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Hi, you can call me Alice. I've been a silent reader for a long time from various FF sites. I've finally decided to write & share my writings here—I work, so I will try my best to update when I can (most likely every other week when the last one was posted).
My inbox is open, I'm just shy, come talk to me; but kindly do not interact if you're a minor. Also, requests are closed until further notice; I'm just busy with work & life.
I write themes for:
ℴ Smut: I think I'm most confident decent writing this theme (sometimes it can be too explicit)
ℴ Fluff: I still need practice writing any type of fluff
ℴ Angst: my weak point, so I seldom write any, otherwise it's for practice
Current muse: aespa—specifically Karina & Winter... so, expect a plethora of posts featuring them on my feed.
Paring: Karina x F! Reader
Prompt: Somewhere beneath the waves, something ancient and sated curled against the ocean floor and slept, and dreamed of nothing, and waited.
CW: Minors DNI, smut, cunnilingus, fingering, scissoring, power imbalance, possessive behavior?, asphyxiation | Reader discretion is advised.
Wordcount: ~9.8k
a/n 1: happy belated karina day! ❤️
a/n 2: a comeback?.. I don't know, I just wanted to post something for Karina's birthday (even if I'm late); the beginning is unnecessarily long, maybe redundant.. it's for me to know I can still write something. I've got a 12 chapter story I want to post, but I'm revising and editing it, for the past year, it's sitting in my WIP folder :3
Your palms felt the wheel’s subtle movements, fingers tracing oak grain polished by years of salt spray and sailors’ hands. You stood with legs apart against the ship’s constant motion, your weathered leather coat snapping in the wind like a flag of defiance—proof of survival where others had perished. Dark hair whipped across your face, each strand a tiny lash against your skin, but you let it fly unchecked. All around you, the horizon cut a perfect circle where pewter sky met darker sea, and you stared at it hungrily, like someone who remembered too well what it meant to be landlocked.
The late sun turned the ocean’s surface to metal, while above, clouds caught fire with rusty golds and deep crimsons. Your eyes read the sky as others might read a book—methodically, missing nothing. Those thin, high clouds stretching to the northeast told you of changing weather, a storm perhaps six hours distant. But you felt no concern; after all this time at sea, you knew her moods as intimately as your own.
Behind you, the merchant vessel drifted on the horizon like a wounded gull, tilting where your crew had emptied her of treasures. They’d taken sugar that caught light like crushed stars, silk that slipped between fingers like water, and silver that made your quartermaster’s eyes flash with hunger—that ox-shouldered woman whose arms resembled mooring ropes and whose laugh curdled the air around her. You’d executed the raid with a surgeon’s touch. Not a drop of blood shed, not a single life extinguished; the dead tell no tales, but the living spread legends. Your name alone had done half the work before you’d even boarded. The merchant sailors now floated away in their own boats, bound and blindfolded but provisioned well enough to survive. You weren’t cruel without purpose, though you knew when cruelty served.
The spoils rested in the hold below, divided with mathematical precision that kept your crew loyal beyond any oath or threat. Your portion waited in your quarters—a private reward to enjoy in solitude later, when no one could witness how you caressed the stolen treasures. For now, triumph vibrated in your blood like a note held on a violin string, echoing in that hollow space beneath your breastbone where you stored everything you couldn’t afford to show.
Laughter exploded from the main deck, raw and unrestrained. Your crew—twenty-three souls tethered to you by choice rather than shackle—lounged across barrels and coils of rope, sharing a bottle of something amber and reckless. The lookout, a wiry sprite barely past girlhood who could spot a sail at a dozen nautical miles, had abandoned her post to join the merriment, her sun-kissed face split wide by a grin. Near the bow, two deckhands grappled in an arm-wrestling match atop an upturned crate, muscles corded beneath sweat-slicked skin, while others wagered their newly-earned silver on the outcome. Their voices merged into a symphony of rough, raucous life—the particular joy of those who had cheated both death and poverty in a single afternoon.
You watched them with the detachment of a lighthouse standing sentinel over ships. Present. Necessary. Apart.
Your quartermaster caught your gaze across the deck, raising her bottle in a silent toast. You acknowledged her with a nod so subtle it could have been the ship’s natural sway, but she understood. She saw the architecture of your solitude, the careful beams you’d laid after learning the cost of closeness. People were portholes; they let in light, yes, but also water, and water could drown a ship.
Your knuckles tapped the wheel’s spoke in a pattern—tap, tap-tap, tap—matching the cadence of your calculations. Twelve days of provisions, ten of fresh water, and if the wind held, three days to reach the nearest port that wouldn’t hang you on sight. In your mind, coastlines unfurled like secret manuscripts, each hidden cove and knife-edged reef committed to memory. You’d plotted a dozen ways to flee from any point on your course. Always planning, always preparing. Freedom wasn’t some treasure to be locked away; it required constant vigilance, sleepless nights counting nautical miles between yourself and those who would cage you again.
The scar on your left collarbone throbbed, an old ache echoing through time, pulling your thoughts back to a girl who’d worn iron instead of leather, whose hands had known the bite of shackles before they’d known the caress of a ship’s wheel. You pressed your thumb against the raised flesh through your coat, a habit ingrained like breathing, letting the pain—small, sharp, yours—ground you in the present. That girl was gone, buried deep, replaced by someone who would never again bend the knee. The scar was her epitaph, proof of rebirth.
You exhaled, and the wind swept your breath away before it could linger.
The sea sprawled before you, neither friend nor foe, its depths harboring secrets no living soul had recorded. The burnished horizon concealed waters virgin to human touch, regions that cartographers had filled with coiling monsters and cautionary script. Every tavern from these shores to North Africa buzzed with whispered legends: vessels crewed by those claimed by the depths, misty isles that materialized beneath otherworldly moonlight, sea-dwellers whose melodies could strip sailors of sanity as easily as flesh from bone. You scoffed at such stories in daylight; fancy was a luxury for those who could afford clouded judgment. But privately, in the quiet hours when the ship rocked you toward something akin to sleep, you turned those tales over like coins in your pocket, feeling their heft, their promise.
There was always more. Something further. Something waiting just beyond the sensible captain’s turning point.
Your hands flexed on the wheel, grip tightening until the wood groaned softly beneath your fingers. Behind you, the crew’s laughter faded to a contented murmur, and the ship sliced through the darkening water with the assurance of a blade through silk. Today, you were rich. Today, you were free. Today, you were alive. And still, some hunger within you—quiet, chronic, unnameable—stirred, lifting its head to scent the wind.
You turned your gaze eastward, where the sky was already deepening into night’s bruise, and let yourself yearn without naming the desire. The quiet stretched, thick as oil on the water, and the world seemed to balance on a breath—each heartbeat a question, each gust of wind an answer withheld.
Then, as if conjured by the ache you could never quite silence, it came. Subtle at first: a ripple in the air, a shiver along your spine. It slipped between your senses the way a knife comes—sideways, unexpected, before you could raise a hand to stop it. A melody. Not the drunken sea shanties your crew belted from the deck below, not the percussive slap of waves against the hull. This was something else entirely, something that existed in a register your ears had never catalogued. It threaded through the air like smoke through lace, each note curling into the next with a fluidity that no human throat should have been able to produce, and it found the precise frequency at which your spine resonated.
You went still. Your knuckles stopped their tapping.
The crew didn‘t seem to hear it—or if they did, they showed no sign, still tangled in their celebrations, their laughter loud and coarse and wonderfully ordinary. But you heard it the way you heard weather: not just with your ears but with your blood, your marrow, the animal part of you that had been reading invisible signals since before you could name them. The melody carried something in its folds. Sorrow, maybe. Or longing. Or the sound a wound makes when it’s too deep to scream.
Your eyes swept east, toward a formation of rocks you‘d marked on your mental chart hours ago—a cluster of jagged spires erupting from the waterline like the broken teeth of some drowned giant. They were the color of wet bone in the dying light, slick with spray and bearded with dark weed that swayed in the current like hair. Dangerous. The kind of formation that had claimed hundreds of hulls over the centuries, their timbers now rotting on the seabed alongside the skeletons of captains who’d miscalculated the distance between courage and stupidity.
The melody pulsed from that direction. You were certain of it.
Your fingers found the rail, and you leaned forward, narrowing your eyes against the salt spray. The tactical assessment ran automatically: tidal current pulling southeast at roughly two knots, submerged rock shelves extending at least forty feet beyond the visible spires, depth uncertain. Your ship drew too much water to approach safely. Even at half sail, one miscalculated tack and the rocks would open her belly like a gutted fish.
Yet that sound pulled at you like an anchor chain wrapped around your heart.
