad [You: 7:15 PM] > I’m not [T: 7:15 PM] > Then stop being a brat > im coming over > ill bring takeout

You’re nervous about seeing him, but in the two weeks since he pushed you down on the couch you’ve found yourself…missing him. Like it or not, he’s made himself a fixture in your life. So when you get home you’re brimming with anticipation, wondering who you’ll get when you open the door—the normal Tomura you’ve come to like over the past few months, or the one from that night. The villain.

But it’s just him. Good old Tomura, laden with plastic bags and containers of greasy fast food for the two of you to gorge yourselves on. You tease him for being cheap and he argues that you’re just a snob and everything seems so normal that you can almost forget the look in his red eyes when he told you that you understood.

Almost.

///

You probably have no idea how good you look when you’re crying.

Of the couple thousand views on the news channel video of your “rescue” from the convenience store robber, at least a tenth are from Tomura. Eventually he just downloads the video onto his computer so he doesn’t have to read the inane comments that the other viewers leave on the webpage. It seems like everyone but him thinks you should feel lucky that you were saved by a hero before the robber could get to you, too.

As always, the public are a bunch of shit-soaked morons. Reading the comments makes him angry, so angry he’s tempted to look into a few of these brainless sheep and see how lucky they feel when they’ve caught the attention of a violent criminal. But that wouldn’t be productive, so he saves the video externally and leaves the news website alone. It’s for the best. Besides, seeing the “views” counter on the website tick up and up by the dozen every time he refreshes is just another reminder that other people are watching this; other people are seeing how delicate and vulnerable and pretty you are with tears spilling out of your eyes and the cashier’s blood sprayed over your clothing.

Thousands of useless fucking NPCs are looking at you just like Tomura is. They’re probably thinking about how sweet you look, just like he is. And they’re probably imagining all the ways they can take advantage of your fragile emotional state, just like him.

You’re too trusting for your own good. Tomura used to think it was a virtue, and it is, but only when it comes to him. Whenever he thinks about how your face is slapped over a dozen different news websites for the whole world to see, he has to dig his fingernails into his neck to keep calm. It’s better when he can just watch the video and pretend he’s the only one seeing it.

And it’s not like not watching the video is an option. Tomura can’t resist your crying face. There’s a point around the three minute mark where your voice breaks in the middle of your statement, and sometimes Tomura skips there in the video just so he can hear that pathetic little sob and replay it over and over and over. Maybe it’s sappy, but Tomura really does feel his heart skip a beat at the way your eyes and nose are rubbed red from your misery.

How fucked up is it that he gets off watching you cry?

Would you be angry if you knew? You probably would, but you put up with so much from him already. Maybe you’d be okay with it if he told you he really and truly tried to hold out. The first dozen times Tomura watched the video, he refused to touch himself no matter how tight his pants got while you choked out your stilted answers to the reporters’ questions, but at this point he barely has to click “play” on the video before he gets hard and takes matters into his own hands.

At the end of the day, it’s your fault. Everything about you is so erotic, from your shaky voice to your pouty, bitten-red lips. Isn’t it completely normal to be aroused while looking at the person you like? And Tomura likes you, he really likes you. He doesn’t have any pictures of you, and with the high definition of the news channel’s video he can see every perfect contour of your cheekbones, every pore in your skin, every glistening wet eyelash.

It’s not that Tomura doesn’t feel sympathy for how upset you are in the video. He does! Not even just sympathy, even—he’s empathetic. He knows exactly how it feels to be let down by the heroes. How dare they tell you you need to be grateful while you’re still trying to wipe brain matter off your shirt? Always too little, too late. It’s not fair.

But if he’s being honest? As miserable as you are, Tomura is happy that you were in the store when that robber came in and that you had to watch a man you knew get his brains blown out in front of you. You need a wake-up call to lose faith in hero society. If you have to suffer some emotional trauma in the process, that seems like a fair price to pay.

And the fact that Tomura gets to jerk off to it? It’s almost like destiny.

➠ [Part 3]

[doctordiscord123]

My Favs of Ego Manor

1. Everyone Has Bad Days -- Man, I always gotta show love for the first....I wouldn’t be anywhere without it, and though it’s pretty venty, and I don’t really like the writing anymore, just.....I love the story. Love

5. Blind Love -- Any story about the Host and Dr. Iplier are up there on my list, simply because they were and still are so entertaining to write.....and I like the cheesy stuff, and just -- that one fucking line in this story (you know the one), God, still remains one of my favorite lines I’ve ever written ever XD

26. Yandere -- I’m still more impressed by the concept of this one more than anything, and I think it turned out really nicely for how batshit off the walls the idea was XD thank you 3:00am brain

29. Reunion -- If you love squishy, bittersweet Darkstache, this is def a fic you’ll enjoy XD I liked this one a lot, I thought it was nice....

32. To My Dear Host... -- Like I said, most stories about the Host end up way up there on my list XD I love this story, I think the drama’s nice, I think I executed it pretty well, and, yeah, I’m a sucker for angsty shit, and though this isn’t exactly medically accurate (tbh not a lot of my stuff is) I still think it’s nice :D

33. And Peggy -- Peggy my beloved <3

38. A Zoo Without Cages -- what an absolutely ridiculous, nutty mess. I fuckin’ love it.

40. Five Times the Egos Were Caught Sleeping -- I just love how squishy it is....

42. Metamorphosis -- YESSSSSSSSSSSSS THE GOOD SHIT RIGHT HERE, MAN I WAS PROUD OF THIS

47. A Broken Songbird Still Can Sing -- Silver doesn’t get enough content in this fandom, and I think this turned out super well :D of course, it plays into my personal favorite tropes so perhaps I’m biased but skdfjgn

57. Nightmarish Reality -- I cannot express how many times I read and reread this one over and over before it came out skdfjgn I love this fic, man is it dark as fuckin’ Hell but I am so proud

66. Desperation -- Oh boy. One of the most difficult things I’ve ever written, and it came out so well. The feedback on this one makes me cry every time I read the comments. I’m so glad it was received well, I put so much soul into it, and just....yeah

67. Shimmering Depths -- Merman Bim <3

71. May the Best Android Win -- Not enough people portray the androids as squishy and the deserve to be squishy. This story is ridiculous. Poly robots for the win

82. The Wedding -- THE WEDDING!!!!!!!! Another one I am so so so unbelievably proud of, and I’m so glad everyone loved it!!!! I still remember absolutely sobbing over writing the vows skdfjg

88. Kids in the Manor -- Not my most creative title (titles are not my strong suit) but!!!! This one turned out Hell cute, plus the little secret in there, just <3

96. The In-Between -- YESSSSSSS!!!!! God I love this fic, I worked super hard on it, and it came out so nice, just -- I love the Host so Goddamn much XD

102. Worst Date -- Listen. Listen. I have never before laughed so hard while writing a story skdjfgn this one was just so much fun for me to write, I think it’s great XD

106. Rampaging Chaos -- Jims my beloveds <3

111. The Past’s Reflection -- A lot of people had been asking about the DA for a long time, and finally, I wrote it!!! I think it came out super nice, I love how I wrote the DA, and how they interacted with Dark, the little splash of silly, I love it

115. The Writer and the Prophet -- :)

121. Happy Halloween! -- Also Google’s birthday, I just didn’t want to put the whole title. Anyway, fem!Dark my beloved <3 Also this is just straight up Hella cute sdkjfg

122. This is Halloween -- I struggled so hard with this story within a story idea skdjfgn but!!! I think it came out super neat, the Host is a bastard, more fem!Dark skdfjgn and super neat horror story!!!

127. Snark = Regret -- Dr. Iplier you stupid bastard. I do love this fic though sdkjfgn I don’t write the Host pissed off often but <3

132. The Streets -- My God. This took. fucking forever to Goddamn write, and yet it was so worth it skdfjgn it came out beautiful and I adore it to pieces

134. Adorable -- Squishy <3

144. A Gift to this World -- Squishy!!!! Not many Eric/Reynolds centric stories on this list, but I like this one :D

152. Egyptian God -- Oh I completely forgot about this one till I read the name. Oh wow. Wow. Yes. I adore this one.

154. Is That a Challenge? -- Illinois my beloved skdjg

156. Something’s Up with the Host -- Ah yes, my own silly self-indulgent birthday fic XD I loved writing this, it’s so cute

159. The Beginning of the End -- :)

172. Star-Crossed Roses -- This was....so unbelievably difficult to write. I was already deep into my burnout by the time this came out, I wrote it all the night before it was set to come out, I was worried I’d have to delay it, especially since I built up the wedding date so much, but it came out on time, it came out pretty good if I do say so, and I’m glad everyone enjoyed it. Still the last Ego Manor story to come out, and maybe one day I’ll get to finish this series out like I wanted, but for now....it’s good to end on something so delightful

[nikki-writes-stuff]

Beauty in the Blood - Part One

Summary: One day your friend convinces you to join a dating website that matches people based on their search histories, and when you match with Loki Odinson, a handsome, intelligent coroner who’s a fan of your murder mysteries, you’re absolutely thrilled. But there’s something off about Loki, and as your relationship progresses, you discover that his dark side is even darker than you could ever have imagined... 

Pairing: Serial Killer!Loki x Writer!Reader 

A/N: This story is based off of this post! I hope you guys enjoy; this is my first time writing Loki, and this will probably be the darkest thing I’ve ever written. Please let me know what you think as the story progresses! 

Warning: This chapter contains hints of smut and GRAPHIC descriptions of death and murder. Later on, this fic will also include rape/non con, dub con, kidnapping, yandere/obsessive elements, and even MORE graphic descriptions of death and murder. Please read at your own risk, and as usual, this is only for the eyes of those 18 and older. Thank you, and enjoy!

It was hard to find a decent guy these days. New York was the city of dreamers, artists, and absolute weirdos, and out of the three, you only seemed to attract the latter. You’d been to speed dating events and Singles Night at your local bar, but there was never a connection, never a spark, and every guy seemed to have something fundamentally wrong with him. It wasn’t that you were looking for the perfect guy, it was just that you’d met too many who were demanding, controlling, or misogynistic.  

You’d given up on finding your special someone a year after you’d moved to the city. After all, being single wasn’t too bad. You could do what you want whenever you wanted without having to think about someone else. So what if you didn’t have anyone to kiss on New Years? So what if you cried a little every now and then from feeling so alone? It was fine. It was absolutely fine, you told yourself. Fine, fine, fine…

“I’m absolutely fine, Wanda. I don’t need a boyfriend to be happy.”

You were sat across from your good friend, who was stirring her coffee with one hand while she tapped her fingers against the table with the other. She arched a skeptical eyebrow at you before taking a sip of her drink.

“You’re right; you don’t. But you’re lonely,” she pointed out. “A boyfriend would help with that.”

There was no denying that she was right. Wanda was perceptive, and she was also one of your closest friends. You’d met her during your first week of living in New York, and she’d helped you adjust to living in such a busy, fast-paced place. She probably knew you better than you knew yourself, and that was why you slumped in defeat and threw back the last gulp left of your mimosa.

“God, you’re right,” you bemoaned. “I hate it when you’re right.”

“I know,” she grinned. “But don’t worry; I can help.”

“Wanda, not that I don’t appreciate your effort, but the last guy you sent me out on a date with got mad that I didn’t put out after he paid for my dinner. I don’t want to go on any more blind dates.”

She winced, reaching over to pat the back of your hand.

“I had no idea Kyle was like that,” she promised you. “If I’d known he would be such an asshole you know I wouldn’t have set you up. But I wasn’t going to suggest another blind date.”

You tilted your head to the side.

“What did you have in mind, then?”

She grinned and reached into her purse, fishing around until she found her phone.

“I heard of a new dating app that made me immediately think of you,” she explained excitedly, pulling up the website and passing her device over to you. “It matches you with people in your area based on your Google searches!”

“Pfffft.” You scoffed, taking a quick glance at the screen before looking back to your friend. “That’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard of.”

“I know, I know, it’s a strange concept. But it has one of the highest success ratings out of all the dating websites! It’s only been around for six months, but over half of its users say that they’ve found someone they can see themselves spending the rest of their lives with!”

“Statistics can be made up, you know,” you groused. “Besides, one look at my browser history would send anyone running in the opposite direction.”

“Maybe not someone who has one similar to yours,” she pointed out. “C’mon, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“Wanda, you know what I do for a living, right? I could match with some kind of serial killer!”

Your friend just waved you off and ordered another coffee, picking up her phone again and stuffing it into her pocket.

“Just try it? Please?” she begged. “Just give it a shot, and if it doesn’t work out, then that’s that, right? No harm done.”

Several hours later, and you found yourself sitting on your couch, staring at the same website homepage that Wanda had shown you. You bit your lip, letting your fingers skim over your laptop’s keys, not typing anything just yet but feeling their ridges as you considered the “Join Now” button.

There wouldn’t be any harm in it, right? Just like Wanda said, if you hated the kind of people you matched with, then you could always delete your profile. And you didn’t only search things for your research, after all; you also googled recipes and cute animal videos. What if you matched with a gorgeous guy who’d also googled “Try Not To Laugh – Kitten Edition”? Hell yeah.

After taking a deep breath to steel yourself, you clicked on the button, making quick work of filling out the ‘About You’ information. Five minutes later, you’d chosen a profile picture and linked your Google account to the website, and you were ready to sift through your matches. The wheel on the screen turned slowly as your computer processed the information, and you actually jolted when it dinged with the results.

Well. Result. There was only one person who’d shown up with a similar search history as you. You let out a breath you hadn’t known you were holding, and you almost closed your laptop and went to retreat a pint of Ben and Jerry’s from your fridge, calling it a day and forgetting the whole debacle. But then you saw his profile picture and… Holy shit.

He was lean and pale, and your eyes were immediately drawn to his long, black hair. He had it slicked back in the photo with just one strand hanging down over his left eye. In the photo, he was wearing an exquisitely tailored black suit with a black shirt and tie underneath it, and you couldn’t help but let your eyes trail along the lithe contours of his body. He looked as if he were carved from marble; you almost started drooling just from the sight of him.

You jumped again when your computer dinged for a second time, and your eyes widened when you saw that you had a new message in your inbox. With fingers that were just barely trembling, you opened it, skimming over the message from the man you’d paired with.

Good evening. I must admit, I was quite surprised when I got the notification that we’d matched with one another. I’ve had this profile for about four months, and I’d had yet to be paired with anyone.

So he was handsome and eloquent. You clicked on his profile and blinked when you saw his name. Loki Odinson. Wow. Even his name was refined, if not a little strange; it sounded like a name you’d give to one of the characters in your books.

Hello, Loki, you typed out. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I was pretty surprised to find someone else who has such a twisted search history. I don’t know if I should be happy or concerned.

It only took him a few moments to reply.

The feeling is mutual; I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for the morbidity, though. Mine is that I happen to be a coroner for a living. And yours is…?

I’m a writer, you explained, your interest piqued by his profession. I write murder mysteries. So, yeah… Morbidity seems like a fitting way to describe it.

A writer, you say. I happen to be quite an avid reader; would I know any of your work?

I’m not sure; have you ever heard of The Bell Ringer? That’s probably my most well-known book.

You’re kidding.

He sent you a picture, and it was of a pale hand holding a copy of The Bell Ringer, your name glistening in bold font beneath the title.

I’m a great fan of your work, as you can see. I own several of your novels.

Another photo loaded beneath the newest text, and it was of a shelf full of your books. The Shrew Woman, A Night in New Hampshire, The Hanging Woman – nine books in total. The only one that you’d written that wasn’t there was the one you’d just sent out to your publisher, and you suspected that once it was out in stores, it would be joining the ranks of Loki’s shelf.

Wow! It’s always so nice to meet a reader. I’m so glad you like my stuff!

Oh, love, you’re a huge talent. I must say, I’ve found your work rather inspiring.

That’s so kind of you to say!

I know that this is rather forward, but are you doing anything tonight?

You glanced up at the clock you had hanging on the wall – 8:13 pm. It was already pretty late; typically you’d be putting on your pajamas and curling up in bed to do some late night reading here soon. But something inside of you whispered that you should do it; you weren’t spontaneous enough. What if this was an opportunity to meet the One? At the very least, it would be cool to meet such a loyal reader.

It depends on if this guy I’m talking to online asks me out. Do you think he will?

He would have to be a fool not to. I suspect he’ll ask you if you’d like to meet at a café.

Well, then, I suspect I’ll have to say yes.

An excited grin was plastered over your lips as you bantered back and forth, and when Loki sent you an address and a message saying ‘I’ll see you there in twenty minutes’, you jumped off of your sofa and rushed to put on your shoes. You were still dressed in the leggings and oversized sweater you’d worn to brunch with Wanda, and all you had to do was straighten your hair and pull on your boots before you were out the door. The address he’d sent you was within walking distance of your apartment; in fact, you’d been there before, but never on a date.

Your heart was pounding the entire way over, and you couldn’t get over how unlike you this was. You didn’t just get up and meet guys you’d met on the internet on such short notice, much less so late at night. And yet here you were, stepping into the café fifteen minutes after receiving Loki’s message. Your eyes scanned the room, but it appeared that he wasn’t there yet. As you got in line to order, you tried to calm yourself, not wanting to look too frazzled when your date finally showed up. You tried to even your breathing, twisting the fabric of your sleeves between your nervous fingers.

He’s just a person, you told yourself. You’ve been on dates before; everything was going to be fine. Nothing bad was going to-

“Hello, there.”

You gasped and turned around, eliciting a chuckle from the man now towering over you. He was dressed in a set of black trousers with a simple white button-down tucked into them, and his hair was loose and falling around his shoulders. His grin was wide and full of teeth, with just the slightest sinister edge to it. But his eyes were warm and twinkling with excitement and just a hint of mischief. Those clear blue irises brought a smile to your own lips, and you chuckled along with him at your initial fright.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you walk in,” you explained.

“It’s quite alright,” he assured you, offering his hand. “I know you already are aware, but I’m Loki.”

You grinned and introduced yourself, going to shake his hand, but he smoothly cradled your fingers and drew them up to his lips, pressing a light kiss to your knuckles.

“It’s good to finally meet you in person,” he cooed, seemingly all too aware of how flustered you now were.

You opened your mouth to say something in return, but you couldn’t think of anything to say as silence lay heavily between the two of you. You were saved, though, when the barista called out to you, asking if she could take your order. You spun around on your heel and shot her a grateful glance before ordering your favorite menu item and reaching into your purse for your wallet.

“…And I’ll have a cup of Earl Grey,” Loki stepped in, handing her a card from his open wallet.

“Oh, I could have paid for mine,” you protested, but he waved you off.

“No, no, love. It’s my treat.”

He gave you a tight, close-lipped smile, and you didn’t protest further as he paid for your orders. He led you to a booth in the corner, sliding into the side opposite to yours gracefully. The leather squeaked against your thighs as you shuffled in, and when you were finally settled across from him you caught a flicker in his eye that sent chills up your spine.

It was gone in an instant, though, replaced by the same suave look he’d had while ordering his tea.

“So,” he began, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. “As I said before, I’m a fan of your work. Truly, I have been since your very first novel.”

“’Beauty in the Blood’?” you asked incredulously. “I’m surprised; no one seems to like that one. After reading it, my mom suggested that I start going to therapy.”

Loki chuckled, licking his lips, and your eyes followed his tongue of their own accord.

“Ah, well, whether or not that’s true, it’s still my favorite of your works by far,” he continued. “The parts told by the killer’s perspective were…beautiful. You captured his mind so artfully, it was as if…”

He paused, searching your face for a moment.

“It was as if…you understood him,” he finished.

You furrowed your eyebrows, thinking over his words. He’d skipped right over the small talk you’d come to suspect on first dates, but despite how strange of a direction the conversation was taking, you were…intrigued by it.

“Well,” you started, “I feel like I did understand him.  I mean, sure, he took delight in the killing of others; he saw it as an art form. But as twisted and evil as he was, he was still a person – a person that had come from my mind. Cuz the thing is…”

You paused, gathering your thoughts and trying to find the right words to convey them.

