#psychopath!reader

[poltoreveur]

“He’s a villain! You only like him because he’s hot.”

Okay and?

[nkopurin]

fratboy!toji is nothing less than a menace to society.

now tell me, and stay with me on this one, what do people think when it comes to fratboys? the average person would usually think of the following traits: dumb, self-centered, fuckboys, party animals, muscles and no brain, arrogant, reckless, immature even. however, toji wasn't your average 'sigma kappa tau' member. he is the three big C's in a nutshell. cunning, cold, and calculating, but of course, these are the only traits that differentiate him from being a good old regular frat bud.

he is a party animal, through and through.

he is arrogant and self-centered; there is no question about it.

he is a fuckboy, with his looks it would be a crime not to be. and he would never turn down a pretty face, ever.

nevertheless, he was an above average student, muscles and brain type of guy—not a top valedictorian student, though. he knew the spotlight brought nothing but prying eyes and trouble. as edgy as it sounds, he liked to stay in the shadows, away from the lime light.

he is the thinking head behind the 'sigma kappa tau' house. he coordinated the parties, found desperate nerds, ones who thought they were good enough candidates to be part of the 'brotherhood', to clean up after. and he indeed financed these parties via not so legal means. it was somewhat of an open secret/rumor that toji was a plug.

he knew a lot of people who dabbled in various things, so in just the dial of the phone he got it for you, and everything that you might be desperate to latch your hands on.

you needed a gram of blow, weed, oxy, burner phones, getaway car, or contraband alcohol? don't worry! toji was handling it to you by sundown.

or perhaps you need information on someone? at least that's what it seemed to be the case with you.

"so you know where that creep is?" the ticking of the clock was defening in the stagnant silence. you shifted your weight on the couch, your gaze trailed toji's every step and move he took.

"of course i know, princess." he lowers the brick phone to his chest to look at your pretty, dolled up figure. it was impossible for him not to walk your way and catch your chin, guiding your eyes to meet his. yet you jerked away from his touch, not taking even a grain of his performative, affectionate gestures. obviously, he was charming, got muscled for days, evil as shit, and that chiseled god-like face is just your type down to a t. but then again, you were nothing less than a hater of his stupid, little games.

"just tell me where they are fushiguro," you might be dressed in all pastels and fancy skirts bestowing an innocent, preppy act. but the death stare you gave the frat revealed your nature perfectly, toji's breath hitched, your cold eyes stirred up hardcore emotions inside him. he's an adrenaline junkie, one who lusts after control and being above anyone, nevertheless, you are not easily swayed...yet.

"only if you take me."

━━━

"hey tits." toji came crashing into any room he entered with his signature arrogance and rudeness. nobody was safe from him, not even you, fuck you wouldn't be surprised if he disrespected his mother in a similar fashion.

"how's it going, steroids?" you scoffed, even amidst the caos, splatted intimate pictures with blood droplets resting on them and a wailing, tied up dude, toji had the power to make you even angrier than you already were.

"my night became brighter now that i've seen you doll..." there was no way toji would miss the opportunity, even with a half-conscious man in front of him, to shower his next target with flowers, "so this is what the guy looks like."

the beat up dude looked like any average joe to be honest. who knew this normal looking man would sneak mundane and lewd pictures of your sorority sisters indiscriminately.

"yes, i hope he learns not to take more pictures...of anybody, ever," even in the chair that you sat, your cold, poisonous words engraved themselves deep into everybody inside the room, "girls, you can leave now, you've done good. i have something to discuss with fushiguro here."

your sorority sisters left the secluded shack one following the other, giving their 'thank you's' to you and toji. he gave them all the disheveled, blood-stained ladies a polite smile, while doing a mental note to never mess with your sorority in any way. he was sure to tell his boys this.

"so how much," you briefly looked at him before unzipping your purse. there is always a price for these types of job's, you just hoped the money that you brought was more than enough.

"a date." you stopped counting on the money. he is not serious.

"toji i'm serious..."

"god, keep saying my name."

"how much toji, i don't have all night." toji took a hold to your chin for you to look at him, just like days prior. and your exasperation deepened.

"as i said doll, a date."

"...ugh, fine!" you bounce up, raging due to your predicament, and what better way to take your frustration out than on somebody. more specifically on creepy-mcgee, "this is all your fault!"

and it actually was, if it weren't for this perverted nobody, you wouldn't have sought out for toji's help. if it weren't for you heels you would kick the shit out of the guy, "i'll burn the pics, can you keep fucking this guy up?"

"anything for the lady." like a puppy doing a trick for the treat, toji took to breaking further the poor devils face. but not before taking a picture, specifically of you, from the ground into his pocket.

you did not hate toji, hate is a strong word, there was only distaste for some aspects of his personality and antics. but that sour taste you had of him diluted with every strike he blew on your stalker's face. you could not help but peek at him whenever you took the prints from the floor. it was completely messed up to find the aggressor attractive, but his muscles flexing and contracting were just too cool, with each spilling of blood towards random places proving his strength. toji's grin was akin to the devil's, dangerously enchanting, one that drives you insane and willing to commit the most heinous sin imaginable. whatever could you do to keep seeing that smile often?

you tossed the pictured into the empty barrel and poured some oil in it before setting it ablaze with some lit matches. there was no escape from the scene in front of you, as you tossed the last match you couldn't help but to thing in how wrong you are. completely wrong to find satisfaction in violence, one that toji of all people induced.

without a word you set out of the shack, felling the soft night breeze hit you, you tried to keep your remaining integrity intact. the car where you came in was nowhere in sight, obviously. the only vehicle left was toji's old ass subaru.

'fuck it,' you began to navigate your way towards toji's ride and rest your weight near its door. the beating in your heart marched like a parade drum, this was not happening. your body wanted him, scratch that, needed him in unspeakable ways.

"hey," toji started, "i came to see if you were alright, maybe the scene was too much—"

your lips seeking his was bound to happen. you didn't let him finish his sentence; besides, it didn't matter, his concern was always a show. you thought this inebriating feeling would appease itself, well you thought wrong.

"fucking shut up fushiguro, just kiss me."

"fuck," he heaved, sinking back into the lips of the woman he so desperately coveted. with every stroke of his tongue in yours the fever for him just increased in temperature.

'more!' your body was quick to demand, and your hands even quicker to lay on his toned abdomen, shamelessly traversing through his smooth skin. his bloody hands kept your head in place as his lips explored every crevice of your mouth.

"do ughn~ do something fushiguro!" you whinged, leading his beaten up hand all the way down to that wet spot in between your legs.

"damn, doll...can't use my fingers though," he whispered, caressing your clothed cunt, crimson stains sadly smearing over the fabric.

you catch a fistful of his shirt collar, bringing him to your face level and not minding the means to relieve you. it just had to be him, "then your mouth will have to do."

you did not believe the rumors of toji fushiguro's head being mind blowing. they had to be a brazen exaggeration, nothing more than a whisper started by him to inflate his ego a set his reputation in stone. but as they say 'don't knock it 'till you try it'.

to your pride's dismay, the rumors fell short in comparison to the real deal. this man didn't tickle your pussy, he devoured it. his hot, wet tongue circled around your clit before lapping it through your slit. your back rested comfortably in the car's hood, skirt up, panties to your side and your legs locked firmly around toji's neck. strings of moaned profanities left your mouth, your hands gripping at toji's raven locks. at this rate you migh as well leave a bald spot with how hard you tugged at his hair for him to go deeper in you.

disappointment will fill you once your head clears from the lustful fog. but in this precise second all you wanted was to seek your orgasm. and sure enough you were terribly close, toji switched from burying his tongue inside of you to kissing the most sensitive parts of your pussy.

"fushi—toji~ i am, shit if you keep—going i'm gonna- i-!" torrents of erratic pleasure rippled from your pelvis through out your body. your juices coated toji's lips and dripped to his chin.

you heaved, gasping for the fresh air of nature, the stars above twinkled and now your mind became clear once more.

"get off me, help me too."

"man a thank you would be nice." always the gentleman, toji helped you sit right, kneeling to push your panties up and secure you in place as you stood up. even after you ignored his need of gratitude.

"what are you gonna do about that?" you gestured at the obvious bulge in his pants.

"shit, baby, don't worry i got certified jerk off material right here." he took the picture he had previously tucked in his pocket, out on display for you to see. apparently the creep that took all the sorority's most intimate moments actually had a talent for photography.

"fuck, fushiguro, give me my picture!" you caught a glimpse of its contents; you observing your figure through tithe mirror in a pink dress, one that looked eerily similar to lingerie. you tried to snatch it from his grasp, however he held it high in the air, making it imposible for you to get ahold of.

"you'll have to bounce on my cock if you want the pic dollface," he beamed a grin while opening the passenger door, "let's go to mine and finish the transaction."

"ughh, you're insufferable fushiguro."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

never thought this would be as long as it did :o + feedback on my writing is hella appreciated !

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Monster Child//

I’m not talking about an Eldritch being or Lycan grappling with their werewolf side. I’m talking about a real Monster Child. Outwardly just another typical darling little girl. Curious and outspoken with a bright disposition anyone at a glance wouldn’t bother to question otherwise. But this Monster Child is evil. Wicked. Totally twisted inside and a menace to all the normal functions of civilization. Because deep down something is just…not right.

“Ha, I hope when the rat poison kicks in they’ll be back with their family! Or better yet on their doorstep.”

They're just awful…and it’s not because of their childhood. They have two loving parents in an upper-middle-class home, in an inclusive neighborhood. They just opened their eyes one day and decided they adore other people’s pain.

“Honey, will you tell me what happened to the dog?”

“He…in…ba’thment!”

“...Why are they in the basement?”

“Cause dead!”

And unlike the other horrors centered around troubled kids, she doesn’t bother hiding it. Like the Monster Child she is, Lacy, doesn’t bother hiding it. Her parents are more than aware of the red flags she so clearly waves, it’s their reactions that truly beckon her. She doesn’t care if the old woman down the road wags her spotty finger and cusses her out. She just ignores it. That is until the old hag woman starts threatening to send her to a facility. She knows that without her parent’s consent that isn’t going to happen anytime soon…but that doesn’t stop the house at the end of the block from becoming vacant.

“Lacy…no one’s seen Mrs. Frock in a while would you know anything about that?”

“....Mason you know what the answer to your own question is. Please use your brain.”

“I told you not to call me that! I’m your father!”

“You’ll be dead if you keep screaming at me.”

“Mason! Please!”

That doesn’t really change when she meets you. Whether you’re a teacher, a neighbor, a new step-parent, or even just a regular in a place she frequents. When she latches on she doesn’t plan to let go and it doesn’t matter if you’re 60 kilos heavier than her. 

You’re hers now. 

“(Y/n).”

“Yes, Lacy?”

“Would you rather Wilson or Riley survive a fall down the stairs?”

“What?! I’d want them both to survive! Better yet no one falling down the steps at all!”

“Hm guess that means you want both. We’ll see what fate has to say.”

“Lacy please!”

Unlike other possessed children or incredibly jealous children, she’s not moved by your opinion of her. She doesn’t care. In fact, she relishes in the realization on your face as you realize her cruelty knows no bounds. Purposefully committing her acts of terror in plain sight. As stated before Lacy doesn’t care about who knows about what she does. It’s when you get in the way of her fun or her time with you+ that she has an issue.

“I didn’t want to hurt you Detective but I’ve been away from (Y/n) for long enough.”

“Well I can’t let you go until you help me understand why you were at–”

“NO. If I don’t see them within the hour, your partner’s remains will be found in an unflushed toilet.”

“Lacy–”

You’d think an eight-year-old a little over a meter would be easy to restrain but Lacy is a Monster Child. She’s tasted blood before and she doesn’t plan to stop anytime soon. And when you stand in the carnage she’s made in your name you wonder if she can love at all. If she’s only using you as an excuse to murder and maim. 

“I love you the most! That’s why!”

Rules | Kofi | Commissions

[aae-tuu]

Yours.

Ft: A. Kiyotaka (gn!reader, a [former] one sided fake relationship, he’s using you but he’s also fallen in love with you, you fell first but he fell harder trope)

I finished Classroom of the elite season 1 like 2 days ago and this is totally accurate and not ooc shut up!

-

You’re just a pawn.

It’s what Ayanokoji told himself.

Everything was fake.

All of it.

At least in the beginning it was…

Even if when walking you to your dorm, he’d hold your hand a little tighter as if not wanting to let go.

Even if when he’s out and sees your favorite pastry, and if it’s the last one, he fights his way through the crowd of people to be the one walking out with it.

Even if when he sees you talking to a friend you said you used to have a crush on, something in his chest, in his heart, felt off.

Your smile, your laugh, the way you look so relaxed as you chat with that friend.

You could’ve had a normal relationship if it weren’t for him.

Was he selfish?

Yes. Yes he was.

He’s accepted that fact a long time ago.

So why is he acting like this?

Why is it that when he looks at you, he’s willing to throw away everything, including his plans, just for you?

To live a normal, peaceful life with you, he’d do and sacrifice anything and everything of his. He’d give you all of him if you asked. He was yours and you didn’t really know it yet.

Upon realizing this, he hasn’t been the same since.

But you’re just a pawn.

He has the audacity to think that as he looks at the picture of you both he keeps in his pocket, holding it in his hands as he sighs before stretching his arm to place it on your nightstand.

Your arm was thrown over his chest as you curled up into his side while he laid on his back on your bed. He looked at your face with an expression he didn’t know he could make before closing his eyes.

Yeah.

You’re more than just a pawn.

[chrissssssmut]

yandere bully rei x reader

AFTER LIKE, AFTER YOU

Yandere Bully Rei x Male Reader

AN: Tried to reference some of IVE's Songs here!

You sit in your seat, trying to mind your own business. Really, you do. You keep your head down, work on your notes, ignore the whispers, and pretend like nothing’s happening even when your pen goes missing again for the third time this week.

But of course. Of course she’s here.

“Wow,” comes her voice behind you, laced with sugar and poison. “Is that your handwriting? That’s so…” A pause. “Pathetic. Are those supposed to be letters or worm trails?”

You don’t turn around. You don’t need to. You know the smirk that’s probably curling on her lips. The glossy IVE pink lip gloss that smears a little when she bites her pen out of boredom.

Her name? Rei.

Your tormentor. Your nightmare. Your—

Well.

“Not gonna talk to me now?” she says, sliding into the seat beside you even though she definitely doesn’t sit there. “That’s kinda rude, don’t you think, loser?”

You sigh. “Don’t you have friends to sit with?”

Her expression changes for half a second—just a blink—and if you weren’t always watching (you have to, to survive), you wouldn’t have caught it. That look of simmering rage just below the surface. Then she’s smiling again.

“I just like being near you,” Rei coos, leaning close. “You’re so… malleable.”

You flinch a little when she brushes her fingers across your wrist.

“Don’t touch me,” you mutter, not quite loud enough.

“What was that?” she grins. “Speak up, puppy.”

You grit your teeth. She always calls you things like that. “Loser,” “worm,” “puppy.” Anything to make you smaller.

But what you don’t see—can’t see—is the way her nails are digging into her palm under the desk, hidden from view. The way her leg bounces with a fury she can’t express aloud. Because you didn’t look at her today.

Because you didn’t say good morning, even though you always do, even if it’s quiet.

Because someone else talked to you in homeroom and she saw the way you smiled—really smiled—and it wasn’t for her.

After class, she follows you, naturally. You try to duck into the library. No luck. She’s there before you. Waiting.

“How did you—?”

“I just knew you’d be here,” she says. “You’re so predictable.”

You try to step around her. She blocks your way.

“You know what I hate the most about you?” Rei says, voice sharp like a knife under silk. “You think you can ignore me. Like I’m not the center of your universe.”

You blink. “You’re not.”

She stares. There’s a long silence.

Then she smiles, all teeth. “Wrong answer.”

Without another word, she reaches into her bag, pulls out your pen. The one that went missing three days ago.

“You want this?” she asks sweetly. “Get on your knees.”

Your face burns.

“No.”