It hooked into you with the delicacy of a fishhook dressed in silk, tugging at something you kept buried beneath the leather and the scars and the meticulously maintained indifference. Your fascination with the impossible—with the serpents drawn at the edges of maps, with the tales whispered by old sailors whose eyes had seen things their mouths couldn’t properly shape. You’d spent years dismissing those stories in daylight and cherishing them in the dark, and now the dark was calling to you in a voice that tasted like salt and honey and the ache between your ribs.
You turned from the rail and descended to the main deck with the controlled urgency that your crew had learned to respect. Your quartermaster saw your face first. Her grin died.
“Hold position,” you said. Clipped. Final. “Drop anchor if you have to. Keep her off those rocks.”
“Captain?” Her brow furrowed, bottle forgotten in her hand.
“You heard me.”
She had. They all had. The laughter guttered out like a candle in a draft, and your crew moved with the instinctive obedience of women who’d learned that when your voice dropped to that particular register, questions were a luxury they couldn’t afford. The lookout scrambled back up the mast. Two deckhands moved to the anchor chain. Your quartermaster watched you with something between confusion and concern as you crossed the deck toward the davits where the ship’s smallest boat hung suspended over the churning water.
“I’m going alone,” you said before she could ask.
“The hell you are—“
“That wasn’t a request.”
You worked the ropes with hands that knew every knot by touch, lowering the boat with a practiced efficiency that left no room for argument. The hull kissed the water with a hollow slap, and you swung yourself over the rail and down the rope ladder in three fluid movements, your coat billowing behind you like a dark wing. The oars were where they always were. You set them in the locks and pulled, and the little boat leapt forward, carving a pale scar across the darkening sea.
Behind you, voices rose—your crew, calling your name, calling warnings that the wind tore apart before they could fully form. You heard fragments: rocks, and current, and captain, please. The ‘please’ almost stopped you. Almost. Your crew didn’t beg. The fact that one of them had just done so should have been a flare, a signal fire, a reason to turn the boat around and sail for the nearest port and drink until you forgot the sound of that impossible melody.
Instead, you pulled harder on the oars.
The rocks grew larger as you approached, their edges sharp enough to cut the failing light. Spray erupted between them in white plumes that caught the last copper of the sunset, and the water churned with a violence that spoke of hidden depths and unpredictable currents. You navigated by instinct—reading the surface the way you read the sky, finding the channels between the swells, adjusting your stroke with the reflexive precision of a woman who’d spent more of her life on water than on land. The boat rocked and shuddered but held its line.
And the melody—Christ, the melody. It grew with every stroke, filling the space between the rocks like water filling a cup, until you were swimming in it, drowning in it, each note pressing against your skin with an almost physical weight. It was beautiful in the way that storms were beautiful: vast, indifferent, capable of destroying you without noticing. Your rational mind—that sharp, pragmatic instrument you’d honed through years of survival—listed every reason to turn back. The sound isn’t natural. Nothing good lives on rocks like these. You know better.
But there was something else woven into the music now, something that bypassed your reason entirely and spoke directly to the soft, hidden architecture of your compassion. Pain. Unmistakable, undeniable pain. Whatever was making that sound was suffering, and suffering was a language you’d learned long before you’d learned to sail.
Your oars cut the water. The rocks closed around you like fingers, the narrow channels growing tighter, the sea a snarling maze beneath your boat. The haunting song wove through every gap, beckoning, urging you forward, until it was the only thing left—a dark summons, impossible to resist.
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the melody broke. Silence fell—a silence so complete it rang in your ears, leaving you raw and exposed.
You rounded the last spire of rock, heart hammering, and saw her.
She lay on a flat shelf of stone just above the waterline, tangled in a net so heavy with chain and anchor weight that it had bitten into the rock beneath her. The net was commercial—the kind used by deep-water trawlers to haul in catches measured in tons—and whoever had set it had done so with malice and expertise, layering the mesh in thick folds that pinned her limbs at cruel angles. Her body was a ruin of open wounds. Long gashes scored her torso, some shallow and weeping, others deep enough to show the pale gleam of something beneath the skin that wasn’t quite bone. Blood—thin, iridescent, wrong in a way you couldn’t immediately name—pooled in the hollows of the rock around her.
You stared.
She was not what you’d expected, though you hadn’t known you were expecting anything until this moment forced you to admit it. The stories your mind had hoarded in secret—the ones about creatures with voices that could pull ships onto reefs—those stories always described scales and tails and mouths full of needle teeth. What you saw was a woman. Or something wearing the shape of one. Her skin was the color of sea glass held up to overcast light, pale and faintly translucent, and when the dying sun caught her at certain angles, you could see the ghost of pearlescent scales shimmering just beneath the surface, like something glimpsed through ice. Her hair was long and dark and wet, fanned across the stone around her head like spilled ink, and it moved. Not with the wind—the wind had died in the lee of the rocks—but with its own slow, sinuous current, as if the air around her remembered being water.
You secured the boat’s line to a jagged outcrop, your hands moving through the knots automatically while your eyes refused to leave her. Then you climbed onto the rocks, and the stone bit into your palms—barnacle-crusted, slick with algae, sharp enough to draw blood through your calluses. You didn’t notice. You were too busy staring at her.
She was laid out in utter nakedness beneath the heavy net, the coarse mesh framing rather than hiding her body. Her breasts were fully bare—impossibly soft-looking, rising and falling in shallow, desperate breaths. Your gaze lingered on the dark peaks of her nipples, the way bruises and gashes cut across the curves, making her seem both ruin and temptation. The lines of her body drew you lower, over the smooth pale skin of her stomach and hips, until the net parted between her thighs.
You blinked. Two legs. Human legs—pale, sculpted, bruised a mottled purple around the knees and thighs, as if something had gripped her with crushing force. Your shock doubled as you caught a glimpse between her legs, the intimate folds of her sex exposed and unmistakably female, flushed a delicate, shimmering pink beneath skin that gleamed with an otherworldly sheen. The detail was so raw, so vulnerable, so undeniably woman, it crashed through every expectation you’d carried from a lifetime of sailors’ tales.
You stared. The webbing between her toes, translucent as jellyfish membrane, was the only mark of the impossible. Not a tail. Not armored scales—just bruised, battered flesh, glistening with iridescent blood, and a beauty so strange it left you breathless.
You’d heard the stories. You knew what sirens were supposed to look like. And this—this wasn’t it. Where was the tail? The scales that should have armored her from hip to fin? Had the injuries done this? Had whatever brutality had left her netted and bleeding also forced some grotesque transformation, stripping the creature of her natural form the way a snake might be skinned?
You didn’t know. The not-knowing sat in your chest like a swallowed stone.
Her eyes opened.
They were the color of deep water—not the cheerful blue of shallows, but the dark, fathomless green-black of ocean trenches where sunlight never reached. They found you with a precision that made your stomach clench, and for a moment, you saw something in them that was neither human nor animal but something older than both. Then the look shifted. Warmed. Became the gaze of a wounded thing recognizing rescue, and her cracked lips parted around a sound so small you had to lean closer to hear it.
“Please.” The word came out fractured, barely more than breath. Her voice, even diminished to a whisper, carried that same melodic undertow—the ghost of the song that had dragged you across open water. “It hurts.”
Your tactical mind screamed. This was wrong. Everything about this was wrong—the placement, the vulnerability, the way she’d been left here like bait on a hook. You indexed the red flags with the same obsessive thoroughness you applied to navigational hazards: the net was anchored but not abandoned, suggesting someone intended to return; her wounds, while brutal, had not killed her, which meant she was either extraordinarily resilient or the injuries were more recent than they appeared; and the melody that had drawn you here had stopped the precise moment you’d rounded the rocks, as if it had served its purpose.
Your hand went to the knife at your belt. You didn’t draw it. But you rested your palm on the hilt, and you watched her with the careful attention of someone who’d survived this long by assuming everything was a trap until proven otherwise.
And yet.
The bruises on her legs. The way her fingers—long, too long, with that delicate webbing she couldn’t quite conceal—curled weakly against the net that imprisoned them. The thin, nacreous blood that didn’t belong to any creature you’d ever seen. She was alien and broken and impossibly, disturbingly beautiful, and the sight of her suffering landed on the one part of you that no amount of armor could protect.
You thought of iron. You thought of the girl you’d killed and buried beneath your own skin. You thought of what it felt like to be trapped and bleeding and beyond help, and you knew—with the sick certainty of someone recognizing their own reflection in a stranger’s face—that you were going to help her. That you had to. That the part of you that kept you alive and the part of you that kept you human were about to go to war, and compassion, as always, would bring the bigger guns.