“The thing is,” you spoke carefully, “that every storyteller uses bits and pieces of themselves to tell a story. A story is like a stained glass window – it’s made up of different pieces of an author’s mind and soul, and it comes together to create something greater than the sum of those pieces. So, yes, I think I can understand him; his darkness might be a reflection of my own – deep, deep down.”

You glanced up at him, blinking when you saw the transfixed look upon his face. His eyes were wider than they had been before, and his lips were parted as he listened.

“Sorry,” you chuckled, shaking your head. “I, uh… I got a little carried away. You probably think I’m some kind of freak-“

“I think you’re beautiful.”

His words took your breath away, and when the barista set down your cups on the table, you jumped in surprise.

“Is there anything else I can get you guys?” she asked cheerfully, and a flash of annoyance crossed over Loki’s face at the interruption.

“We’re fine,” you assured her quickly, giving her a polite smile. “Thank you.”

“You’re so welcome!”

You gripped your mug tightly as she walked away, savoring its heat as it warmed up your cold hands.

“So,” you said, desperate to break the sudden silence that had fallen over the table, “you mentioned that you’re a coroner. What drew you to your profession?”

Loki sipped his tea, humming as he thought over the question.

“Well… The conversation has already veered towards the darker side of things,” he mused. “I might as well tell you the story.

“When I was twelve years old, my sister killed herself,” he began.

“Oh, Loki, I’m so sorry-“

“Oh, no, don’t be,” he interrupted. “We weren’t close at all. I was adopted at a young age, you see, and Hella never accepted me. She was cruel, and she took every opportunity she could to remind me of my inadequacies.

“But, as I said, one day she died. At first, we didn’t know how it happened; there were no marks on her body whatsoever. She just looked like she was sleeping as she lay there in bed. We called the hospital, and the police, and eventually the coroners discovered that she’d injected bleach into her arm. Later on, my mother found the syringe under her bed, and all the pieces of the puzzle fit together. We finally knew the how and the when, and I never really cared much about the why.

“…That probably makes me sound like a monster, doesn’t it?”

You sat back, swallowing a scalding-hot sip of your drink before answering.

“No,” you answered, shaking your head. “I don’t think that makes you a monster. She abused you; it’s only natural that you found some relief in her death. I would’ve probably felt the same way.”

He studied you for a moment, tracing the lip of his cup with his index finger.

“I wonder if you would have…” he murmured to himself, so quietly that you almost didn’t hear it.

“Well,” he sighed, plastering a smile on once more and straightening up, “you probably aren’t going to be very keen on a second date if I keep dragging our conversation into subjects like this. Tell me, where are you from? What made you move to the city?”

“How do you know I’m not from here?”

“Love, neither of us have the New York accent, now do we?”

You laughed, and after that the two of you fell into an easy flow; it seemed that the heavy beginning of the date made it all the easier to talk to him. You discussed what you liked about the city and what you didn’t like; you learned that Loki was originally from a small town right outside of London, and that he has an adopted brother named Thor that he was close to.

“He’s an oaf,” he’d said when you’d asked what his brother was like. “Everything about him is literally the opposite of its coinciding part of me. But…he loves me; he never thought of me as the adopted child. I was always just his brother; despite his shortcomings, I think he does mean well. Besides, his IQ level is in the single digits, so I’m afraid I must look out for him for fear of what would happen if he were left to his own devices.”

From there, you shared stories about growing up, about life and ex partners and mistakes and successes. Before you knew it, the happy barista from before was approaching your table again, this time with a nervous smile.

“Hey, guys,” she greeted. “I’m so so sorry to bother you, but we’re closing up…”

Loki glanced down at his watch as you glanced at your phone – 10:30.

“Shit,” you laughed. “I had no idea. Time flies…”

Your date shot a glare at the barista before his eyes flickered to you. He gave you a wide, close-lipped smile and straightened his collar, raising his eyebrows.

“Then I suppose it’s time for us to head out,” he murmured. “May I escort you home?”

“Oh! Of course. If it’s not too far out of your way…”

“Even if it is,” he smiled, “I still want to walk you home.”

Your heart fluttered, and you set a five dollar bill on the table as a tip before standing up. The barista scurried away, and you almost turned to apologize to her for Loki’s cold shoulder. But you didn’t know him well yet; maybe that’s just how he was. Maybe he didn’t mean anything by it.

“You guys have a good night!” she called out after you, and you smiled over your shoulder at her before reaching for the door. Loki’s hand darted out and grabbed the handle before you could, opening it for you with a slight bow.

“After you, my lady.”

“How chivalrous.”

The two of you walked side by side down the street, hands brushing as you strolled down the sidewalk. You glanced upwards, smiling at the scattering of stars overhead as your breath fogged in the chilly air. You shivered, rubbing your arms a little bit to ward off the chill. Loki evidently caught the movement, and you felt his arm drape around your shoulders. You leaned into the warmth of his body, tilting your head up to share a grin with him.

“Again – chivalrous.”

He chuckled, squeezing you for a beat.

“I try my best… It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?”

“Gorgeous. Not as gorgeous as you, but…very pretty.”

You laughed and hid your face in his neck.

“Stop… You’re too charming.”

“Oh, really? I was under the impression there was no such thing.”

The two of you fell back into a companionable silence as you guided him towards your brownstone, until he spoke up once again.

“I must say… There’s a question that I’ve been meaning to ask you that I’m just…dying to know the answer to.”

“Go ahead, Loki. I’m an open book.”

He laughed softly again, hesitating before voicing his question.

“If you were to kill someone, how would you do it?”

You paused, thinking over your response.

“Well… Why am I killing them? Is it a crime of passion or a crime of necessity? Am I killing them just for the enjoyment of it, or out of revenge, or because the person needs to die for a bigger cause?”

“That… That is actually an excellent follow-up question,” Loki mused. “Let’s say… A crime of necessity. The person needs to die for a personal reason with no anger or revenge in mind. How do you do it?”

You bit your lip, calling to mind all of your morbid Google searches that might apply.

“Um… Air shot between the toes,” you finally said. “Fill a syringe with air and inject it between their toes while they sleep. It’ll look like a heart attack that way.”

Unbeknownst to you, warmth suddenly bloomed in Loki’s chest, and you glanced up just in time to catch the fond, almost…loving gleam in his eye. He quickly looked away, tilting his head up to look at the stars, but you’d caught it. And it wasn’t that it unsettled you; you weren’t uncomfortable because of the look. You were uncomfortable because you hadn’t been upset by it. You’d felt that same flutter once again as butterflies batted around your rib cage.

Nothing more was said as you turned the corner that led to your street, and you silently ascended your home’s steps with Loki’s arm still around your shoulders. You reluctantly slid your key into the lock, only turning to him once your door was opened a crack.

“I had… A really good time with you, Loki,” you told him, craning your neck to look into his eyes. “I know that this isn’t what you’re supposed to say to a guy after a first date; I know that it might scare you away. But I want you to know that I haven’t felt this way in a long… Actually, I’ve never felt this way. And it’s really scary, but I hope… I hope we can do this again sometime soon.”

Loki’s eyes softened, and he moved his arm from around your shoulders to your cheek.

“I haven’t felt his way, either,” he murmured. “But I know that I don’t want the feeling to go away.”

He was leaning forward, his eyes closing, and your heart leapt into your throat as you met him halfway. His lips were cold, and smooth, and soft as they pressed against yours, and you leaned into his touch when he pulled you closer by your hips. A sound escaped your throat as his tongue darted out, licking past the barrier of your mouth to glide itself against yours. His hands came up to cradle your cheeks, his thumbs rubbing against your cheekbones as your lips moved against one another, and you hummed once again as your chests pressed together.

You don’t know who pulled away first, but you spent a moment just taking in one another’s essence, your foreheads pressed together as the fog of your breaths mingled. You heard Loki let out a chuckle, and you looked up curiously.

“What is it?”

“I’ve just…” He licked his lips and let out another soft laugh before pulling away.

“I’ve just never felt like this before,” he repeated.

You smiled and pressed a peck to his lips before walking towards your door again.

“Have a good night, love,” he called after you, and you paused in the doorway to blow him a kiss.

“You too, Loki.”

You shut your door, missing the way his gaze darkened as he stared at the façade of your building.

“Oh, I will, darling. I will.”

__________

Loki hummed to himself, the leather of his gloves squeaking as he clenched and unclenched his fists. The silver of the table gleamed under the fluorescent lights of his basement, and the air was musty, thick with the smell of iron…and decay. Instruments and tools were lined along the wall in front of him - knives, machetes, a hatchet… It was cliché; he knew that. But he just hadn’t been able to resist the temptation while designing this special room.

A muffled scream sounded from behind him, and he rolled his eyes before turning back to the perky little barista who was currently strapped down to another metal table he’d “borrowed” from the hospital morgue.

“Are you honestly still trying to scream for help?” he snarked, raising an eyebrow at her. “I’ve told you; you’re currently under about five feet of solid concrete. Who will hear you? Who will help you?”

The girl let out a sob, and he watched her big blue eyes flicker to the wall just over his shoulder before coming to rest on him again. They were red and swollen, and he let out a coo of false sympathy.

“Oh, don’t worry, little girl. None of these are for you.” He grinned, turning back to the table behind him. “You can thank my new lover for that. No, she inspired me to take a different direction this evening.”

A small, genuine smile came over his face as he picked up the large syringe, turning it over in his hands.

“She’s been inspiring me for a while, actually,” he mused, ignoring the screams as he sauntered over to his victim, syringe in hand. “She’s such a brilliant writer, my darling is. It truly was fate that brought us together; if I’d had known that my favorite author was a beautiful young woman who also lived in Manhattan, well… I’m sure I would have found her sooner. But I won’t dwell on lost time; I’ll just have to make up for it.”

He ran a hand over the girl’s knee, trailing it down her shin even as she struggled against the strong ropes twined around her wrists and ankles. As his hand gripped the arch of her foot in an iron-like hold, he let his eyes close. This was always his favorite part – the moments right before death. The anticipation was like foreplay; it got him just as hot and eager, and the payoff was very nearly comparable. If he were ever asked to describe the feeling of ending another person’s life, of ripping out the remaining chapters from their story before it could be written, the only thing he’d be able to compare it to was an orgasm. That white-hot pleasure that flooded his veins was addictive, as was the lead up he was experiencing right now.

“You know,” he mused, slowly drawing back the plunger of the syringe, “my girl is so smart… Not a lot of people would think to off someone like this. But it’s not as easy as you would think; you can’t just use any old syringe. It has to be big, has to be a lot of air. And you have to be careful; if you hit muscle, it won’t be fatal, and the whole endeavor would be for naught. But if you hit a vein, and if you get a big enough pocket of air…”

The duct tape on her mouth did little to quell her scream as he inserted the needle into her flesh. A novice might not be able to find a vein, especially not in a foot, but the years of medical school paid off, just as they did every day at his job. He injected the empty cartridge into her vein, groaning and letting his eyes drift shut. He was slow about removing the needle; the separation of steel from skin was slow, intimate… Gentle.

“Hush…” he whispered, drawing out the word with a hiss. “It’s done now, love. It’s done.”

He let his arm fall to the side, and he took a step back, watching the girl start to settle down as he put some distance between them. He gently set the syringe down onto the table before crossing the room to the armchair in the corner. Letting out a soft grunt, he lowered himself into the seat, crossing his legs and letting his head fall back.

“Fuck, what a day,” he sighed. “This isn’t what I was expecting when I woke up this morning.”

Loki lifted his head and gave the young girl a wry smile.

“As you may have guessed, this isn’t my first time doing something like this,” he began. “But I do try to limit myself. I may take…five victims a year. Maybe six or seven if I’m particularly stressed. My last one was on New Year’s, though. I’m not due for a killing for another few months, but… That girl really had me going.

“I was hoping that she’d invite me in tonight,” he confessed. “Though I wasn’t expecting it. It was our first date, after all. But a man can hope, can’t he? If she had invited me to stay the night, you wouldn’t be here right now. Alas, though… I had all of these pent up feelings that I had to do something with. And you were so…obnoxious back at the café. I couldn’t tell if you were being genuine with your disgusting, overbearing cheerfulness or if it was as fake as your blonde hair. But, god, did it get under my skin…”

The girl let out a sob, and he noticed that she was beginning to shake. He chuckled, feeling himself grow hard in his trousers as he thought of you. You’d come up with this idea, this beautiful, drawn-out murder. Such a sweet, innocent looking girl on the outside. But such delicious, pure wickedness within.

“Fuck,” he huffed, palming himself through his pants. “Despite the nuisance you made of yourself, today was so perfect… She’s the One, you know. The one and only girl who can ever complete me. I didn’t even believe in this sort of thing this morning, but for the first time in my life, I’m glad I was wrong.”

He forced himself to still his hand, moving it to his knee as his jaw clenched. In the past, he’d done this in front of a few of his victims; male or female, if they were pretty, young things, the act of killing them made him so hard that he had to touch himself as he watched them squirm on his table. But not tonight, not after you. That part of himself was only for you, now, and he was strong enough to resist the urge until his was the only heart beating under his roof.

And so he sat back and watched. At first, the girl only shivered, and after thirty minutes he was afraid that he hadn’t injected enough air into her. But then he noticed the way she was breathing; it was like she was a fish out of water, and the slope of her furrowed eyebrows betrayed the pain she was in.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, voice thick. At first she didn’t answer, but then, almost imperceptibly, she nodded. He hummed in understanding, hiding his grin behind his hand as he scratched his chin.

“How marvelous.”

He knew she wouldn’t last long when her skin started to turn blue. After an hour, the seizures began, jolting and shaking her body as if she were a ragdoll. He watched in fascination, his cold, blue eyes never leaving her tied-up form. Soft, strained whimpers were leaving her throat, and he let out a purr as her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

His joints popped as he stood up, and the heels of his shoes clicked against the concrete floor as he rounded the table, making his way to her pretty blonde head. He slowly, deliberately pulled the duct tape away from her mouth, and he chuckled at how blue her lips had become.

“This is a much better look on you,” he observed. “This is so much more real than those saccharine smiles.”  

She finally went still 84 minutes after the injection. Even after her heart stopped beating, he stood over her, watching the unnatural stillness of her chest. Despite all of the corpses he’d created over the years, and despite the years he’d spent in his profession, it was still something that he’d never gotten used to. People weren’t supposed to be that still; people were supposed to blink, and smile, and talk, and breathe, but the things they became after death did none of those things. They didn’t move, and they didn’t feel, and there was always a moment of disgust when he first laid eyes on a fresh corpse.

But it passed quickly, even quicker than normal tonight. The disgust faded away and left behind pure, unadulterated lust as his thoughts strayed once more to you. Typically, he would stay behind, lingering in the basement to dispose of the body. Sometimes, if he wasn’t too tired, he would actually drive out and deposit them in whatever spot he’d predetermined to be the one the police were to find them in.

But tonight, he left the corpse there on the table. He flicked the lights off and climbed the first, then the second set of stairs, peeling off his gloves and petting his cat on the way to his bedroom. He showered, then combed his hair, then settled down between his silk sheets completely naked. Then, and only then, did his hand travel down to his cock, and his mind once again, indubitably, trekked back to you. Your face, your voice, your beautiful fucking mind…

The thought that finally made him cum was the picture of him fucking you in a pool of blood on his basement floor, of the bright crimson painting your skin as he let his hands worship your body. The thought followed him into his dreams, ruby red and throbbing to the beat of his heart as he slept deeply into the night.

_____________

Detective Romanoff stood side by side with her partner in front of the dead body, hands planted firmly on her hips as she chewed her lip.

“How old did you say she was?” she asked the coroner, her eyes flicking down to the rope burn on the woman’s – the girl’s – wrists and ankles.

“Twenty,” was Dr. Odinson’s accented reply. He turned around, glancing between the two detectives before taking a deep breath and turning his attention back to the body. “I’m afraid that there won’t be much investigating for the two of you to do here. The cause of death was a heart attack, pure and simple.”

“A twenty year old girl having a heart attack?” Detective Rogers scoffed. “I think you got your wires crossed, there, Loki.”

Natasha watched as a muscle in the coroner’s jaw twitched, and he let out a frustrated huff as he peeled off his medical gloves.

“Detective, this sort of thing happens all the time – freak accidents that can strike even the healthiest of people. They are…unfortunate, but they’re also a fact of life.” He tossed the balled up gloves into a trash can and whisked past them, bending over to type something into the laptop resting on his desk as he continued speaking to them.

“After reviewing her medical records, I found out that her father died two years ago from a heart attack; if I were a gambling man, I would say that a bad set of genes were the only culprit here.”

“What about the marks on her wrists?” Natasha asked. “They gotta mean something, right?”

“Oh, I’m sure they do,” Loki smirked, cutting his eyes over at her before straightening up. “It probably means that little Miss…” He paused, glancing down at a paper resting beside his computer. “Miss Allison Berry was into bondage before her untimely demise.”

“A woman is lying dead, Odinson,” Rogers spat. “Show some respect.”

Loki raised his hands up in surrender as he sauntered towards them.

“I apologize if I offended you, Detective,” he replied coolly. “I meant no disrespect. But I’ve run all the tests in the book. There were no signs of sexual assault, no signs of foul play. I’ll type up a proper report for the two of you, but I’m telling you now – the girl died of a heart attack.”

Natasha and Steve shared a look before turning back to the doctor.

“Have the report ready for us before the end of the day,” she ordered, patting Steve on the shoulder and gesturing for him to follow her as she made her way out of the cold morgue.

“Whatever you say, Officer.”

Natasha froze mid-step, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck bristle as a thousand images flashed through her mind after hearing him say that word. She gulped, oblivious to the confused look Steve was giving her, and she kept walking without turning back around.

“It’s Detective, now, doctor.”

The door clicked shut behind them, cutting off Loki’s dark chuckle as he was once again was left alone with Allison Berry’s body. His smile didn’t fade as he pulled on another pair of gloves; if anything, it grew as he finished the young woman’s autopsy.

“I was being honest with them; you know that, don’t you?” He winked at the girl’s unseeing eyes, his hands moving of their own accord as he stitched up the clean line he’d cut through the skin, bone, and muscle of her chest.

“It was just a heart attack.”

[seijorhi]

I am sorry this is so late to the ask about favorite fics, but I am a slow not so great writer, and it is also very long 😬. But I still wanted to share this with you, and I hope you like it! Anyways here’s my top ten!

1.) Et Tu

So this is my favorite and most reread. You build the tension so masterfully that it is like a noose tightening around the mc’s neck. The glances and looks from each team member during practice are used to skillfully inform the reader and are used as reference during the confrontation (gotta love continuity!). The fact that you referenced earlier in the fic made me super happy. I immediately knew you were a good writer the second I read it (I mean I already knew you were good, but I feel it was this moment I was like your not just good but phenomenal) The confrontation scene is amazing it had me going from anticipation and curiosity to thirsty so fast. I also liked the fact that you once again described the team in the locker room, so we could know how their dynamic with the reader changed once they were in private. Is beautiful 100/10 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️/5 gold stars

2.) Like Nobody Else

You are a queen of building tension as seen in most of your works, but this one was the pinnacle of everything I wanted:

soulmates ☑️, yandere ☑️, smut ☑️

Like you put all of my favorites in one fic and I was like ma’am this is some queen level writing. It’s so amazing I have read it multiple times. Will read it again. Never gets old. Will probably go reread it again now.

3.) Bully

Ah yes once again the spice that gives me life ~tension~. So much so that it is the first thing I have written for all top 3. Your just so good at writing it. Unfortunately I don’t really know how to explain how amazing you are at building tension. Like I can cut the tension in your writing with a super dull plastic butter knife (if that even makes sense???). I like how in this fic it isn’t just Oikawa, but also his fan club getting involved. Whenever his fan club is involved it’s like soft very small crime Lord vibes cause it’s other people doing his bidding. I will get my mafia au fix in anyway I can get it until you update Lion’s Den. Ok got off track there, anyways I like all the character interactions in this fic and how Oikawa corners the readers throughout it. Also I have thoroughly enjoyed all the Drabbles you wrote for Bully.