Her smile falters, then sharpens. “I’ll break it.”

You scowl. “It’s just a pen.”

Snap.

You flinch.

She stares at the broken halves like they’re your bones.

Then—whispers.

“But I wouldn’t break you. Not really. Not unless you asked me to.”

“What?”

She looks up at you with that same unhinged grin. “Nothing. Run along now, puppy.”

Later that week, you wake up to a package taped to your locker. Inside: a new pen. The exact kind you like. And a note.

“Write me love letters with this one.

I’ll be reading.

—R”

You crumple it and throw it away.

She finds it later in the trash and cries laughing.

“I knew you’d do that,” she says the next day, smearing a bit of your lunch on your shirt. “You’re so easy.”

But that night, she’s laying on her bed, the crumpled note smoothed out and pinned to her wall like a treasure map.

She stares at it for hours.

She starts humming songs around you.

Snippets of IVE’s “Kitsch” and “After Like”. Twisted little lyrics dropped into your ear when she leans too close.

“You know, love is like playing with fire,” she whispers once while pretending to inspect your notebook.

You try to ignore her.

She doesn’t let you.

“Hey,” she says one day, out of nowhere. “Do you like anyone?”

You look at her warily. “Why?”

“Just answer the question.”

You shrug. “No.”

Another pause. Something deep in her exhales.

“Good,” she says. “Because if you did, I’d have to break their faces and eat their flesh.”

“…What?”

She leans in, dead serious. “What kind of psychopath would want to steal my toy?”

You freeze.

“I’m not your toy.”

Rei tilts her head. “Sure you are. You just don’t realize it yet.”

She’s laughing as she walks away.

But not before whispering:

“If you love me, say you love me. If you hate me… well, I’ll make you love me anyway.”

You start catching her watching you. Not the usual mocking glares. This time it's something else.

In the hallway. In the reflection of the bus window. In class, eyes boring holes into the back of your head.

Once, you get a note in your locker written in perfect cursive:

“If I disappeared, would you miss me?

Don’t answer. I already know.

—R”

You don’t reply. You don’t throw it out either.

“You know I hate when you talk to other girls, right?”

Rei says this as she corners you near the vending machines.

You frown. “I barely said two words to her—”

“But you laughed,” Rei hisses. “With her. And not me.”

You take a step back. “Rei, you’re fucking crazy.”

She leans in.

“Only for you.”

Her eyes are wild. Glittering.

Things escalate.

Your notebooks get vandalized with lipstick marks and crossed-out names. Every time you speak to someone else, something of theirs ends up missing. Or broken.

One time, someone tries to flirt with you.

The next day, they show up with a black eye and refuse to say what happened.

You suspect.

But you never accuse.

One night, you get a message. No name. Just:

“I watched you sleep.”

“You look better with your mouth shut.”

Your heart races. You don’t reply.

The next day at school, Rei walks by, licks her lips, and murmurs:

“You snore. Cute.”

You turn cold.

“Rei—what the hell is wrong with you?”

She grabs your collar, yanks you close. Her breath is warm.

“What’s wrong with you?” she snarls, voice trembling. “Why won’t you just look at me like you look at everyone else?”

You stare.

And finally, quietly, you say, “Because you scare me.”

She blinks.

And then, softly, with a terrifying smile:

“Good. That means I’m doing it right.”

But then, you find her crying.

One day, after school, behind the gym. Alone. Knees pulled to her chest.

You shouldn’t stop. You shouldn’t care.

But you do.

“…Rei?”

She jumps. Her eyes go wide.

“D-Don’t look at me,” she hisses, trying to wipe her tears. “I swear to God, I’ll kill you if you tell anyone—”

You kneel. “Why are you crying?”

She doesn’t answer for a while.

Then:

“I just… don’t get why you hate me so much.”

You blink. “You bully me.”

“And yet,” she says, voice breaking, “I think about you every second of every day. Isn’t that worse?”

You say nothing.

She looks up at you, desperate. “Do you think I’m a monster?”

You hesitate.

“…No,” you whisper. “I think you’re just… lonely.”

She laughs bitterly. “I’m not lonely. I have you.”

You don’t correct her.

Because somewhere, deep inside, you wonder if you’re starting to belong to her, too.

She sings softly behind you the next day.

“Tell me you want me, tell me you need me…”

It’s IVE’s “I AM.” Her voice is low, gentle. Dangerous.

You don’t respond.

But you feel your heart skip.

And so it continues.

The bullying. The obsession. The twisted little notes.

And her smile, wide and terrifying.

“If I’m your villain, then be my story.

I’ll make it a tragedy worth telling.”

And you?

You keep trying to survive her.

But somewhere, you know:

You don’t want to run anymore.

Not really.

Not after like this.

[sp7-mr]

[silverryuan]

Jamil Viper with Carl! Yuu from Llamas with Hats, ft. Octavinelle Trio

I can't say that everyone is not dying in this one 💀...

Warnings: Blood & Gore, Violence, Swearing, Cannibalism

• I was torn between choosing the reader to be isekai'd as a llama or isekai them as a llama beastman. I'm just gonna go with beastman cuz I thought it'd be funnier if they could talk. I also made them less murderous. There's also a collab with other characters from Filmcow 😉.

• There's a high chance that Jamil has heard of you through Kalim. The boy said he witnessed a llama beastman causing a fire and a monster running around during the ceremony. Great, he went through the trouble to prepare a welcoming party for the freshmen and now he has to fix Kalim's robe. He just hopes that Kalim won't forget what he said about the new schedule tomorrow.

• Kalim forgot. Again. Of course he would.

• Kalim forgot about the sudden change of class schedules and spent the entire morning wandering to wrong classrooms. Jamil just received his text message after class and texted back the room number. Kalim did not reply or read his message. Luckily, Jamil remembered that he turned on the location in Kalim's phone just in case for these types of situations. He tried tracking him down but Kalim kept moving, so he ran as fast as he could to catch up with him.

• Jamil finally see Kalim not moving in the courtyard. When he caught sight of Kalim, he sees another person next to him... A beastman? He approached you two and called Kalim.

Jamil: "Kalim!"

Kalim: "Jamil! There you are! How'd you find me?"

Jamil: "I turned on the location on your phone, remember? I texted you the room number, why haven't you read it?"

Kalim: "Oh, I thought that I'd find the classroom myself but it looks like I got lost more, hehe!"

Jamil: "Honestly, I thought you were... Who is this?"

Kalim: "This guy's trying to help me out!"

Carl! Yuu: "Nope, I'm just as lost as you are. I didn't even know we even got class."

Jamil: "Who are you?"

Carl! Yuu: "I'm Carl! Yuu. I'm just a regular llama guy with a hat, yup. A totally normal beastman. Nothing comes after that because of how normal I am."

Kalim: "I've got an idea!Why not just come with me and Jamil? We could go to our classrooms together."

Carl! Yuu: "Oh hey, that's a great idea. Why haven't I thought of that."

Jamil: ".... Kalim, come here for a sec."

• Jamil pushed Kalim away from you. They went a distance farther from you and Jamil whispered to him.

Jamil: "Kalim, have you met them before?"

Kalim: "Uhh... no?"

Jamil: "It's the llama beastman you talked about causing arson at the ceremony!"

Kalim: "OH! Now I remember!"

Jamil: "Sshh! They might be as unhinged as Floyd. Thank the Sevens they didn't harm you."

Carl! Yuu: "Why are we whispering?"

Jamil: "Gah!"

• He was right. You were as unhinged as Floyd and were as nosy as Azul. If you have those obnoxious two's personalities then whatever you're hiding must be as fucked up as Jade's. He doesn't want to assume but he does want to be cautious. If you easily caused arson, then that means you're worse than that monster at the ceremony.

• Kalim insisted that you three should join at the cafeteria for lunch and here he is, sitting beside Kalim who lost his appetite after you opened your lunchbox. Jamil smelled an odor coming from your food. It smells like something is... Rotting?

Jamil: "Kalim, your next class is... Sevens, what is that smell?!"

Kalim: "Eugh! C-Carl! Yuu, has your food gone bad? I-I can buy you lunch if-"

Carl! Yuu: "No thank you, but this is what I usually eat. It's my favorite."

• Jamil looked at your lunch and his eyes widened in disgust. What was in your plate was raw meat still wet with blood. The foul odor eventually reached the noses of the nearby tables and the students moved farther away from yours.

Jamil: "CARL! YUU, WHAT IS THIS?!"

Carl! Yuu: "Would you believe that it's melted and solidified jellybeans?"

Jamil: "NO, I WOULD NOT BELIEVE THAT."

Carl! Yuu: "Red milk?"

Kalim: "N-No 😰...?"

Carl! Yuu: "Some of Crowley's tears?"

Jamil: "CARL! YUU!!"

Carl! Yuu: "Fine... It's raw meat. And a bit of blood. And mold."

Jamil: "I CAN SEE THAT!"

Kalim: "I-i-it's rotting! You can't eat that!"

Carl! Yuu: "Yeah, you're right. I should've brought the fresh one. This one is actually one of the leftovers from yesterday. The blood may have gone cold, but it makes the meat taste sweet. Do you want to try some?"

Jamil: "NO!"

Carl! Yuu: "Dang, that was rude. You don't have to shout, you'll disturb the others. Want some, Kalim?"

Kalim: "...😰... N-no thanks..."

Carl! Yuu: "Alright. More for me then."

Jamil: "WHAT MAKES YOU THINK IT WAS A GOOD IDEA TO BRING THAT HERE? WHAT KIND OF MEAT EVEN IS THAT?"

Carl! Yuu: "... You don't want to know."

• The smell and racket made the Cafeteria Ghosts kick you out. Jamil made an instant mental note to himself and Kalim to never cross paths with you again. Unfortunately, during a class collaboration, you became lab partners with Jamil. Jamil was irritated but he has to work with you for the grades. Honestly, same.

Jamil: "Ok. This is fine. This won't turn out bad if you just calm down... Hopefully this will turn out well-"

Carl! Yuu: "Hey Jamaica, what happens if I accidentally devoured a mandrake because I mistook it as a live form of food and shoved random potions in the cauldron causing it to rain acid and melt the ceiling while simultaneously making the students fall unconscious due to decreasing brain function, again caused by said acid rain. And I also managed to defy gravity and to attract several flamingos from Heartslabyul, as well as the vultures from Savanaclaw because of the substance emitting from the cauldron, and now they are brutally fighting each other while defying gravity. Hypothetically?"

Jamil: "............................"

Carl! Yuu: "Judging by your lack of response, I guess I haven't done enough and should've add my leftover meat into the cauldron. This question is not hypothetical, by the way."

Jamil: "NO SHIT."

Crewel: "CAAAAARL! YUUUUU!!!"

• HOW? JUST. JUST HOW? HOW ARE YOU SO GOOD AT GETTING ON PEOPLE'S NERVES? YOU'RE BASICALLY WORSE THAN THOSE OCTAVINELLE IDIOTS COMBINED! AND EVEN THEY'RE AFRAID OF YOU! THE HEADMASTER IS A LOT MORE STUPID THAN HE THOUGHT. WHY ARE YOU NOT EXPELLED?!

• It got worse when you wreak havoc at Scarabia. Is that even possible?!

• During winter break, he doesn't let you in the kitchen. When he heard your loud-ass cat talking, he immediately instructed the students to bar the door as to not let you in. The students were confused and were hesitant. Why is Jamil scared all of a sudden? But it was too late, you and Grim are already in the kitchen.

Grim: "Woahh! What's that smell? It smells good!"

Carl! Yuu: "Yeah, you're right. Hi, Janet. Is there any meat around? Preferably raw ones?"

Jamil: "GET. OUT."

• Talk about bad timing as Kalim walks in to check on the food for the winter break parade. Jamil massaged his forehead to lessen the impact of another headache and continued to cook.

Kalim: "Hey Jamil! I'm a little hung- Oh! Hey, Carl! Yuu! How's it going?"

Grim: "Ya forgot about me! Grim, the sorcerer extraordinaire! Carl! Yuu here is my henchman!"

Jamil: "...Ugh..."

Kalim: "Nice to meet you too, Grim! What are you guys doing here?"

Carl! Yuu: "Grim's stomach was making the rumblies and I was craving for something that only meat can satisfy."

Kalim: "U-uh... Wow, you sure like meat, huh?"

Grim: "Fnyagh, I wanted premium tuna but the headmaster won't give any!"

Kalim: "Is that so? Tell you what! How about I invite you to Scarabia and we'll have a party!"

Jamil: "NO!"

Carl! Yuu: "Sounds awesome."

Grim: "Really?!"

Kalim: "Yeah, really! And Carl! Yuu... I'm sorry for the incident from the cafeteria. Your food was bad and we were so loud that you couldn't eat your lunch properly because the ghosts kicked you out... But I guess everyone has different tastes when it comes to food, right?"

Jamil: "THAT'S NOT HOW IT WORKS!?"

Carl! Yuu: "It's ok."

Kalim: "I'll make it up to you by inviting you to the party! It's gonna be so cool! We'll eat and dance all day!"

• You had fun at the party. Grim ate until his stomach was full, not unlike in Ramshackle where you sometimes try to feed a dead cat to Grim. What was the cat's name? Lucifer? Lucius? You kind of forgot. You've never had this much raw meat on your plate before (although you must eat in a separate room so that everyone won't lose their appetite). Usually you had to hunt something and eat it but this tanned party-goer saved you the trouble.

• The Scarabia residents almost got their hands bitten by you. They are all puzzled on why you only wanted raw meat but they guess that it's a beastman thing... Wait a second, aren't you a llama?

Carl! Yuu: "Hey Kalim."

Kalim: "*yawn* Yep?"

Carl! Yuu: "... Thanks for the party. I honestly don't remember when was the last time I had fun without the blood and all. I haven't seen Grim this happy before. Maybe I should improve on my party-hosting... You know, I had this roommate named Paul and he--"

Kalim: "😴"

Carl! Yuu: "Kalim? Kalim? Kalim? Kal-Oh, you're asleep. Must've partied hard. Goodnight, Kalim."

• Timeskip to the part where you and Grim are captured by the hypnotized Scarabia students and were forced in a cell. Jamil had enough. It didn't take long for him to run out of patience and hypnotized Kalim. Grim tries to escape with a spoon and you decided to help him than wait.

Grim: "Fnyagh... No! The spoon's bent! Carl! Yuu! What are we gonna--"

Carl! Yuu: "...ughh...uhhh...."

Grim: "Hey, don't just stand there!... W-wait! Are you vomiting?!"

Carl! Yuu: "...Blegh!"

Grim: "Eww! Gross!"

Carl! Yuu: "Wow. It's been a long time since I throw up from a full stomach."

Grim: "... I-is that a key?!"

Carl! Yuu: "Yep. I snatched it from that Scarabia student earlier."

Grim: "Why didn't you do that in the first place?! And is that a... a f-f-finger?!!"

Carl! Yuu: "Oops, I must've bitten his finger off too."

• You two finally escaped the cell and snuck into the treasure room. You and Grim grabbed the magic carpet and ran from the pursuing residents. Both of you stumbled in Mostro Lounge, crashing into a table or two. Azul and the Tweels do not want to deal with you right now...

Jade: "Azul."

Azul: "Yes?"

Floyd: "They're back."

Azul: "............. Fuck."

Floyd: "Aren't you gonna do something?"

Azul: "Why are you asking me?! Just throw them outside!"

Floyd: "I don't wanna! They're gonna bite and eat my other ear!"

Azul: "Jade?!"

Jade: "... I also do not want to. Not after what they did to my poor terrariums."

Azul: "Why are you passing this problem onto me?!"

Floyd: "Who else is gonna talk to that freak?!"

Jade: "Certainly not us."

Azul: "...*sigh*. Fine, but you two are going to pay later!"

• Even before his Overblot, Jamil took notice of your relationship with the Octavinelle Trio... Floyd, who was in a bad mood, threatened to squeeze you one time and you bit off his ear. Jade became interested in you by the amount of food (mostly meat) you can consume in a minute. He tried to trick you into taste testing the dishes he made for free, when in fact, he laced some of them with poison.