From somewhere behind you—far away now, across a stretch of churning water and sharp stone—your crew’s voices carried on the wind. You caught fragments between the crash of waves against the rocks: your name, shouted hoarsely, and the word danger, and something that might have been come back but could just as easily have been the sea itself, mimicking human speech to mock you.
You knelt beside the siren. The rock was cold and wet beneath your knees. Up close, you could see the fine tremor running through her body, the way her chest rose and fell in shallow, labored breaths, the delicate veins visible beneath her translucent skin like rivers mapped on parchment.
“I’m going to get you out of this,” you said, and the words came out in that low, clipped register that your crew called your weather voice—the one you used when the sky turned green and the barometer dropped and there was nothing left to do but act.
Her eyes found yours again, and something in their depths shifted. A flicker. Quick as a fish turning in dark water.
You barely registered it, focus narrowing to the task at hand as you reached for the net. The urgency in your voice echoed in your movements; there was no room for hesitation now.
The net resisted your blade like it had a personal grudge. The fibers were thick as your smallest finger, woven tight and reinforced with wire that sent sparks skittering each time your knife scraped across it. You worked methodically, sawing through one strand at a time, your jaw set in the grim concentration you usually reserved for navigating shoals in heavy fog. Each severed line released a little more of the siren’s body, and she shuddered beneath you—minute, involuntary tremors that you felt through the rock and through the net and through the places where your knees pressed against her side.
She was cold. Not the cold of a woman left exposed to sea spray, but a deeper chill—the cold of deep water, of trenches where sunlight dissolved before it ever reached the bottom. When your hand brushed her arm while repositioning your grip on the net, her skin felt like touching smooth stone that had been submerged for centuries. And yet, where the gashes had opened her, the opalescent blood that welled up was warm—almost hot—and it clung to your fingers with a viscosity that wasn’t quite right, wasn’t quite blood, as if her body couldn’t decide what species it was imitating.
You cut away the section pinning her left arm, and she drew it free with a hiss of pain that sounded, despite everything, like music. Her fingers uncurled—those long, wrong fingers with their delicate webbing that caught the last light like stained glass—and settled on the rock beside her. You watched her flex them, testing, and you saw beneath the trembling a strength that didn’t match her injuries. The tendons in her forearm stood out like cable, and her grip on the stone left faint scratches in its surface.
“Slowly,” you said. “Don’t try to move too much.”
“It feels—“ She paused, swallowed. Her voice was a ruined instrument, beautiful even in its brokenness. “It feels like drowning on land. The air. It’s too thin.”
You didn’t know what to do with that information. You filed it away the way you filed everything—quickly, precisely, for later examination—and continued cutting.
The net peeled away from her torso in layers, each one revealing new damage. Lacerations crossed her ribcage in parallel lines, too regular to be accidental, as though something with multiple claws had raked her deliberately. Bruises bloomed across her stomach in watercolor shades of violet and indigo. You found yourself reaching for the hem of your own shirt, tearing a strip of fabric with your teeth, pressing it against the worst of the wounds with a pressure that was firm but—you noticed, distantly—gentler than it needed to be.
Her eyes watched you work. That was the thing you couldn’t quite shake—the quality of her attention. It was absolute. Those deep, oceanic eyes tracked every movement of your hands with a focus that went beyond gratitude, beyond pain, into something you didn’t have a name for. When you met her gaze, she held it, and you felt the contact in your sternum like a fishhook finding purchase.
There. That glint. Quick as a blade drawn and resheathed—a flash of something behind her irises that had nothing to do with vulnerability. It was cold and bright and calculating, the look of a predator assessing the distance between itself and a meal. You blinked, and it was gone, replaced by the wet-eyed softness of a creature in pain, and you told yourself you‘d imagined it. A trick of the fading light. The natural wariness of a wounded animal. Your tactical mind tried to hold onto the observation, to flag it and file it alongside the other anomalies, but it kept slipping away—like trying to grip water, like trying to hold onto a thought in a dream.
Because she’d started to sing.
Not the full melody that had pulled you across the open water. This was quieter—barely more than a hum, a vibration that seemed to come from her chest rather than her throat, so low and intimate that you had to be this close to hear it. It settled into your bones like warmth from a fire you hadn‘t realized you needed. The tension in your shoulders—the tension you carried like ballast, always, everywhere, the weight that kept you upright and sharp and alone—began to unspool. Your breathing slowed. Your knife hand paused mid-stroke.
“What are you?” The question fell out of you before your mouth consulted your brain, and you heard the softness in your own voice with something like alarm.
“Tired,” she whispered. The hum continued beneath her words, a current beneath a current. “Afraid. Like you.”
Like you. The phrase landed on something raw. You heard the echo of your own speech patterns in her cadence—the clipped brevity, the words chosen for efficiency rather than ornament—and the recognition created an intimacy that felt earned even though it wasn’t. She was mirroring you. Some distant, drowning part of your brain understood this with the clinical precision of a woman cataloguing the exact manner of her own undoing, but the understanding couldn’t reach the surface. The hum pressed it down. The hum pressed everything down.
“Who did this to you?” you asked, and your voice had dropped to a murmur, conspiratorial, as though the two of you were sharing secrets in a language only you could speak.
“Hunters.” Her fingers found your wrist. The touch was feather-light, tentative as a question. “They come for us. For what we are.” Her thumb traced a slow circle on your pulse point. “You‘re different. I can feel it.”
You should have pulled away. You knew this. The knowledge existed in you like a lighthouse whose beam you could see but whose warning you could no longer interpret. Her touch on your wrist was cold and her hum was warm and somewhere between the two sensations your judgment had been gentled into silence. You looked at her face—the angular, impossible beauty of it, the dark hair swaying in its own private tide, the lips parted around a melody that tasted like honeyed grief—and you felt the last of your defenses fold inward, quiet as a sail losing wind.
She watched you, gaze unwavering. “Do you have a name, sailor?”
You hesitated—a reflex. “Y/n,” you said at last, the old name, the only one you trusted to give. “Captain Y/n.”
A corner of her mouth curled, almost soft. “Y/n,” she repeated, tasting it, letting the syllables roll over her tongue. “I’m Karina.” The way she said it, you knew it wasn’t just a name—it was a warning dressed as a gift.
“I’m going to get you somewhere safe,” you said, and even as the words left your mouth, you understood, in some locked room of yourself, that the promise was already broken.
Her eyes shimmered. The glint was gone—or hidden. Her fingers tightened, ever so slightly, around your wrist.
“Stay,” she breathed. “Just a little longer. The pain—your voice helps.”
And you stayed. You stayed because the melody asked you to, and because the bruises on her legs looked like the bruises you used to carry, and because the girl you’d killed and buried was not, as it turned out, as dead as you’d believed. She stirred inside you now, blinking in the dark, reaching toward the sound of someone who understood captivity, and you couldn’t—wouldn’t—pull her back.
Night crept in while you lingered at her side, the last glimmers of sun sinking beneath the waves until the world was cut in two: above, a bruised velvet sky pricked with indifferent stars; below, the sea swallowing all light. In the hush, Karina’s song coiled tighter around you, each note a tender snare.
You might have thought the melody would fade with the sun, grown faint with exhaustion or pain, but instead it shifted—slowly, inexorably, the way a tide swells beneath the surface before it’s ever visible from shore. What began as a wounded hum, a trembling thread of sound inviting mercy, thickened and darkened. The notes dropped lower, finding new registers that vibrated in the marrow of your bones; the sorrow that had colored each phrase now curdled into a sweetness so rich it was almost obscene. You recognized it—the sound of a mouth opening wider, of hunger returning to itself after remembering what it means to want.
You heard it. You understood it, in the same detached, clinical way a drowning woman understands that water fills lungs. The knowledge existed at a great distance from the part of you that could have used it. Between you and your reason, Karina’s voice had laid itself down like a fog bank—vast, impenetrable, erasing the landmarks by which you’d always navigated.
Heat bloomed at the base of your spine. Not the manageable warmth of a campfire or a stiff drink, but something deeper, more insistent—a liquid pulse that spread through your pelvis and up into your chest and down into your thighs until your whole body felt like a coal bed that had been breathed upon. Your pulse thickened. You became aware of it everywhere: in your throat, your wrists, the tender crook of your elbows, between your legs. Each heartbeat was a slow, heavy percussion that seemed to synchronize with the melody, as though the song had reached inside you and wrapped its fingers around the muscle that kept you alive.
You tried to think. The attempt was like wading through honey. Fragments of thought surfaced and dissolved: the ship, the crew, the knife in your belt, the distance back to safety. Each one arrived already dying, waterlogged, too heavy to hold. The song washed over them and carried them away, replacing them with images that had no place in the mind of a woman who prided herself on clarity. Skin against skin. Mouths in the dark. The particular ache of wanting something so badly that the wanting itself became a kind of violence.