4.) Feral

This is the first fic of yours I read. I love this one as well as your other BNHA fics. I love how you write Hawks in this, and the more you write BNHA fics the better you’ve gotten at writing the characters. There is always a learning curve when writing a for a new character or fandom, but as you’ve gotten more comfortable writing in this world your works have improved. This is the fic I felt as a reader you were getting more comfortable writing for BNHA. It’s such a good fic too. I love how you wrote snapped Hawks in this. I am so happy I found you and this fic.

5.) For Old Times Sake

I love this one so much. Probably cuz the Miya twins are in it lol. I don’t know why?? but I love your description of the pool flashback I just do? Like I will go open the fic and scroll right to that part and reread it. Like I love that scene so much that when you open your requests back up Imma probably ask for a prequel just for an extended pool scene. Like the twins orchestrating getting everyone drunk and then once the reader is making out with them each twin takes turns shooing everyone else out of the pool so they can be alone~.

Anyways amazing fic. Like so good in fact that I moved it up the list twice.

6.) Dirty

👏 MY CRUSTY BOI 👏

You did so good with the smut in this fic. I know you said you were going to practice writing smut more and I want you to know it either A.) paid off (even though I didn’t think you needed practice it the first place because your good at writing smut) or B.) in the case this was practice that you no longer need to practice and that you are now a smut master. Good stuff, and was an amazing surprise to find during my daily check of your tumblr. Here another gold star to add to your collection ⭐️

7.) Good Girl

I call this one the OG even though it isn’t your first fic. I think I started calling it the OG once I figured out it was your first Haikyuu!! smut on AO3. I really liked all the character interactions in this. If you ever feel up to posting the first draft with yandere Sugawara so we can see how the original confrontation plays out and how this changes the interactions I would love to read it. Cause honestly the more yanderes the better lol. Also Oikawa was really hot in this like 🥵. Love reading the second chapter cause the smut is fantastic. Also really liked the cliffhanger to be continued ending that also has a certain amount of finality to it. I have no clue how you were able to write the ending like this for Good Girl or any of your other fics, but I’m happy you write the endings this way. It leaves me fine with the ending you have but leaves the door open for you to revisit and add more to completed fics which can be done through drabbles or with a part 2. Just really well done 👍

8.) Dear Old Friend

First Atsumu, then we get Kiyoomi, and then in a drabble Osamu!!! Hell yeah! The interaction between the reader the yanderes is so different compared to your other fics and I really enjoyed drunk reader. Drunk reader is always fun would read anytime.

9.) Outrunning Fate and Breaking Point

People have said it before and I’ll say it again your souls mate fics are phenomenal. As if that wasn’t enough then you wrote drabbles about both fics. It’s like your trying to steal my heart here like damn. I loved both these fics so much that I couldn’t decide between the two and now they both get to be here. Part of this decision came from the fact that both fics have wildly different dynamics, and the other half was me unable to leave one off the list.

10.) Bite the Bullet

YAAS! Love the make out scene in this and the possessiveness of the Shiratoizawa team. My goodness just take all of my gold stars why don’t you ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Side notes to the top ten list:

- Like I knew what Haikyuu!! was I just hadn’t read or watched it yet when I came across your works. So while I was reading everything I kept on having to google characters and read their wiki pages lol. You know a fanfic is good when you dedicate yourself to entering a new fandom.

-I get so nervous writing Japanese names since my autocorrect is so sensitive and corrects them when I don’t notice so I don’t use a lot of the character’s names lol

-I wrote this before Split came out otherwise it would have been on the list, and I also forgot that Final girl existed and then went to make sure I got all the titles right and was like 🤭 oh no. But alas the list was already made.

-I went into this being all serious and then .2 seconds later it turned into whatever the hell my bastard hands typed so my bad. Also I feel as if I come off as aggressive at points and I need you to know I’m not trying to be aggressive I’m just very passionate about how good u are at writing.

-anyways

-YOUR SO GOOD AT WRITING💖

-sorry for yelling

-please get some sleep u are precious and need to rest. very happy u were able to finish writing split, but would be even happier if you didn’t derive yourself of sleep to get it done. take care of yourself first, writing second

I just-

thank you so much oh my god this is like the sweetest ask I’ve ever gotten i’m crying like?? who gave you the right?? sdfghghjk i’m gonna need a moment 😭

[yandere-ac]

Waited for anon 😎 May I request... literally anything for Marshal? I love the little guy 😫

Yandere Marshal X Reader

I really enjoyed writing this! Probably because I have Marshal and know him better than the other villagers I’ve written for. This one is much lighter than the last one. Also i made Marshal and Raymond best buds (because this is my blog and y’all can’t stop me)

Marshal thought of himself as out of the ordinary. His beautiful singing voice, his stunning looks, his amazing personality. Yup, as far as he was concerned, he was the ultimate package. Never had he really met a person who he thought was as amazing as him, sure there had been people who were close. But never quite there. One of those people was the grey cat whom he was currently drinking tea with.

“So, hows the house hunting going crisp?” Raymond had asked his shorter friend. Marshal was currently moving out of his previous village and was looking for a new home. “No, no I haven’t. It’s tough, but I can’t seem to find a lot of open villages as of late” He said, lifting up his teacup and gently placing it on his lips. “Oh? Haven’t you heard? Everyone’s moved onto islands now. All part of the Nook inc. getaway package” Raymond gave him a smile as he placed a hand onto the squirrels shoulder. This made Marshal perk up. “Huh? Island getaway? I heard old Nook was gonna start something new but I didn’t think he would do something like this...” This made the office cat laugh. “Well, it’s actually quite nice Crisp” now this, this really shocked Marshal. “Wait really? You? Living on an island?” Marshal asked in a tone that he hadn’t quite meant. “Pff, what’s so strange about that Marshy? I’m not THAT high maintenance you know”. Hmm, so Raymond was living on an island now. ”How come I’ve never heard of this move of yours?” Marshal looked at him, quirking an eyebrow. “You never asked” He simply stated as he took yet another sip of tea. “Well I’m asking now aren’t i? So tell me all about it?” The blonde critter had asked, moving in closer to his feline friend. Raymond let out a snort at Marshals eagerness. But nevertheless, he delivered.

And so, he told him about his island life, about the different residents, about the island activities, about the sunny days and about the rainy days, about the different friends he’d made, basically, he told Marshal about pretty much everything.

“And on Saturdays the one and only K.K. Slider visit us to have a small concert” By now, both of them had drunken up their tea. “What?! No way!” Marshal had said enthusiastically. Raymond let out a chuckle as he reassured him. “Oh! I almost forgot to tell you about our island representative! Their name is Y/N, they are such a doll, honestly. One time I left my stuff at another residents place and the next day they delivered it to me. Their such a dear, I think you two would get along just swimmingly” he said as he clasped his hands together. “Hmm? How come?” Marshal asked, looking up at Raymond puzzled. “Well, you both like fashion, and it shows, that’s for sure. You both are quite the small charmers, uhhh- oh! You both have good singing voices” This made Marshal very interested. “Oh really? I’ll have to visit sometime” Suddenly, Raymond’s eyes lit up, as if he got an idea. “I know! Why don’t you move to the island?” He said proudly, grabbing a hold of Marshals shoulders. “What?” Marshal stated in confusion, he couldn’t just...move to an island, could he? “Think about it Marsh! If you moved to the island, I wouldn’t have to take such long trips just to see you in person! And I could introduce you to Y/N and we could become the best trio!” By now, Raymond was rambling. But Marshal was thinking about it. It would be nice with a hand of scenery, plus being able to live next to his best friend was always good. And hey, who knows? Maybe he could come closer to this Y/N person. They did certainly sound interesting.

A couple of days later, Isabelle was happy to announce that a new friend was moving onto the island. And that new friend was Marshal. The first to greet him as he stepped off the plane was of course Raymond, who helped him unpack and get ready as friends do. But soon enough as Raymond was showing Marshal around the island they had heard footsteps coming closer to them. Without warning, Raymond was tackled into a hug. “Raymond! I missed you!” Shouted the person clinging onto him. Both of them laughed as the other let go of him.

“Oh! Y/N! There’s someone I want you to meet” The cat said as he gestured to the smaller animal. Y/N smiled as they held out their hand with a playful smile on their lips. “Greetings! The names Y/N” Marshal took a hold of their hand and shook it, giving them a gentle smile. “Marshal” he simply stated. “So, you’re the new resident? It’s good to have you on the island!” Y/N said as they looked over at Raymond. “So, Raymond. I wanted to ask you if I could boro-“ by now all that they were saying had become an absolute blur in Marshals mind. Y/N...they...they were perfect. Never in his life had he seen someone quite like them. They were so elegant, yet, they looked so laid back. Their eyes shined like two sparkly diamonds. Their hair, it looked so soft, he just wanted to touch it, to feel how soft it would be. He wanted to feel their skin brace against his fur. He didn’t know what was up with him, but he wanted to feel more of this feeling.

“Marshal? Hello? Earth to Marshal? This is Raymond speaking” Marshals thoughts were interrupted by a grey paw waiving in front of his face, taking him back into reality. “O-Oh! Umm sorry, I uh got lost in my own little world there...” Y/N let out a laugh at this, making Marshals cheeks get ever redder than usual. Once Raymond noticed this he got a wide smirk started growing on his lips. “Oh! I just remembered! I really gotta go do something...important! Y/N, since your here could you show Marshal across the island?” Raymond said, scratching the back of his neck while giving a nervous smile. Marshal looked at him and glared slightly, that bastard! “Yeah sure! Id be happy to” Y/N said, turning to Marshal and giving him a reassuring smile. “Okay, thanks! Gotta go!” And so, Raymond dashed off, leaving Marshal alone with Y/N. “So, uh...shall we go?”

And so, Y/N showed Marshal around the island. They showed him the different stores, the plaza, the beaches, they even showed him all the residents houses. “Aaaaand over here we have my house! In all it’s glory!” They said and pointed towards their house. It was beautiful. And fully upgraded to. Marshal was in complete and utter awe. “It looks very nice Sulky” He said, seeing the smile form on their lips made him feel proud. “Thanks, actually most of the island constitutions are made by me!” Y/N said, this was Marshals opportunity. “Oh really? That explains why they look so good” as he said this, he flashed a toothy grin. This caught Y/N off guard and Marshal could see the small tint of pink brush their cheeks. “Heh, thanks”

After the island tour, Y/N and Marshal decided to hang out for a while. They talked about a lot of things, but mainly it was Marshal talking about himself. At one point, he had brought up his amazing singing voice. To which Y/N responded with interest. “Oh really? What’s your favorite song?” They had asked, tilting their head. “K.K. Swing, it’s so good. And you?” He had returned the question, keeping his voice and posture calm. But on the inside, he was shaking in anticipation. What was your favorite song? “Well, I guess it’s kinda cliche but I really like Bubblegum K.K., but I also love a lot of his other songs as well” Y/N answered, giving him a sheepish smile. Oh. My. God. Not only were you incredibly good looking, but you had great taste in music!

“Hey I have an idea! Why don’t you sing a little? Raymond told me you had a great singing voice so I’d love to hear it” He said. Please except, please except, pleASE EXCEPT-

“Ooo, id love to. But I’m kinda hoarse at the moment. But hey, once I’m feeling better, you’ll be the first person I’m gonna go to alright?” As Y/N said this, Marshal could feel his claws digging into his arm, his eye twitch slightly. Damn it! He screwed up! But before he could think of anything else he felt you grab a hold of his arms. “Hey, it’s getting a bit late and I’m gonna go home now, but let’s see each other later alright? Bye Marshal!” Y/N said as they ran off. Well, better luck next time. They’ll see, in a short time. He’d have them. He’s sure of it.

“You seem to really like them huh amigo?” A certain office cat told Marshal. By now it had been a couple of weeks since the move. Marshal had told Raymond about his feelings for Y/N. And now they were talking about it. “What can I say Ray, their just so amazing, everything about them makes me wanna scream at the top of my lungs!” Marshals tail started to wiggle slightly as the thought of you entered his mind. “I see, well i hate to break it to ya Marshy but your not the only one who seems to want that human” Raymond said, going into Marshals kitchen to make a cup of coffee. Marshals eyes went wide as he heard this, did...did Raymond? “Calm down, it’s not me. I’ve seen the way you look at her, I would never try to break that up. It’s really quite adorable to be frank. No, the person that seems to have the hots for our fellow island rep isn’t even someone that lives on the island” huh? What was this? Who would it be if it wasn’t a resident. “The name of the person is Jolly Redd. He’s been coming too our beach and has been selling fake art. But the thing is, for whatever reason he always give Y/N the real art, for free nonetheless. It was very strange until I realized that he was probably in love with them. But what do I know, it’s just a guess. But it might be worth considering since I heard he’s coming to the island tomorrow” Raymond picked up his coffee cup and sat down beside Marshal, handing him a second cup. “Hmm, weird tell me more” He had said intrigued yet also angered. How dare someone try to steal his Y/N away from him. Hearing this, Raymond furrowed his eyebrows slightly and gave an unsure look around. “Well...oh but i really shouldn’t tell you this...but here’s the thing-“

The next morning you were walking around the island, greeting different people when all of a sudden Marshal came running up to you. You assumed that he wanted to teach you a new reaction but to your dismay you saw that he had a look of worry on his face. “Y/N, there’s something I need to tell you about! A-and it’s pretty urgent” Marshal has said, grabbing a hold of your hand. “Oh? Can it wait just a second Marshal? I have to go visit Redd down by the-“ “NO!” You were quickly silenced by Marshals sudden outburst, an outburst even he seemed surprised of. “I mean...this is about...Redd...” now this, this made you stop dead in your tracks. “Huh? What about him?” You asked, wondering what this was about. What about Redd made this so urgent. “Well, do you know why Nook hated Redd so bad?” He had said, this made a bunch of bricks form in your stomach. You did know that Tom hated Redd but he never wanted to tell you why, to you, Redd had always seemed so nice. So you didn’t understand what the big deal was. “They used to be businesspartners. Not only that but they were also friends. Good friends. However, Redd would later show Tom what their friendship meant” Ge said in a sad yet serious tone. “What do you mean by that?” You said, feeling a knot in your throat. “Well, Redd scammed Tom out of all his bells and abandoned him” As he said this you felt a gasp leave your mouth. You thought you knew Redd. although you had to be honest with yourself, this didn’t sound to out of reach for him to do. You a had always been very uncertain about Redd and one thing that would make you upset is how he sold fake art to your fellow islanders. “I...I see. I was gonna visit him but...if he could do such a think to Tom when they were friends...maybe he will try to scam me as well” you said as you started to fidget with your hands. “I was gonna head over to Brewster if you’d like to come with? Maybe that would take Redd off your mind” Marshal offered.

And so the two of you went to Brewster. you were talking, well, it was mostly Marshal talking about himself and you listening but it was still a conversation. “Hey Marshal? I’m glad you told me about Redd. I don’t feel comfortable buying stock from him if he scammed Tom. I can’t support someone who would do that to my friend” You said as you took a sip from your coffee. “Oh, no worries sulky. I’m always happy to help” Marshal said with a happy and satisfied grin.

Little did you know that he was overjoyed at the moment. He had successfully made you break off your relationship with Redd. Now you could be his! He’d have to wait of course. But he is willing to do so. After all, if someone else tried to take you, he could always tell you what a horrible person they were. Yes, that’s how he’d do it. Only he could have you, he was the only one who deserved you. You had awoken something new in him. Because for the first time in his life, he felt like someone was equal to him. Maybe even better than him! Every time he saw you he felt so soft and happy. And he wanted to explore this feeling. He wanted to go on fancy dates with you, he wanted to sing with you, he wanted to hold hands with you, wake up next to you in the morning and the last face he saw before he went to sleep. He wanted to have you. Scratch that. He NEEDED to have you.

You were going to be his.

You had no say in this.

[wonjaekook]

Golden Sweet, Golden Sick

A/N: I want to make it very, very clear that I am in no way encouraging this kind of behavior or saying it’s okay, at all, ever. Like everything I write here, this is entirely a work of fiction and is not intended to portray the real personalities of any of the people involved. If someone does anything like this to you or you do this to anyone else in real life, please find help. That being said, this is a type of character that I’ve never written before and it was kind of interesting to write; this is very much meant to be a story-driven piece. Stay safe and enjoy :) (I also have a Jaemin fluff coming soon to make up for this!)

21 Tropes: 11. Yandere + gold w/Jaemin

Description: You would be his forever, one way or another.

Word Count: 14k

Genre: horror/thriller, fluff (kind of?), angst (kind of?), slight smut/suggestive (nothing super explicit in that realm, but there are multiple mentions/allusions)

Warnings: creepy behavior, blood, death, very descriptive violence (seriously, it gets bad), manipulation, drugging, swearing, alcohol, mild suggestive/sexual content and mentions, all around bad things

He doesn’t know when he started feeling this way about you. Na Jaemin has always been the perfect example of everything - athlete, student, boyfriend. Then, you came along and tore his world apart. The more time he spent with you, the more he thought about you until every other breath he took was solely for you. He knows it’s not normal. Yet… he doesn’t feel like there’s anything he can do about it now. It’s too big. It hurts and it feels so good at the same time. It’s a reason. A force propelling him towards something: you. He also knows he would treat you the way you deserve to be treated. Cared for. Protected. Loved. So, he listens as you talk to Heejin, straining his ears against the noise of the lunch room.

“You know that new exchange student from Germany, Liu Yangyang? I really like him.”

“Oh?” Your best friend gives you a knowing smile. “I didn’t know you were into foreign boys.”

“I wouldn’t say that…”

Heejin laughs at your bashfulness. “Do you think he likes you back?”

“I don’t know,” you say, cheeks pink at the idea. “He’s really sweet and funny to me and…”

Heejin hooks an arm around your shoulder. “If he doesn’t like you back, he’s an idiot. Look at you! You’re perfect wife material.”

“Hold it right there,” you say, holding up your hands in a ‘stop’ gesture. “No one said anything about being anyone’s wife. We’re still in high school and it’s just a crush.”

She sighs and rolls her eyes. “Are you going to ask him out?”

“Maybe on White Day? Is that too cheesy?” The thought of asking him out makes you nervous, but you can’t just expect him to come to you first. He might be too shy.

“Y/N, you’re too cute for this world.” As she affectionately pinches your cheek, the bell signaling the end of lunch rings, cueing all the students in the cafeteria to get up and rush to class. Your best friend starts backing away in the opposite direction than you’re headed. “See you after class!”

You’re blissfully unaware of Jaemin’s eyes following you.

About a week later, you’re gearing up for White Day in a few days when you get the news. You respond with a broken heart, thinking about how the chocolates you had prepared at home are now going to waste, after Heejin tells you what she heard from some of Yangyang’s friends. “He’s going back? To Germany?”

“Yeah… it’s a shame he has to go back home early. I wonder what happened.” She looks at you. “Hey! Maybe this is your chance. Even if you don’t think you can do long distance, you should tell him how you feel anyway.”

“I… okay!” Taking your best friend’s advice, you run outside to meet Yangyang after classes are over. The question of why he didn’t tell you he was leaving earlier in the class you had with him itches in your mind. You consider yourself to be friends at the very least - why hadn’t he told you? A moment after you think that, you spot him. When he sees you approach, you think you see him tense up. “Yangyang!”

“Y-Y/N…” He seems anxious, his eyes dart around and he’s shifting uncomfortably.

Brushing off his strange disposition, you jump straight to the point. “Yangyang, are you really going back to Germany?”

“Erm, yeah… family… I mean! Personal… stuff.” His eyes land on something behind you for a moment, remaining fixed there, before he looks down at the ground.