• Jade was fascinated that your body withstood the poison and decided to experiment more. But you've reached your limit and started bashing people's heads on the tables, ripped off the Octavinelle banner and painted it with the students blood, and then declared a revolution. Azul ordered Floyd to throw you out but you began hitting the eel with the dorm leader's own cane. You then smashed the aquarium, resulting a flood within the dorm. People were seeking higher ground to avoid drowning while you were dancing on a buoyant wrecked door.

• After evacuating the residents, Jade swam to his room to save his precious terrariums but it was too late. You were using a swordfish how the hell did that get there? to drunkenly fence the terrariums. They shattered and Jade has to watch in horror as you ate his mushrooms and shards of glass. It took Leona, Riddle and Azul to physically restrain you.

• That day became one of the darkest times Mostro Lounge has ever faced a crisis. And to think all of this happened in just HALF AN HOUR. Azul blamed you for all of this mess but the headmaster covered for you... Jamil also took notice that every time you commit these atrocities, you'd try to put far-fetched reasons for your actions. Your smile still brings him shivers down his spine. He still can't believe you were the one that helped ended Overblots for the school. He thought that you were most likely the one that caused them.

• The Octavinelle Trio never want to deal with you again. Until today... Azul approached you cautiously, casting a magic shield around him just in case. He wasted no time in calling you out on your trespassing.

Carl! Yuu: "Hey Azul, long time no see. I know that we weren't on good terms after what happened to the dorm, even though it was still your vice dorm leader's fault to poison me, but hear me out--"

Azul: "Carl! Yuu, what made you have the right mind to step in Mostro Lounge? After all that chaos you've unleashed? The amount of employees you've nearly killed?!"

Carl! Yuu: "I do not kill people. That is my least favorite thing to do."

Azul: "Don't give me that excuse! We STRICTLY told you AND the headmaster that you are banned from entering this establishment. Now if you please, just leave--"

Carl! Yuu: "What do you mean Azul? I'm not in the lounge."

Azul: "Yes you are! You're standing by the doorway!"

Carl! Yuu: "No I'm not. I'm standing outside. See this line by the doorway? I'm standing on the other side. Not on the lounge's side."

Azul: "That doesn't count!"

Carl! Yuu: "Yes it does."

Azul: "No, you're still in the establishment!"

Carl! Yuu: "But I didn't step on the other side. Therefore, I did not enter."

Azul: "We literally heard you crashing into the tables!"

Carl! Yuu: "That must've been a phantom."

Azul: "You and Grim flew in here with a magic carpet!"

Carl! Yuu: "False, we were standing here waiting for you. The carpet must have flight skills as horrible as yours."

Magic Carpet: "😠!"

Azul: "Ugh, this is getting us nowhere... What do you want?!"

• You negotiate with Azul to help you with your predicament but he refused, afraid that you are capable of causing financial problems for the lounge... Until you mentioned Jamil. He was curious about Viper and Al-Asim and decided to hear you out.

• After shooing off the chasing Scarabia students, he listened to your negotiation and as it turns out, you have a grudge against Jade for attempting to poison you and no matter how delicious the poison tastes, you still haven't forgiven him. Jade also held a VERY DEEP grudge against you after you destroyed his terrariums and doesn't want to work with you. Azul feared that if your grudge against Jade will create a conflict, it'll pull Mostro Lounge along with it. So he has no choice but to give you temporary alliance, much to the twins' dismay.

• With the Trio's bait & trap and your annoyingly gruesome abilities combined, you successfully made Jamil have a mental breakdown 😃!........ Okay, he's laughing, that's probably too successful 😨....

• And here we go again, another Overblot. Defeating Jamil was a bit more difficult than you expected now that he's hypnotized every Scarabia resident, and now he has an army to corner you. Jamil then whooped your asses to the ends of the dessert.

• Azul was in a mild panic, pulling his hair out and walking in circles, he kept on rambling on how his plan had failed, how he never should have helped you, and how to figure out a way out of this dessert. Kalim was just bawling out the feeling of betrayal and was in denial of Jamil's grudge against him. Jade and Floyd were on the verge of abandoning all forgiveness and proceeded to try and strangle you.

Carl! Yuu: "Huh."

Azul: "HUH? HUUUUH?! THAT'S ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY AFTER THAT?! WE'RE STRANDED IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE, MILES FAR AWAY FROM THE DORM, A FUCKING OVERBLOT IS ON A RAMPAGE, AND ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY WAS HUH?!!"

Carl! Yuu: "No, I meant huh, I could have sworn I smelled orphan blood."

Azul: "NOT ANOTHER WORD OF YOUR NONSENSE!!"

Kalim: "WAAAAAAHHHH!!! W-w-why J-Jamil?! sob! Whyyyy?! I trusted youuuu...sob... WAAAAHHHHH 😭!!!"

Grim: "Caaaarl! Yuuu! Do something! I wanna get outta here!"

Floyd: "That's it... I'm gonna kill this motherfucker right here."

Jade: "Not if I kill them first 🙂." ← Look of pure bloodlust.

! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

• A blood curdling roar was heard and a creature made out of raw meat flew down... IS THAT A DRAGON?!

Carl! Yuu: "Aha! I knew I smelled orphan meat! Well, crisis averted!"

Azul: "...W... W.... WHAT IN TWISTED WONDERLAND IS THAT?!!"

Carl! Yuu: "Oh just a meat dragon that I've been working on. What do you think?"

• ... That night, Azul concludes that logic does not apply when you're around. The twins put a pin on when to strangle you after the Overblot. Kalim is even more traumatized after you told him what the dragon is made out of in detail. Grim just sighed to himself since he thought that you weren't planning on using the meat dragon.

• When you got here, the place was reeking and dripping with blot and for some reason, you are tempted to bite into it but Grim stopped you. Azul thought of a distraction while Jamil ordered everyone to praise him until you ruined it. Everyone was complimenting him on how handsome, talented, and sophisticated he is meanwhile you complimented on how his newly inked skin will taste better if you either boil or fry it.

• Jamil realized that the cannibalistic compliment was from you and became alert. Azul and the other deadpanned at you, practically tired of your bullshit. Jamil attempted to whoop your asses again, this time permanently. The meat dragon charged toward him but the Overblot monster crushed and tore it to pieces. Everyone braced for impact but the attack never came. Everyone looked to see Jamil looking at something.

• Why did Jamil.... A... Crack?! In the sky!? ....

• Everyone turned to you, knowing that this is definitely one of your doings. You tried denying it but eventually revealed that you may have created a crack through space time. Azul was about to argue with you but Jamil interrupted with an attack. Jade and Floyd used this momentum to shield Azul and attack Jamil. Kalim shouted that they do not have time for arguements and that they must do their best to defeat Jamil.

• As the crack grew bigger, another flying creature that looks like a giant otter come falling to the ground... marshmallows?

Pink Marshmallow: "The otter won't fly!"

White Marshmallow: "Great, not again! Now where the hell are we?!"

• Talking marshmallows!? This has got to be one of your creations beside the meat dragon.

Pink Marshmallow: "Oh shoot! It looks like these randos are attacking this rando."

White Marshmallow: "Finally! We can attack people as much as we want!"

Pink Marshmallow: "Can we eat them too?"

White Marshmallow: "What, are you kidding? Let's set them on fire!"

Pink Marshmallow: "Ugh! We always set fires! It's boring!"

White Marshmallow: "Let's just beat up this guy and be done with it!"

Pink Marshmallow: "AAAAHHHH!!!"

White Marshmallow: "AAAAHHHH!!!"

• For some reason, these... Things joined in on the fight, which doesn't really help much until the white marshmallow pulled out a knife and begins to stab Jamil's leg and the pink marshmallow ran to bite Jamil's snake hair. It was horrifying to watch but at least he didn't die.

• After a harsh battle with blood and sweat, morning comes, the skies finally cleared up and Jamil's magic was broken. The ink was out of Jamil's body and the monster disappeared. Kalim threw himself on Jamil and cried out his apologies. Azul checked everyone for injuries and gladly, no one was hurt... Too much.

• Post-Overblot, The Octavinelle Trio's alliance with you has come to an end as they went back to Mostro Lounge and hopefully, you'll eat befriend them in the near future. Kalim has repaired his friendship with Jamil and now, Jamil won't be holding back his talents.

• He's gotta say, it was horrifically bad knowing you but you saved him and for that he's somewhat thankful towards you. At least you didn't kill Kalim. He may not remember a thing from his Overblot but he does remember you trying to skin his face.

• Speaking of Kalim, he asked you at Kalim's victory party about why you chose not to kill anyone for now. You replied that you wanted someone to acknowledge the effort you made with your... Macabre art. He guesses that you have a that complex where serial killers want attention for the crimes they commit.

Jamil: "I don't get it... I don't get you... I don't know if I can ever understand why you keep on doing this... I don't know how you'll benefit from making these... why? Just why?"

Carl! Yuu: "Possibly because I am a dangerous sociopath with a long history of death, violence and genocide."

Jamil: "............"

Carl! Yuu: "............"

Jamil: "That explains a lot. You do have a problem..."

Carl! Yuu: "You're right. I have a problem. I have a very serious problem. I don't know how you keep forgetting that, Jennifer."

Jamil: "Ugh, my name is Jamil!"

Carl! Yuu: "Oh, it is?...I thought you were a woman."

Jamil: "How could you not know that? And why would you think I'm woman?"

Carl! Yuu: "Mostly the hair. Are you sure?"

Jamil: "Yes!"

Carl! Yuu: "Yeah, I didn't know that. I'm in the wrong here. I suck..."

Jamil: *sigh*

• When he got to learn more about you during the VDC arc, he's come to a conclusion that you do these things as an impulse. That you have some kind of mental disorder that revolves around normalcy and sociopathic tendencies. You believed that killing things are what you are good for and nothing else. You're afraid that if you'll be admitted to a mental facility, you'll just be a normal llama guy with a hat.

• But look at what progress you've made! You've befriended people and made new enemies, you turn your cannibalistic behavior to a minimum, try to cause less damage, and even developed some hobbies aside from killing things! You can see people more than just bodies filled with blood and meat.

• Grim got used to your abnormalities but you got to remind yourself that if you did something unforgivable and got expelled, who will take care of Grim? So he became one of the motivations for you to change your habits.

• You and Jamil became frenemies. On days you take favors from Jamil in exchange for meat and on other days, he'll argue with you about Kalim's safety. However, you'll still involve them in other atrocious project of yours. But it became less bloody poor Kalim. He doesn't know if you've learned to be more civilized or that you've learned to hide your unhinged tendencies better. He cooks for you sometimes as to lessen your affiliation with raw meat.

• Jamil gifted you a new hat on your birthday since he noticed that your old hat is worn out and you loved it! It looks just like your old hat but fancier. Ah, this takes you back to day you met Paul--

• ..........................................................................

• .........................................................

• ..................................Let's not talk about him.

• You're still fighting the need to stab and eat everything. You need to control your hunger. You need to control your impulses. Besides! If you've become normal, you'll see him alive and well again! Right?

• This was all he ever wanted... A normal friend. A normal day. A normal life. Right?

• He won't have to shout your name every time you do something wrong again.

• ...Right?

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

• What happened to the marshmallow people? Well, let's just say that they didn't make it to the end and are in a better place now...

Carl! Yuu: "BUUURP!"

[feydspet]

Me and Feyd fr 🎀💋

#he is in my DR

#im worse just for thinking we're soulmates

[risuola]

hear me out... stalker!sukuna watching and following you for months, calling and messaging you even though you changed your number twice. turning your life into a living nightmare before he finally breaks into your house. you hold a knife, you want to scream but he presses you too the wall, one hand on your wrist and one on covers you're face. he's—

edit: allow me to invite y'all to the comment section

[alkalineapparition]

Dark Signs

Psychopath.

Sociopath.

Antisocial Personality Disorder.

But in the darkness, there is a small spark.

You.

i.e. Sociopath Ghost falls in love with you.

18+, MDNI

[keehomania]

therapeutic (테라퓨틱) — lee taeyong (이태용)

✧.* 18+

the mind, a vast labyrinth, held within its delicate folds the secrets of every human experience. it was a realm both familiar and foreign, a place where memories danced like shadows on ancient walls, where emotions ebbed and flowed like the tides, and where thoughts wove themselves into the fabric of reality. in that particular domain, the boundaries between the conscious and the unconscious blurred, creating a landscape that was as treacherous as it was beautiful.

for centuries, humanity had sought to understand the mind's inner workings, to decipher the language of neurons and synapses that whispered the truths of existence. yet, despite all the knowledge amassed, the mind remained an enigma, a force capable of both creation and destruction. it could be a sanctuary, a place of solace where dreams flourished, or a prison, where fears and anxieties festered in the dark corners, unbidden and unwelcome.

why do i think the way i do? why do i behave the way i do? why do we find ourselves begging the question, that three-letter question—why? too long has it been a double-edged sword, that question. those who ventured too close to the edge found themselves lost in a labyrinth of their own making, searching for a way out that sometimes seemed impossible to find.

the mind was both a protector and a betrayer. it could shield one from the harshness of reality, crafting illusions and fantasies that soothed the soul. but it could also turn against its owner, unraveling the very threads of their being until they were left exposed, vulnerable to the relentless onslaught of their inner demons. the mind could be a gentle guide, leading one toward healing and self-discovery, or a merciless tormentor, dragging them deeper into the abyss.

the path to mental well-being was not a straight one; it twisted and turned, often doubling back on itself in a confounding maze. it required courage to traverse, or facing the darkest parts of oneself, the fears and doubts that lay hidden beneath the surface. it meant confronting the wounds of the past, allowing them to bleed so they might eventually heal. and it meant accepting that some scars would never fully fade, that they were as much a part of the self as the mind that bore them.

the office you called your own was a home of sorts, a place where the issues of the outside world were left at the door, and the echoes of troubled minds found solace. it was a space curated to ease the burdens carried by those who sought your counsel. the walls were painted in soft, muted tones—an earthy beige that mimicked the comforting embrace of nature. sunlight filtered through the gauzy curtains, casting a gentle glow that softened the edges of the room and made it feel safe, inviting.

your desk, though functional, was devoid of the sterility one might expect in a clinical setting. instead, it was adorned with books—volumes on psychology, philosophy, and the occasional novel that you found particularly stirring. there was a small plant, a gift from a patient who had once come to you in a state of complete disarray, now thriving under your care much as she had under your guidance. everything in the room was carefully chosen to exude warmth, from the plush armchairs that encouraged relaxation to the subtle scent of lavender that lingered in the air, a calming presence in and of itself.

patients came to you from all walks of life, each bringing with them a story woven from the threads of their experiences, traumas, and desires. there were those who arrived at your doorstep with their defences up, their walls built high. but you had a way with people, a way that transcended the clinical distance that often characterized the relationships between psychiatrist and patient. you didn’t just listen to them—you heard them, truly, deeply. you took in not only their words but also the silences between them, the unspoken fears that hid behind carefully chosen phrases, the way their eyes darted away when a subject became too painful to confront.

your reputation had spread quietly, almost organically. it wasn’t that you were a miracle worker or that you possessed some mystical ability to cure what ailed them. rather, it was your presence, the way you made people feel seen and understood without judgment, that drew them in. you never approached a session with preconceived notions or diagnoses waiting to be confirmed. each patient was a blank canvas, and it was your role to help them paint the picture that best represented their truth, no matter how fragmented or abstract it might be.

pills had always been a contentious issue for you. the pharmaceutical industry, with its glossy advertisements and promises of quick fixes, had never sat well with you. to you, the mind was not a machine that could be fine-tuned with a simple dose of chemicals. it was a complex, ever-evolving entity, influenced by experiences, environment, and relationships. you believed that true healing came not from numbing the symptoms but from addressing the root causes, from understanding and untangling the web of emotions and memories that led to a patient’s distress.

when the need for medication arose—and it did, at times, arise—you approached it with the utmost caution. you prescribed only the smallest doses necessary, believing firmly in the principle of ‘less is more.’ and even then, you coupled any prescription with a robust plan of therapy, ensuring that the medication was merely a tool to assist in the journey, not the journey itself. the low dosages you recommended rarely led to backlash, and your patients appreciated your restraint, knowing that you were not one to dole out pills like candy but rather used them as a last resort.

it was in your interactions with your patients that your true skill shone. each session was a dance, a delicate balance of guiding and listening, of leading without forcing. you never rushed them, never pushed them to confront more than they were ready to face. instead, you let them set the pace, allowing the conversation to flow naturally. and when the time came to delve deeper, you did so with a gentleness that put them at ease.

park minhyuk, a man in his early forties who had walked into your office carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. his face was lined with the stress of a life lived under constant pressure, his eyes betraying a deep-seated weariness. he had been referred to you by a friend who spoke highly of your methods. the first time he sat across from you, he looked hesitant, almost skeptical, as if he didn’t quite believe that talking could help him.