This is wrong, you thought, and the thought tasted like ash.
This is exactly right, the melody answered, and the answer tasted like salt and honey and the soft, secret place behind your own ribs.
Karina moved. You watched her the way a mouse watches a snake—paralyzed not by fear but by a fascination so total it had overwritten the circuitry of self-preservation. She rose from the rock shelf with a fluidity that her injuries should not have permitted, her body unwinding from its wounded curl with the liquid grace of something that had never known the constraints of skeleton and sinew. The gashes on her torso had stopped bleeding. You noticed this the way you might notice a cloud passing over the sun—registering the change in light without understanding its implications. Her skin, that strange sea-glass translucence, seemed to glow faintly in the darkness, as if she were lit from within by some bioluminescent fire.
The vulnerability fell away from her like a shed skin. It didn’t disappear so much as recede, pulling back like the tide to reveal something harder and more brilliant beneath. Her eyes, when they found yours, had lost their wounded warmth. What replaced it was a depthless, ancient appetite that should have sent you scrambling backward across the rocks toward your boat. Instead, you leaned closer.
She rose onto her knees—those impossible, bruised, human legs folding beneath her with a predator’s economy of movement—and the melody poured from her parted lips like dark wine from a tilted bottle. Her hair moved in thick, serpentine coils around her shoulders, each strand catching the starlight and holding it. Her fingers—those elongated, webbed fingers that you’d pitied minutes ago—reached toward you, and you watched them come the way you‘d watch a wave you couldn’t outrun.
The first touch landed on your jaw. Her fingertips traced the line of your bone from ear to chin, and the contact sent a current through you that had nothing to do with static and everything to do with the song rewriting the language of your nervous system. Pleasure and terror braided themselves into something indistinguishable, a double helix spiraling through your bloodstream, and you made a sound—low, involuntary, wrenched from the basement of your chest—that you’d never made before and didn’t recognize as yours.
“There,” Karina whispered, and her voice was no longer the trembling thread of a wounded creature. It was a command sheathed in velvet, a fist inside a silk glove. “There you are.”
Your hands hung at your sides. Your knife sat untouched on your belt. Every contingency you’d ever devised, every escape route you’d ever memorized, every hard-won instinct that had kept you alive and free and answerable to no one—all of it had been gathered up and set aside with the casual efficiency of a host clearing the table before the main course. What remained was the hunger. Raw, lawless, annihilating. It surged through you with a force that made your vision swim, and you understood with a distant, drowning clarity that this was not your hunger at all. It had been planted. Cultivated. Sung into existence note by note until it felt indistinguishable from your own desire.
It didn’t matter. The distinction between what was yours and what was hers had dissolved in the melody’s acid bath, and what rose from the wreckage was a need so acute it bordered on agony. You needed to touch her. You needed her mouth. You needed the cold weight of her body against yours with a desperation that made your teeth ache and your fingers curl and your breath come in shallow, ragged pulls that fogged the air between you.
“Please,” you said, and the word tasted like a key turning in a lock you’d sworn never to open.
Karina smiled. It was not a kind smile. It was the smile of something that had been patient for a very long time and no longer needed to be, and it split her beautiful face with a cruelty so pure it was almost holy.
“Come here,” she said.
And you went. You went the way water goes downhill—not because it chooses to, but because it has forgotten how to do anything else. Your body moved toward hers as if pulled by a gravity that existed only between the two of you, and the last flicker of the woman you’d been—the captain, the storm reader, the one who knelt for no one—guttered out like a candle flame pinched between wet fingers.
The rocks were cold beneath your knees. The sea was black around you. And the melody ate the silence whole, swallowing every last sound until only your breath and hers remained—a hush so heavy it pressed upon your skin.
Then her hands found your face, cool and unyielding, drawing you up and forward. She pulled you to her mouth like a woman drinking from a stream after a drought—desperate, greedy, graceless in her need. Her lips were cold, shockingly so, and tasted of brine and something mineral and ancient that coated your tongue like a film of saltwater and settled into the spaces between your teeth. The kiss was not gentle. It had no interest in gentleness. Her mouth opened against yours with a ferocity that made your jaw ache, and her tongue—long, impossibly dexterous, colder than the rest of her—pushed past your lips and mapped the inside of your mouth with the thoroughness of a conqueror surveying new territory.
You made a sound. It wasn’t a word. It was the noise a ship makes when its hull breaches—a low, structural groan of something fundamental giving way. Your hands rose to grip her shoulders, to pull her closer, to anchor yourself against the vertigo of sensation, but she was already moving, already surging forward with that fluid, boneless grace that belonged to no creature of the land. Her body coiled against yours, slick with spray and iridescent blood and the faint luminescence of her skin, and you felt every point of contact like a brand—her chest against yours, her hips rolling into your hips, her thighs sliding between your thighs with the sinuous purpose of something that hunted by constriction.
The rock hit your back as she bore you down, and the impact barely registered through the wildfire of her touch. She pinned you with her weight, which should have been slight—she was lean, ethereal, wounded—but felt instead like the weight of the whole ocean pressing you into the stone. Her mouth broke from yours to trace a scalding line down the column of your throat, her teeth scraping the tendon, and you arched into her with a gasp that tore the lining of your lungs.
Then her hands found your coat. The oiled leather that had weathered a hundred storms, that you’d worn like armor since the day you’d become someone worth protecting—she seized it at the collar and pulled, and the leather screamed as it parted, the stitching surrendering to a strength that no wounded woman should have possessed. She stripped it from your shoulders in two savage motions, tossing it aside like offal, and the night air hit your skin in a cold slap that made your nipples harden and your back bow against the stone.
She didn’t stop. Your shirt followed—cotton and sweat and the ghost of a dozen ports—shredded from neck to hem by fingers tipped with nails that were no longer blunt and human but sharp, dark, curved like fish hooks. She tore the fabric from your body with the single-minded voracity of something unwrapping a meal, and each rake of her nails across your skin left thin red lines that welled with heat. You were bare from the waist up, the scar on your collarbone exposed to the starlight and to her eyes, and you had never felt more naked—not because of the skin but because of the way she looked at it. At you. Like you were already inside her mouth.
You reached for her. Your hands clawed at her shoulders, her hair, the slick impossible landscape of her body, desperate to feel her beneath your fingers, to touch the cold luminous skin, to hold something solid while the rest of you dissolved. Your fingers found the ridge of her spine, the sharp architecture of her shoulder blades, the place where her skin gave way to the fine shimmer of half-hidden scales, and the texture—smooth, almost frictionless, alive with a subtle pulse—made you moan into the dark.
She caught your wrists.
Her grip was iron. Not metaphorical iron—actual, grinding, bone-deep compression that stopped your blood and turned your fingers numb in a heartbeat. She forced your arms above your head, and you felt the rough scrape of netting beneath your wrists before you understood what was happening. The net. The same net that had held her captive, its fibers still crusted with her nacreous blood, its weight still anchored to the rock. She wound it around your wrists with a speed that spoke of practice, of ritual, looping and tightening until the coarse mesh bit into your skin like teeth.
You tugged. The net held. It held with the indifferent totality of the sea itself, and the realization that you were bound—that the thing you’d rescued had used its own chains to shackle you—should have broken the spell. Should have dragged you screaming back to sense and self-preservation and the knife on your belt that you could no longer reach.
Instead, need detonated in your chest like a powder magazine taking spark. The helplessness—the absolute, irrevocable surrender of control—unlocked something feral in you, something that had been caged behind years of discipline and distance and the bone-deep terror of being at another’s mercy. You pulled against the net and the fibers carved raw lines into your wrists and the pain bloomed like dark flowers and you wanted more.
Karina smiled above you. Not the vulnerable trembling of a rescued creature. Not the grateful warmth of a woman saved. This was the smile of something that had been patient because it could afford to be, a slow unfurling of cruelty across features so beautiful they made the word lose meaning. Her eyes blazed—not metaphorically, truly blazed, a bioluminescent flare of blue-green that turned her pupils to dark pinpricks and cast moving shadows across the rock.
“Pretty captain,” she murmured, and her voice had dropped all pretense of fragility. It was a bell struck in a cathedral of bone. “Pretty, foolish, kind captain.”
She dragged her nails down your bare flesh. From the hollow of your throat, over the scar she traced with deliberate cruelty, between your breasts where your heart hammered like a trapped animal against the cage of your ribs, down the taut plane of your stomach where the muscles jumped and clenched at her touch. The scratches she left were deep enough to bead with blood—your blood, red and ordinary and mortal—and each line of fire she drew sent a corresponding pulse of agonized pleasure straight to your core.