“Oh,” you pause, solidifying your decision that you have to tell him after hearing him confirm it himself. “I just wanted to tell you that… I like you. I’m sorry I don’t have any chocolate or anything to make it a proper confession, but-”

“It’s fine!” Yangyang’s words come out rushed and high-pitched. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I can’t accept your confession. I really have to go, sorry.” Your heart sinks at his words, a sad pout adorning your lips. With one last glance behind you, Yangyang practically bolts away, heading towards the student parking lot. Trying to follow where his eyes were, you glance behind you, but see nothing of interest. There’s no one there. With a heavy heart, you trudge back into the school. How had he gone from warm to cold with you in such a short amount of time?

The first thing you do is seek out your best friend. She looks excited to see you for a second before she notices you moping. “Did it go badly?”

You nod, dropping down to sit on the stairs next to her. “He rejected me. He was even acting weird! So closed-off and distant. It wasn’t like him. Am I that off-putting?” You try to pull out your phone, look at your appearance, but Heejin grabs it from you, putting it facedown on one of the steps.

“No! No way it’s you, it’s definitely him!” The indignant face she makes has you feeling a bit reassured. “He’s probably distracted by whatever it is that’s making him go home. You’ll find someone better anyways, I promise.”

You sigh, resting your chin on your hand. “It just sucks.”

“I know. But, hey, it’s okay. It would’ve been hard to have a relationship with an exchange student anyways.” Heejin pats you comfortingly on the pat, attempting to reassure you.

“I know, I just…” You sigh heavily again, blowing some hair out of your eyes.

Heejin glances at her phone and shifts uncomfortably. “Y/N, I’m sorry, but I really have to go…”

“That’s okay, your review session is important. I’ll be fine.” You scrub at your eyes, not caring about the redness you’re causing. You’re not crying yet, but you feel like you’re on the verge of doing so.

“Text me if you wanna hang out later?” Once you nod, Heejin bids you farewell and hurries away. With your best friend gone, you can’t help but feel a little more lonely.

At that moment, Jaemin is walking by, but he stops when he sees you with tears in your eyes. He knows instantly that his plan worked. Well, he knew that it worked when he saw your interaction with Yangyang, but the further proof is encouragement to him. The sadness on your face almost makes him regret what he did, but he knows he can make you happier than Yangyang ever would. If there’s one thing he’s sure of, it’s that. “Y/N,” he says, feigning confusion, “what’s wrong?”

You would say you’re acquaintances, kind of friends at best, with Jaemin - you’ve had a few classes together and hung out in groups before, but you’re not close. You’re a little hesitant to answer, but you figure he’s just asking out of courtesy. “Nothing,” you say, sniffling slightly, “I’m fine.”

“Y/N…” The tone with which he says your name is gentle and pleasant to your ears, almost relaxing. He closes the distance between the two of you, sitting down next to you on the stairs. “You can tell me. We’re friends, right?”

That makes you look up. Na Jaemin, one of the most popular, good-looking boys at your school, considers you a friend? Then again, he’s also renowned as one of the sweets guys in your grade, the type to take care of abandoned kittens he finds in cardboard boxes and walk grannies across the street. The smile he gives you tells you that he’s being sincere, so you can’t help but give him a tiny, sad smile back. “I just got rejected.”

His eyes widen. “Who would reject you?”

“Liu Yangyang. I confessed to him because he’s going back to Germany soon, but he doesn’t feel the same.” Saying it out loud, you realize how silly you sound being so upset about it. Like Heejin said, it really wouldn’t work out with him being so far away. “God, I’m so stupid. Sorry for bothering you with this, Jaemin. I probably look like an idiot right now.”

“You aren’t stupid! Anyone would be upset if they got rejected.” He doesn’t know who to be angry at for making you feel this way about yourself - himself or Yangyang. Your pain hurts him ten times as much it hurts you.

“Thanks, Jaemin,” you mumble.

“What can I do to make you feel better?” He contemplates for a moment and, before you can tell him that he doesn’t need to do anything else, he stands up. “That’s it! Let’s get ice cream.”

“Jaemin, you really don’t have to-”

“It’s my treat, come on!” He takes your hand, pulling you to your feet. Seeing that he’s not giving up, you reluctantly let him guide you. It’s a little colder outside than when you met Yangyang earlier given the season and time of day. You expect that he’ll just take you to the convenience store across the street from the school, but he keeps going, bringing you to an actual ice cream shop two blocks away. Every so often while you’re walking, he’ll glance behind him, like he’s making sure you’re still there, and smile at you. It feels nice to be acknowledged like that.

He relishes in how you let him take your hand and guide you down the street. He had let go after he helped you up because it would have been a little strange if he kept holding on to you when you’re not that close yet, but the warmth of your hand lingers on his fingertips.

The little bell on the door dings as he pushes it open, holding it for you. Walking in, you give a small bow to the man behind the counter. You’re about to order when Jaemin stops you with a hand on your forearm. “My treat, remember?”

After he asks you what you want, you watch him go up and order, smiling at the cashier, polite as his reputation says. Even in his school uniform, he looks exceedingly handsome. Jaemin returns to you a moment later, handing you your ice cream, and you thank him. You sit with him, eating your respective flavors, when you decide to prod him a little. “Jaemin, why are you going through all of this trouble just for me? I’m sure you’re busy.”

“I can’t just let my friend be sad. Plus, honestly, I’ve been wanting to get closer to you for a while now.” If you would have to place it, you would say Jaemin is acting shy. No way. Na Jaemin, shy about saying he wants to be better friends with you? If you were closer to him, you would call him cute for that.

None of what he said is a lie. It’s just not the full extent of the truth. He wants to be closer to you than anyone else. He wants you to only look at him. He blinks, looking away from you and trying to get the dark thoughts out of his head for now.

“Let’s hang out more, then,” you say, more cheery than you’ve looked since he’s met up with you. “We can be closer, if you want.”

You get Na Jaemin’s number that day after he happily agrees.

It’s not too long before you’ve forgotten almost entirely about Yangyang. Jaemin does a good job of getting your mind off of him, off of everything that’s preoccupying you, honestly. He’s almost a miracle cure, ready to talk whenever you need him, always kind, always charming. When he starts walking you to some of your classes, offering to carry your books like a character out of a movie, that’s when your heart finally melts for him.

As you get to know Jaemin, you also pinpoint what the unease you’ve been feeling for months is. It’s the feeling of eyes on you, at all hours of the day, when you’re in public, when you’re with family, when you’re with friends, when you’re alone. You’re not exactly sure when the feeling of someone watching you started. The ever-present pit of discomfort in your stomach. All you know is that Jaemin makes it better. With him, you feel safe.

He’s not sure when the longing started. The headaches. The constant need to be with you. All he knows is that only you make it better.

“Heejin, I like him so much, I don’t know what to do.” You clutch dramatically at your heart, pouting. “He’s just too perfect.”

Sadly, your best friend is more skeptical than you. “Yeah, that’s the problem. He’s too perfect and every girl falls for him.”

“He treats Y/N differently, though, you can see it,” your friend Renjun says from next to Heejin, looking up from his chemistry homework. “Believe me, I’ve known him for years. He only acts that way with girls he likes.”

“Injun, don’t give me hope.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m just telling you like it is. You know I’m not the type to sugarcoat.”

That’s true enough. Renjun is the one who started the group hangouts that you first spent time with Jaemin in and he has known him for much longer than you or Heejin. It’s also not in his personality to say things he doesn’t truly believe.

“Okay, that’s fair,” Heejin says, turning back to you. “Then, Y/N, if you were to go on the dream date with the dream boy, what would you even do?”

“If someone asks me out, I want our first date to be cute and simple. Let’s go take a walk in the park or something and get ice cream. Maybe give me a flower when he comes to get me. I dunno, maybe I’m being dumb,” you laugh, pushing your hair away from your face. The thought of going on a date with Jaemin- you mean, someone, has you feeling warm and blushy.

“There’s no use trying to be sly. When you say someone you mean Na Jaemin and you want ice cream because that’s where you had your first unofficial date,” Heejin says, smirking.

You stick out your tongue at her, scrunching up your face. “If you keep being weird about it, it won’t happen.”

To your surprise, despite Heejin’s continued weirdness about it, Jaemin approaches you the next day. Immediately after you greet him, he’s looking at you with those adorable doe eyes of his, making you feel like you’re the only person in the world. A simple, “Y/N, I like you a lot. Would you go on a date with me?” from him has your heart beating out of your chest and it takes all of your self control to not spin him in a circle and hug him right there.

Jaemin shows up to your first date that following Saturday with a single white and red carnation, which he tucks behind your ear when you meet him on the sidewalk.

If it’s possible, he’s even more perfect than what you imagined. He’s out of a dream - walking with you slowly, his hand brushing yours as you walk and talk, remembering your favorite flavor from the last time you got ice cream together. If you’ve never felt lovesick, you certainly feel it now. By the time the date is drawing to a close and Jaemin is walking you home, he’s politely asked if he can hold your hand, which you quickly obliged. You can’t help yourself from asking him about his decisions as you’re approaching your house.

“Jaemin, how’d you know?” His hand feels warm and comfortable in yours, your fingers interlaced. “Did Heejin tell you this is how I wanted a first date to be?”

He puts a perfect mask of surprise on his face. “Really? This is just how I thought the perfect first date should go and I thought you would like it, too.”

That, along with everything else, makes you feel like you’ve finally found the right guy. You feel safe with Jaemin, warm and secure, and the paranoid feeling of someone watching you isn’t present with him around. Maybe he’s your guardian angel. Maybe he’s your soulmate. Either way, you’re glad you found him.

He asks you to be his girlfriend after your second date, to which you eagerly agree. When you get home from that outing, your parents can see the change in your face and Heejin is the first to hear the news when you call her soon after. She mentions something about ‘if Na Jaemin ever hurts you’ but, in your joy, you insist that everything will be fine and peachy.

Two days later, when he meets you between classes at school, his hand instantly moves to interlace with yours as you walk, making your heart rate pick up and a light blush cover your cheeks. Each step seems almost lighter than the last and, when you would ordinarily shy away from the looks and whispers of your classmates as you pass by them, his warm gaze on you alone makes everything alright. When you reach your class, he stops, but doesn’t let go of your hand. There, in front of the prying eyes of your schoolmates, he leans down and kisses you for the first time. It’s soft, sweet, and very Jaemin, should you have to describe it. Your eyes, which you had instinctually shut when he moved closer, open after he pulls away and you find that he’s smiling brightly at you, a sort of happiness that you’ve never seen from anyone else before in his eyes.

“Have fun in class,” he says softly, as if he hadn’t just kissed you in front of everyone, before he walks off in the direction of his own class. You’re dizzy in the best way and practically glowing as you force your feet to move into the classroom and to your seat. Renjun, who you share the class with, looks up at you as you practically melt onto your desk and into your chair.

“Did Jaemin strike again?” He questions, quirking an eyebrow at you.

You nod, lifting your head to look at him. “He just kissed me in the hallway.”

Renjun rolls his eyes. “Get a room. Seriously.”

You’re too distracted by the fuzzy warmth in your chest to reply something snappy back.

Jaemin makes a habit of sneaking little kisses between classes or after lunch or whenever else he gets a chance and you can’t say you mind it at all. After a little while, the small pecks he places on your lips when he drops you off at home or in any other area more hidden from the gazes of others become more intense, more full. His hands, once respectfully staying at your hips or cupping your cheeks, tangle in your hair and edge ever so slightly under your shirt after you say that it’s okay. Even so, he’s always one step ahead of you, always patient, always asking permission, always backing off when you give even the slightest sign of being uncomfortable. It’s a tugging back and forth of how far you’ll go that lasts for months, leaving you with a lot to think about when you’re alone at night. In those times, in your distracted state, you forget about the blinds of your room being open, your body on full display for anyone who may be looking in. Not that anyone should be watching you. Not that you think anyone is.

Every time, you let him push the boundary a little further until, one day, you’re at his house with the intention to study together. That intention is quickly forgotten as he murmurs sweet words in your ear about how ‘you look so pretty today’ and ‘that shade of lipgloss looks so nice on you, I wonder what it tastes like?’

With unmatched eagerness, you welcome his touch, his lips on yours, the little sighs he lets out as he kisses you and pulls you onto his lap. Your energy fades into uncertainty and insecurity as his hands drift to the edge of your shorts and his lips travel to nip and kiss at your pulse. He feels the change, but simply holds you closer, his fast heartbeat seemingly pounding into your chest because of your close proximity. He feels your heartbeat as much as you can feel his.

“Jaemin,” you murmur, distracted, as he presses kisses to your neck, “I’m a virgin. I don’t know if…”

He’s heard enough of your conversations about the topic with your other friends and watched enough of your late-night sessions to know. He would be upset with how sloppy you are about exposing your body to the light when your blinds are open, but it allows him the best view he’s ever had, so he figures that he can’t complain much. Not that he could ever tell you.

Once that confession leaves your lips, he pretends to be surprised, stopping his actions, straightening up, and cupping your cheek with his hand while looking in your eyes. You look so pretty there, your cheeks pink with embarrassment, lips parted and lipgloss smeared slightly, hair slightly out of place from when he ran his hands through it. Above all, he loves the feeling of being able to read exactly what you’re thinking from your eyes and the way your body is positioned. If he could keep you here like this forever, he would. “That’s okay. If you want to stop, I’ll wait for you. I don’t want to pressure you.”

He doesn’t have to worry about pressuring you. You’re his, anyways. His and his alone.

The warmth in his eyes is comforting to you. His free hand still strokes your side just under your shirt, sending pleasant shivers down your spine. “I think… I want you to continue. Please.”

The slightest desperation in your voice sets him off. You want him. You need him. Your own desire for him brings him more pleasure than any amount of sex with someone else ever could. But he holds back the urge to just take you right then and there. “I’ll go slow, baby. Tell me to stop if you ever want me to.”

One day, maybe not soon, but eventually, he knows he’ll have you where you’ll never tell him to stop. You’ll want him just as much as he always wants you.

“I know we’ve never talked about it before, but I’ve been thinking. About the future, university, all of that.”

Jaemin’s words surprise you. Of course you had thought about bringing it up with him, but the past few months with him had passed so fast and so blissfully that the topic always slipped your mind with him. You hum in response, signaling him to continue.

“I want to go to Korea University.”

He had been listening to you gush about Korea University to your parents and other friends for months, so he’s nearly certain you would be happy when he says your own dream school is also his. However, your expression falls for a moment, throwing him off. Are you not happy he wants to go to the same school as you?

You pull yourself together quickly, forcing a smile onto your face. “That’s great, Jaemin! What makes you want to go there?”

You want to go there. “Well, their academics are great, and…” As he gives the speech he had rehearsed about the school, he watches the flickers of insecurity swim in your eyes, your smile a poor mask for how you really feel. “Where do you want to go?”

You clear your throat, your toe nudging the floor awkwardly. “I… I actually want to go to Korea University, too.”

He reaches for your hands, clasping them gently in his. “What’s wrong?”

You don’t know whether you should tell him or not, but you know by now that he won’t give up on getting the truth from you until you’ve spilled it. With a sigh, you try to find the words to explain how you feel. “I just don’t want it to seem like I’m just following you. I don’t wanna come off as some clingy girlfriend who only chose a university because her boyfriend wants to go there. I don’t know, does that make sense?”

Voicing your thoughts out loud, you suddenly feel stupid, like you’re making this out to be a bigger deal than it is.

As soon as the words come out of your mouth, all Jaemin feels is regret. He made you feel this way? How could he do that? It’s a sinking pit of disappointment and anger in himself that makes it hard for him to speak for a moment. But, he’s become far good at acting to show his internal frustration now. He squeezes your hands, making you look up at him. “Y/N, I promise you don’t sound like that at all.” I’m a fucking idiot. “It’s just a happy coincidence. You should go wherever you want to without caring where I’m going.” I can’t be without you. “You’re your own person. Nobody thinks you’re just following me.” I want to worship the ground you walk on.

“Really? I… thanks, Jaemin.” He lets his regret serve as a lesson for how to approach these kinds of things with you in the future. I’ll never let you get hurt again, not from me, not from anyone. Never again.

When you and Jaemin move in to Korea University in the fall, the way your excitement lights up your eyes makes him feel equally as giddy. Of course, he also has his own reasons. For the most part, any of the guys that even remotely present a threat to your relationship back off as soon as they see your hand in his. You make safe friends who do safe things. He can keep you even closer than before. For once, he feels secure. At least, for a little while.

There’s one guy. In your calculus class. Jaemin doesn’t like him. Not at all. He doesn’t like the way he looks at you or the way he trails you slightly after class. You’re clearly uncomfortable because of him, too. He’s overheard you tell him, ‘please leave me alone, I have a boyfriend.’ When he doesn’t back off, that’s justification enough. Jaemin only plans it out a little bit. The red haze that takes over his vision every time he sees that guy is the final push. That guy… he’s easy enough to follow. Easy enough to trap in a secluded place. To Jaemin’s surprise, he’s even easy enough to kill, too. There’s no blood. He doesn’t even struggle as much as he thought he would. If anything, it’s exhilarating.  His breaths come quickly and shakily through the mask covering his face as the last of the light leaves the other guy’s eyes. He would never, ever bother you again. Taking someone else’s life to protect you? It’s the highest form of protection. The highest form of love. That first kill… it feels almost as good as when you first told him you loved him. This way, he can show evidence of his devotion to you. Not that he can tell you. You’re too soft-hearted to know. But, now… now, you’re safe. That’s what he tells himself, as he walks home, as he throws the clothes he was wearing in the washing machine, as he lies in bed and sends you his typical goodnight text. You’re safe. He can keep you safe, from now until forever. He wouldn’t think his next greatest concern would be so close to him.

One breezy fall day, Jeno texts him. He hadn’t seen him in a while - they went to separate high schools and then separate universities. Jaemin can’t say his mind has entirely been on his friend when he has other, closer people to worry about. Two years ago, that would’ve been a different story. Now, when his entire mind is consumed with you? The stray thought Jeno appears in is always a result of seeing his name pop up as the sender of a text.

JN: hey!! your best friend is coming to korea u for a baseball game on saturday!

JM: oh shit, really?

JN: hell yeah dude

JN: do you have any plans on friday?

JM: i actually have a date with my girlfriend that night

JN: i promise i won’t take up your whole night then! do you have any time to squeeze me

in? lmao

JM: i suppose, you wanna meet y/n?

When you first meet Jeno, everything is fine. He’s so similar to yet very different from Jaemin and has a nice smile. Jaemin had told you a little about him before but never elaborated, so you’re excited to talk to him more. Jeno has a natural, soft sort of charm about him and you quickly become comfortable with each other, unaware of the look that your boyfriend is giving you.

He had thought everything would be fine. For a moment, it is. He introduces you to Jeno, all smiles and jokes, but doesn’t realize his mistake until afterwards. He doesn’t like the way you smile at Jeno. Your smiles should be only for him. He shakes his head, trying to clear it. He hadn’t thought like that for a while, not since he got rid of the guy from your calculus class. But are thoughts like that all bad? He’s only looking out for your relationship. He’s only trying to keep you close to him.

It’s times like these he forgets about the adoring look you always have in your eyes for him, all the moments only he gets to witness, all the I love yous. All that’s left is the need to have your every expression, your every breath. No matter who stands in the way.

As the hour ticks on, he keeps coming back to that thought. Are you ignoring him? For Jeno? You wouldn’t even dream of cheating on him with his best friend, would you? No. His gaze turns to Jeno. He’s smiling that handsome, charming smile that makes even strangers on the street fall for him and Jaemin’s jaw clenches. How dare he look at you like that. How dare he.

Time passes far too quickly for you and Jeno and excruciatingly painfully slowly for Jaemin. Finally, finally, the hour is coming to a close and, when your boyfriend reminds you that you should leave soon, you step out to use the restroom. As soon as the door clicks shut, Jaemin turns to Jeno, grabs him by the collar, and slams him into the wall. With you gone, the ever-present pounding at Jaemin’s temples returns and his temper flares even more. Jeno groans, wincing as his head hits the concrete. “What the hell, Jaemin?”

“What the hell? What the hell is wrong with you?” His hand tightens around his collar. At that moment, when Jeno looks into his best friend’s eyes, all he sees is a profound emptiness. The Jaemin he knows is gone. Or was this Jaemin there the whole time? “Keep your eyes off of my girlfriend.”