“i’m not sure this is going to work,” he had said, his voice heavy with doubt. “i’ve been to therapists before. they all just tell me to take some pills and come back in a few weeks.”

you leaned back in your chair, studying him with a calm, measured gaze. “i’m not here to force anything on you, mister park,” you replied softly. “i’m here to listen, and we’ll move at a pace that feels right for you. there’s no rush.” he had looked at you then, really looked at you, as if searching for something, some sign that you were different. you met his gaze steadily, offering nothing but the quiet assurance that you were there to help, not to judge.

over time, he began to open up, slowly at first, testing the waters. he spoke of his job, the immense pressure to succeed, the constant fear of failure that gnawed at him day and night. he talked about his family, the wife and children he loved dearly but felt disconnected from, the guilt that weighed on him for not being more present in their lives. as he spoke, you listened—not just to his words but to the pain behind them. you noticed the way his hands clenched and unclenched when he talked about his work, the slight tremor in his voice when he mentioned his children. and when he finally began to talk about the darker thoughts that sometimes crept into his mind, the moments when he wondered if it would be easier just to disappear, you didn’t react with shock or alarm. instead, you nodded, acknowledging his feelings without judgment.

“i understand that it feels overwhelming,” you said gently. “but it’s important to remember that these thoughts, as heavy as they are, don’t define you. they’re part of what you’re going through, but they don’t have to be the end of your story.” he looked at you then, a flicker of hope in his tired eyes. “you really think i can get through this?”

“i do,” you replied, your voice steady and sure. “and i’m here to help you find the way.” his journey wasn’t easy, and there were setbacks along the way. but he returned week after week, drawn not just by your words but by the genuine care you showed. and slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, he began to heal. he started taking more time for himself, reconnecting with his family, finding ways to manage the stress that had once consumed him. the transformation wasn’t immediate, but it was real, and it was lasting.

your practice grew, not because you advertised or sought out patients, but because word of mouth spread. people spoke of you with a kind of reverence, not because you were a miracle worker, but because you offered them something rare in the world of mental health—a safe space where they could be themselves, where they could speak without fear of judgment, where they knew they would be heard.

even those who had been through the harshest of environments—prisoners, veterans, people who had been hardened by life—found solace in your office. they recommended you to others, saying, “you should see her. she’s different. she cares.” and they weren’t wrong. you had found your calling, not in the pills or the textbooks, but in the people who sat across from you, day after day, baring their souls in the hope of finding some relief from the burdens they carried. and you met them with compassion, with understanding, with a quiet strength that reassured them they were not alone.

despite your skill in navigating the landscapes of other’s minds, there was a vast, uncharted territory within your own that you could not seem to traverse. you could guide others out of their darkness, yet when it came to your own, you were perpetually lost, stumbling through a fog that only seemed to thicken with time. it was a darkness that you couldn’t quite pinpoint, a gnawing emptiness that seemed to have no origin, no clear beginning. you often wondered when it had all started, but the truth was as elusive as the peace you sought.

perhaps it began when your father left. you could still remember the day he walked out, his shadow stretching long across the floor as the door closed behind him. the silence that followed was deafening, a silence that you had been trying to fill ever since. you were young then, too young to understand why he was leaving, too young to grasp the implications. but the abandonment had left a scar, a deep, festering wound that never quite healed. you wondered if that was where it all began, this relentless feeling of being untethered, of floating aimlessly in a vast, empty space.

maybe it was when your mother overdosed, her lifeless body found slumped over in the bathroom, surrounded by the remnants of a life that had spiraled out of control. you had been the one to find her, a memory that still haunted you, that still woke you in the middle of the night drenched in sweat. the sight of her pale, lifeless face was seared into your mind, a constant reminder of the fragility of life, of how easily it could slip through your fingers. you had been left to pick up the pieces, to make sense of the senseless, and in doing so, you had buried your own grief, your own pain, deep within you, where it festered in the dark.

there were your grandparents, the last anchors in your life, the last semblance of stability. their deaths had come like a storm, sudden and unforgiving, leaving you alone in a world that seemed to be crumbling around you. they had been your safe haven, the only ones who understood the weight you carried, and when they were gone, it felt as though the ground had been ripped out from beneath you. alone. that word echoed in your mind, reverberating off the walls of your empty apartment, a constant reminder of your isolation.

you hated being alone. it wasn’t just a dislike; it was a deep-seated fear, a terror that clawed at you from the inside. when you were alone, your mind became a labyrinth of dark thoughts and memories, each corner hiding another shadow, another demon waiting to pounce. the silence was unbearable, suffocating, so you filled it with noise, any noise that could drown out the voices in your head. you couldn’t stand the short sessions with your patients, craving more time with them, more connection, more distraction from the void inside you. the hour would pass, and you would find yourself wanting to reach out, to extend the session, to hold on to the connection a little longer, just a little longer. but you never did. you were their healer, not the other way around.

housework became a ritual of distraction, each chore accompanied by the blaring sound of music that reverberated through the walls, filling the empty spaces with melodies that drowned out the silence. without music, the house felt too big, too empty, too full of memories you didn’t want to confront. you couldn’t sleep without a movie playing in the background, the flickering light and the familiar voices lulling you into a false sense of security. the thought of lying in bed in complete silence, left alone with your thoughts, was unbearable. so, the movies played, one after another, their comforting narratives keeping the darkness at bay for just a little while longer.

but at the end of the day, when the music stopped, when the movies ended, you were left with nothing but the quiet hum of the empty apartment and the stark realization that you were alone. no parents to comfort you, no friends to lean on, no boyfriend to share your life with. just you. and it wasn’t enough. you had poured so much of yourself into your work, into helping others heal, that you had neglected your own wounds, your own needs. you had become a vessel, emptying yourself for the sake of others until there was nothing left for you.

your patients were the only ones who filled that void, the only ones who made you feel needed, wanted. they confided in you, trusted you, relied on you, and for a while, it was enough. but they were temporary, each one coming to you broken and leaving whole, while you remained the same, a healer who couldn’t heal themselves. when they got better, when they no longer needed you, it broke your heart a little more each time, even though you knew it was coming. it was the nature of your work, after all, to help them, to guide them, and then to let them go. but the letting go was the hardest part because it meant returning to the silence, to the emptiness, to the loneliness that gnawed at you, growing stronger with each departure.

you were sitting in your office, the soft glow of the desk lamp casting long shadows across the room as you sifted through patient files and prescription bottles. the clock on the wall ticked away the minutes, but you barely noticed. the weight of the empty office felt like a cocoon, enclosing you in a familiar, if not comforting, solitude. the sterile smell of paper and faint traces of disinfectant mingled in the air, a scent that had become as much a part of your life as the darkness that you couldn't seem to shake.

the faint sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, growing louder as they approached your door. you knew who it was before she even knocked—a gentle, almost tentative rap on the door, followed by the soft creak as it swung open. “still here?” your manager’s voice was gentle, but there was an underlying note of concern that she couldn’t quite mask. hara stepped into the room, her eyes sweeping over the scattered files and the bottles of pills lined up in neat rows on your desk. the look she gave you was one you’d seen many times before—a mix of empathy, perhaps a touch of pity, and something else that you couldn’t quite place.

you didn’t look up immediately, your eyes fixed on the file in front of you as you made a show of scribbling a note in the margins. “just wanted to get as much work done as i could,” you said, finally glancing up with a smile that felt foreign on your lips, a practiced expression that you’d perfected over the years. she didn’t say anything at first, just watched you with those knowing eyes of hers. then she moved closer, placing a hand on your shoulder. the touch was warm, grounding in a way that made you want to lean into it, to close your eyes and let the world fall away. but you didn’t. instead, you stayed still, your smile frozen in place.

“you need to rest,” she said softly, her voice carrying a warmth that made something in your chest tighten. she squeezed your shoulder gently before letting her hand drop back to her side. “i will,” you assured her, the lie slipping out as easily as all the others. it was what you were supposed to say, after all, what she expected to hear. but you both knew the truth, didn’t you? you weren’t planning on resting, not anytime soon. rest meant being alone with your thoughts, and that was something you couldn’t bear.

she sighed, a soft sound of resignation, and you could see the conflict in her eyes. she knew she should insist, should tell you to go home and take care of yourself. but she also knew what you would say, how you would deflect with that same smile and those same empty promises. so she didn’t push. instead, she gave you a small nod and fished a set of keys out of her pocket. “lock up when you’re done, alright?” she said, holding the keys out to you.

you reached out to take them, your fingers brushing against hers for the briefest moment before she pulled her hand back. “i will,” you said again, and this time she didn’t bother to respond. she just nodded, casting one last glance around your barren office—the empty desk devoid of personal touches, the phone that never rang—before turning and walking out of the room. the door clicked shut behind her, leaving you alone once more. the silence was palpable, pressing in around you, but you welcomed it. it was better than the alternative. you turned back to the files, flipping through them with the pretense of work, but your mind was elsewhere, lost in the fog that seemed to constantly hover just at the edges of your consciousness.

you let the minutes tick by, the hours bleeding into one another as you went through the same files, the same bottles, over and over again. you knew there was nothing left to do, nothing left to distract yourself with, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave. not yet. not when you knew what awaited you outside—the cold, unwelcoming night, the empty apartment, the silence that you couldn’t drown out. but eventually, the futility of your actions became impossible to ignore. the same patient files stared back at you, the same labels on the bottles mocking you with their uselessness. you sighed, a long, drawn-out exhalation of breath that carried with it all the weariness you felt but couldn’t show. there was nothing left to do, no more excuses to stay.

reluctantly, you gathered the files and put them back in their proper place, the routine motions bringing you no comfort. the click of the lock on the file cabinet echoed in the empty room, a finality that made your heart sink. you picked up the keys your manager had left you, your fingers curling around the cool metal, and stood up. the room was dark now, the only light coming from the faint glow of the streetlamps outside. you turned off the desk lamp, plunging the room into shadow, and made your way to the door. the hallway was just as empty as it had been when she left, the building silent save for the occasional creak of the floorboards. you locked the door behind you, the keys jingling in the quiet as you slipped them into your pocket.

the night air was cool when you stepped outside, unlike the stale, sterile atmosphere of the office. you tucked your hands into your pockets, your breath misting in the air as you stood there for a moment, letting the city’s sounds wash over you. it was late—nearly two in the morning—but the city was still alive, the distant hum of traffic and the occasional shout from a passerby reminding you that you weren’t completely alone.

but it didn’t bring you any comfort. if anything, it made the emptiness inside you more acute, unlike the vibrancy of the world around you. you weren’t tired, though you wished you were. exhaustion would have been a mercy, a way to escape the thoughts that clawed at you in the quiet. but sleep was as elusive as peace, and you knew that returning to your empty apartment would only make things worse.

so you let your feet carry you down the street, the familiar route to the small bar that stayed open late. it wasn’t much, just a hole-in-the-wall with dim lighting and a jukebox that played old songs, but it was something. a place where you could lose yourself for a little while, where the music and the people could drown out the noise in your head. the bar was nearly empty when you walked in, just a few regulars nursing their drinks and the bartender wiping down the counter. you slipped onto a stool at the far end, nodding in acknowledgment as the bartender approached.

“just a whiskey,” you said, your voice low, and he nodded, pouring you a glass without a word. you downed the first drink quickly, the burn of the alcohol a fleeting comfort, and ordered another. the jukebox played a song you didn’t recognize, the melody soft and haunting, and for a moment, you let yourself get lost in it. the chatter around you faded into the background, the clink of glasses and the murmur of voices becoming nothing more than white noise.

but the comfort was temporary, as it always was. the bar was closing, the bartender giving you a sympathetic look as he handed you your tab. you paid it without complaint, sliding off the stool and making your way to the door with a wave of thanks. the night was colder now, the wind biting at your skin as you walked back to your apartment. the streets were emptier, the city slowly falling asleep, and you found yourself wishing you could do the same. but as you reached your building, the familiar weight of dread settled in your chest. you unlocked the door and stepped inside, the silence immediately enveloping you, as it did every night.

you moved through the motions mechanically—kicking off your shoes, tossing your keys on the table, flicking on the lights. but the apartment felt as cold and lifeless as you did, the emptiness pressing in on you from all sides. you thought about turning on the television, letting the sound fill the void, but you couldn’t muster the energy. instead, you stood in the middle of the room, staring at nothing in particular, feeling the weight of the silence bear down on you.

it was suffocating, this loneliness, this isolation. it was a constant companion, one that you couldn’t escape no matter how hard you tried. and as you finally collapsed onto the couch, pulling a blanket around your shoulders, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was how it would always be. if you were destined to live your life in this void, surrounded by silence and shadows, with no one to share it with. the night stretched on, the city outside your window slowly quieting as it finally succumbed to sleep. but sleep didn’t come for you, not easily, not with the thoughts that swirled in your mind, the memories that haunted you. so you lay there, staring up at the ceiling, letting the darkness close in around you, wondering if there would ever be a way out.

the morning sunlight streamed through the narrow gap in your curtains, casting a gentle glow across the room. you stretched awake, the familiar feeling of weariness hanging heavy in your limbs, but there was something different about today. it was as though a thin veil had lifted, allowing a sliver of anticipation to seep in. you had always been a person of routine, and the thought of returning to your office, of delving back into the rhythm of your work, brought with it a semblance of comfort, a fleeting escape from the solitude that plagued you.

you moved through your morning routine with efficiency, the motions almost automatic. the scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen as you prepared a simple breakfast—toast and jam, with a cup of strong coffee to wake your senses. the radio hummed softly in the background, a familiar companion that provided a semblance of normalcy. you dressed with deliberate care, choosing a crisp, tailored suit that made you feel professional and polished, ready to face whatever the day might bring.

the trip to the office was a brief but pleasant ritual, the city streets bathed in the soft morning light, the air carrying the promise of a new day. you relished the routine, the predictable patterns that offered a sense of control. as you approached your building, you caught sight of the familiar facade, the reassuring solidity of it grounding you.

but as you walked through the entrance, you were greeted by an unexpected sight. hara stood waiting in the lobby. her presence was unusual at this hour, and her expression was more serious than usual. you offered her a friendly smile, but she didn’t immediately return it. instead, she gestured for you to follow her to a quiet corner of the building. “you’ve been working hard,” she began, her tone carrying a note of cautious warmth. “and i wanted to have a word with you.”

you paused, a twinge of apprehension flickering in your chest. “am i in trouble?” you asked, the question escaping before you could second-guess it. hara shook her head, her lips curling into a faint smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “no, not at all. well, not yet,” she said, inhaling deeply as if gathering her thoughts.

your heart skipped a beat. “what do you mean?” the uncertainty in her voice sent a ripple of unease through you. “what’s wrong?” she took a moment to collect her thoughts, her eyes meeting yours with a look of barely concealed concern. “you have a new patient,” she said finally, her tone shifting to one of subdued excitement as she watched your eyes light up at the news.