You moaned. The sound bounced off the rocks and came back to you distorted, bestial, unrecognizable. Your hips rolled upward, seeking friction, seeking her, and she pressed you back down with one hand flat on your stomach, her palm cold as a grave and heavy as an anchor.
Her mouth descended. Her teeth found the jut of your hipbone, and she bit down—not enough to break skin, but enough to remind you that she could—and you convulsed against the net, your back arching so hard your spine cracked. Her tongue followed, tracing the line where your trousers met your skin, and you felt her breath—cold, slow, deliberate—ghost across the strip of flesh she’d exposed.
She hooked her fingers into your waistband. The fabric—salt-stiffened canvas that had survived gales and gunfire—parted like wet paper under her grip. She peeled the ruined trousers down your thighs, your calves, off your feet with their calluses and old scars, and the night air rushed across your skin in a wave of gooseflesh that started at your ankles and crested at your scalp. You were bare now. Completely. Spread beneath her on the rock like an offering on an altar, your wrists bound above you and your legs falling open with a shamelessness that should have horrified you.
It didn’t. Nothing horrified you anymore except the possibility that she might stop.
Karina settled between your thighs. Her weight pressed your legs wider, her hips slotting against yours with a precision that suggested she had done this before—had pinned other foolish sailors to other rocks, had taken what she wanted from bodies that begged for the taking. The luminescence of her skin cast strange shadows across your stomach, your breasts, the rapid flutter of your pulse in your throat.
“Look at you,” she breathed. Her fingers traced the crease where your thigh met your hip, feather-light, maddening. “So wet already. So ready.” She dragged one fingertip through the slickness gathered at your entrance, and you jerked against the net like you’d been struck by lightning. “Did you think about this? When you cut my bonds? When you held me in your arms and pretended to be noble?”
You couldn’t answer. Your voice had drowned somewhere in your chest, replaced by a high keening sound that escaped your throat without your permission. She circled your clit with that same fingertip—barely touching, a ghost of pressure—and your hips bucked so hard you nearly threw her off.
She laughed. The sound was the crash of waves against a hull, beautiful and deadly. “Answer me, Y/n.”
“Yes,” you gasped. The word tore out of you like a confession under torture. “Yes, I thought about it. I thought about your mouth. Your hands. I thought about—“
She slid two fingers inside you without warning.
Her fingers weren’t gentle. They were conquerors. Two impossibly long, icy digits speared into your cunt—a brutal, beautiful invasion. The stretch burned like salt in a wound. Her knuckles ground against your swollen outer lips, forcing them wider as she buried herself to the root. Cold. So cold it seared nerve endings raw, then ignited them. Her fingers curled inside you—deliberate, cruel precision—and found that spongy ridge deep in your front wall. She pressed. Hard.
Your spine snapped off the rock. A scream tore from your throat—raw, guttural, primal—echoing off the cliffs like a dying gull. Seabirds scattered into the ink-black sky. Vision whited out. Stars imploded.
“Mmh…” Karina purred against your inner thigh, her breath frosting your skin. Her lips brushed the crease where leg met sex. “There’s my pretty Y/n.”
Then she fucked you. No tentative rhythm, no exploration. Just relentless, piston-driven force. Her palm slapped against your clit with every thrust—wet, squelching smacks that echoed louder than the surf. Her fingers dragged over that devastating spot inside you on every withdrawal, scraping nerves alight. Each pull back left you clenching around emptiness, desperate, aching, your hips bucking wildly against the netting binding your wrists. Slickness gushed from your hole, coating her knuckles, dripping down your thighs onto the stone. The smell—coppery blood from her scratches, salt spray, and the thick, musky scent of your arousal—hung heavy in the air.
“Please, Karina,” you begged, voice shredded. “Please, please—“
Her fingers twisted viciously inside you. You sobbed. “What? Tell me what you want.” Her eyes glowed like drowned stars above you.
“Your mouth” The words ripped free, graceless, shameless. “I want your mouth, please, I need—“
She didn’t hesitate. Her head lowered. That inhumanly long, cold tongue lashed against your clit.
The shock stole your breath. Then sensation detonated. Her tongue wasn’t human—it was a living weapon. It flickered over your swollen bud with impossible speed—sharp, staccato flicks that made your thighs spasm. Then it flattened, broad and wet and freezing, pressing hard, vibrating against the hypersensitive flesh. It probed the hood, circled the base, traced the trembling veins beneath your skin. She didn’t just lick; she mapped, claimed, devoured. The cold became irrelevant, drowned by the electric storm she conducted on your nerves.
All while her fingers kept plunging. Deeper. Harder. Three fingers now—a brutal stretch that burned like salvation. Her knuckles ground against your entrance, stretching you obscenely wide. Her palm hammered your clit in time with her thrusts. Rhythm became chaos—tongue flicking, fingers pistoning, palm slamming—a symphony of ruin conducted on your body. Pleasure wasn’t a wave, it was a tsunami building inside your pelvis, a crushing pressure threatening to crack your bones.
“I—I’m gonna—“ you gasped, choking on the words.
Her mouth sealed over your clit. Sucked. Hard. At the same moment, her fingers crooked sharply inside you, grinding against that deep, sacred spot. Her voice vibrated against your flesh, a command fused with dark magic: “Cum for me.”
The orgasm didn’t crest. It detonated. A supernova in your womb. Your body locked—back arched impossibly high, toes curling into the rock, neck corded. A silent scream tore through you as blinding white light consumed your vision. Your walls clenched around her invading fingers in violent, rhythmic spasms—pulsing, milking them as hot fluid gushed out around the tight seal of her knuckles. Each contraction ripped a ragged sob from your throat. You were drowning, convulsing, shattered on the stone altar of her hunger.
She didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Wouldn’t. Her fingers kept moving inside your oversensitive, clenching channel, stroking that raw, abused spot. Her tongue softened but remained relentless—broad, flat strokes over your ravaged clit, coaxing. Before the first climax fully released you, another gathered—sharper, more desperate, edged with agony. Sensitivity screamed.
“I-I can’t,” you whimpered, even as your hips rolled into her touch. “I can’t, it’s too m-much, I—“
“You can, Y/n,” Karina murmured, her voice thick with your essence. She added a fourth finger. The stretch was obscene, tearing, perfect. She pressed her tongue flat and hard against your clit and bore down.
The second orgasm hit like a depth charge. Deeper. Your vision whited out completely. Sound vanished. You were nothing but raw nerve endings and convulsing muscle, silently screaming into the void as your cunt wept around her relentless hand. Your body shook like a leaf in a hurricane—fine tremors wracking your limbs, your belly quivering, your thighs slick with sweat and your own release.
When awareness seeped back, it was through a haze of exhaustion and shattered nerves. You trembled uncontrollably. Every muscle felt liquid, spent. Your wrists throbbed where the net had bitten deep. Your back was scraped raw against unforgiving stone. Between your legs, you pulsed with a deep, bruised ache—a brand, a testament. Slickness pooled beneath your hips, cooling on the rock. The air reeked of salt, sex, and iron—your blood mingling with her luminescent ichor.
Karina crawled up your ruined body. Her cold, slick skin slid against yours—ice on fevered flesh. She settled her weight atop you, her hips cradling your trembling thighs, her face inches from yours. Her lips glistened. Her chin shone wetly in her own eerie light. She smelled like the abyss and your own devastation.
“Mine,” she said, and pressed her mouth to yours.
You tasted yourself on her tongue. Tasted salt and copper and something sweeter, muskier, undeniably your own. The kiss was deep and thorough and possessive, her tongue claiming your mouth the way her fingers had claimed your pussy, and you opened for her without resistance, without thought, without anything left in you but the hollow, ringing need to belong to her.
When she finally pulled back, her eyes were still blazing. The bioluminescence cast her face in shifting patterns of light and shadow, beautiful and terrible, inhuman in a way that made your heart clench with something that might have been fear and might have been devotion.
“Pretty captain,” she murmured, and her smile was the smile of something ancient and hungry and utterly without mercy. “We’re not done yet.”
You believed her. God help you, you believed her with every burning, trembling, ruined inch of yourself.
Karina wasted no time claiming you again. With a languid, predatory certainty, she slid her body lower, lining her hips with yours until the cold, slick press of her sex met your own. Her movements were slow at first—deliberate, almost savoring—as she began to drag her clit against yours in a long, devastating grind. Sensation erupted anew: your body oversensitized from the orgasms she’d already wrung from you, every nerve ending screaming raw. Her clit, that hard, icy pearl, dragged directly over your swollen, throbbing bundle of nerves. The friction was electric—a searing, glacial scrape that made your thighs jerk uncontrollably beneath her. You whimpered, a high, broken sound ripped from your throat, and her grip tightened fractionally, her fingers digging into the sides of your neck, her thumb pressing deeper into the hollow above your collarbone. The pressure stole your breath, silencing the whimper before it could fully form.