“I don’t have my eyes on your girlfriend, you lunatic!” Jaemin’s knuckles press into Jeno’s collarbones. “You just introduced us!”

“I see you. I see the way you’re looking at her. Wanting to take her from me. Undressing her with your eyes. I thought I could trust you, but you’re like every other man. You’re-”

“You’re insane,” Jeno rasps, not fighting back for fear of hurting his friend. Even if he’s acting like this, he’s still Jaemin. Right? “What are you talking about? What happened to you? Jaem, I’m not trying to steal your girlfriend. You’ve known me for how long? You know I wouldn’t do that.”

Jaemin is practically shaking with rage, but Jeno’s words start to get to him. There’s clarity in his eyes for a moment, Jeno can see it. Right then, you open the door back into the room. You see Jaemin pinning Jeno to the wall and you frown, concern marring your beautiful face. Jaemin instantly relaxes. “Jaemin, what-”

He lets go of his friend and gives you a sweet smile. “It’s nothing.”

You glance at Jeno, who still looks shaken as he runs a hand through his hair and adjusts his shirt. “Jaemin-”

“We should go, right? The movie is in thirty minutes.” He reaches for your hand, taking it gently in his. When you keep looking at Jeno, who appears to be relatively untouched other than his slightly disheveled clothes and hair, your boyfriend’s eyes darken. You don’t see, but Jeno does. His blood cools, afraid of whatever is possessing his friend. The moment of clarity is gone. Jaemin’s face then morphs into a perfect mask that makes Jeno almost believe the encounter never happened. He tugs on your hand, getting your attention. “Come on, Y/N.”

“Alright…” You grab your bag, Jaemin’s hand never leaving yours. “It was nice finally meeting you, Jeno.”

“You… you, too.” The tone he’s using with you reminds you of an old memory, but you can’t quite place it. You let Jaemin pull you along and out the door. He starts up a new topic and you forget about the strange incident for a while. He’s always been too good at distracting you.

He’s in your dorm room that night, cuddling with you in your bed and holding you close with a hand on your hip and your head tucked in the crook of his neck. Mumbling into his chest, you reflect on your day. “It was really nice to finally meet Jeno.” He hums in response, hoping that’s all you’ll say about the topic. You continue. “Hm, I never got his Kakao. I-”

“Why do you need his Kakao?”

The way he interrupts you is uncharacteristic of him, so you shift in his arms, trying to look at him better. “What do you mean? He was fun to talk to. I could bug him and ask him questions about you.”

He relaxes at that. You’re too perfect - the definition of a loving, devoted girlfriend. The least he can do is give you that same devotion back by keeping you away from other temptations. Away from even Jeno, who he can’t trust anymore. Not after today. He sighs, his thumb running over your hip soothingly. “He’s garbage at responding to messages. You wouldn’t want to text him, anyways.”

“Mm, okay, whatever.” When you make a noise of contentment and lie back down in the same position as before, he knows everything is fine once again.

Jaemin lets himself get carried away far too often. He knows he does. But the way you make him feel - lighter than air, higher than the stars - is what causes it. He wouldn’t give that up for anything in the world. The sound of your clothing rustling and the little kisses you exchange with him in the library, in a secluded corner than hardly anyone goes to, sound so loud in the small space, but the feeling of being with each other is sweet enough for both of you to drop your guard for a little too long.

“Jaemin,” you half-whisper, half-giggle, “stop.”

His hand slides up your thigh slightly higher, the tickling sensation turning into something more warm and anticipatory. “Do you really want me to?”

You hide your mouth with your hand and mumble into it, your face growing hotter by the second. “Someone will see.”

“No one will see. Y/N…” His hand barely slips under the edge of your short skirt before you hear laughter from down the row of bookshelves. You and Jaemin both freeze, looking to the source. Three guys, one you recognize from one of your classes, are standing at the end of a nearby bookshelf. You had been so busy with Jaemin that you hadn’t noticed them approaching.

“Getting busy in the library, are we? Mind if we join?” You don’t catch the tightening of Jaemin’s jaw and the near murderous glint in his eyes. All you feel is your face heating up and embarrassment as you lift your boyfriend’s hand away from your thigh. After it leaves your skin, his hand curls into a fist.

“Yeah, we mind. Get lost.” Jaemin’s face displays irritation and a hint of a threat, but the guys just laugh.

“You’re telling us to get lost? We were just admiring you feeling up your pretty girl in the library.” A second guy speaks, his eyes raking over you, making you feel exposed.

Jaemin stands up suddenly, the chair squeaking backwards at the sudden movement and startling you. “You guys wanna die?”

“Jaemin, come on…” You reach up to grab his hand, tugging on it.

“What? I’m just complimenting your girl.”

“Bastard, keep your filthy eyes off of her or I’ll-”

“Jaemin,” you whisper, pleading with your eyes, “please.”

When he meets eyes with you, the tension in his shoulders loosens a bit and he sighs. “Fine. Let’s go.”

You laugh about the embarrassing incident with him later that night. A few hours later, his body count triples. The police report the accident as a drunken run-in with a group from the bad side of town. Jaemin watches you frown in concern when you see the news. The baseball bat he had used is shoved in a garbage bag under his bed.

The second year of university, he asks you if you want to move in with him. He had planted the seed of the idea in your head months before so that, when he finally asks, you eagerly say yes. You know your relationship with him is serious, more serious than the relationships any of your friends have, but you’re more than happy to take that step with him. Your parents love Jaemin, so you have no problem convincing them. In fact, as you move in, you have no problems at all. On the first day, you spend your time taking things out of boxes and dancing around the small apartment with your boyfriend, who takes every opportunity he can to pull you into hugs or plant kisses all over your face. Sunlight streams in through the windows that you have yet to put curtains on. After a break in the middle of the day to, well, break in the bed that the two of you will share, you finish setting up and step back, observing your new living space. Jaemin turns on some music, pulls you closer, and the two of you sway back and forth.

He can’t describe living with you as anything other than bliss. Where he can see you and hear you and feel you at so many hours of the day. Except, somehow, his head hurts even more when you’re gone. You… you’re the addiction he could never get rid of. He needs you. When you’re sad, he’s sad, when you’re happy, he’s happy.

You, on the other hand, walk a little faster past dark alleys, look around more than your friends do. It’s that feeling of eyes, still present whenever Jaemin is gone. You just want that feeling to go away.

When he comes home to the sound of you crying one night about a month into the semester, an unsettling feeling instinctually warps his emotions. His body instantly runs hot and cold and he sprints to where you are, seeing you curled up on your shared bed, sobs racking your body. “Y/N, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He tries to stay focused, but an all-consuming rage starts to fill him. Whoever made you cry is going to regret being born. He’ll punish them himself. You shake your head, continuing to sob, and he slowly unwraps your hands from around yourself, moving them until you’re clinging to him instead and he’s pulling you into his arms. “It’s okay, I’m here, it’s okay.” It takes you a few minutes more to calm down, your sobs slowly turning to sniffles and a few more silent tears. He strokes your hair, keeps your head cradled in the crook of his neck. “Tell me what happened, baby.”

You shake your head, mumbling out a response against his shirt. “It’s stupid…”

“You’re crying, it’s not stupid.” His voice is deadly serious, cold as stone, and you hug him tighter. He realizes how he sounds and softens his voice. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me…”

“Jaemin,” you say, your voice muffled, “you’re too good for me.”

His heart nearly stops. You’re in pain. You might leave him because you think he’s too good for you. You might leave him. “No,” he croaks out, his own emotions threatening to consume him, “I’m not. You’re the one who’s too good for me. Why would you ever think that?”

“This girl from my class… she said it and… it just got me thinking and… she’s right. You’re-”

Suddenly, Jaemin is kissing you. It’s not a new action, not in the slightest, but this kiss feels different somehow. He pulls away, leaving you breathless. “She’s wrong. Y/N, you’re perfect. You’re my entire world. If you think I’ll ever leave you,” you can’t leave me, “you’re wrong. You’re my sun, more precious than gold, and I’ll do anything for you. You’re my angel and without you, my world is dark. I would have nothing without you.” He finds his tongue loosened, spilling words that he wouldn’t normally admit, drunk on rage and desperation and the clawing fear that you’ll leave him. Don’t leave me don’t leave me don’t leave me. His hands tighten around you almost painfully. He kisses you again, a short press of his lips against yours, and lets out a shaky breath. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” You whisper against his lips, letting him kiss his love into you. With his words, your insecurity starts to melt away, leaving a different sort of nagging unease at the back of your mind. A bitter taste in the back of your throat that you can barely tell is there, but is sometimes strong enough that you can tell something is wrong and doesn’t go away even if you brush your teeth a thousand times. That sometimes comes and goes quickly as he starts to kiss you with a feverish need. You don’t know why, but something seems off about Jaemin.

A few hours later, he’s holding you, lying in bed with you. His hand cards through your hair, his eyes earnest and soft as he gazes at your now relaxed face. “Who was it? That said that to you.”

“Kim Yuna. From my biology class. You shouldn’t hate her, though. She’s probably just jealous that I have such a sweet, loving, handsome boyfriend.” He smiles at that, but his insides grow cold. Tomorrow night, maybe. That’s when he’ll punish her.

The next night, he slips a sleeping pill in your drink at dinner. A colorless, tasteless thing just so you won’t wake up when he leaves to do business that night. When you go to sleep, more drowsy than usual, Jaemin’s arm is around you, spooning you against his body, his own soft breaths landing on your exposed neck and his heartbeat not quite in sync with yours. You don’t feel as he untangles his body from yours after he’s sure your breathing has slowed enough for you to be asleep, you don’t see as he slips on a black hoodie, jeans, and gloves and steps outside, you don’t hear as Yuna screams when his blade sinks into her once for each tear she made you cry, you don’t realize what’s happening as he knocks out a homeless man that reeks of alcohol and presses the blade into his hand. All you know is the feeling of Jaemin wrapped around your body, embracing you loosely, the morning light coming through the curtains casting pretty shadows on his face, and the low, rumbly sound of his voice as he tells you “good morning” when the soft tracing of your fingertips on his cheekbones wakes him up.

On your third anniversary of being together, it seems like you and Jaemin have the same idea. You beat him to giving him his gift, presenting him with a gold colored ring, the outside carved with delicate vines and your anniversary date carved into the inside. You were afraid that it would be too much - you’re not even engaged yet, and you’re sure it’s a yet - but the way he hugs you and promises to wear it as much as he can validates your decision and you practically glow when you smile at him. Then, from the depths of one of his coat pockets where he was trying to keep it hidden from you, he pulls out a little box. Inside of the box is a beautiful, simple gold necklace. It has a tiny heart charm on it that, when you flip it over, has the hangul of Jaemin’s name carved into it.

“I always want to be close to your heart,” he says, a whispered confession in the space of your small apartment, “just like that.” After he secures the chain around your neck, you’re tugging him out the door, to the nearby ice cream shop that has replaced the one you used to go to back home and that both of you have grown to love.

It’s late by the time you get back and both of you have class tomorrow. You’re no longer shy about being naked in front of him, so, as you’re getting ready for bed, you don’t even ask him to leave the room. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches you change clothes, a smirk of satisfaction coming to his face. You’re his. The satisfying feeling that comes with you wearing the necklace with his name on it is the same contentment that comes with eating a good meal or waking up from a nice nap. He feels complete, whole, because you’ll always have a piece of him with you.

At least, it’s enough for a moment. Like with eating or sleeping, the feeling eventually fades and he’s left empty once again. He doesn’t even pretend he’s not watching you anymore. His eyebrows draw together, furrowing under the confusion he feels as he watches you reach behind your neck, attempting to unclasp the necklace. “What are you doing?”

“Hm? I’m getting ready for bed. What’s wrong?” You stop moving for a moment, giving him a look. There’s an expression on his face that you don’t recognize. His eyes are on your neck.

“You should keep it on.” He has enough control of himself that he can make it sound like a suggestion instead of the command he truly means it to be. There’s a crippling sort of fear inside of him at the thought of you taking off his gift. It’s not a feeling he can explain, but he’s certain something terrible will happen if you take it off. He doesn’t want you to take it off. You can’t take it off. The next word he lets out has a hint of his desperation leaking out. “Please.”

“Your necklace?” You muse, tracing the chain with your finger. “Jaem, I love you, but I’m trying to get ready for bed. I have to take it off.” You reach back again and he strides over to you quickly, his hands sealing over yours. His grip, normally warm and comforting, feels tight, choking now, his knuckles just barely pressing into your neck where his hands wrap around yours.

“Keep it on.” He insists again and you blink at him slowly. What’s wrong with him?

“Jaemin, I have to take it off. I don’t want to choke in my sleep,” you say, resisting the push of his hand against yours. His eyes are desperate, the chain on your neck straining slightly under the combined force of both of your hands as he fights against you.

“No. Don’t take it off.” The grip of his hands on yours suddenly becomes harsher, stronger, and you whimper, feeling the gold press marks into your skin.

“Jaemin, let go, that hurts!” Your back to your vanity, you can’t move away any further. When you look into his eyes, your stomach drops in fear. You had never seen him look this scary before, but at this moment, he is murderous, terrifying. This isn’t the sweet boy you had fallen in love with. Something is very, very wrong.

“Promise you won’t take it off. Promise!” The way he phrases it sounds almost childish, but you know there’s a threat behind the words. What would he do to you if you disobeyed him?

“Okay,” you say, voice barely a whisper, “I won’t take it off.”

His hand shakes as he unlatches it from the chain and cups your cheek. He’s normally warm, but not now. Now, he’s ice cold. “Promise me.” His eyes are full of passion, but somehow dull at the same time, as if he lost a part of himself and is trying to fill it in another way. He’s a void, empty and trying desperately to drag you in.

“I promise.” You force the words from your lips.

“Good girl,” he coos, and a lump catches in your throat as he reaches up to stroke your hair. You’re afraid of what you just agreed to. You don’t have the strength or will to pull away as he slowly presses his lips to yours. His lips, which had once been familiar, feel foreign now. His eyes still have that dullness to them when he pulls away. You used to think he had all the stars in the universe in his eyes, but now something has drawn all the light out of them. “I love you,” he says, those eyes burning deep into your own, sucking you in.

“I-” You don’t know anymore. “I love you, too, Jaemin.”

“You’re mine,” he says, pecking you on the lips again. “You’ll never leave me, right?” You shake your head, like you’re in a trance. “We’ll be together forever.”

“Forever.” You echo, your voice ringing hollow.

“Don’t be scared,” he murmurs, fingers grazing your cheek before they fall to take your hand, “let’s go to bed.” You let him lead you to the bed, let him tuck you in next to him, let him pull you into his arms, let him whisper goodnight to you like he usually does. There’s something so off-puttingly normal about the way he moves now that has you unmoving in his arms, tense and unable to relax. His arms around are usually so comforting, but now… now, they feel like bars of a cell. Shackles. What happened to him?

Sometime, somehow, you slip into a fitful sleep.

He can’t sleep. Not until he feels you relax in his arms, finally drifting off. The room is too dark for him to see more than just the faint outline of your features, but he stares, eyes wide open now that you’ve drifted off. Slowly, carefully, as to not disturb you, he untangles his limbs from yours. He just wants to see.

Slowly, he makes his way to the window, opening the curtains quietly. Cool moonlight bleeds through the glass, casting long shadows around him and falling on your figure. The gold chain on your neck still glitters, even with just that little bit of light reflecting off of it. From his view at the window, he swears he can still read his name engraved on the necklace and he can’t help but smile at the thought that you would be his forever.

The way you look, comfortably asleep in his bed, face and body completely relaxed and at ease, stills the pounding of his head for just a moment. It’s only gotten worse recently. The only time it doesn’t hurt is when he’s with you, when he can see you and feel you and touch you. You’re both his poison and his antidote. There is no cure. Not that he would want one - he only wants you. It feels like it’s only ever been you.

He wasn’t always like this, but, now, it’s hard to remember a time when he didn’t need you as much as he needs air. It wasn’t until he met you that he realized how dangerous the world is, how greedy the eyes of men are. You’re a flower that he needs to protect from anything that could harm or sully you. He will take care of you, even if it means putting you in a glass case and killing anyone who gets near.

That’s right - you would look prettiest if you stayed in this room forever, he’s sure. But you wouldn’t have that. That’s okay. If everyone else is part of the outside world, he would be the glass protecting you.

What good is a bird if it’s not in a cage?

Satisfied at the glimmer of gold around your neck, he draws the curtains shut once again and returns to your side.

You wake up before Jaemin does. The morning light dances over his face, making him look as pretty and innocent as ever. What happened to him last night? Your mind flashes back to the cold, empty look he had in his eyes, and all you can do is shut your eyes and turn away, facing the opposite direction from him. One of his arms is slung over your abdomen, but it feels like it’s burning into your skin. It’s early enough that your alarm hasn’t rung yet, but you know it will soon. You’ll have to go about your day like everything is fine and normal. That thought has your stomach turning. Just as you’re about to get up and out of bed, your morning alarm goes off. Jaemin groans and his eyes flicker open as he turns slightly, pressing the button to turn off the beeping. He shifts so that both of his arms are around you, pulling you against his body.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he says in that gravelly morning voice of his between the moist kisses he plants on your neck. When you stiffen in his touch, he frowns, pulling away slightly. “What’s wrong?”

You muster up the courage to speak to him. “Jaemin, we have to talk about last night. What happened to you?”

He appears confused when you say that, which confuses you in turn. “What are you talking about? After we got back from getting ice cream, you were so tired that you went straight to bed. You barely even said goodnight before you were out.” Your eyebrows furrow. It felt so real. “Did you have a bad dream?”

“I…” Was that all it was? A really vivid dream? Now that you think about it, that makes sense - your Jaemin wouldn’t do something like that in reality. Lying in bed with you, he’s the Jaemin you’ve always known: his eyes soft and warm, his voice low and sweet, his arms gentle around you. “I guess so. Sorry, Jaem.”

His hand shifts under the covers so that it ghosts over your upper thigh. He looks at you with those pleading puppy eyes, his tongue not-so-subtly darting out to wet his lips. “I could make you feel better, if you want.”

You swallow hard, body already anticipating him. His distracting abilities are phenomenal and you really need that from him right now. You know his diversion would get rid of that last little bit of doubt in your mind and you always give yourself enough time before class to be ‘distracted’ by him, after all. Your golden necklace shines in the little bit of sunlight coming through the curtains as you move to get closer to him. “Shower first?”

“I prefer breakfast first.”

When you’re finally properly getting ready about thirty minutes later, you glance down after washing your face. On the palm of your hand is a trail of bruises shaped like the chains of your new necklace.

He made a mistake. That much he knows. The way you pull away from his touch, the lingering fear in your eyes, they hurt him more than anything. But, you kept the necklace on. Maybe he feels guilty, or like he’s slipping up. Maybe that’s why he agrees to go to your friend’s party with you a few weeks later. Prior to then, he always distracted you with dates and sex and anything else he could to keep you from going out to things like that but, now, maybe it’ll be okay. That’s what he convinces himself of for a few days.

Now, seeing you in the tight black dress that you had gotten for the occasion, anxiety about the event creeps up on him. His eyes rake over your figure and all he can think about is the attention you’ll get from other men, the lustful stares, the wandering hands. You can’t go out like that. That thought finally prompts him to speak. “Y/N, you shouldn’t wear that.”

“Why not? I think it looks good on me.” You twirl, as if your dress isn’t so tight that it’s incapable of flaring out. You try to be playful with him, hoping that what he said was a joke. When you came out, all dolled up for the party, you had expected a ‘wow’ or ‘isn’t my girlfriend so sexy?’ Anything but what had actually come out of his mouth.

“That’s not the point.” He grits his teeth, doubling down. Though the way the piece of fabric hugs your every curve is a welcome sight to him, his possessive side wins out - like it always does. After that slip-up with the necklace, he knows he should be trying harder to repress it so that you don’t notice, but he can’t help it. Not then, not now.