“really?” you asked, a spark of enthusiasm igniting within you. it had been a while since you had taken on a new case, and the prospect of diving into a fresh challenge was invigorating.

hara held up a hand, her expression turning more serious. “don’t get too excited,” she said, her tone taking on a warning edge. “he’ll be your project patient for your internship at the asylum.” the words hit you like a cold splash of water. “the asylum?” you repeated, the dismay clear in your voice. “but i love working here. this office, this environment—i don’t want to leave.”

hara’s face softened, and before you could fully process what was happening, she stepped forward and enveloped you in a hug. the gesture was unexpected, her arms wrapping around you with a warmth and sincerity that contrasted sharply with her usual professional demeanor. for a moment, you let yourself sink into the embrace, the human contact a rare and precious balm against the isolation that had become your constant companion.

“i know,” she said, her voice muffled against your shoulder. “i know how much you love it here. but this is something you have to do for your career. it’s a good opportunity, and it’s important for your development.”

you barely registered her words, too caught up in the comforting proximity of another person. the embrace lasted only a few moments, but it was enough to stir something deep within you—a longing for connection, for understanding, for more than just the superficial interactions of your daily life. when she finally pulled away, you nodded, a sense of reluctant acceptance settling over you. “okay,” you said softly, the word carrying more resignation than agreement.

she gave you a reassuring smile, her eyes reflecting a mix of sympathy and encouragement. “i’ll call a taxi for you,” she said, guiding you toward the building’s entrance. “it’s best if you head over there now. and remember to keep an open mind. this could be a valuable experience.” you followed her outside, the cool morning air brushing against your face. she hailed a taxi and handed you the keys to the office, reminding you to lock up when you finished. you took the keys with a grateful nod and watched as she walked back inside, her figure disappearing into the building.

the ride was a blur of anxious anticipation and reluctant acceptance. the city passed by in a series of shifting scenes, the familiar streets giving way to more industrial landscapes as you neared the asylum. it was a place you had heard about in passing but had never visited—a cold, imposing structure that seemed to loom on the horizon, its architecture stark and unwelcoming.

the asylum loomed before you like a cold, implacable sentinel against the sky, its grim, grey façade cutting through the morning mist. you stood before it for a moment, taking in the sheer scale of the structure—an imposing monolith that seemed to absorb the light, casting long shadows that stretched over the cracked pavement. the windows were narrow, barred, and the walls bore the harshness of age and neglect. there was something distinctly unwelcoming about it, so unlike the warm, inviting atmosphere of your office.

you pushed open the iron door, and a chill seemed to emanate from the very core of the building. the foyer was austere and utilitarian, the air thick with the smell of disinfectant and something else—a faint hint of despair that clung to the walls and floors. the reception area was starkly lit, the fluorescent lights casting a harsh glare over the sterile surroundings. it was a far cry from the soft lighting and cozy furnishings you were accustomed to.

the receptionist sat behind a high counter, her demeanor as frosty as the environment. she looked up as you approached, her gaze assessing you with a detached scrutiny. her uniform was crisp and immaculate, adding to the air of clinical precision that pervaded the space. “name and business?” she asked, her voice flat and devoid of warmth.

you took a deep breath, steeling yourself against the chill that seemed to penetrate your bones. “i’m (y/n) (l/n), here for an internship as the asylum’s psychiatrist,” you said, your voice steady despite the uneasy flutter in your stomach. the receptionist’s eyes narrowed slightly, and her lips twisted into a thin, humorless line. there was something almost predatory in her gaze, a faint glimmer of disdain or perhaps even pity. “follow me,” she said curtly, her tone leaving no room for discussion.

you trailed behind her as she led you through the labyrinthine corridors of the asylum. the hallways were long and narrow, lined with peeling paint and heavy metal doors. the air was heavy, laden with the echoes of distant voices and the occasional clank of metal on metal. you could hear the shuffling of feet, the murmurs and cries of the patients—a cacophony of sounds that was jarringly different from the calm and composed demeanor of your previous office.

as you walked, you noticed the guards stationed at regular intervals. they were stern-faced and vigilant, their uniforms dark and imposing. their presence was a constant reminder of the control and surveillance that permeated every corner of the asylum. you felt their eyes on you, a silent assessment that made you self-conscious. you passed by several cells, their occupants visible through the narrow windows set into the doors. the patients inside were much unlike the composed individuals you were used to. they paced restlessly, their eyes darting with a wildness that spoke of untamed thoughts and unspoken fears. some shouted incoherently, while others simply stared blankly at the walls. the sense of chaos was eerie, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

eventually, the receptionist stopped in front of a heavy door marked with a simple brass plate that read “psychiatrist.” she unlocked it with a practiced twist of the key and pushed it open, revealing a small, spartan office. the room was a stark departure from the warm, inviting space you were used to. the walls were a dull, institutional green, and the furniture was minimal and functional. there was a plain wooden desk with a single chair behind it and a couple of metal filing cabinets against one wall. a solitary window, heavily barred, provided a view of the bleak courtyard outside. the light that filtered through was cold and uninviting, casting long shadows across the room.

the receptionist stepped inside and placed a folder on the desk. “this is your workspace,” she said, her tone as unfeeling as ever. “you’ll be lucky to make it out alive.”

her words were delivered with a chilling finality, and before you could respond, she turned on her heel and walked out, leaving you alone in the sterile, unwelcoming space. the door clicked shut behind her, and you were left standing in the midst of the clinical bleakness that surrounded you. you stood there for a moment, absorbing the reality of your new environment. the emptiness of the room mirrored the uncertainty that was swirling within you. the asylum was a world apart from the comforting familiarity of your office, a place where every detail seemed designed to unsettle and disquiet. as you took in the surroundings, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret for the warmth you had left behind and a growing apprehension for what lay ahead.

you turned your attention to the stack of files on your desk, organizing them with methodical precision. the papers were a jumble of case histories, treatment plans, and patient backgrounds. as you sorted through them, the muted rustle of paper was the only sound breaking the silence of the room. you had just begun to lose yourself in the paperwork when a sharp knock on the door startled you. the sound echoed in the otherwise still space, cutting through the quiet like a sudden gust of wind. you looked up, but before you could respond, the door swung open with a slow creak, revealing two guards.

the guards were as imposing as their environment, their uniforms sharp and unyielding. they moved with an air of efficiency, each holding an arm of the man who followed them into the room. your gaze fell upon him, and despite your initial wariness, you were struck by an unsettling calmness that seemed to envelop him. he didn't resist; instead, he walked with an eerie composure, his movements measured and deliberate.

the man was restrained in a straitjacket, his arms bound tightly and secured with a belt around his torso. the sight of the straitjacket, with its bold white fabric and heavy buckles, seemed almost surreal against the backdrop of the dull office. the restraints were a harsh reminder of the severe nature of his condition, yet his demeanor was unexpectedly serene. as he was guided to the chair across from your desk, you took the opportunity to study him more closely. he was a tall man, his frame lean but solid. his features were striking—a sharp, prominent jawline and high cheekbones that gave him a distinctly aristocratic appearance. his brown eyes, though calm, carried an intensity that seemed to pierce through the confines of the straitjacket, a depth that hinted at complexities beneath the surface.

there was an unsettling grace to his presence, an almost magnetic quality that drew your attention despite the circumstances. his hair was dark and neatly styled, falling in soft waves that framed his face. the contrast between his physical appeal and the harsh restraints was jarring, creating a dissonance that was difficult to ignore. the guards remained by the door, their expressions guarded and unreadable. they exchanged a brief, knowing look before stepping out of the room, leaving you alone with the restrained man. their departure was marked by the soft click of the door as it closed behind them, and the silence that followed was thick and heavy.

you were left in the room with the man, the weight of the situation settling heavily on your shoulders. the office, with its cold, clinical ambiance, seemed suddenly smaller and more confining. you took a deep breath, trying to center yourself as you prepared to begin the session. the man’s calmness was a definite contrast to the environment of the asylum. he patient’s eyes remained fixed on you, a quiet challenge in their depths, as if he were assessing you as much as you were trying to understand him. you could sense a subtle tension in the air, an undercurrent of anticipation that was almost overwhelming.

you took a deep breath, the silence in the room amplifying the subtle rustle of papers as you mentally prepared yourself for the interaction. the restrained man sat calmly in front of you, his demeanor a striking contrast to the harsh confines of his situation. you cleared your throat, attempting to steady your voice as you introduced yourself.

“hello, i’m doctor (y/n) (l/n),” you said, your tone measured and professional. “i’ll be working with you during this internship.” as you spoke, the man’s lips curved into a faint, enigmatic smile. it was a smile that seemed to hold secrets, one that both intrigued and unsettled you. Hhs eyes glinted with an unsettling mixture of curiosity and amusement.

“lee taeyong,” he said, his voice smooth and articulate. the name struck you with the force of a thunderclap. you hadn’t recognized his face immediately, but his name was unmistakable. lee taeyong—an infamous figure known for his involvement in shootings and robberies. his notoriety had led to his confinement in a correctional facility after being deemed mentally unwell. your heart skipped a beat, and you felt your face go pale, the realization dawning with a cold, unwelcome clarity. taeyong’s keen eyes caught the shift in your expression, and a dry chuckle escaped his lips.

“have you heard of me?” he asked, his tone laced with a subtle taunt. you nodded slowly, trying to mask the tension that was creeping into your chest. “yes, i have.”

his laughter was dry and devoid of genuine mirth, a sound that seemed to echo with a dark undertone. “so, are you gonna cure me, doctor?” he asked, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. you squared your shoulders, forcing yourself to meet his gaze with a confidence you didn’t entirely feel. “there isn’t anything i can’t cure.”

his response was immediate, and he leaned in abruptly, causing you to flinch involuntarily. the sudden movement was unsettling, and you found yourself instinctively retreating. taeyong smirked, clearly amused by your reaction. “are you afraid, doctor?” he asked, his voice low and teasing. you steadied your breathing, forcing a calmness into your voice as you responded, “i’m not.”

his eyes widened slightly in surprise. “you’re too pretty to be a doctor,” he remarked, the compliment carrying an edge of mockery. you raised an eyebrow, trying to keep the conversation on track. “why do you think you’re unstable?”

taeyong’s expression shifted slightly, his demeanor becoming more contemplative. “i don’t think i am,” he said, a hint of defensiveness in his voice. “but everybody else does. they think my urges are abnormal.” intrigued, you leaned forward slightly. “what kind of urges?”

his eyes darkened with a certain intensity as he spoke. “i like the fear and the thrill,” he said, his voice carrying a chilling calm. “the screams, the way everyone is powerless against me. it’s exhilarating.”

your mind raced as you processed his words, but you decided to take an unexpected step. you reached for the straps of his straitjacket and began to unfasten them, freeing his arms. taeyong’s eyes widened in surprise. “what are you doing?” he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

you smiled, trying to project a sense of ease despite the underlying tension. “i thought you might be more comfortable without the restraints.” his gaze remained fixed on you, his expression a blend of astonishment and wariness. “aren’t you afraid i’ll kill you?”

you met his gaze steadily, feeling a strange sense of calmness despite the gravity of the situation. “i don’t think you will.” his brows knitted together in confusion. “how do you know?”

“because,” you said softly, “i don’t believe you’re a bad person.” the sincerity in your voice seemed to take him aback. his eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, he looked genuinely disoriented by your kindness. the atmosphere in the room seemed to shift, a tentative bridge forming between the two of you.

taeyong leaned back, his posture relaxing slightly as he began to open up in a way that was both fascinating and ominous. he spoke of his past, his thoughts, and his perceptions with a raw honesty that was unsettling yet compelling. his words were a tapestry of dark desires and twisted logic, but there was an underlying vulnerability that made it clear he was grappling with his own demons.

as the session drew to a close, he looked at you with an unsettling blend of anticipation and something akin to respect. “i look forward to seeing you again, doctor.” he said, his voice carrying an eerie calmness. to your surprise, you found yourself looking forward to it as well. there was something about the interaction, the unexpected connection, that left you both unsettled and intrigued. as you watched him being escorted out by the guards, the weight of the session settled on your shoulders.

the morning sunlight filtered through the blinds of your apartment, casting a warm, gentle glow over the room. yet, despite the comforting start to your day, your mind was occupied with a singular thought—your next session with taeyong. the anticipation was a new and curious sensation, one that both thrilled and unsettled you. there was something compelling about his presence, a magnetic pull that made you eager to continue your interactions with him.

as you prepared for work, you found yourself contemplating how to make the next session more engaging, more comforting for him. the idea of a small gesture—something that might break through the cold walls of the asylum and create a connection—seemed to be the right approach. you decided to get him a gift, a symbol of the positive interaction you hoped to foster.

you ventured out to a small, quaint shop that morning, one filled with charming trinkets and comforting knick-knacks. your eyes scanned the shelves until they fell upon a small, stuffed kitten, its plush fur a soft, inviting shade of cream. it was delicate and unassuming, a small source of innocence amidst the reality of the asylum. you picked it up with a sense of purpose, imagining how such a simple object might ease the harshness of taeyong’s environment.

when you arrived at the asylum, the day’s routine felt different. the walls seemed colder, the atmosphere more oppressive, but the small stuffed kitten in your bag provided a small spark of warmth. as you approached your office, you were taken aback to find taeyong already seated in the chair, an unexpected sight. his presence there, so much earlier than anticipated, stirred a peculiar flutter in your chest. “you’re early today,” you remarked, trying to keep your tone light and neutral.

taeyong looked up at you, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “i couldn’t wait to see you,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of excitement that made your heart skip a beat. the sincerity in his words resonated deeply with you, and a small, inexplicable connection seemed to click into place. you felt a warm flush creep up your neck, but you quickly pushed the feeling aside, focusing on your planned gesture.

“i have something for you,” you said, reaching into your bag and pulling out the stuffed kitten. taeyong’s eyes widened with surprise and curiosity. “what’s this?” he asked, his tone a mix of intrigue and amusement.

you extended the kitten towards him, a smile playing at your lips. “it’s a little gift. i thought it might help make things a bit more comfortable here.” he took the kitten from you, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief, electrifying moment. as he cradled the stuffed animal in his hands, a look of genuine appreciation crossed his face. “i’m honored,” he said softly, his gaze fixed on the kitten.

you watched as he examined the plush toy with a sense of fascination. “i want you to take good care of it,” you said, your voice gentle. “if you can fight the urge to hurt it, then maybe you can fight the urge to hurt anything.” his lips curved into a mischievous smile as he toyed with the kitten, his fingers brushing over its soft fur.

“is that your way of challenging me, doctor?” he asked, his tone light but edged with an underlying seriousness. you nodded, trying to maintain a composed demeanor. “something like that,” you replied.

the session began in earnest, the conversation flowing with a new ease as taeyong’s attention seemed drawn to the small stuffed animal. he spoke of his past, his feelings, and his thoughts with a candor that was both unsettling and revealing. his insights were intertwined with moments of dark humor and cryptic reflections, making it clear that he was a man of contradictions. at one point, as you listened intently, his hand, still holding the kitten, brushed against a stray strand of hair that had fallen across your face. the touch was fleeting but intimate, a gesture that caught you off guard. you looked up to meet his gaze, finding a depth in his eyes that was both intense and vulnerable.

“i meant what i said earlier,” taeyong said, his voice softening. “you’re too pretty to be a doctor.” you blinked in surprise, trying to process the compliment amidst the complexity of the situation. “what do you mean?” you asked, genuinely curious.

his expression remained earnest, his eyes locking onto yours with a sincerity that was rare in such an environment. “you just don’t seem like someone who should be confined to this place. there’s something different about you.”

the moment lingered between you, charged with an emotional undercurrent that was difficult to define. despite the oddity of the situation, you felt a surprising warmth in his words. it was an acknowledgment of your humanity amidst the dehumanizing environment of the asylum. as the session drew to a close, you gathered your things, the small stuffed kitten resting on the desk between you. taeyong’s gaze followed you with an almost reluctant admiration, and there was a sense of anticipation in the air as you prepared to leave.