“Quiet,” she murmured, her voice a low thrum against the roar of the sea. Her breath smelled of salt and deep, cold places. “I want to hear the waves.”
Then she moved faster. The rhythm of her hips became erratic, desperate. Her cunt slammed against yours in short, sharp thrusts, the wet, obscene schlick-schlick-schlick of slick flesh meeting slick flesh echoing louder than the surf. Her nails—no longer human but sharp, black points—dug into the soft flesh of your inner thigh, piercing skin. Thin lines of hot blood welled instantly, trickling down your leg, mingling with the cold brine dripping from her thighs and your own desperate wetness pooling beneath you. The sting of the cuts only intensified the brutal pleasure radiating from where her clit ground against yours, the two sensations braiding together until they were indistinguishable—pure, agonizing ecstasy.
Your hips bucked wildly beneath her, a frantic, involuntary reflex—chasing the icy friction of her cunt against your burning pussy, yet twisting away from the overwhelming intensity. The coil deep in your belly wound impossibly tighter with every savage grind, every jarring impact of her pelvis against yours. You were teetering on the edge—so close—but her grip on your throat was stealing the air you needed. Black spots danced at the edges of your vision, the world narrowing to the cold fire in her eyes and the relentless pressure building between your legs.
“P-Please,” you tried to gasp, but the word emerged strangled, thin and ragged, crushed beneath the relentless vice of her hand.
Her eyes locked onto yours. No warmth. No human desire. Only that bottomless, ancient hunger—a predator seeing prey. Seeing fuel.
She bore down one final time. Her hips slammed into yours with bruising force, pinning you completely to the unforgiving rock. Her clit dragged across yours in one long, excruciating stroke—icy hardness grinding directly onto your hypersensitive nub. The overload was instantaneous.
You came—violently, helplessly. Not from tenderness, but from the sheer, brutal force of her need. Orgasm tore through you like a white-hot current, obliterating thought. Your body convulsed beneath her, muscles locking rigid—your back arched off the stone, your bound wrists straining against the net until fresh blood slicked the ropes. Your mouth gaped in a silent scream as the pleasure and the suffocation fused into pure, shattering annihilation. Your pussy clenched rhythmically around nothing, gushing hot arousal that mixed with her cold slickness on your thighs.
“Hm...,” she breathed, her voice thick with triumph, guttural and alien. “There’s my pretty captain.”
Her own climax followed—a shuddering, possessive claim. You felt it in the sudden, iron-hard tension of her thighs clamping around yours, in the violent spasms of her hips grinding down, in the rhythmic clenching pulses of her sex against your oversensitive pussy. Each contraction seemed to suck another wave of aftershock from your trembling body. She rode it ruthlessly, her weight pressing you deeper into the stone, milking every last drop of sensation from your spent flesh.
The pressure on your throat didn’t ease. It sharpened. Her fingers constricted like bands of cold iron, her thumb crushing your windpipe. The pinprick of light that was her face blurred. You tried to fight—a feeble thrash of your bound hands, a weak kick of your legs—but your strength was gone, utterly consumed.
“No—“ It was less than a whisper. Paper-thin. Dying.
Karina’s smile widened, cruel and vicious. Her teeth—longer now, needle-sharp fangs glinting wetly—were no longer human. Her eyes blazed with cold, primordial fire. Her hips slowed their grinding, but her strangling hand did not relent.
“Pretty Y/n,” she hissed, the words pulsing with dark satisfaction. “You burn so sweet. I wonder if you’ll burn all the way through.”
Your vision collapsed inward—edges crumbling to black, the center folding into darkness. Her laughter, cold and echoing like the deep sea, chased you down as consciousness fled. Then the surface was real. Saltwater crashed over you, icy and brutal, flooding your mouth, stinging the raw places her skin, her teeth, and her greed had left behind. Her arms—muscled cords of inhuman power—locked around your waist, dragging you down. Deeper. Deeper. The last vestiges of warmth between your thighs vanished, stolen by the hungry dark abyss.
You opened your eyes in the crushing blackness, the final flicker of awareness gifted by her fading song. Karina’s face hovered above you, haloed by her own spectral glow. Her lips peeled back in a rictus grin as her jaw distended, transforming from the mouth that had swallowed your cries to a gaping maw lined with rows of jagged, gleaming fangs.
Then her jaws closed on your shoulder.
The pain was absolute. Razor-sharp fangs punched through skin, muscle, sinew—tearing, rending. You felt yourself being devoured—flesh ripped away, spirit consumed in the final act of a hunger that saw you only as sustenance. The last sensation was the cold, the crushing pressure of her grip, and the terrifying silence where your heartbeat used to thunder.
Epilogue
You were gone, but the world you’d built—your ship, your loyal crew of pirates—lingered a moment longer, suspended in the hush of your absence.
Karina rose from the sea, her wounds gone, her body radiant with stolen vitality. Drifting toward your ship, she unleashed a siren’s song—not the private, intimate spell she’d used on you, but a sweeping net that ensnared every crew aboard. Your quartermaster was the first to succumb, her fierce hands slackening on the rail. The lookout fell from her perch, eyes vacant and smiling. One by one, your crew—deckhands, cook, everyone who had called you captain—climbed overboard, compelled to meet their end in the arms of the predator below.
The water became a garden of the drowned, bodies floating in rapture as Karina moved among them. She fed—methodical, unhurried—until there was nothing left but empty skin and memory. The water reddened, and the moon painted your ship in silent, merciless witness to the carnage.
Your vessel drifted on, stripped of life, cargo untouched: silk rotting in the hold, silver uncounted, maps unrolled beside a forgotten cup of cold tea. Everything you had assembled with such ferocious care now useless, an empty inheritance.
Karina surfaced one final time beside the drifting hull. She laid her palm flat against the timbers—the same timbers you‘d replaced plank by plank, teaching each one to know your hand—and she tilted her head, listening, as if the wood might speak. It didn’t. She lost interest quickly. A predator’s attention span for things that couldn’t be eaten was brief.
Her laughter rose over the water like a wind finding a sail. It was not the melodic, constructed sound she’d used to hunt. It was rawer than that—guttural, delighted, the laugh of something sated and already forgetting why. It skipped across the waves and bounced off the empty rocks where a net lay in cut ribbons and an oiled leather coat, torn at the collar, cooled in the spray. The wind caught the laughter and carried it south, toward shipping lanes and fishing villages and ports where sailors would hear it in their dreams and wake with a chill they couldn’t explain.
Then she sank. Straight down, without ceremony, her body sliding beneath the surface like a coin dropped in a well. The glow of her skin diminished—a lantern descending into a mineshaft—and then was gone, swallowed by the depth that had made her and would keep her until hunger called again. Because it would call. It always called.
hi uhm……… I JUST DISCOVERED YR ACCOUNT AND WHAT CAN I SAY?????? BANGER ALERT BANGER ALERT BANGER ALERT don’t stop omg ur so blessed i love LOVE ur rina fanfictions
hello~
Thank you for your kind words ❤️
I'd love to make a comeback, but I've just been busy with life & work.. one day, it'll happen c:
Paring: GP! Karina x F! Reader
Prompt: While waiting for your girlfriend to join you for a horror movie night, you receive an unsettling phone call from an unknown number.
CW: Minors DNI, GP! Karina, filthy smut, murder, masturbation, voyeurism, cunnilingus, mirror kink, bj, power imbalance, possessive behavior, asphyxiation, creampies, cockwarming, pet names, derogatory, curse words | Reader discretion is advised.
Wordcount: ~8.5k
a/n 1: happy karina day! ❤️
a/n 2: I would have posted this for halloween last year, but I got busy with work & life... I also revised and unnecessarily extended this; also by the time this is posted, I'll be in Japan for vacation. I'll be back soon c:
With your parents away on a business trip, you had planned an evening of trashy horror movies, your eyes glazing over from the non-stop screen time. Yunjin, your girlfriend, was supposed to join you, but she remained silent all evening. It seems she's drowning her liver in alcohol with her friends, completely forgetting about you. Just as you're about to press play on the remote, your phone rings.
Upon checking the caller ID, an unknown number stares back at you. You answer hesitantly, "Hello?"
A raspy, distorted voice, unmistakably feminine, sends shivers down your spine. "Hey sweetheart," she purrs, making your skin crawl.
"Who is this? Yunjin?" You question, wondering if one of her friends coerced her into playing a prank on you. "This isn't funny, baby."