You stop moving, staring at him with a quirked eyebrow and a hand on your hip. He’s really serious? “The point of a party is to have fun and look good, is it not? Come on, Jaem. If you’re allowed to look good, so am I.”

“You look good in everything, “ he says, pushing his tongue to the inside of his cheek in frustration as he eyes you up and down once more, “you just shouldn’t wear… that.”

You press your lips together in a tight line. Your next words are a dare you hope he doesn’t take you up on. “And what do you mean by that, Na Jaemin?”

He grits his teeth again. You’re really not getting the message? “I don’t want you going out looking like a whore.”

Your eyes widen and he immediately knows he’s made another mistake. Before he can even attempt to apologize, you’re throwing on the black heels you bought to match your dress and hissing out a response. “Well, you can just stay home while your girlfriend of three years acts like a “whore” with her friends, then.” You raise your fingers to make air quotes around the offending word. The golden necklace with his name on it glimmers around your neck as you turn, grab your bag, and storm out the door.

Instantly, his head starts pounding and it feels like his heart has been filled with molten lava. “Fuck,” he hisses between gritted teeth, “fuck.” By the time he catches his breath and has the thought that he should catch you, apologize, do anything to stop you from going out, he knows you’re long gone, in your friend’s car who was coming to pick you up. He can’t make you come back. But, he can…

The jeans, loose button up, and baseball cap are a good enough disguise. You gave him the name of the club that party is at a few days ago, so it’s easy enough for him to make his way there and slip inside through a back door. Sit in a booth near you with a little divider that blocks his face unless you’re purposefully looking through it but doesn’t block the sound of your voice. Spare a glance at you before he sits down, where you’re so beautiful that you glow even under the dim lights of the club. At times, your voice is low enough that he can’t hear it over the throbbing bass filling the venue, but he hears enough. He can tell that when your friends ask what’s wrong, you’re trying to perk up and act like everything is okay, but it’s not. He upset you. But he can deal with that later. Right now, what matters is that you’re safe.

He hears as your friends get up to dance, but you say you want to finish your drink first and you’ll join them soon. The thought of you dancing with a stranger makes him swallow hard and clench his fists, the skin over his knuckles turning bone white, but he doesn’t have enough time to be angry about that before someone, recently emerging from the dance floor, sidles up to you. From his stagger and how his voice is far too loud, even for the club, Jaemin can tell he’s drunk. Whether he knows it or not, this man is choosing his fate by what he says next.

“Baby,” he drawls, making Jaemin want to gag and punch him at the same time, “why don’t you come dance? Give me some company.”

“I have all the company I want here,” you say back, your voice louder than normal but still more even and quiet than the stranger’s. You idly swirl the remainder of your fruity drink in its glass with sluggish circles of your wrist.

“Come on, have some fun. Have some fun now and we can have some fun later.” Jaemin’s breathing starts to come out unevenly, the edges of his vision turning red.

“I have a boyfriend. Please, leave me alone.” That makes the red go away for a moment and a swell of pride take its place. His beautiful, loyal girlfriend. That feeling goes away as the stranger speaks again.

“Bitches get boyfriends and start pretending they’re too good to have a little fun? Your dress screams that you’re begging for some dick. I could fuck you better than any-” With each word that comes out of that vile pig’s mouth, Jaemin’s nails press tighter into the skin of his palm, nearly drawing blood.

“I don’t appreciate you talking to my friend like that!”

He lets his shoulders sag as your friends approach from the dance floor, driving off the stranger. He leaves with a few more curses while Jaemin makes careful note of his face. His eyes lock on the table as he thinks about everything he could do to him for daring to even look at you. For a moment, it’s almost like he can already taste the blood. Then, just before he’s about to get up and tail the guy, he hears your soft sniffling and the consoling words of your friends.

“Y/N, it’s okay, he’s gone now! We can enjoy the rest of the night.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, quietly enough that he has to strain his ears, “I just started off the night really bad. Jaemin was supposed to come with me and I just totally stormed off without him and…” He can tell from your babbling that the alcohol is getting to you. “I want to go home. Knowing Jaemin, he’s probably beating himself up over this right now and I just don’t think I’m in the mood to be out right now. Sorry for ruining your party, Gowon.”

“It’s okay! You didn’t ruin anything. Go get your boy.” She cheers you on, much to Jaemin’s delight. You’ve always been soft-hearted enough that even when he said something unforgivable to you, you still want to go home to him. You’re wrapped around his finger even tighter than he thought you were. He can smile at that.

As you’re on your phone, arranging a pick up, he slips back out. No matter how much he wants to follow that guy, to punish him for what he said to you, it’s more important that he meet you now. When he gets back, he does his best to change, throwing the clothes that now stink of the club into his laundry basket, changing into something more casual, and spraying on an extra coat of the cologne he was already wearing, your favorite scent on him, just to mask the smell more. He hopes it’s enough that your tipsy self won’t notice. Not a moment later, you’re clumsily unlocking the door and walking in, shutting the door heavily behind you. He rises to meet you, emerging from the bedroom to see you throwing your heels to the side.

When he sees the tears in your eyes, he approaches you with a quiet call of your name. “Y/N? What happened?”.

“Jaemin, I’m sorry for walking out on you like that,” you sniffle, peering up at him with teary eyes, “I know you just care about me. You’re right, I shouldn’t have gone out wearing this. A guy tried to get me to go home with him and he told me he thought I wanted some dick because of my dress. I’m sorry.”

Another step forward, then closing the gap and working to dry the tears smearing your makeup. “No, baby, I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have called you that. If I went to the party with you, that guy wouldn’t have even dared to approach. I know I hurt you, I’m sorry.” He pecks you on the lips several times and you wrap your arms around him in return, pulling him in for a deeper kiss. He hadn’t been drinking, but the sweetness of your lips drives him wild, making him feel dizzy and drunk. He mumbles against your lips. “Let me make it up to you.”

Later, when your body is still under the sheets, the gold chain still comfortably resting around your neck and your makeup sloppily wiped off in the few minutes you managed to stay awake after he was finished ‘making it up to you,’ he lies awake, watching your quiet breathing like he always does in times like these. If he stops looking at your face, he’s afraid the regret of not following the man who had harassed you would consume him, make his headache rise again, make him drag himself out of bed to go track him down, no matter how difficult of a task it is. Even when he pulls you closer and tries to sleep, all he can think about is him. His last thought before he drifts off himself is that he’ll find him. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but soon.

Jaemin isn’t sure whether to call it lucky or unlucky when he’s out on a picnic date with you, enjoying the setting sun in the park, and he sees the guy from the club. The man doesn’t seem to recognize the growing anger on his face, instead sauntering over to you and allowing Jaemin time to compose himself slightly.

“I’m sure you remember me from the club the other day, sweetheart.” Jaemin’s jaw clenches. How dare he speak to you? How dare he?

Your eyes also narrow, irritation clear on your face. “I thought I asked you to leave me alone.”

“And miss the chance to look at your pretty face?” His gaze then shifts over and he eyes Jaemin. “So, this is the cuck who lets his girlfriend go out dressed like a slut?”

“You’re the asshole who tries to hit on other guys’ girlfriends?” Jaemin fires back.

“Yeah, and I could’ve been successful if her friends hadn’t interfered.”

“You think you could piece of shit like you could ever get a girl like mine?”

“I could get a common whore like her any day.”

That comment is what has him leaping out of his seat and grabbing the man’s collar. His fist connects with the man’s face once, twice, three times, and he’s on the ground, kneeling over him and slamming his fists into whatever he can hit - eyes, nose, jaw - over and over again. He’s no match for your boyfriend and, for a moment, all you can do is watch. Watch as Jaemin effortlessly holds down this man and hits him, blood covering his fist from where the other man’s nose is now clearly broken. Luckily, the area is pretty abandoned, so no one is there to witness the incident, but you’re still yelling, grabbing onto Jaemin’s shoulders and shrieking at him to get off of the man. Jaemin’s fists slow and you pull him off the other guy, who crawls backwards, spitting blood.

“What the hell is wrong with you, kid?!” His face is all shades of red and purple, blood smearing across his nose and mouth when he wipes at it. “You’re fucking insane!”

“Yeah?” Jaemin says, his voice eerily even. He’s not even breathing hard. It’s like all he had done was stand up. Subconsciously, your nails dig into his arm and you can feel his quickened heart rate.“Maybe I am.”

“You fucked with the wrong guy, kid. You’ll regret this, you’ll really regret this.” The man’s voice shakes - he clearly is having the same realizations about Jaemin that you are. Still, he spits out threats as he shakily rises to his feet and stumbles away.

He disappears from view, but Jaemin’s eyes continue to blankly stare in that direction. All you can do is look at him. Never, not once, have you seen him physically hurt anyone. He never gets into fights, never hits people, never even looks at anyone the wrong way. But that - whatever just happened - was so easy for him. What happened to him?

You find that’s not the first time you’re asking yourself that question.

He seems to snap out of his thoughts a moment later, turning to see you staring at him, a wide-eyed, scared expression on your face. “Let’s go home,” is all he says before he’s stiffly packing up the things you had brought with you. When he extends his hand for you to take, you grab onto it out of habit and see some of the warmth return to his eyes. He’s smiling at you gently, tugging you along the path back home. “Are you okay?”

“Are you?” After you nod, your words come out as more of a murmur, as if you’re afraid to ask him. Because you’re afraid to ask him.

“Yeah,” he says, chuckling a beat later, “my fists hurt, though.”

“Why did you do that?”

He looks away from you, focusing on the sidewalk ahead of him. “I just lost it for a second because of what he said to you. He… he had no right.” His thumb runs over your knuckles, a motion that would normally be soothing. Now, you’re not sure how to feel.

“Jaemin, where did you learn to fight?” How did he learn to do it so well?

“I did taekwondo for a while as a kid, then Jeno and I took some kickboxing classes together in high school.” At that, you relax. It’s a perfectly reasonable explanation. It makes sense, more sense than anything else in the last few minutes has. You cling to that answer, forcing down the rising concern in your mind, shoving that feeling into a dark corner of your thoughts and hoping you never have to see it again.

You just want things to be okay. Maybe that’s ignorant and selfish, but you don’t want to think about Jaemin any differently than you did not even an hour ago. You don’t know what you would do if things weren’t okay.

When you get home, he lets you clean up his knuckles and wrap them in bandages. They had split and started bleeding a bit when he was punching the other man, though you try not to dwell on that. The man got up and walked away and, though he didn’t look too pretty, he’ll live.

Why are you afraid that he might not?

Shaking the thought off, you raise his hands up, pressing a kiss to the bandages on each of his hands. When you look up at him, he’s gazing down at you, his eyes soft and warm. That’s the Jaemin you know, you tell yourself. “No more fighting, okay?” You whisper, keeping eye contact with him.

He leans forward, quickly capturing your lips in a kiss. Something about the kiss reminds you of the first time he had kissed you in the hallway three years ago, where the only thoughts you had about him were honey sweet and full of wonder. “As you wish,” he mumbles against your lips before going back in to kiss you again.

When you’re sleeping later that night, his arms are around you as usual. Once again, his thoughts are consumed with that man. He’s not scared of him. No, why would he be? He’s scared for you. As long as that piece of filth lives, he can come after you. He can keep hurting you so long as he still draws breath. He had already drawn his blood - he just needs to go a little further next time. Keep hitting him until the light leaves his eyes. He can try to understand what he did wrong in his grave. Taking a shaky breath, Jaemin tries to ignore the phantom taste of blood in his mouth, the feeling of the hot, irony liquid coating his hands that isn’t there, not yet. I need to kill him.

“Doll, do you want to go out tonight? I want to make up for ruining Gowon’s party for you.”

It’s a few days later, the next weekend, when he speaks up. You look from your laptop, where you had been idly checking emails and doing a little bit of schoolwork. “The club? You didn’t ruin anything, Jaems.”

He rolls over so that he’s next to you in the bed, his arms circling around your waist. “I know I did, Y/N. You don’t have to deny it.”

Your hand idly goes to his hair, threading through the silken strands. “I would be okay with doing some drinking and dancing with you. But only if you want to!” You recognize that his offer is somewhat strange, not something he would usually bring up himself, but you imagine it would be fun to go to the club with him.

“Wear something pretty tonight,” he says, winking at you slyly before he rolls away, getting off of the bed. “I’m gonna go shower.”

This time, you don’t pull out that same tight black stress, opting for something a little less showy, something you’re sure your boyfriend will be happy with. Your heels are a little more modest, your makeup a little more simple. When it’s late enough and you’re both ready, you do a little twirl for Jaemin, who whistles in appreciation. “My pretty girlfriend,” he says, reaching for your hand so he can spin you, “are you ready?” You nod.

He knows he is.

It’s a different experience, arriving through the front and not the back, but he welcomes it. All it takes is a single sweep over the club for him to find the man from before, his face still swollen with bruises and some sort of strong alcohol in his hand. Good.

You greet the three friends who you invited out as well. Jaemin had told you to get others to come, that it would be more fun. You sip on a fruit drink, one with less alcohol than last time, and his hand rests idly on your thigh, his fingertips playing with the lace edge of your dress. He smiles at your giggling comments, feigns listening to your friends as they talk, makes all the right moves. Finally, the man from before stumbles out the back door, alone. Jaemin excuses himself from your group, saying something about the bathroom.

The man is outside smoking when Jaemin catches up to him. “Hey,” Jaemin says, catching his attention, “I wanted to talk to you.”

It takes a moment for the man to recognize him. When he finally does, he throws his cigarette down, clumsily putting it out with his boot. “You… I told you that you’d regret what you did. C’mere.”

“Let’s talk somewhere more private, yeah?” The man scowls before following him. They enter a side alley, somewhere quieter, away from all prying eyes.

“Don’t want anyone to see you get the life beaten out of you, kid?” The man drawls, stumbling slightly in his drunkenness. He raises his fists. “Hope you said goodbye to your girlfriend.”

He throws the first punch. Sloppy as expected, easy enough to sidestep. Jaemin’s leg sweeps out, knocking one of his feet out from under him. He falls to the ground, smashing his head into the broken concrete of the dilapidated alley. Not one to give up, the man gets up after a moment, attempting to hit him again. Another easy dodge and Jaemin is using the momentum to slam his palm into the man’s head, sending his head into the brick wall of the alley with a sickening crack. A spot of blood is barely visible on the bricks in the dark. He crouches down next to the man, who is breathing hard, trying to get up but unable to because of the spinning of his head. For a moment, Jaemin just watches him attempt to get up, slumping back down over and over again. He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t breath any harder. In fact, he hardly does anything at all. He just watches.

Slowly, he begins to speak. “Do you understand now?”

The man gurgles out something that resembles a curse and Jaemin reacts lightning fast, lifting the man’s head up before slamming it into the ground again. Another cracking sound, more blood.

“Do you? Do you know what you did?”

All that comes out is a groan this time. The bloody mess of a man reaches out and Jaemin’s shoe lands on his fingers, crushing them. The man barely has enough strength to cry out.

“No,” he says, putting more pressure on his fingers, “you don’t. And you never will.”

He lifts the man’s head and, with both hands, smashes it down again. And again. And again. A pool begins to form under his head. Jaemin’s hands are coated with blood now, he knows it. He can feel the liquid splattering onto the sleeves of his loose black dress shirt. He can’t stop. He doesn’t want to stop.

It’s all for you. Always for you.

Jaemin has been gone for too long. When you wonder aloud about his whereabouts, one of your friends mentions that they saw him go out the back door. Confused, you get up, saying you’re going to go check on him. Behind the club, there’s litter, scattered bottles of alcohol, and cigarette butts, one of which is still smoking slightly. You frown, making a quiet noise of disgust. People are really that careless? From farther away, you hear a cracking noise, like the sound of someone breaking open a watermelon on the first day of summer. Some sort of sick intuition has you following the source of the noise, leading you to the opening of a side alley.

It takes a moment for you to process what you’re seeing, but when it sinks in, your gasp gives you away. Jaemin’s head turns towards you fast, too fast, before he relaxes when he sees it’s you.

“Y/N,” he says, “you weren’t supposed to see this.” He speaks like he was just hiding Christmas presents and you had caught him, or like he was stealing a cookie from the cookie jar. Not… not this. The way he rises to his feet is stiff, like he had just woken up from years of sleeping.

It’s the same for you. You’re finally awake. Years of blindness, of willful ignorance. Now, you can finally see.

You can’t speak. There’s blood over everything and you know it isn’t his. “Baby,” he says, using that same sickly sweet tone of voice, “what’s wrong?”

Something about his question finally makes it so you can breathe again and your shallow, panicked breaths make the easy expression drop from his face. “Y/N…” He reaches out and you step back, so he stops, looking down at his hands with a dead, appraising expression. The attempt he makes at cleaning off the blood covering his hands just smears it further on his pristine skin and wipes some onto his pants. “Ah, sorry. I didn’t mean to get so messy.”

“Jae…” You can’t even bring yourself to finish his name. You want to run, but your legs won’t let you. You take a step back, but stumble, nearly falling down. He catches you and your skin crawls as you feel the blood on his hands transfer onto yours.

“Don’t be afraid,” he says, too calm, too cold, too detached, “he won’t hurt you anymore.”

What is he saying?

“I dont… I don’t understand… why…?” You can’t keep your eyes off of the body slumped in the alley.

“Stop looking at him.” Jaemin’s grip on you is crushing, even more so than the night he had prevented you from taking your necklace off. A night that now clicks back into your brain as you realize that this is the real him. He had lied to you about it being a dream. What else had he lied about? Whoever the man in front of you is, you don’t know him. This can’t be him. But it is. You can’t deny it anymore. You shut your eyes at the pain and he lets up. You slowly open your eyes to meet his. When you look at him, he raises a hand to cup your cheek. “I promised I would protect you. I love you, Y/N. More than anything in the world.”

“You killed him,” you breathe out, unable to look away from the void of Jaemin’s eyes now, “you killed him.”

“He deserved to die.” The words come out as a growl. It’s beyond Jaemin’s imagination how you can possibly be sympathizing with this man. “After what he said to you? What he wanted to do to you?”

“He’s still a person!” You shriek, trying to jerk away from him. His grip tightens.

“No man,” he says, “no one like him is a person to me.”

The image you have of your boyfriend, who you’ve been with for three years and known for four, morphs in your mind. Where he had once been so pure, a golden ray of sunlight that you wanted to dwell in forever, you realize now that the shadows he’s casting are darker and longer than any of the light he’s given you. You’ve been in denial for far too long. Jaemin is a monster.

With all of the strength you can muster, you fight against him. Trying to pull away, get away, run from this person that you no longer know, that you’re not sure you ever knew. You take a step away and his arms are around you, embracing you in a crushing motion that makes it feel like you can hardly breathe.

“Don’t run. You can’t run.” He says, pulling you more firmly against him, his grip impossibly strong, impossibly tight. Against your will, you start to sob.

The shackles he placed on you years ago were made of gold, but shackles nonetheless. Maybe some part of him really does love you. But, a larger part of him is sick. Too sick for you to fix and too sick for you to escape. It’s a familiar scene, you, wrapped in his arms, your tears sliding into his shirt. His arms are a prison and, all this time, you’ve never had any hope of escape at all.

“Shh,” he cooes, stroking a blood-covered hand over your hair and tucking your head against his chest, “it’s okay. Everything will be okay. I’ll keep you safe. From everyone.

“Forever.”

[keijikunn]

All Of Your Soul

Part of the @babythotshq mini collab!! You can check the other parts here!