“i look forward to seeing you again,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of genuine hope. you nodded, a small smile touching your lips. “i look forward to seeing you too.”

with that, you watched as taeyong was escorted out by the guards, the connection between you both lingering like a faint but persistent echo. the asylum, with all its harsh realities, seemed momentarily softened by the unexpected bond that had formed. as you left for the day, the small stuffed kitten seemed to symbolize a fragile bridge between your world and his. you just weren't aware of how sturdy, nor how fragile, the bridge really was.

the weeks that followed your initial session with taeyong felt like a delicate dance, a precarious balance between professional distance and the growing, unspoken connection that had begun to develop between you. each session became a complex interplay of emotions and revelations, and you found yourself increasingly invested in his progress.

you had begun to believe, with a cautious optimism, that taeyong was making strides. the sessions were marked by moments of genuine insight and self-reflection from him, which seemed to indicate that he was grappling with his inner turmoil in ways that were both constructive and revealing. there was an undeniable progress, and you couldn’t help but feel a surge of hope every time you saw him approach with that enigmatic smile.

during one particular session, you found yourself immersed in a conversation about his past, his regrets, and his aspirations. taeyong, with his characteristic curiosity and sharpness, suddenly shifted the focus of the conversation. “what about you, doctor?” he asked, his voice carrying a tone of genuine interest. “what do you struggle with?”

the question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you hesitated. it was unusual for a patient to turn the spotlight onto you, especially someone like taeyong, whose own issues seemed so consuming. you took a deep breath, searching for the right words to encapsulate the truth.

“i suppose,” you began, struggling to find a way to articulate your feelings. “i've been lonely my whole life.” taeyong’s eyes softened, and for a fleeting moment, the hardness in his gaze seemed to melt away. “no woman like you should ever feel lonely,” he said softly, his tone laced with an unexpected gentleness.

his words struck a chord deep within you, and you felt a sudden, almost overwhelming rush of emotion. you looked up, meeting his gaze with a mixture of vulnerability and curiosity. before you could fully process the weight of his statement, he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “do you feel lonely with me here?” he asked, his voice a low whisper that sent shivers down your spine.

your heart pounded in your chest, the sound echoing in your ears as if to drown out the rest of the world. the proximity of his body, the intensity of his gaze, and the warmth of his breath combined to create a heady cocktail of sensations. you fought to maintain composure, but the answer came out more as a breathless confession. “no,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper.

taeyong’s fingers, moving with deliberate slowness, traced a path along your neck. the touch was light but electrifying, a sensation that left your skin tingling and your breath catching in your throat. “you shouldn’t,” he said, his voice carrying an almost imperceptible note of possessiveness.

the weight of his touch, the intimacy of the moment, and the raw honesty in his words created a potent mix of emotions that overwhelmed you. as the session drew to a close, you found yourself grappling with a tumult of conflicting feelings. the professional boundaries that had once seemed so clear were now blurred, and you were left with a gnawing sense of guilt for finding comfort in a connection that was fundamentally inappropriate.

the room seemed colder as you watched him leave, the reality of the asylum returning with its harsh, unyielding presence. you could still feel the ghost of his touch on your skin, the echo of his breath in your ear, and the weight of his words in your heart. the session had brought a confusing mixture of warmth and unease, and as you locked up your office and walked out into the night, the loneliness you had tried so hard to combat felt more intense than ever.

as the days turned into weeks, the asylum’s sterile corridors and echoing chambers seemed to shrink in comparison to the burgeoning world of emotions you experienced during your sessions with taeyong. each encounter with him became a delicate interplay of professional duty and personal connection, weaving a complex tapestry of emotions that you struggled to fully comprehend.

the sessions grew more intense and revealing, both for you and for taeyong. you could no longer ignore the way your heart would race in anticipation of each meeting. the way his eyes would light up when he saw you, the way his presence seemed to fill the room with a bright energy—it was impossible to deny the deepening bond between you.

in one particular session, taeyong sat across from you, the small stuffed kitten now a constant companion in his hands. the stuffed animal had become a symbol of the connection you shared, its presence a silent witness to your evolving relationship. “you know,” he began, his voice carrying a hint of introspection, “i’ve been thinking a lot about what we’ve talked about. you’ve managed to get me to see things differently. i never thought i’d say this, but i think i owe you more than just my progress.”

you looked at him, your heart skipping a beat at his unexpected confession. “what do you mean by that?” you asked, your voice steady but filled with curiosity. his gaze was intense, his eyes searching yours with an earnestness that was both disarming and endearing. “you’ve been patient with me, more patient than anyone else ever has. i think,” he paused, choosing his words with care. “i think you’ve made me feel things i didn’t know i could still feel.”

you could feel the weight of his words settling over you, a mix of excitement and apprehension. “and what is it that you feel?” you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper. he took a deep breath, his fingers absently stroking the kitten. “i feel understood. cared for, in a way I never thought i’d experience again. it’s strange, but i think i’m beginning to look forward to these sessions more than i should.”

the admission struck a chord within you, and you felt a mixture of joy and sadness. joy at the progress he was making and sadness at the realization that your growing affection for him might blur the lines of your professional role. during another session, you found yourself struggling to maintain your composure as taeyong’s attention shifted to you in a way that felt increasingly personal. he leaned forward, his gaze unwavering as he spoke.

“you know,” he said, his voice low and intimate, “i’ve noticed something about you. you seem different when we talk. there’s something in the way you look at me. something more than just concern.” you felt your cheeks flush, a mixture of embarrassment and excitement swirling within you. “what do you mean?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

his eyes softened, and he reached out, his fingers gently brushing against yours. “i think you care about me more than you let on. and i can’t help but feel the same way.”

the admission hung in the air, charged with an electric tension that was impossible to ignore. you felt a surge of emotion, a tumult of conflicting feelings as you tried to process his words. it was both thrilling and terrifying to acknowledge that your feelings for taeyong had grown beyond the boundaries of professional detachment.

as the session continued, his demeanor shifted. he seemed more relaxed, more open, and the connection between you felt more tangible than ever. the way he would smile at you, the way his eyes would linger on yours—it was clear that the emotional bond between you was deepening. you struggled with the guilt and the moral conflict of your growing affection for him, knowing that it was inappropriate yet feeling a profound, undeniable connection.

the day you arrived for your next session with taeyong, you felt an unusual sense of anticipation. the asylum's cold corridors seemed to blur as you walked briskly toward your office, your mind already filled with thoughts of the conversation you hoped to have. but as you reached the familiar door, a pang of anxiety hit you when you noticed the room was empty.

your heart sank as you turned to the guards stationed outside the office. “where’s taeyong?” you asked, trying to keep your voice calm despite the growing concern. the guards exchanged uneasy glances before one of them responded. “they’ve decided to test their luck with another psychiatrist today. wanted to see how he’d react.”

a cold wave of dread washed over you, and you felt a sharp pang of heartache. before you could ask for more details, the silence of the corridor was shattered by a deafening crash. your heart raced as the sound of shattering furniture and frantic shouting reached your ears.

without a second thought, you sprinted down the hallway, your footsteps echoing in the sterile space. as you rounded the corner, you saw the scene unfolding in your office. taeyong, his face a mask of determination, was wielding a chair above his head, his muscles tensed in a show of raw strength. the psychiatrist lay sprawled on the floor, his face a picture of shock and pain. the guards were shouting, their voices a blur as they rushed toward taeyong. “what happened?” one of them demanded, their tone filled with both anger and concern.

his gaze, sharp and intense, found yours amidst the chaos. “i told you,” he said, his voice carrying a fierce determination, “i wanted to see doctor (l/n).”

the room seemed to freeze for a moment as his words sank in. he was swiftly restrained and escorted back to his cell, leaving you standing in the doorway of your office, your heart aching at the sight of the broken scene before you. the guards, now dealing with the aftermath of his outburst, left you waiting alone in the hallway. time seemed to stretch endlessly as you stood there, your mind racing with a tumult of conflicting emotions. when taeyong was finally brought out again, his demeanor was calmer, though his eyes held a deep, unfathomable intensity.

he looked at you with a mix of curiosity and something more personal. “what were you doing there?” he asked, his voice steady but laced with an edge of disbelief. you took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his gaze. “i was waiting for you,” you admitted, your voice soft but earnest.

his eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering across his features. “seriously?” you nodded, feeling a strange blend of relief and apprehension. “yes, seriously.”

once back in your office, the atmosphere felt charged with an electric tension. you sat across from him, your heart pounding as you tried to make sense of the events. “why did you crash out like that?” you asked, struggling to keep your voice steady. “you were making so much progress.”

taeyong’s expression softened slightly as he reached for the small stuffed kitten that had become a symbol of your sessions. he held it up, its soft fur unmarred by the recent issues. “because,” he said, his voice softening with an intensity that made your breath catch, “i’m in love with you.”

the confession hung heavy in the air, and you felt a surge of conflicting emotions—shock, confusion, and a deep, aching resonance. you stared at him, unable to fully process the gravity of his words. “i am too,” you said finally, your voice trembling with the weight of the admission.

without another word, he leaned forward, his gaze fixed on you with a fierce, unyielding intensity. his lips met yours in a kiss that was both tender and urgent. it felt wrong, a violation of every professional boundary you had sworn to uphold. yet, the raw, desperate need to connect, to feel something beyond the crushing loneliness that had plagued you, overpowered your sense of propriety.

the kiss was intense, filled with a mix of longing and desperation that made your heart race. his lips were warm against yours, his touch both gentle and insistent. every brush of his mouth, every caress of his fingers, seemed to echo the depth of the emotions you had both been struggling to contain. as the kiss deepened, you felt a wave of conflicting emotions—guilt and exhilaration, fear and desire. the world outside faded away, leaving only the overwhelming intensity of the moment. the walls of the asylum, the rules you had so carefully adhered to, and the boundaries you had maintained all seemed to crumble in the face of the unexpected connection.

taeyong’s hands slid up your body, cupping your tits over your blouse. his thumbs brushed against your nipples, which hardened immediately under his touch. you gasped into his mouth, your body responding with a fiery hunger that was impossible to ignore. his touch was rough, yet tender, as if he was afraid of breaking the fragile bond that had formed between you. his words from earlier played in your mind, and you felt a thrill of arousal that was as surprising as it was undeniable. you pushed back from the desk, the chair scraping against the floor as you stood to face him. your hands found the hem of your blouse, lifting it over your head to expose your bra. his eyes raked over your body, dark with desire. “you have no idea,” he murmured, his voice a low growl. “how long i’ve wanted this.”

you stepped closer to him, reaching behind to unclasp your bra. it fell away, revealing your full, round tits. taeyong’s gaze was glued to them, his pupils dilating as he took in the sight. he leaned in, his breath hot against your skin as he licked one nipple, then the other, his tongue flicking and teasing until you were moaning with need. your hands found his hair, pulling him closer as his mouth closed around one nipple, sucking hard.

his hands moved to the button of your pants, and with trembling fingers, he unzipped them. you stepped out of them, feeling a sense of vulnerability that was both terrifying and thrilling. he pushed you back onto the desk, his mouth moving down your body as he kissed and licked a trail to your center. his fingers found their way inside your panties, stroking your wet folds.

his tongue darted out, tasting you for the first time. you moaned, arching your back as he explored you with a fervor that left you breathless. he was rough, yet precise, his touch speaking of a hunger that matched your own. you could feel his erection pressing against you through his pants, and the thought of his big dick inside you made you wetter still. his fingers moved to your clit, rubbing it in tight circles that had you panting. your hips rocked against his face, desperate for more. “please, taeyong,” you begged, your voice needy and wanton. “fuck me. make me feel alive again.”

his only response was to stand up, his eyes never leaving yours as he unbuckled his belt and let his pants fall to the floor. his cock sprang free, thick and hard, and you felt your mouth water at the sight of it. he stepped closer, positioning himself between your legs, and without preamble, he pushed into you.

the sensation was overwhelming—he was so much bigger than any man you had ever been with. it was a stretch, a burn that bordered on pain, but the pleasure was so intense that you didn’t care. you gripped the edge of the desk, your nails digging into the wood as he began to thrust, hard and deep. his strokes were punctuated with dirty talk that made you feel like a whore, but it only served to make you wetter, to make you want him more.

you wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper, feeling his cock fill you completely. his breath was hot and ragged against your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin. “you’re mine, doctor,” he growled. “no better cure than this pussy, fuck.” the words sent a shiver down your spine, and you knew that this was a line you could never uncross. but in that moment, as you felt him thrust inside you with a roar of pleasure, you didn’t care. he was close, his thrusts sloppy as his fingers pulled your hair, your whimpers making his dick twitch.

his hand slid down to cup your ass, his grip tightening as he pounded into you. your tits bounced with every impact, and you could feel his hot breath on your skin as he whispered obscenities in your ear. it was a symphony of degradation and lust, and you were the eager conductor, urging him on. your pussy was tight around his cock, gripping him with every stroke, and you knew you were close to the edge.

suddenly, he pulled out, leaving you feeling empty and needy. you looked up at him, your eyes glazed with passion, and he smirked. “turn over,” he ordered, his voice gruff. you complied, turning onto your stomach and spreading your legs, the cool desk against your burning skin. he stepped behind you, his cock nudging at your entrance again. without warning, he slammed back into you, making you cry out.

the new angle was exquisite, his cock hitting deeper, reaching parts of you that had never been touched before. you pushed back against him, your body begging for more. his hands gripped your hips, his nails digging in as he picked up the pace. “yeah, take it like that, like the slut you are,” he murmured, his voice a mix of praise and command. your cheeks flushed at the words, but you found yourself pushing back even harder, eager to prove his words true. with every thrust, he whispered filthy compliments about your body, his grip on your hips tightening as he fucked you like he owned you.

his hand reached around to play with your clit, his touch sending waves of pleasure through you. your moans grew louder, filling the room. the sound of skin slapping against skin was the only music in the air, a rhythmic crescendo that grew more intense with every second. you felt your orgasm building, your pussy clenching around his cock. “that’s it, doctor. cum for me,” he encouraged, his voice hoarse with lust. and with a final, brutal thrust, you did, your body shuddering with the force of your climax. he followed shortly after, his seed spilling into you, marking you as his.

once the tremors had subsided, he pulled out, leaving you gasping for air. you felt the stickiness between your legs, a reminder of what had just transpired. as you looked back at him, you saw the smug satisfaction on his face, and you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of anger. but it was quickly drowned out by the addictive thrill of the power exchange. you had never felt so alive, so desired. it was therapeutic. and as he stepped closer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, you knew that this was far from over. there was an unspoken promise in his eyes, a challenge for you to come back for more. and you knew, without a doubt, that you would.

as taeyong straightened his clothes, his gaze never left you, the intensity in his eyes as present as ever. he was murmuring something under his breath, and you had to strain to hear his words amidst the whirlwind of emotions you were trying to process. “i feel as if you’ve cured me,” he said softly, his voice carrying a sense of genuine relief.

you blinked, taken aback by his declaration. “are you serious?” you asked, your voice a mixture of disbelief and hope. he nodded slowly, a small, almost serene smile playing on his lips. “yes, i am.”

the room seemed to hold its breath as he began to dress himself, each movement deliberate and composed. your own heart raced as you grappled with the weight of his words. the promise of cure and the possibility of something more twisted together in your mind. he turned to you, his expression serious yet tender.

“i need you to do something for me,” he said, his eyes locking with yours. “anything,” you replied without hesitation, your voice firm despite the storm of emotions brewing within you.

taeyong’s gaze softened slightly, and he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. “i need a machine gun.” the request hit you like a jolt. “a machine gun?” you repeated, trying to comprehend the gravity of what he was asking.