"Just call me Ghostface, Y/n."
Ghostface? How does she know my name?
"Enjoying your movie?" Ghostface inquires, her mischievous tone unmistakable.
"I was, before some random creep called me," you retort sarcastically.
"Awh, c'mon sweetheart, I know you want to talk to me," she croons, "why else would you still be on this call?"
With a sigh, you lean back against the sofa, examining your nails. "Hmm, I guess you're right."
"Where is your girlfriend tonight, Y/n? Yunjin, was it?" Ghostface asks.
"How do you know that?" You're met with silence. "She was supposed to be here a while ago, but I think she ditched me."
"I don't know about that. Want to say a few words, Yunjin?" A gasp of your name precedes a muffled scream, causing you to bolt upright and pace the living room.
"Who the fuck are you!? What the hell are you doing with my girlfriend!?" Panic and worry for Yunjin's safety consume you, but you soon brush it off as an elaborate, twisted prank.
"Tsk, don't tell me you're actually concerned for her," Ghostface pauses, allowing Yunjin's muffled whimpers to fill the silence. "Remember two weeks ago, when you wished she was dead? How about a couple months back when you received those videos of her screwing Chaewon? Who do you think sent you those videos, hm?"
Stunned, you struggle to comprehend how anyone could know about the videos. You hadn't told a soul, and you never intended to. Yunjin had been horrible to you back then, and you thought you could move past it until she touched you last week. "Y-You?" you stammer.
"Good girl," Ghostface praises, as you put the pieces together.
Fuck. It's been months since you last shuddered with release, and she's the reason. Your girlfriend, Yunjin, had stripped you of that pleasure, leaving your body yearning and unfulfilled. Ever since you discovered her betrayal, you couldn't bear to lay a finger on her. Those videos still haunted you, tainting your view of the woman you once loved.
Last week, while working on a school project, the dam burst, and the accusation slipped from your lips. Yunjin's reaction was explosive—she slapped you, her eyes filled with indignation. You retaliated, spitting venomous words that wished her dead, just to end the torment gnawing at your insides. But how had Ghostface found out? Had she been watching you?
"Why don't you join me in the backyard, darling?" she coos, her voice dripping with smug satisfaction. Intrigued and uneasy, you follow her request, stepping onto the cool concrete by the pool. Across the water, a figure swathed in black stands beside Yunjin, who's bound to a chair with duct tape. Your heart stutters, and your breath catches, a potent mix of emotions swirling in your chest.
"What the fuck is going on?" you demand, trying to mask your fear with anger. "What are you planning to do to her?" You can't help the surge of relief that Yunjin is restrained and powerless.
"Isn't it obvious, darling?" Ghostface's voice is steady and cold. "I'm killing her. For you."
For me?
For me?
Your frustration boils over, and you scream, “I don’t even know you! Why would you do this for me?” You shudder at the idea of this stranger interfering in your personal affairs.
"Oh, but I know you, Y/n," she sings, tilting her head as if examining a prized possession. "I know so much about you."
"So, you're a stalker?" you ask, the word tasting bitter in your mouth.
"No, no," she laughs softly. "I'm protecting you." Ghostface reveals a knife, its blade glinting in the moonlight as she traces it along Yunjin's neck.
The echoing words in your mind make you shudder. This stranger, this Ghostface, claims to know you, to understand you in a way Yunjin never could. And as she presses the blade against Yunjin’s throat, a thin line of blood begins to trickle down, something inside you snaps.
"Do it," you breathe, the words spilling from your lips before you can even register them.
Yunjin's eyes widen, her irises swallowing the deep brown hue as terror takes hold. Her pleading stare begs for your intervention, but the sight of Ghostface slicing through her jugular sends a surge of satisfaction coursing through you. The blood pools around her, creating a gruesome halo that leaves you entranced.
You watch, ravished, as Yunjin’s body convulses in its final moments, struggling for breath that will never come. Her desperate gasps fade into silence, and she lies still in a crimson puddle. Ghostface’s voice, a sultry purr, chills you to the bone as she turns toward you.
"Oh, Y/n, I knew you'd be just like me."
She snaps a photo of the two of you, preserving the twisted memory of the night you found solace in the most unexpected of places. As you gaze upon the image, you can't help but feel a perverse sense of satisfaction. Yunjin had hurt you, and now she'd paid the ultimate price—Yunjin is dead.
The woman who had tormented you throughout your relationship now lay still in a pool of her own blood. A strange sense of liberation washes over you as you meet Ghostface's gaze. She approaches, cupping your face in her gloved hands, and you find an odd comfort in their cold grasp.
"Y-You… actually killed her," you stammer, still reeling from the surreal turn of events. She tenderly wipes away the hot tears that streak down your cheeks. "Why are you crying, Y/n? This is what you wanted, remember?"
You struggle to find the words, your heart racing as you avoid the dark voids of her ghostly mask, instead focusing on Yunjin's lifeless form. "Right now, I've never wanted someone more than I do in my life," you admit, your voice barely a whisper.
"What are you trying to say, sweetheart? Do you want me?" You roll your eyes, irritated by her taunting, as you break free from her hold. "You want to know something, sweetheart?" she continues, her voice low and seductive. "I see the way you touch yourself at night after your girlfriend runs home."
"What?" you demand, shocked that she could possibly know such an intimate detail about your life.
“You’re such a tease, Y/n,” she purrs, making your body shiver. “You leave your curtains open, allowing anyone to see your beautiful face as you come undone. It’s as if you’ve been craving this all along—being stalked, watching your cheating girlfriend die, and now, begging to be fucked by me. You’re asking for it, sweetheart.”
Ghostface's words resonate within you, and you realize just how true they are. Yunjin had never truly satisfied you, especially in the past few months. The thought of someone witnessing your most private moments had secretly thrilled you, and the knowledge that Ghostface had taken the life of the woman who hurt you was almost enough to make you whisper, ‘I love you’. It doesn't help that Ghostface is swathed in an ominous, dark outfit that clings to her lithe figure, or that her voice—deep and raspy, even with the distortion from her voice modulator—makes you wonder how she'd sound as she moans in ecstasy.
"I can see it in your eyes, darling. It's written all over your face," she murmurs, her fingers gently brushing away the remaining tears. You hide your flushed cheeks in your hands, ashamed by your desires but unable to deny them any longer.
“Why don’t you head upstairs, I’ll take care of the mess here,” she whispers, the suggestion sending shivers down your spine. You nod, your legs wobbling like jelly as you make your way back inside the house, your thoughts consumed by the tantalizing promise of what’s to come.
You rush upstairs to your bedroom, your heart pounding in your chest as a maelstrom of emotions swirls within you. The adrenaline from witnessing Yunjin's death still courses through your veins, mingling with the guilt of your complicity and the undeniable arousal that's been building since Ghostface first spoke to you. As you sink onto your bed, the events of the evening replay in vivid detail behind your eyelids.
Yunjin's lifeless body, crumpled on the concrete. The wicked glint of Ghostface's blade as it sliced through flesh. The intoxicating sense of power that surged through you in that moment, watching the life drain from the woman who hurt you so deeply. These images dance in your mind, intertwining with lustful fantasies of Ghostface's dominating presence, her raspy voice promising dark delights.
No longer able to resist, your fingers trace down your body to where the fabric clings to your warmth. The cotton of your shorts is soaked, and as your fingers press firmly, the material drags sensually over your sensitive skin, pressing into your throbbing clit. Each slow circle teases a shiver from your spine, with the friction sending waves of pleasure through you. Your hips lift instinctively, creating a delicious rhythm as your fingers slip expertly over the wet fabric, tracing the outline of your folds beneath. The room fills with your breathy moans, the tantalizing barrier of the cloth heightening every sensation, keeping you on edge in a blend of desire and restraint.
As your pleasure builds, you pinch and roll one nipple between thumb and forefinger while biting down on your lip. Your hips undulate in longing as increasing slickness gathers at the entrance below. Your breathing quickens as one hand slides lower, dipping between the wet folds of flesh to find the aching bud nestled within.
Your back arches off the bed as you stroke yourself more insistently. In your mind's eye, you see Ghostface looming over you, her hungry gaze fixated on where your fingers disappear into inviting wetness. You wonder what her face looks like beneath the mask—whether she bites her lip in arousal or if her eyes go dark with desire.
You pick up the pace, fingers working feverishly between your legs. Your free hand clenches the sheets, wishing it could grip her dark robes as you imagine her lips and tongue tasting your intimate center. A moan slips past your lips as you tease and rub your sensitive clit, increasingly desperate for release.