Pairing: demon!Tsukishima Kei x gender neutral!reader Genre: angst, crack if you squint for like 2 seconds  Summary: Your superstitious grandmother always told you not to get involved with demons, but how could you not when Tsukishima Kei, the one you’ve summoned, was so alluring? Word count: ~3.4k

Author’s note: Happy Halloween!! I hope you enjoy this piece, and a massive shoutout to @hidden-otaku-stuff  @kaitycole  and of course @babythotshq who helped me out during the process of writing this fic! Love you all mwah mwah 💞

WARNINGS: mentions of blood, minor and major character death, yandere!tsukki, mentions of violence, mention of sex, swearing

Ever since you were a kid, your grandmother warned you about the evil creatures that cohabited the world you lived in. She was often called crazy because of it - after all, she was an old lady talking non-stop about demons. However, that topic amazed you rather than giving you chills down your spine. Your curiosity grew progressively as she told you the same thing over and over: “Don’t mess up with them, or else they’ll take your soul away”.

You always thought grandma told you those stories just to scare you off, to make sure you would stay in line. But the way you’d laugh it off at the age of 7 almost like daring the threat hinted your disbelief. 

"The entire hell can come get me, they won't be able to touch me!" you once told your grandmother, which earned you a scoff and a flick on your forehead. 

"Oh, Y/N" she cooed, almost in pity, patting your head. "You will regret it when you're older," 

And once again, you laughed at her. 

It became part of your childhood, long forgotten as the years passed by and the concept of believing in demons appeared to be silly. Your memory permanently buried it in the depths of your mind after your dear grandmother passed away, leaving this world with her tales from underworld creatures.

A long time since she passed,, you remembered the spooky way the old woman would tell you different myths when you were packing your belongings to leave for college. The old box stuffed inside the attic filled with dusty and thick books lit a lamp in your head, concluding your grandma used to tell you those stories. 

Not only did she have short terrifying ones, your grandma seemed to be way more superstitious than just believing in simple tales. Some of them had different symbols, with many side notes written - assumably - by your late relative. The barely readable handwritten overlapped one another, all information mixing into a big mess that you could hardly understand. 

“Granny was really into it, huh?” 

It wouldn’t hurt reading them - after all, it would be for the sake of your childhood. 

And just like you found yourself drawing strange patterns inside a circle on the floor of your bedroom with chalk, it hardly appeared but you didn’t mind. It’s just some made up stories, you thought, proceeding to let an airy laugh just thinking about your grandmother tossing and turning in her coffin. Your disbelief in these surely came from your young age. After that, all you needed to do was a single drop of your blood and say some weird phrases. 

“If it doesn’t work, it’s because of these freaking sentences,” you muttered, pricking your finger with a needle. As the red liquid fell on the center of the circle you drew, the difficult words slipped out of your lips.

A few minutes passed by after you finished the ritual and the bedroom was engulfed in silence. How you wished you could talk to your grandmother right now, just to rub it in her face that she was wrong - even though you had a mess to clean. Tossing the old book aside, you laughed at the situation you had put yourself in and undid a part of the draw. 

“You know, ever since you were a kid your sassy attitude got me on my nerves,” a second voice echoed, a male one. 

You have never turned your head so quickly in your life, looking for the person who just spoke to you. A tall, blonde guy stood on the other side of the circle; the black dress shirt had the first three buttons undone matching with the black slacks. He was handsome, and you wondered if it was your mind’s work to show you one of the hottest men you’ve ever seen (and imagined) in your life. “It’s rude to stare”

“I must be crazy,” you laughed, rubbing your eyes, when you opened them again, he was still there, with an annoyed look on his features. “Granny must be pranking me, there’s no fucking way I summoned-”

“A demon, actually you just did, haven’t you read the book, dumbass?” he hissed, rolling his eyes. The blonde man crouched to look at the poorly drawn summoning circle and scoffed. “I wonder how you managed to summon me, this shit is terrible, not to mention your Latin”

“Well, I’m sorry if it’s fucking hard to draw it, let alone speaking goddamn Latin!” This guy, this demon was pissing you out, and he had only been in your room for less than five minutes. “Okay, I guess you’re real, my grandma was right, go to hell”

“A lot of people have already told me this joke, and I have to remind every single human that it sucks,” he snapped angrily, before sighing in defeat and looking at you. “What do you want from me?”

“Me, nothing,” you chimed sarcastically. “I was serious when I told you to go to hell, demon.”

“Can you please not call me demon?!”

“So how should I call you? Rex?”

“Jesus, you’re so annoying-”

“I thought demons couldn’t say Jesus’ name, Rex”

“For fucks sake, it’s Tsukishima!” he said louder than he wanted, his voice vibrated inside your body sending chills down your spine. “You’re the worst human that has ever summoned me, and it was just for fun!” 

“Then stop complaining and return to hell, it’s not that hard!” you shot back, just as annoyed as him. A part of yourself, the superstitious one, the same one that had believed for a short while in your grandma, was screaming at yourself for picking up a fight with a demon, but your prideful one wouldn’t let that go easily. 

“I can’t just do it when you fucking used your blood while summoning me!” Tsukishima exclaimed, rolling his eyes. “Don’t you know how to read? It clearly says that blood rituals are strong, they tie your soul to me.”

“You’re telling me you, a demon, can't undo this shit?” you asked, at the sight of the male shaking his head sideways you groan frustrated. "What kind of shitty demons are you?"

"A demon that is way smarter than you, idiot." he mocked angrily.

"What am I going to do with such a pain in the ass?" The question didn't look for a proper answer from him, but either way he grunted in protest. "If I pray to whatever god, will you be repelled?"

"You're really the dumbest human I’ve ever met," Tsukishima stated as he rolled his eyes. "Of course not, what do you think I am? An ordinary demon from a shitty movie?"

"Well-"

"You know what? Don't answer it," he cut you, shaking his hand as if the gesture would shut you off. "Clean this mess, it's giving me chills seeing such a bad job." 

"Use your demon powers to clean it all!"

"I'm not a fucking fairy!"

Tsukishima was just a single demon, but his presence seemed to bring the whole hell to you. His witty and unnecessary comments easily threw you off the edge, and as if he noticed, which he probably did, the man made sure to say at least one provoking statement every single time he opened his mouth.

It wasn’t easy to get used with his presence, especially when Tsukishima made sure to remind you every minute you were awake that “it’s your fault”. 

Yet, the demon did not tell you how to break whatever bond you established with him. You came to the conclusion that his duty whenever he was summoned was to annoy people out. What a useless demon, you thought once, just to hear him screaming profanities and insults inside your head.

You have never imagined that this situation would drag for so long. Tsukishima was there on your first day at college, and he made sure to make you embarrass yourself in front of your class. He was also there to ruin your first date with a cute guy from one of your periods, Inuoka ended the night a bit paranoid about someone following him around.

“I think you told me you weren’t a fairy to do this kind of thing, Tsukki” you commented sarcastically, feeling the anger bubble inside your chest. 

“You heard it right, Y/N,” he answered, throwing himself at your not-so-comfortable sofa, stretching his legs over the coffee table in front of it. “That guy looked like a little boy scared of his own shadow!”

“Why did you do it?!” The question came out more desperate than you wanted it to be. Inuoka wasn’t the first man Tsukishima pulled a stunt on, and by the way your personal demon (as you address him) acts it’s not going to be the last. “He was so nice, he didn’t deserve this childish attitude of yours!”

“Well, he doesn’t have part of your soul like I do,” Tsukishima muttered quietly, but his eyes spoke volumes about his feelings. The possessiveness shone in his golden-brown orbs, a hint of jealous maybe, and you wondered once again if he had feelings like you.

“Tsukishima…” 

All words left your brain as the tall man walked over you, holding your face with his hand. He ran his thumb over your lips and squeezed your cheeks with his grip, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. “What are you-”

“You’re mine.” He spoke firmly, not giving a chance to say anything back. “I have a part of me in you and part of your soul is mine. You are mine”

Without a warning, Tsukishima leaned down to smash his lips against yours. His movements were harsh, but it didn’t take too long for you to give in into the heated kiss. Your head was empty, and all you could feel was his mouth on yours and a slender hand travelling inside your shirt. The lack of air in your system made you pull away from the contact, locking eyes with him with a clear question mark above your head. 

“What the hell was that, Tsukki?” The anger vanished, leaving behind confusion and a bit of… desire inside of you. 

“I’m just showing you who you belong to.” 

At that moment you couldn’t see all the red flags on that simple statement. The frustration of many failed dates piled up on your nerves to the point that you were not able to see the meaning behind those words. The mere thought of a man desiring you probably the same way as you did blinded you, and that made you snake your hands around Tsukishima’s neck and bring him down to another feverish kiss.

The rest of the night passed by like a blur, Tsukishima’s touch was hot on your skin - and you enjoyed it. The sane part of your brain didn’t have enough room to question your actions: what on Earth were you doing hooking up with a demon? Were you that desperate to be intimate with someone? As quickly as those thoughts invaded your mind, the man towering over you proceeded to take your focus to himself

You don’t know when you fell asleep, but once you woke up, feeling sore as fuck, you noticed Tsukki lying next to you. His eyes were closed, yet you knew for a fact he wasn’t in a deep slumber-  he didn't need sleep. Nevertheless, you took a few moments to appreciate the view, at the same time flashes of your previous activities together came to you just like a fever dream. 

“You don’t have a brain to think too much, dumbass,” he said without even looking at you, a sly smile graced his face nicely and you wondered if he was, at some point in his life, an actual angel. “Do you know who you belong to?”

“I’m not really sure,” you replied shamelessly. Tsukishima’s eyes opened to look straight at yours, arching his eyebrows at your daring tone. “All I remember is a very annoying demon being a bitch about a guy I was interested in”

Messing with Tsukishima became one of your favourite things, because his immediate response was to pin you on the next hard surface and engage in a messy kiss. Being with him was way different than any other relationship you've had, which weren't many since that demon was on your ass ever since you started college. 

Either way, you loved the push and pull between you two. The constant bickering would eventually turn into a heated make out session, and sometimes even more than that. You completely forgot that the man you were in a sort of relationship (if you could call it that way) was a supernatural creature; your mind chose to bury the important information of who Tsukishima really was: a demon.

His actions started to change after over a month or two since you fucked for the first time. Although the snarky and teasing comments were far from coming to an end, you found yourself curled next to him every night. Tsukishima would hold you before you sleep, even if he had to spend a few hours in the same position (which never lasted long, he learned in the hard way that you toss and turn a lot). 

You also changed around him, much to your surprise. You no longer found other men at college attractive; your Friday nights were spent on your couch with Tsukishima next to you, with a random movie on the TV while the two of you kiss. He was your getaway when things got too rough for you, with his hot touches and endless desire. 

Maybe it was the attention Tsukishima gave you, or perhaps that he has been with you for so long, but he managed to win your heart completely. Every time the blonde demon hissed “you’re mine”, how he always satiates your desires and even the awkward moments when he tries to cuddle you. Every little thing this man does pull the strings attached to your heart and mind. 

And you knew Tsukishima noticed your change of demeanor as well, how you got clingier as the months passed by, the soft tone on your voice and the lack of sarcastic responses to his mean comments. You were falling in love with him, and it was the most obvious thing Tsukki has ever witnessed during his whole life dealing with humans.

“I think I love you, Tsukki” you managed to say, your body trembled due to the intense pleasure the man above you just provided. His eyes were unreadable as he looked down at you, but you could dare to say there was a hint of fondness swimming in them. “I never thought it would be possible to fall in love with in all creatures, a demon”

“Yeah?” he caressed your cheek, tracing down to your neckline and pressing on the reddish marks on your skin. “And you were the almighty kid who didn’t believe in demons”

“A pretty annoying demon changed my mind, I have to add” the smile on your face was small, but held so much meaning. However, Tsukishima didn’t mirror your feelings, displaying a rather sadistic one instead. “And you, have you changed your mind about humans?”

“Who knows?” Tsukishima asked rhetorically, letting his body fall next to yours on the bed. "You're the most… interesting human I've met." 

You laughed at his comment, pressing your face against his side in a loving manner. The fact that Tsukishima stood still instead of responding to the display of affection went unnoticed by you; he was being himself, you tried to justify his stiffness. 

Your relationship with him was just like that: you being overly affectionate and Tsukishima… being himself, the hard to approach demon with beautiful looks and with a magnetic aura. You fell easily for him, like getting used to a new daily routine. In a matter of time you found yourself being more vocal about your quick paced heart, the butterflies flying inside your stomach and even the high pitched tone of your voice whenever you couldn't retort one of his comments. 

The man, on the other hand, didn’t follow this demeanor - in fact, Tsukishima started to act the opposite way. He would avoid your touches like the plague, leaving your apartment late at night and returning near the afternoon with purple marks on his neck and collarbones. Something inside you, jealousy, lit up like setting something on fire: wild, uncontrolled and destructive. Once it starts burning, it won’t stop easily. 

“Can’t you stop fucking other people around?!” You screamed at him, not caring if the clock on the wall just hit three in the morning. “Am I not enough for you?”

“Stop making a case out of it, Y/N” Tsukishima rolled his eyes trying to pass through you, only to be blocked by your body. “Jesus, why are you being so jealous?! We have nothing between us”

“I am fucking in love with you, dumbass!” Your high pitched voice was followed by a dead silence. Tsukishima stared at you blankly while you took deep breaths in order to calm yourself, but the adrenaline of your confession didn’t help you stay quiet. “I’ve been head over heels for you for the longest time and you proceeded to hook up with other people every night… Am I that easy for you? I love you with all my heart, a part of my soul is yours- why can’t you do the same?”

All you could hear at first was your erratic breathing pattern, then the room was filled with his laugh. He was laughing as if someone had just told him the funniest joke he ever heard, the way his torso bent forward to accompany sick amusement creeped you out. Tsukishima pretended to wipe a tear and smiled at you. 

“Oh, Y/N… You’re definitely something else, huh?” He said rhetorically, stretching his arm so his hand could cup your face. You stood still, suddenly unsure about his actions and words. Tsukishima has never used such a cold and psychotic tone with you, let alone that sadistic smirk hiding so many feelings. “So you finally accepted that you’re mine, right?”

“H-How can I be yours if you don’t give yourself to me, as well?” Never in your life have you felt so terrified, something in Tsukishima’s demeanor screamed that he wasn’t joking around. He was about to do something bad, and it would be against you. “Isn’t my love enough for you?”

“Well, to be honest? It’s almost enough” he agreed, his index finger traced down your cheeks, following down your neck until it pointed directly to the left side of your chest, above your beating heart. “So, shall I claim what is mine?”

The time seemed to be slowed down, your heartbeats were loud in your ears and your limbs were numb - you couldn’t move them at all. Regardless, it would be impossible for you, a mere human, to stop Tsukishima from slamming his hand against your chest. You didn’t feel physical pain, but the sensation of something, someone wrapping slender fingers around your inner self made you scream. 

“Tsukishima, w-what are you doing?” Your trembling voice made him laugh, the same hand he used to hit you fully on display for you to see him close it. The immediate reaction of you was a shriek, as if the demon was squeezing your insides. “What the fuck, Tsukki?”

 “Why are you so surprised?” Tsukishima asked with fake innocence, wiping the tears you didn’t know you shed. “You just told me you loved me with all your heart, that a part of your soul is mine… So I’m claiming my belongings, after all, this is the kind of demon I am: whenever a stupid little human like you summons me with blood, they sell their souls to me. It’s a matter of time for me to get it”

“I… I trusted you, Tsukki…” Your sobs interrupted your own speech. All the intimate moments you two have spent together were pure acting, meaningless, just to make you give your everything spontaneously to him. 

Your grandmother was right. You regretted every single interaction you had with Tsukishima, the demon you summoned before entering college. 

“Well, it’s your own fault.” With that, Tsukishima harshly pulled his hand backwards, leaving behind only an empty body with no soul. 

TAGLIST

crossed users are the ones i couldn’t tag!

@jovialnoise @paripedia @angmarwitch @shinhiromi @mariachiiii @elianetsantana @moonlightaangel @vicassa @boosyboo9206 @shrimpypenis @sunshine-hina @kozupresh @humanitysbiggestsimp @atsumubabe​ @sachirou-senpai

[slashingdisneypasta]

Michael Myers x Reader || Oneshot

Title: I’m Weak

Notes:

Could be considered the second, much later part to the smut oneshot I wrote but only if you want it to be.

Based off this quote, which has bene used in the Oneshot: ‘You’re scared of the way I make you feel because you don’t want to feel anything.’ by Maya Banks.

I dunno where all this inspiration for Michael is coming from. 

I love how acclimatised to all of Michaels insanity reader is

Plot: 

Dating, or whatever the relationship can be classified as, the infamous Shape reaches its horrendous peak. You’re frustrated and if he doesn’t help you out here, then not even the truest, biggest love in the world can stop you from leaving- because if he isn’t really there, it isn’t worth it. 