“yes,” he confirmed, his voice steady. “if you don’t want to help me, i understand, but i need one.” you were silent for a moment, the enormity of his request settling over you. the ethical and legal implications were enormous, yet the urgency in his tone and the trust he placed in you compelled you to respond. shaking your head, you met his gaze with determination. “i’ll do it.”

taeyong’s eyes lit up with a mixture of relief and gratitude. he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. “thank you for curing me.”

the warmth of his touch lingered long after he had left. that night, the enormity of hia request weighed heavily on you, but you were resolute. if this was what he needed, then you would find a way. the loneliness that had plagued you seemed to intensify with the knowledge of his needs, but it also spurred you into action. you spent the evening making discreet, cautious inquiries, your mind racing with worry and determination. you knew the gravity of what you were doing, the potential consequences, but the promise of alleviating your own profound sense of loneliness and his plea drove you forward. finally, after hours of careful navigation through back channels and clandestine meetings, you acquired the machine gun. it was a heavy, ominous object, wrapped in layers of secrecy and dread.

you stored it securely in a hidden compartment of your bag, the weight of it pressing down with a disquieting sense of finality. the next morning, you arrived at the asylum with a mix of dread and anticipation, knowing that the day’s session would be unlike any before. entering your office, you saw taeyong already seated, a patient yet expectant look on his face. your heart skipped a beat as you approached him, the hidden weight of the machine gun in your bag seeming almost to pulse with your anxiety.

“good morning,” you said, forcing a smile. “good morning,” he replied, his eyes immediately catching the glint of anticipation in yours.

you sat down across from him and carefully extracted the machine gun from your bag. his eyes widened in surprise and then satisfaction as you laid the weapon on the desk before him. “i didn’t think you’d actually do it,” he said, his voice a mix of awe and approval. “you said you needed it,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “i wouldn’t let you down.”

taeyong’s gaze softened as he reached out to touch the machine gun, his fingers brushing over the cold metal with a sense of reverence. “thank you,” he said quietly. “i knew you were the right fit for me.” the session continued with a shift in atmosphere. taeyong seemed more at ease, his demeanor less guarded and more open. the conversation flowed with a new ease, and you felt a strange sense of fulfillment. the machine gun, despite its ominous presence, seemed to be a catalyst for something deeper between you.

as the session drew to a close, you found yourself reluctant to leave, savoring the brief moments of connection and understanding. you had made significant strides with taeyong, and the realization that he trusted you so deeply was both exhilarating and unsettling. the rest of the day was spent in a haze of reflection. you sorted through files and paperwork, your mind frequently drifting back to him and the connection you shared. the solitude of your office seemed less oppressive, the quiet punctuated by thoughts of him. each task felt like a distraction from the growing realization that, in taeyong, you had found a source of profound connection.

in the quiet of your office, surrounded by the mundane tasks of your work, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something significant had shifted. the loneliness that had once felt so encompassing now seemed to have been touched by the fleeting moments of intimacy and connection you had shared with him. you were less alone than you had been before, and yet, the path you were on was fraught with moral and emotional complexity.

the night fell over the asylum with a chilling, almost suffocating stillness. you were at your desk, sorting through a mountain of paperwork, the dim light casting shadows over the piles of files. the routine of your task offered a semblance of normalcy, a brief respite from the whirlwind of emotions and decisions that had consumed you lately. you were lost in the monotony of sorting and filing when an unsettling noise shattered the silence.

the distant sounds of gunshots, crashing furniture, and frantic screams pierced through the walls. your heart leapt into your throat as the reality of what was unfolding outside became painfully clear. Instinctively, you ducked under your desk, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you tried to stifle the rising panic. the noises outside were chaotic, a cacophony of violence and fear that seemed to grow louder by the second.

taeyong’s plan had taken shape, and the asylum was in disarray. he had enlisted the help of several other inmates, each fueled by the same chaotic energy that defined taeyong himself. the sound of gunfire rang out intermittently, each shot a reminder of the danger that now surrounded you. the air was thick with tension, and you could hear the muffled sounds of struggle and conflict as the inmates carried out their rebellion.

the commotion grew closer, and suddenly, two figures burst into your office. your heart pounded in your chest as they grabbed you roughly by the arms. you struggled against their grip, your cries of protest barely audible over the tumult outside. they dragged you to your desk and, despite your frantic attempts to break free, began restraining you with the belts from straitjackets. the leather straps cut into your skin as they bound your arms and legs to the desk, rendering you immobile.

you pleaded with them, your voice trembling with fear and desperation. “please, don’t do this. let me go. i’ll do anything.”

the inmates remained silent, their faces impassive as they completed their task. the office, once a place of calm and control, was now a prison, its familiar surroundings now oppressive and alien. as the last of the restraints were secured, the door creaked open, and taeyong stepped into the room. his appearance was striking against the backdrop of screams. he was calm, almost serene, despite the mayhem that had unfolded. the sight of him brought a mix of relief and dread. you gazed up at him, your eyes wide with terror as you tried to make sense of what was happening.

“taeyong,” you said, your voice quivering. “are you really gonna kill me?”

he walked towards you with an unsettling calm, his expression unreadable. as he neared, he paused, his gaze locking with yours. “i’m not going to kill you,” he assured, his voice soft but carrying a chilling edge. “i just need to hurt you enough to make sure you’ll be mine.”

the words hung heavy in the air, and your heart raced as you watched him produce a small metal device from his pocket. the sight of the electric shock equipment made your blood run cold. it was an instrument of pain, and its presence signaled a new level of cruelty.

to your surprise, taeyong’s expression softened, and he took a step closer. “i know you thought you were helping me,” he said, his tone almost apologetic. “but now it’s my turn to help you.”

the device was cold against your skin as he pressed it to your head. a jolt of electricity surged through you, and your body convulsed involuntarily. the sensation was overwhelming, a harsh intrusion into your consciousness. you felt your mind slipping away from the present, a series of fragmented images and memories flashing before your eyes.

your mother’s face appeared, her eyes filled with pain and sorrow. then, your father, followed by your grandparents, each visage a poignant reminder of loss. the images shifted and morphed, replaced by a vision of yourself with taeyong. you were working together, your roles reversed, with him now a cured man, living with you in a semblance of normalcy. the visions continued, showing a future that was both alluring and terrifying. you saw yourselves speeding down a highway, the police in hot pursuit. the trunk of your car was filled with money, a symbol of the danger and thrill that had become intertwined with your relationship. the exhilaration of the chase was intense, but it was overshadowed by an undercurrent of dread.

the final image was the most haunting. you saw yourself detached, your love for taeyong twisted into something unrecognizable. the thrill had turned into a grim reality, the danger of your actions reflected in the cold, hard truths of your choices. the vision was a cruel reminder of the consequences that awaited you, the stark reality of a future bound by the darkness you had embraced.

as the electric shock subsided, your body trembled uncontrollably. your mind was a whirlpool of conflicting emotions and revelations. you felt a profound sense of numbness, the shock leaving you disoriented and frightened. the room seemed to close in around you, what used to be a familiar space now a prison of your own making. in the end, you wished it had killed you. death seemed more reasonable, more promising, than what the future had in store for you.

✧.*

a/n: requested fic!!! the smut part at least i really dk where i was going with this plot lol

[thequeenviana]

Inkbound

CHAPTER 1

Pairings:

Yandere Taehyung × OC × Yandere Jungkook

Warning: This story is a work of fanfiction and is purely a product of the author's imagination. It does not depict any real-life events or individuals. While some characters may be inspired by real-life idols, their portrayal in this story is fictional and not representative of their true selves. Please note that this story may contain triggering content, including themes of abuse, gore, murder, humiliation, bullying, rape, and other mature and dark themes. Reader discretion is advised, especially for those under the age of 18. If you are uncomfortable with such content, it is recommended to refrain from reading and kindly disregard this story.

A painful cry escapes from Yana's swollen lips as her husband mercilessly beats her with his belt, the force of each strike leaving marks on her pale skin. Helpless and lying on the cold, dirty ground of the mansion's basement, Yana endures the brutal assault as this is not new to her. Her husband gazes at her with a mixture of disgust, hatred, and rage, his desire to kill her was evident in his eyes and actions towards her.

However, he knows it won't be that easy; he intends to make her suffer for all the harm she has caused his family, especially his beloved Nara.

Finally, he ceases his attack, observing Yana's battered state on the ground blankly.

Blood surrounds her body, as if she is bathing in her own pain. Yet, there is no trace of regret or guilt in his eyes as he coldly looks on her trembling figure. Yana, still crying in agony, curls herself into a ball, her body heaving with sobs.

A whistle suddenly reaches his ears,the sound echoing on the basement,but he pays no attention, refusing to turn around and identify the source. As the person approaches with a deadly smirk and an aura of danger, he stops and places a comforting hand on the younger man's shoulder.

Overwhelmed with emotions, the younger man breaks down in tears, hastily wiping them away. The older man embraces him tightly, his gaze fixed on the bloody woman, who is still painfully breathing. Yana, lying on the ground, gazes blankly at the ceiling, numb to the presence of the newcomer, as she already knows who it is,and she's scared of this man more than the one who beats her up to a pulp just right now.

She can't number the tortures that he have done to her that made her traumatized but still her love for him won't ever change even though he even cutted off her two pinky fingers after he have accused her of stealing.

"I missed Nara, hyung! So much!" the younger man cries out, his tough facade crumbling. The older man gently pats his back, closing his eyes and suppressing his own urge to break down in front of this cruel woman.

"I know, Jungkook. I missed her too," he whispers softly, reaching for the gun concealed in his black pants.

"Let's put an end to this woman's life. I can't bear it any longer."

Jungkook nods, his anger evident as he swiftly turns around, crouching in front of Yana. With a voice filled with coldness and hatred, he grips her blood-soaked hair tightly.

"I wish it was you who was dead, not our love," Jungkook harshly says through gritted teeth.

"And I also wish I never met you, you clingy bitch," he adds, his eyes burning with resentment. Yana, in her final moments, looks at the two men, making eye contact with them. All she sees is pure hatred and rage, as ever since Nara entered their lives, they both despised her from the depths of their hearts, deceived by Nara's lies.

A faint smile appears on Yana's face as her entire life flashes before her eyes like a movie recap. In her mind, she wishes she could express her feelings to both of them, to tell them that she had been there for them from the very beginning. But in the end, they abandoned her, even after all the time she spent by their side. She loved them both, forever.

She wished she could bring back time, change everything and never met them, stay away from them and live her life to the fullest.

She broke her family,her parents heart for this mans.

She turned her back to her parents who's begging for her to stop her ridiculous actions,but she never listened for this mans.

She have wasted and pushed away her best friends who she believes that time was not supporting her but now she regrets it for not listening to them,

She missed them,very much and she wishes to just for the last time she can say sorry to them,one last time and hug them tightly.

"I wished you two had trusted me more, because I was the one who was there for you both from the start. But you chose to believe her over your own best friend," she silently declares in her mind. With her eyes closed, she smiles one last time.

'BANG!'

In the basement, the sound of the gunshot reverberates, marking the end of the woman's life.

"The end."

"Wait, what?!"

The young girl suddenly stood up from her seat, shouting in disbelief. The book she was reading was still in her hand as she stared at the last word, flipping the pages back and forth, hoping the author was playing a cruel joke with the ending.

"You've got to be kidding me! That's it?"

She continued to stare at the book, a pout forming on her red lips. Dissatisfied with the conclusion, she put the book down and crossed her arms in defeat.

"Yah!"

She yelled in surprise as someone shouted near her ear, startling her. Her flailing hands accidentally hit the intruder in the nose.

The unexpected hit made the person groan in pain and touch their nose to check for blood. She quickly turned around to see her younger brother, Jae, still touching his nose and moaning in discomfort.

She gasped and quickly moved his hand away to inspect his nose, sighing in relief when she saw it was fine.

"Why would you do that? You know how clumsy I am sometimes."

Jae scoffed at his older sister before grinning and sitting beside her. His attention was drawn to the book.

"Why were you cursing, sis?"

Jae asked, noticing his sister's disappointment. She huffed, crossed her arms, and looked down at the book.

"I just don't like the ending of the book. And stop calling me old sis! It's annoying!"

She said, lightly hitting his head. He groaned and playfully glared at his older sister.

"What, you're my older sister, so I'm gonna call you that!"

He retorted.

"But still, don't add 'old' to 'sis'!"

She huffed and looked away, as Jae chuckled at his older sister's childish behavior.

"Oh, come on, just tell me why you're upset about the book's ending."

He asked, resting his head on his arms on the table and focusing on his sister.

"Can you believe it? The girl in this story died just like that, without getting justice for that evil woman, Nara's lies. Oh, I hate her! But I don't like what Yana did in this story either."

She shrugged before continuing, as Jae silently and eagerly listened to her rant.

"Yana was too desperate in this story. She didn't even do anything to get revenge for what that woman did to her life! And also, she was so clingy to those men! Like, woman, there are so many men in the world, not just them!"

She paused, panting and reaching for a glass of water which she quickly gulped down before slamming it back onto the table, startling Jae.

"And! You know those men! If I were in her shoes, I wouldn't be that dumb to chase them desperately and lower myself to them! Ugh! If I were Yana, I would change the whole story and make her life have a happy ending, not her chasing those men desperately and throwing herself at them like a whore!"

She spoke quickly, as Jae frowned at his sister's frustrating words about the story.

"Maybe the author planned it–"

Jae tried to interject, only to be cut off by his frustrated sister.

"No! It's absurd! How can someone just end it like that without a proper ending and justice for the character!"

She rolled her eyes and looked away as Jae looked at her blankly, shaking his head and chuckling.

"You should sleep now," Jae suggested, patting her head before standing up and leading her to her bedroom.

After wishing his still-grumpy sister a good night, he left for his room.

On the other hand,Fae slowly trudged towards her bed, slumping onto it, her mind still preoccupied with the frustrating ending of the book. She grabbed a pillow, hugging it tightly as she lay down.

"If I were her, I wouldn't be that stupid!"

Fae muttered, rolling her eyes as she gazed out of her window. The tranquil night gradually soothed her racing heart, and sleep began to envelope her, leading her into a deep slumber that she would never forget her whole life.

~

The mansion was suddenly engulfed in a wave of panic.

The once peaceful silence was shattered by the noises that stirred Fae from her sleep. She frowned and groaned in annoyance at the disturbance, her mind still foggy with sleep. The murmurs of hushed voices filled the air, their whispers carrying an undertone of urgency and worry.

Gossip swirled around her, whispers of strange happenings that stirred the mansion's usually calm environment. Yet, Fae was too lazy to wake herself fully and investigate the cause of the commotion. Despite the intriguing rumors and the frantic atmosphere, she preferred the comfort of her bed, choosing to ignore the chaos and attempt to drift back into her peaceful slumber.

As Fae was on the verge of slipping back into a deep sleep again, her bedroom door suddenly burst open, causing her eyes to snap open in startlement. She gasped, quickly sitting up to see who the intruder was, her expression filled with anger as she prepared to unleash a barrage of words, determined to set this person straight and impart some wisdom about the importance of not disturbing a sleeping human, for God's sake!

But before she could utter a single word, her eyes widened in disbelief as she laid eyes on the furious man storming towards her.

"Young Master–"

One of the girls attempted to intervene, trying to stop the raging man from getting closer to Fae.'wait who were these people!' Fae couldn't help but wonder who these people were. Were they intruders? Are they being invaded?What was happening? Her mind raced with panic, but her thoughts were abruptly cut off as the man forcefully pushed the woman aside, causing her to stumble and fall to the ground. Fae's eyes widened at the sight, her heart pounding in her chest.

In an instant, the man's hands closed around her neck, squeezing tightly, cutting off her airflow. Panic surged through Fae's veins. She desperately tried to speak, to gasp for breath, but the man's grip prevented her from doing so. She clawed at his veiny, tattooed, muscular arms, her attempts at resistance in futile. She knew she stood no chance against this imposing figure.

"Who–"

Fae managed to choke out a word, only to be abruptly silenced by the man who was choking her.

"You! I told you to stay away from her! Yet, you hurt her again!"

He yelled, his eyes filled with a mixture of rage and....hurt? as he glared at Fae.

Confusion swirled in Fae's mind. 'Hurt who? What was this man talking about?' She couldn't comprehend the situation unfolding before her.

"Yah! Stop that!"

A manly voice suddenly shouted, and the man was forcefully pulled away from Fae. She gasped for air desperately, silently thanking the unknown savior who had intervened and saved her from the clutches of the man who had been choking her.

Fae's gaze darted between the man who had attacked her and the newcomer who had come to her rescue. As she looked around, she realized there were other unfamiliar faces in the room. Fear gripped her heart. Who were these people? And where in the world was she?

Questions flooded her mind, but before she could voice them, the man who had attacked her spoke up again.

"Let me go, hyung! This witch hurt Nara because of her jealousy!"

Fae furrowed her brow, her confusion growing as she looked at him with a mixture of frustration and bewilderment.

"Calm down, Jungkook!"

'Jungkook?'

The name struck a chord in Fae's memory, though she couldn't quite place it. She shrugged off the familiarity, still struggling to understand what was happening. Was this some kind of prank?

"How can I calm down? This bitch is crossing the line! She's hurting Nara because she's jealous of her!"

The man continued, pointing an accusing finger at Fae, who glared back at him, her anger boiling over as she stood up in bed.

"What did you just call me, you bastard?!"

Fae burst out angrily, her voice filled with indignation.

Everyone in the room gasped, their eyes widening at Fae's outburst. It was a rare sight to witness their young madam raise her voice, especially directed at someone like Jeon Jungkook,her love.

Jungkook himself froze in place, stunned by Fae's sudden outburst. Had she really just shouted at him? It was a new and strange experience for him, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. He continued to stare at Fae, trying to make sense of the conflicting emotions swirling within him.

Fae rolled her eyes, her frustration still evident as she exclaimed, "GET OUT, ALL OF YOU!"

Her voice rang out even louder this time, causing everyone to flinch, except for Jungkook, who looked at her with wide eyes. He couldn't help but wonder what was happening. Why was his heart racing like this? And why did he feel a strange sense of hurt at Fae's words? It was the first time she had ever shouted at him and what's strange for him was he didn't like it.

Jungkook's mind raced, trying to make sense of the situation, but he was abruptly pulled away from the room, not fully comprehending what was unfolding.

Fae's gaze settled on the last woman who was about to exit the room.

"You!"

Fae called out, causing the woman to freeze in her tracks.

'God, I need to find out what's happening!'

Fae thought to herself, feeling utterly confused by the events that had transpired. She yearned for answers, realizing that this was not a prank anymore.The unfamiliar faces in the room made it clear that her family wouldn't orchestrate something like this, knowing how sensitive she was.

As she took a deep breath, preparing herself for the confrontation, a mix of fear and confusion coursed through her veins 'like the hell is happening,am I being kidnapped?oh hell no! that's not it and what the heck does that handsome man a while ago talking about?'

She only remembered sleeping in her room,then this!

She stepped forward, her voice steady and resolute as she addressed the last woman who had paused at her command.

"You! Stay right there. I need to know what's happening. I demand the truth.Did you all kidnapped me!?"

The woman's eyes widened, her expression a mix of surprise and fear at her young madam's exclaim of being kidnapped?

'Oh no,we need doctor Lee again' The woman thought with fear for the young woman's well being.

As the room fell into a tense silence, Fae's mind raced with questions. Who were these people? What had transpired to lead to this moment? And most importantly, why was she at the center of it all?But one thing she was sure of,she was kidnapped.

With each passing second, Fae grows annoyed as the woman still did not talk anything .

The woman looks here and there not meeting Fae's annoyed eyes.

"Young Madam,I think you need to take a rest right now. Your father will come here and he will answer your questions."

She quietly excused herself and left in a hurry as Fae grips her hair in frustration.

Fae stands up straight again and ignore what the woman had said.

'No!I need to go home,my family is probably waiting for me!'

With a determined mind, Fae cautiously stepped forward towards the door, her main goal being to escape from wherever she was and return home. She couldn't shake the feeling that her parents must be worried about her by now.

Casting quick glances around, Fae stealthily crept out, her eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of the people who had caused her distress. Fear gripped her as she worried they might catch her and lock her up.

As she ventured further, she noticed that the hallways were devoid of any people. Seizing the opportunity, she swiftly ran down the left hallway. However, her hurried pace came to an abrupt halt when her eyes fell upon a picture hanging on the wall.

"Wait... What in the world is this?"

Fae exclaimed in surprise, her eyes widening as she stared at the picture framed with a golden border.

"Is that me?!"

Horror washed over her as she realized she was in the photograph, surrounded by faces she couldn't recognize. A sense of unease crept over her, causing her to slowly back away.

But her retreat was interrupted as she bumped into a solid chest. Startled, she quickly turned around, only to find herself face to face with a strikingly handsome young man. She couldn't help but be awestruck by his appearance.

'Oh my god, he's so handsome!'

Internally fangirling, Fae found herself momentarily lost in admiration of the handsome man before her. 'wait where does he came from?I didn't seen him coming.' However, her focus quickly shifted back to her priority: escaping this imposing house and reuniting with her family, who she missed dearly.

Fae cautiously backed away from the man, catching his attention. He raised an eyebrow, surprised by her actions. It was the first time for him, as she had always been the one to throw herself at him, acting like a clingy leech. Her sudden change in behavior intrigued him.

"Jungkook told me what you did again, Yana," he said, his gaze turning cold as he took a step forward, cornering her against the wall next to the photograph.

Fae furrowed her brow, trying to make sense of his words.

'Jungkook again? No... no, Fae, that's ridiculous and did he just called me Yana?! Nope! It's probably just a coincidence,' she chuckled, momentarily forgetting the dire situation she was in.

Growing increasingly impatient and angry, the man punched the wall, not too forcefully, to bring Fae back to her senses. She flinched and became scared as she saw the murderous look in his eyes.

"W-what are you saying?!" Fae stammered, her fear palpable. There was a dark aura surrounding the man that made her tremble. Something in his eyes told her to run as far away as she could.

The man let out a dark chuckle, his deep voice resonating through the empty hallway. He briefly looked down, poking his tongue inside his cheek. Under different circumstances, it might have been attractive, but given the situation, Fae couldn't focus on that.

He looked up, glaring at her once again before speaking, "If you do that again–"

Fae had had enough. Before he could finish his sentence, she forcefully pushed him away, causing him to stumble back. Seizing the opportunity, she dashed away, leaving the angry, handsome man yelling for her to come back.

Gritting his teeth in anger, the man dusted off his expensive shirt and straightened it, glaring at the spot where Fae had disappeared. A loud commotion reached his ears, and he turned around to find a group of maids running towards him, panting heavily.

"Young Master Kim, pardon us, but have you seen Young Madam?" one of the maids asked, fear evident in her eyes from their frantic chase.

Raising an eyebrow, the man answered coldly, "I saw her running in that direction," pointing towards the path Fae had taken. With a smirk on his handsome face, he walked away, knowing full well that the woman's father, whom he had encountered earlier, would be furious after what he had said earlier. Punishment awaited her once again.

As he continued on his way, he heard the maids rush off in the direction he had pointed, their footsteps fading into the distance.

[k1radolly]

[elryuse]

Yandere debt-collector Ahin and Son of in debt parents smut?

The Debt-Collector

YANDERE DEBT-COLLECTOR AHIN X MALE READER

The grimy apartment walls seemed to close in on Y/n as Ahin, the iron-fisted debt collector, sat across from him. Her crimson lipstick, a stark contrast to her pale face, stretched into a humorless smile. "So," she drawled, her voice like nails scraping concrete, "the Lee family couldn't cough up the measly sum they borrowed, huh?"

Y/n, a scrawny boy of 18, could only nod, shame burning in his throat. His parents, faces etched with despair, stood behind him, a silent testament to their desperation. They had signed the contract, their only son the collateral.

The first few weeks were a nightmare. Ahin reveled in her power, barking orders, doling out threats, and making Y/n clean her filthy apartment until his hands bled. Yet, a strange shift began. As Y/n diligently scrubbed floors and washed dishes, a flicker of something akin to…kindness sparked in Ahin's eyes. Maybe it was the way he never complained, or the quiet respect that shone in his terrified gaze.

One evening, amidst the drudgery, Ahin surprised him with a takeout meal. "Eat," she grunted, shoving a greasy box towards him. "You look like a walking skeleton." As Y/n hesitantly took a bite, a flicker of something warm bloomed in his chest – a desperate hope for normalcy amidst the terror.

Days turned into weeks, and the kindness became more pronounced. Ahin started treating Y/n with a possessiveness that sent shivers down his spine. She’d buy him small gifts, linger over him while he worked, her touch sending a jolt of electricity through him. He was a prisoner, yet a prisoner she seemed oddly…fond of.

Then, one night, Y/n woke to a bloodcurdling scream. He stumbled out of his room to find his parents, lifeless on the living room floor, their vacant eyes staring accusingly. Ahin stood over them, a bloody knife dangling from her hand, a chilling smile playing on her lips.

"They didn't deserve you," she rasped, her voice laced with a horrifying tenderness. "Now, it's just us, sweetheart. No one to take you away."

Y/n's world shattered. The woman who’d shown him a sliver of hope had become his monster. He sank to his knees, the metallic tang of blood thick in the air.

Ahin knelt beside him, her touch sending a fresh wave of terror down his spine. "Don't worry," she cooed, wiping a stray tear from his cheek with a bloodstained finger, "we'll be happy now. Just you and me. Forever."

Her words, dripping with a possessive love that curdled Y/n's stomach, sent a fresh wave of horror crashing over him. He was trapped, not just by debt, but by a twisted love that stained their cramped apartment with the stench of death and a chilling promise of a forever he never asked for.

Y/n choked back a sob as he slipped the diamond-encrusted wedding band onto Ahin's crimson-painted finger. The air in the warehouse hung heavy with a sickening mix of anticipation and dread. This wasn't a wedding – it was a branding ceremony, marking him as Ahin's forever.

As the forced applause died down, Ahin, a vision in blood-red silk, turned to him. Her smile, once laced with a twisted affection, was now a manic predator's grin. "Together now, darling," she purred, her grip tightening painfully on his arm.

The following weeks were a descent into a nightmare. Y/n, fueled by a suffocating despair, became a horrifyingly effective tool. He excelled at sniffing out vulnerabilities, his whispers turning icy and cruel as he mirrored Ahin's ruthlessness. He hated himself, but the alternative – facing her wrath – was unimaginable.

One night, a flicker of his former self threatened to rise. Debt collection led them to a young artist, his apartment overflowing with unfinished paintings. The raw desperation in the man's eyes mirrored Y/n's own. A choked plea formed on his lips, a desperate urge to offer solace, but before a word could escape, Ahin was upon them.

She ripped through the artist's meager belongings, her face contorted with rage. But when she reached for a worn canvas, the sole source of color in the dingy room, Y/n instinctively stepped forward.

"Leave it," he rasped, a sliver of defiance cutting through his usual subservience.

Ahin whirled on him, her eyes blazing. "Disobeying me now, sweetheart?" she hissed, her voice a low growl. In a flash, the manic glint returned, hotter and more terrifying than ever.

Y/n's heart plummeted. He had seen that look before, the harbinger of violence. He flinched back as her hand lashed out, a stinging slap across his face. The artist, seizing the opportunity, bolted for the fire escape, disappearing into the night.

Ahin's fury turned inward. She grabbed Y/n by the hair, dragging him back to their apartment. The familiar grimy walls now seemed to mock him, a constant reminder of his imprisonment.

"You think you can defy me?" she snarled, shoving him against the wall. Her crimson lips were stretched into a terrifying smile. "No one leaves me, sweetheart. You're mine now, forever."

Y/n slumped against the wall, defeated. He had seen the spark of fear flicker in Ahin's eyes earlier, but it was gone. In its place was a chilling possessiveness, a twisted love that had morphed into a suffocating obsession.

He was trapped, a prisoner not just of debt, but of a deranged affection. The world outside faded away, replaced by the four grimy walls that now held his entire universe, a universe ruled by a woman whose love was as cruel and inescapable as death itself.

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

Silent Night

Word count: 750

Summary: Billy Loomis murdered everybody he ever knew. And he got away with it. Got famous even. Got a whole movie about him - about how he survived the now infamous Woodsborough Massacre. And every good movie needs a sequel. So he goes to college to make one. || Inspiration here.

Warnings: Murder. Billy Loomis himself is a warning.

An excerpt of a fic @hewwosidney and I are working on.

Grey skies. 

Everyone says that winter is bleak and depressing, but he always thought the opposite. When those grey skies turn black and one can barely see the stars, when it's freezing and that starlight is just bright enough to illuminate the gently falling snow, when the whole world is quiet for once - that's the sort of time Billy liked the best. Those grey skies are low and close, intimate in a way. Like a secret.

The chill tinged his cheeks pink and chapped his lips, but he didn't much mind it. The cold was sharp, just on the edge of painful. It bit his cheeks, nipped at the corners of his lips. It never got this cold in Cali. He liked it. Savored it. 

Dorms, businesses and various other functional buildings lined the streets on either side of him. They were all brick - old style, with small window panes and wrought iron railings on the stairs. Crooked wreaths and silver bells hung on doors and warm lights lined their rooftops. They sorta made him feel like he was living in A Christmas Carol. The Muppet one. He smiled to himself and shivered, shoving his hands deeper into the pockets of his jacket. 

The sky grew darker and his breath turned to mist in front of his face. Snow sprinkled his hair and brought silence to the world in white whispers. It caught on his eyelashes and made him chuckle. Though, he had to be especially careful now with his crutches. They clicked asynchronously with the crunch of his boot, the sounds reverberating off the old brick buildings. The only noise in the dark. Aside from his voice.

“Silent night… Holy night…” 

The notes on his breath manifested in the air. He watched his crutches. Glancing up only occasionally. 

His breath left his lungs slowly. 

The snow fell.

The world got darker.

And darker. Closing in, getting smaller. 

Shrinking into frame. Made for a great shot, really.

Billy saw her the next time he looked up. She passed beneath the warm yellow light of a street lamp, walking quickly through the dark and the snow. Deep auburn hair, pale skin. Cute little freckles and pink mittens on her hands.

She eyed him wearily for a moment. Suspicious like a smart girl should be. He flashed her a soft smile and her shoulders relaxed. 

He'd always had a talent for that, he supposed - making girls relax. 

“All is calm… all is bright.”

He let one of his crutches slip and pretended to recover quickly. His smile turned sheepish as his eyes met hers again. She laughed softly, smiling back with warmth. 

She didn't cross to the other side of the street. 

A smart girl would have. 

As they passed each other, her hand gently brushed his shoulder. 

“Merry Christmas,” She said.

He vaguely recognized her. She took English with him. Quiet. Always sat by the window and never bothered anybody.  She was pretty. Like silver bells and Christmas lights. Pleasant, but ultimately uninteresting.

Cassie. That was her name. 

So close to… Casey. 

He took his shot. 

Billy dropped one crutch and swept the other into her knees. She cried out but he was quick to cover her mouth and push her into the adjacent alleyway. Convenient. His other hand flew to his belt, swiftly drawing out the blade tucked away there. In one practiced movement, he shoved the freezing metal between her fourth and fifth rib on her left side. 

Warm. They always were.

Her eyes were wide and she gagged into his gloved hand. He smiled at her. 

Step by step he backed them against a dumpster as the life slowly left her body. 

“Sleep in heavenly peace…” 

When her legs gave out, he let her sink down to the ground. Large green eyes fluttered closed. Such a pretty little thing, but her plot importance was minimal. She should feel grateful to have some interesting screen time. Bit of a shame to lose an extra so pretty. The cold would keep her that way for a while. Billy wrenched the knife out of her and she collapsed against the brick wall beside her. She could have been sleeping.

She didn't have to die, he supposed. Not really. But then again, neither had Casey. 

“Sleep in heavenly peace…” 

He wiped the blade off on her jeans before shoving it back into its sheath.

Hobbling back out of the alleyway, he picked up his crutches and kept on walking. 

The sky was grey.

The night was chill. 

Her heartbeat stopped.

And her body wouldn't rot.

Thank you and Merry Christmas!

[feydspet]

I feel like I'm slowly going CRAZY INSANE.

Like you tell me I'm going to shift for this mannnnnn! 😩🙏🏻 He's my soulmate I know it, I just know it.

Look at this babyyyyyy 🎀🩶🙀