Warnings: Slightly Yandere themes, I guess? I mean, if this were a Hetalia Oneshot I would say severely yandere themes but this is already a horror character so. Yandere, I GUESS??

~~~

“You’re scared of the way I make you feel because you don’t wanna feel anything.” I say, not like it’s a revelation or because it needs to be said. But because it makes me feel better. Because I’m spiteful, because I’m allowed to be. Because it makes Michael breath- you can see his chest rise and fall as soon as it sinks in, and it is a glorious feeling to know that I’ve made his unfaltering, never ending emotionless composure stutter. “And I don’t understand it, but I know that engulfs you.” I take in a breath, stepping back. Every word that gets past my teeth and bashes off my lips is steely and cold, wholehearted. “And I know you’re failing.”

He doesn’t move apart from the breathing, but he will. He’s feeling more then he has since- probably since he was a kid. And I’m feeling more then I want, then I ever thought possible because by some twisted miracle I love him and I’m gearing up to leave him. And he’s aware.

“Well guess what, you can’t go through life that way, Michael, you’re human. You have to feel, it’s like breathing. And sometimes you have to feel your guts get ripped out but that means you care, and that can feel really, really great.” Its worth every tear. “Now, I care about you like that. But all I get from you is the pain and that’s just not good enough, I’m sorry.”

And I am sorry. Not for him, but for me. Because I know if he lets me go and I get out like I want to right now it is going to h u r t. But I’m not going to kid myself into thinking that it’s the end all be all of my life. He’s just a man, and he won’t kill me.

Michaels fists clench tighter and moves from the doorway -he was about to go out for the night, - back into the room. But only momentarily.

As if he didn’t even need to think about it, like I didn’t mean a thing to him, he reaches forward and yanks and drags his black t-shirt off of me, leaving me in the long sleeve I was wearing underneath. “Michael!” I gasp, as the collar scrapes up my face and the warmth and his smell disappears from me. My present and my memory.

And then, with that nasty little act, before I can even really focus on him again, the door slams closed and it feels like it shook the floor and the walls around me, and he’s gone. For a moment, I dumbly look at the door. I’m shocked- I mean, I knew it was coming. I initiated it. But there’s a big difference between waiting and experiencing and it is awful. I can’t believe it’s over. Michael’s gone. The behemoth that eats all my food, squishes my fingers until I let go of the TV remote, and keeps me tight against his chest at night is… gone. And all that, with it.

All of a sudden, surprising tears blur my vision and sobs clench at my chest and I feel… so, alone.

___TIME SKIP___

A week later, it still hurts that he’s gone and I desperately want him back. On the way to work and on the way back, the highlight of my day is driving by the places I know he would hide out, to look for any sight of him as I slowdown and drive by, and I can’t sit and watch TV, or… or, sit and anything because that leads to thinking about him because, evidently, my brain can think of nothing better then the most painful thing for me at the moment. But I’m not crying about it. I have a life, I bake. I work. I walk. I bought expensive ear plugs so I can blast nightcore in my ears as a distraction so loud that my brain goes white and blank. And, there’s always this dull, terrible aching deep in my chest full of dread because, ha! My heart just can’t get a grip and understand that he’s gone.

I’m just crocheting a scarf or… maybe a funny shaped blanket, with my loud ass music on-its some YouTube playlist of those frighteningly painful and addictive nightcore songs. The one I’m listening to now is a Carrie Underwood redo. ‘Choctow County Affair’, - and occasionally glancing up at the TV to see the news headlines when my fingers suddenly go spectacularly numb at a certain picture.

No, its not of Michael. But Loomis. That bastards on the telly, probably griping about how he shot Michael however many time’s and Michael isn’t human, but I have to wonder why he is on TV. They only bring him out when Michael’s been caught again and it causes me lose the breath in my throat for a second and hurt my ears as I rip out the earplugs. My ears ring as I try to listen in to what Dr Loomis is saying, as the headline at the bottom says ‘Deadly Scrape with the Shape’- news anchors think they’re so clever. Fucking hell, poor taste.

The newsman, Clive Weatherman-yeah, this guy gets made fun of a lot. Went into the wrong area of news,- waffles on with the same question and my head hurts. “What was he wearing, Dr Loomis? We heard he wore the same Captain Kirk mask he has the last consecutive times he’s broken free of the hospital- is this true? Does this say anything about his mental state? Its pretty freaky, to me. The viewers want to know.” Oh my god, shut up! I need to hear Loomis’ information, that’s trustworthy at least.

“Yes, he was wearing that terrifying mask, concealing his soulless eyes from me. He should still be wearing it, so if anyone watching sees a man in a mechanics uniform and a bleached Captain Kirk mask you should immediately alert the authorities.”

A relieved breath escapes me at Loomis’ warning. Michael hasn’t been caught, he’s still out there. I don’t know why that relieves me, he’s a menace to society and is better off in an asylum- I just know he’s free.

And… while he’s free… he can find m-

“I shot him twice, also. So, the man you’re looking out for will be bleeding quite badly.”

“Oh, fuck.” I exclaim, pushing off the couch immediately and zipping up my jacket, barely stopping to put shoes on before I’m at my front door ready to search for him- but a heavy thump at the door before I can even touches it stops me immediately in my tracks. Damaging, floor shaking bangs vibrate against the door harshly, and I open it. Michael nearly falls through it because of the loss of solid wall to keep up his weight, but stands up tall again, heavily.

My eyes go wide as a look on. He certainly is bleeding a lot, both his hands covering the wounds just above his rib cage and holding tight, shoulders rising and falling at a steady, much faster rate then usual. But, still solid and tall. Somehow.

But that’s not surprising.

Swallowing my fear and a good portion of air at the same time, I take him by the wrist and drag him the rest of the way in which is heartbreakingly easy to do due to how weak the blood loss has made him and close and lock the door behind him. Then I get to work stitching up the wound the best I can.

When you’ve known Michael for… I dunno… even just a couple weeks? One week? You learn the basics of surgery quick, so this is routine. Once its over, and my hands are idle again is when things get hard.

I’m pissed that he came here, after leaving like that. Because it was me, too. I wanted to him to piss off, and he wanted to piss off. We made a decision and he can’t come back and take it back whenever it fits for him!

And, I’m… also, glad he’s here. I don’t know how I’ll let him leave again when he has to. I sure won’t be letting him in ever again, after this.

At least that’s what I tell myself. I truly do not know if I’ll ever get better from him.

It mustn’t be more then an hour later when he truly shatters my soul and my heart. God, how did I ever think this would be easy? Not just breaking up with him, but loving him. Not because he’s a killer, either. Or unstoppable force. Just, plainly because he’s Michael, and my hearts done the worst thing ever in loving him.

He’s all stitched up and I’m getting ready to leave the room, go to bed. Pretend I’m pretending he isn’t here on my couch. This is when he gently, so gently, so heartbreakingly gentle compared to his… everything. Like this, this gentle, he takes my hand in his. Not even my whole hand, actually. Just his fingers, wrapped around my fingers, and as the moment goes on his thumb starts to rib circles into my palm. I try not to melt.

“Michael… what, the hell are you doing here.” I ask, and try to be firmer then his hand around mine. His grip twitches.

I watch, curiously and unsure of what to do, as he shifts on the couch and digs with the hand that isn’t holding mine into one of his pockets, and brings out a folded sheet of paper. He hands it to me, and as we hold hand’s he watches me assess it.

On one side it’s a Chinese restaurants menu, written in clichéd curly red script and clearly he found this in the garbage somewhere or in a gutter because its dried all bubbly like it was wet and there’s a yellow colour formed on the top half. But on the other side is familiar handwriting that I could recognise anywhere.

‘Y/N’, it says. And he’s written my name the biggest out of all the other stuff and twice as bold. Like he wrote it over a couple times. The rest is in messy scribble like he couldn’t get it down fast enough. ‘I didn’t know I could miss someone, but I do. I hate it. Not only do I miss someone, but I also wish to take something back that I did. I wish I hadn’t left you alone.

I’m going to let Dr Loomis shoot me, and then you’ll know I won’t do it again. And neither will you.’

Well… It could be worse, I guess. Slowly, darkly, I turn to Michael. “Michael… “Holding the note up, my hand steady from many months of Michael and his ways. “You can’t do this.”

He pulls his mask off and looks me in that vague, insane way. No emotion.

Coming back to him, because I’m weak, I lower the note and furrow my eyebrows. “You can’t get yourself hurt to prove a point.” Kneeling down by the couch and running a hand through his hair, I sigh. “I’ll worry.” I whisper.

Not even a quiet moment passes, of me petting his hair, before its not enough for Michael and he lifts me up onto the couch with him, our chests and everything else tight together as one of his arms hooks under and around my middle. Like it used to be, like I needed it to be. I’m weak.

Letting go of any last remining reservations, because even if I did want to leave or kick him out which I most certainly don’t he would never let me, I lean my face up to nuzzle in his neck. He shudders out a sighs, and tries to bring me impossibly closer. Its so warm and I missed this and I’m weak.

Finally, I’m weak, and this will be the rest of my life I think.

[mirrorfalls]

Lego Liveblogs ST: TOS, part 9 (of who-the-hell-knows-how-many?)

What Are Little Girls Made Of? Let’s just hope it’s more moral stuff than the last boy the Enterprise took onboard...

* I see we’re wasting no time getting the nurse to take over Yeoman Rand’s eyecandy duties. Shame that Barrett’s Number One characterization is a no-go now. * Huh, plot’s shaping up to be a redux on The Man Trap. Not a high bar to clear. * “Beam down alone, just yourself.” Yeah, that’s your cue to pack an extra-sized Phaser, Kirk. * Nice try, girls, but Spock still ain’t turning his head for either of you. * “Whoopsy daisies, almost forgot our sacrificial meat!” ** Wow, even I wasn’t expecting the sacrifice that quick! * That is one Scooby Doo-ass lookin’ villain ** Who’s on a whole shelf away from this assistant guy, which obviously means he’s totally fine and trustworthy! * Aaaaand you two goldbricks are officially on your own. * Does... it really make sense for a species to go underground when their sun’s too cold? I guess they’re supposed to be warmed by the geothermal stuff down there? * Alright, Gene I’m impressed. How’d you get an outfit like this past 1960s censors?! * Well, that escalated quickly. ** I’d wisecrack about Kirk’s choice of “tactic”, but I think I’m more disturbed by the fact he dialed his Phaser straight to “melt stomach” intensity before he knew he was shooting a robot. What happened to Stun Mode? * He breaks necks and does voices! Wotta guy. * Kirk, you gotta start thinking like a sci-fi protag. Who says that’s the real professor? ** Oh, okay, I guess he is the real professor, he’s just completely lost his marbles. * Hum - this seems to be sowing the seeds for Nurse Christine to save the day, and if any actress has that level of pull it’s Barrett, but once can never underestimate the sexism of ‘60s TV... ** Case in point: Andrea, who proves this isn’t just The Man Trap. It’s The Man Trap with Mudd’s Women thrown in for good measure. * Make up your mind, Prof, are you trying to keep this a secret or not? * Don’t be racist, Nurse. * Nah, Prof, if she were logical you would’ve been choking on your own spinal cord ages ago. * Funniest. Cliffhanger. Ever. ** Seriously, Kirk asks one stupid question and smash-cut to him in a Batman ‘66 deathtrap. ** Wait, is that the Piltdown Man? * “Choose, Christine. Which is your captain?” “Do I get a Phaser?” * Oh jeez, I’d heard there was an episode where the crew snagged a fake Kirk because he was being racist toward Spock, but I didn’t know it was because the real Kirk fed that racism into the fake one. * “What he's done may seem wrong...” Nurse, he killed two guys without blinking. It’s a good thing you’re feeding all this to robo-Kirk, because I’m not sure the real one would forgive you. * Okay, even money says robo-Kirk dies by getting force-fed something that makes him short-circuit. Irony at its most delicious. ** Alternatively: why not just ask it to calculate pi? ** And they say Starfleet siblings always come outta nowhere! * Okay, I’ve kicked this episode pretty hard so far, but the central point here is pretty solid sci-fi: can a machine ever be a proper receptacle for a human consciousness, however advanced its programming? On the other hand, should we get so high-and-mighty just because the electric impulses driving us come from meat instead of silicon? ** I also like how the professor isn’t a full-on “ALL emotion is Bad!” type. He’s not even opposed to sentimentality, necessarily - he just thinks you can program away all the negative bits. * Ooh, Godwin’s Royal Flush! That’s pretty rare. * Whoof. Okay, I know people usually like to paint Kirk and Bond as opposites, but this is a move worthy of any 00-agent. Doesn’t just give you a momentary hostage, but makes sure he’s in no position to give complicated orders even after you’ve tossed him. * Give the big guy some credit too - he knows he’s programmatically bound to obey Nurse Christine, so his solution to that is just running the fuck outta earshot. * Ah, the legendary Dong Rock. 50% more dong-y in context! * Heavens to Betsy! How will Kirk save himsel... ** By not saving himself, apparently. Seems the big guy heard Christine after all. * Love Spock’s “Has the Transporter been spewing evil clones again?” face. * So Kirk... logics(?) both the big bruiser and the sultry henchgirl into defying their master. Adherents of the Three Laws are no doubt crying, but personally I think it’s more hit than miss; no matter how airtight the programming, once an AI reaches a certain level of complexity it has to develop some kind of survival instinct. * Holy last-act plot twist! * Prof, maybe you shouldn’t have programmed her with Yandere chips. Just a thought. * But back to the he-was-a-robot-all-along! bit... it’s got a strong base, but I feel it refuses to quit while it’s ahead. The longer Kirk talks, the more his argument starts sounding like “If you’re really human then why don’t we like you? :|” * Aww, a murder-suicide to cap things off. Isn’t it romantic? * “Think up a better excuse than that, Captain, or my next message will be to Starfleet HR.” * Written by... the Psycho guy? That explains a lot.

I’m probably not even the hundredth guy to note this, but this is easily the pulpiest Trek script to come down the pike - the square-jawed hero who ain’t scared to get his hands dirty but really survives by his wits, the swooning damsel who gets to be useful exactly once, the mad doctor wielding Scary Foreign Knowledge that not only perverts every law of God and man but threatens to infiltrate our fair society, his Big Scary Humorless Thug and sultry (but dangerously jealous) henchgirl... 

There are parts where the sci-fi port improves things and even broaches legitimately interesting topics, and it’s a damn sight better than either The Man Trap or Mudd’s Women, but on the whole I don’t think I’ll be in a rush to rewatch this one. Without too many standout “What the fuck is this?!” moments, there’s nevertheless a kind of sleaziness to the whole thing...

(Those were some neat overalls, though.)

Next: The first of many Shakespeare-derived shows! Will the Bard be done proud?

[goldngguk]

limerence // 01

warnings // yandere behavior, strong language, fluff 

word count // 2.1k

"You'll come to find that the terms obsession and addiction go hand to hand in psychology. Often times they are used as synonyms for one another."

Jimin sat in the back of the room, twirling his pencil between his fingers as he inwardly groaned. He couldn't stress enough how boring this class was. His teacher, Mr. June, was old and was constantly trying to act young and cool, which only made things worse. His textbook made next to no sense, and the assignments were poorly designed. In other words, Jimin hated psychology.

He slumped down in his desk, watching the seconds tick by causing him to roll his eyes. Oh, this is agonizing. Tick. Tick. Tick.

"Alright, now that we've finished unit two, it's time to discuss your next paper." Crickets. "It's the most important grade you'll receive in this class." Nothing. Mr. June sighed. "It's not due until May."

It seemed as if the whole class was alive again. Even Jimin's ears perked up. What could be so important about a paper that it would take an entire semester to complete?

"Your task is to observe someone outside of this class for three months. On May 3rd, you will turn in a paper that analyzes your subject as well as required notes to prove you actually did the work. Trust me, I can tell when someone just pulls a paper about their imaginary friend out of thin air." Sure you can. "You have to prove that you were actually watching your subject. I'll pass out the rubrics."

Jimin grabbed the paper from the man, flashing him a toothy smile that he met with his own. Jimin didn't even have to try, really. He was just one of those people who everyone adored. He could probably pass the class without even writing a sentence for the stupid paper. In fact, Jimin could probably get away with just about anything.

Mr. June dismissed the class and Jimin gathered his things and left the lecture hall. "Hey, Jimin! Wait up!"

Taehyung, Jimin's best friend and roommate who had joined the class with him, jogged up. "What do you think about this," he asked, waving the rubric in his hand.

Jimin just shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I don't really have an interest in it."

Taehyung nodded. "Don't you think it's a little creepy? I mean, we're supposed to stalk- sorry, observe someone for three months and then analyze them like an experiment? What the hell is that?"

Jimin chuckled at him. "He didn't say you couldn't tell. Just ask someone for their permission. Otherwise, yes. Essentially, we are stalkers now."

"Who are you gonna watch?"

"I'm not sure yet. Like I said, I'm not really that interested in it."

"Oh well, I'm sure you'll find someone. Damn. It sounds like I'm giving you dating advice."

"Please, if anyone needs advice about girls, it's you."

Taehyung scoffed as they reached the front doors of the campus. "Do you have another class?"

"No, not today, but I was gonna head up to the library and get some work done. I'll see you later."

"Ok. I'll see you at home." He stopped in his tracks before turning back to Jimin. "And for the record, I don't need help with girls."

"Oh please. I know exactly who you're going to watch and you'll end up stalking her because you can't even say one word to her without choking on your own tongue. You need serious help."

"I- fine. But I can't help it! Taylor makes me nervous."

"Goodbye, Tae." Taehyung started for his car as Jimin made his way to the library upstairs. Sitting down at a table in the back, he pulled out his books with the intent of focusing on anything but the paper.

-

Jimin couldn't focus. No specific reason. He just could not focus. Maybe he wasn't in the right headspace. He packed up his things after deciding he'd probably get more done at home. He stepped outside, the cold air hitting his slightly puffy cheeks.

Keep in mind, it was January, so he probably could have been more cautious. But if he had, he wouldn't have met you, now would he?

Jimin crossed the street between campus and the parking lot when he fell; both literally and figuratively. He slipped on a patch of ice and his legs flew up from underneath him. He landed on his back. Hard.

"Oh my god! Are you alright?"

Someone rushed over to him, putting their hand on his back as they crouched down. "Yeah, I'm fine. I was- just-..." Oh wow.

Pretty was an understatement. Beautiful fell short. Stunning was nothing compared to the girl kneeling by his side. Now, maybe it was the fact that he'd nearly hit his head and his tailbone felt like it was on fire, but jesus christ, how the hell could someone look so... so perfect. She wore a puffy black coat with a beanie that helped frame her magnificent face. She had strong features. He probably would've been intimidated if it weren't for the fact that he was fatally attracted to her. The mittens she had on were far too large to be her actual hand size. She looked absolutely adorable. She smiled down at him, the tip of her nose pink from frostnip. "Come on, she said. "Let's get you on your feet." She helped him dust the snow off his back before looking up at him. She was shorter than him, making him feel manly despite the hard fall he just took. "It's Jimin, right?" He looked into her eyes. Such pretty eyes. His textbook says that eyes are the windows to the soul, in which case she is warm and soft. Innocent.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, that's me." He smiled back at her.

Jimin was not what'd you'd call 'a lady's man', but he knew what to do and what to say. He wasn't the kind of person who got nervous. Besides, everyone loved him. He could charm the pants off anyone.

"That was quite the fall you had there. You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, thanks. You know my name?"

"Yeah. I've seen you around campus before. I figured everyone kinda just knows who you are."

"Well, I don't know who you are. What's your name? And you have to tell me, seeing as how you just saved me. Otherwise, I'll just have to go find out." She giggled as if he were joking.

"I didn't save you, I was just making sure you were okay."

"Whatever you say, hero." She laughed again. It was very quickly becoming one of his favorite sounds. It was high pitched, but not too high or squeaky. There was a perfect balance to it. One that he appreciated.

"I'm Y/n," you said while extending your hand for him to shake. He took it, wishing he could feel the soft skin concealed under the wool mitt. He would compare the sizes of your hands, hoping yours would be somewhat smaller than his own.

"Nice to meet you, Y/n. How come I've never seen you around before?"

"I'm not really someone who lives to be seen. I just come to class and go to work." He liked that. Not someone who likes to be seen. Every girl he'd ever dated was the life of the party; they demanded everyone's attention and it exhausted him. Y/n was the opposite. She was kind and quiet. Someone he could take care of, someone to shelter. And that excited him. If he was being honest, he'd always wanted someone for himself. Someone he alone could love and protect and he would never have to share. Almost like an animalistic instinct he tended not to dwell on, or rather one he just hadn't picked up on yet.

It dawned on him that there was no way this was a coincidence. First, there had been the paper about analyzing someone outside of his class. Then he couldn't focus in the library which led him to slip on the ice and fall right into her arms. It was at that moment he decided: he needed to see you again, had to get to know you. You were his person; his subject. He was going to observe you.

"Well, I should get going. I have to be at work in an hour."

"Oh." Jimin started to panic. If he let you go now, there was no way he'd see you again. He needed to find out more about you if he was going to use you for his paper topic, and eventually a whole lot more. "Um. Before you go, could you at least give me your number?"

She tilted her head to the side in a teasing manner, lips parting. "Why would you need that," she smiled. He chuckled, smirking as he shifted his gaze to his feet. Y/n pulled out her phone from her coat pocket. "Here. Give me yours. This way you can repay me for saving you." He handed her his phone while grabbing hers, typing his contact in as 'the cute clutz'. She hummed at the nickname.

She waved goodbye to him as he called out, "I do plan on thanking you, by the way!"

"Looking forward to it!"

He was in.

-

Jimin raced home, tossing his stuff on his bed and dashing for his laptop. He pulled up your contact on his phone, praying you had put your last name instead of a cute nickname. Damnit. Just Y/n. Plan B. He went onto the campus website and searched for a student directory. Typing in your first name, he found fourteen other Y/ns listed. He clicked on each individual profile and waited for the picture to appear. After a couple of minutes, he struck gold.

Campus Profiles:

Y/n L/n

Age: 21

Major: Pre Med

Email: y/nl/n@gmail.com

That was all the information he needed to be able to find you everywhere else. He added the email to your contact and began looking for you on every platform he could think of.

Your Instagram was public, which he chuckled at. Oh, sweetheart. Don't you know it's dangerous to leave your accounts available for anyone to see? He considered whether he should wait until he knew you personally before following you or not. Inevitably, he pressed the follow button and requested to be notified every time a post was made. Facebook was next, which wasn't any harder. Then twitter and snapchat. It was almost too easy, due to the fact that you used the same username for everything. He learned about your family, your closest friends and past relationships, where you worked, your likes and dislikes, favorite music genres, favorite food, etc. Basically, any detail he could think of was written somewhere on one of your profiles. He got so lucky. He wrote down everything he thought was noteworthy. After all, Professor June did say he needed to prove he was doing his work.

Now, he really did mean to just be your friend. All of this was just to get close to you so he could complete this stupid paper. But it was like Mr. June was saying in his lesson. Addiction and obsession are essentially the same things; once you're in, you can't get out. And Jimin was in. He just didn't know it yet.

previous // masterlist // next

a.n. // Oof I am so beyond excited for this series!! I'm not sure how long it will be yet or when exactly I will post new chapters, I'm just kinda going with the flow. Please let me know what you think, I would love to hear from you! Also, if you would like to be added to my taglist, just ask! And don't forget to go check out my Jungkook series: Trilogy! -Kay 💕

taglist // @kalisica @darkdragonskies @chinkbihh