As your impending orgasm builds, your thighs tremble and toes curl into the mattress, chasing the sensation of pleasure that threatens to overwhelm you. With a grunt of frustration, you plunge two fingers deeper inside yourself, seeking that final push to bring you over the edge. Panting and gasping for air, you're teetering on the brink of completion—
Suddenly, the creak of the door makes your eyes fly wide open. Hand frozen in place, you whip your head toward the sound to see Ghostface standing in the doorway, head tilted slightly as she takes in the explicit scene before her. Heat floods your face at being caught in such a vulnerable, intimate moment. But even stronger than the embarrassment is the exhilaration of excitement that courses through you under her unseen gaze.
Pulse pounding between your legs, you swallow hard as Ghostface takes slow, deliberate steps into the room. Each step brings her closer to the bed, to you splayed out wantonly for her to devour with her eyes. When she reaches the edge of the mattress, her masked face angles down, and you can feel her stare raking over every inch of your exposed skin. Goosebumps prickle in the wake of her examination. Your lungs seize, breath catching in your throat as anticipation mounts.
"Don't stop on my account, sweetheart," Ghostface purrs, the deep rasp sending tremors down your spine to your aching core. "Go on—show me how badly you want it."
You hesitate only a moment before continuing to pleasure yourself, keenly aware of Ghostface settling into a chair across from the bed to enjoy the show. As your fingers resume their needy strokes, your heavy-lidded gaze drifts over to drink in the sight of her. She sprawls back and spreads her legs wide, drawing your attention to the prominent bulge barely concealed by the thin black denim. Your breath hitches, arousal spiking at the physical proof of her desire for you.
With a deliberate slowness that borders on tortuous, Ghostface approaches the bed, looming over you. Her gloved hands, cold against your feverish skin, skim along your sides as she helps you remove your shirt. You wriggle out of your shorts, leaving you completely bare and exposed to her penetrating stare. Quivering under the weight of her unseen but palpable appreciation, you feel utterly vulnerable—and more aroused than you've ever been in your life.
Ghostface steps back, letting her hands fall away. Your needy whimper gets caught in your throat as she begins to undress with meticulous allure. The black robe parts and slides off her shoulders, pooling at her feet, revealing a perfectly sculpted body with alluring curves and latent strength. Your eager eyes take in every inch of exposed skin until she hooks her thumbs in her waistband. Her pants and underwear join the robe on the floor, and your mouth goes dry at the sight of her thick cock springing forward, striking her firm abdomen, already glistening at the tip with pearlescent beads of precum.
She stands before you in all her naked glory, a flawless body that seems carved from marble—save for the mask that remains in place, shrouding her face in mystery and adding an illicit edge to the erotic scene. Your hands itch to reach out and touch, to map the hills and valleys of sleek muscle and soft skin. To worship the deadly, perfect creature who killed for you.
The very air seems to crackle and dance with the tension stretching taut between your naked bodies. A dark, mocking chuckle drifts from behind the mask as Ghostface regards your wanton, needy form splayed out before her like an offering.
"Oh sweetheart, you're so greedy," she croons, voice dripping with cruel amusement. "Can't even wait a moment, can you? Such a desperate little slut."
In a move almost too swift to track, she leans down, one gloved hand gripping your chin as she looms over you. The blank eyes of the mask bore into yours, pinning you in place as effectively as any physical restraint.
"You'll get what you want, Y/n," she promises, words laced with dark intent. Her thumb drags over your trembling bottom lip. "But only when I say so."
With swift movements, she produces a roll of duct tape, securing your wrists above your head to the bedpost. The knife that ended Yunjin's life glints in the dim light as Ghostface cuts a strip from her discarded robe, using it to blindfold you. The fabric is still warm from her body and reeks of blood. Your heart pounds wildly in your chest, each beat a loud echo in the chilling silence.
"That pretty mouth of yours..." Her distorted voice sneers in your ear. "I'll put it to good use later." She snatches your damp underwear, still slick with arousal, and forces it into your mouth as a makeshift gag. The fabric tastes musky against your tongue as you whimper and squirm against the restraints. Her gloved hands trail down your body, over your stomach, and between your legs, spreading your thighs wide apart.
Without warning, Ghostface dives between your thighs, her tongue was on you in an instant, greedy and relentless. She didn’t tease, didn’t play—she went straight for your clit, lapping at it like it was her last meal. You gasped, your back arching off the bed as her tongue flicked and circled, each movement sending jolts of electricity straight to your core. She moaned against you, the vibrations making your toes curl and your thighs tremble.
“That’s it sweetheart,” she growled, lifting her head just enough to speak before diving back in. “Let me hear you. Let me know how much you love this.”
And you did. You loved it. Her tongue was a weapon, stabbing and swirling, licking and sucking until you were nothing but a quivering mess. Your hands strained desperately against the duct tape binding your wrists, fingers flexing in a futile attempt to break free. Each movement only heightened your sensitivity, driving you wild. Your hips bucked uncontrollably, seeking more of her relentless touch as she expertly worked you over. The edge of her mask scraped against your sensitive skin, the sharp contrast of cold and heat only making you wilder.
“Pleas-,” you whimpered against the makeshift gag, the words muffled and almost indistinct. You weren’t even sure what you were begging for—more, less, or simply release. Your mind was a haze of sensation, unable to process anything beyond the raw need coursing through you.
Ghostface chuckled, her voice a teasing melody that curled through the air. “Please what, sweetheart?” She paused, letting the silence stretch, her intent clear in the way she savored every syllable. “You know what I want Y/n—use your words.”
But you couldn’t. You were too far gone, teetering on the edge of an orgasm so intense it felt like it might kill you. She knew it, too. She always knew. With one final, brutal flick of her tongue, she sent you hurtling over the edge. Your body seized up, every muscle tightening as you came hard, repeating her name like a mantra. Your pussy clenched around nothing, gushing wetness that Ghostface eagerly drank down, her tongue lapping at your folds like she was starving for it.
“Fuck,” she murmured, pulling back just enough to admire her handiwork. “You’re so fucking wet Y/n. Look at this mess.” She dragged a gloved finger through your slickness, holding it up to the light before slipping it into her mouth with a low moan. "So sweet, so responsive. I knew you'd be perfect for me the moment I first watched you touch this greedy little cunt."
Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, but she wasn’t done with you. Not even close. Before you could recover, Ghostface reached over, her fingers deftly removing the makeshift gag and blindfold. You gasped at the sudden freedom, but she gave you no time to savor it. With the knife in hand, she sliced through the restraints on your wrists, freeing you but leaving you feeling even more exposed.
"Relax darling," she whispered, her breath hot against your neck as she crawled up your body. Her naked skin was a fiery contrast to yours as she pressed the mask against your neck, grinding her cock against your soaked pussy. "I want you ready for me—to take everything I give you."
"Do you feel that Y/n?" she murmured, her voice dripping with sexual depravity. "That's how much you turn me on, sweetheart. I'm so fucking hard for you."
You could feel it—every throbbing inch of her pressing against your entrance, demanding without words. You wanted her inside you, needed it so badly it hurt. And she knew it.
"Beg for it Y/n," she growled, her hips grinding against you in slow, deliberate circles. "Beg for my cock."
With newfound freedom, your hands reached up to clutch at her shoulders. "Please," you moaned, your voice trembling with desperation. "Please, I-I need it. Fuck m-me with your cock.”
"That's my girl," she purred, her hand sliding between your bodies to line herself up. And then, with one sharp thrust, she was inside you, filling you so completely it stole the breath from your lungs. You cried out, your nails digging into her back as she began to move, her hips slamming into yours with a ferocity that left no room for gentleness.
"Mine," she snarled, her hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises. "This greedy little pussy is mine. Say it sweetheart, I need to hear it."
"Y-Yours," you choked out, your voice breaking on a sob as she hit that sweet spot deep inside you. "Only y-yours."
She fucked you like she owned you—and maybe she did. Her cock pistoned in and out of you, each thrust pushing you closer to climax again. You could feel the wet slap of skin on skin, hear the filthy sound of your pussy taking her in. And through it all, she watched you, those cold, empty eyes of the mask somehow seeming alive with lust.
Her gloved hand gripped your hip, fingers digging into your flesh like she was afraid you’d try to escape. But you wouldn’t. You couldn’t. You were too busy arching your back, pressing your breasts against her naked form, skin flushed and electrified with need. Every ragged breath was a plea, begging for more of her unyielding rhythm. Your hardened nipples grazed against her smooth skin, sending electric shivers down your spine. Her other hand tangled in your hair, yanking your head back so hard your vision blurred. She leaned down, her mask pressing into the crook of your neck, her breath hot and ragged against your skin.
“You’re so fucking tight,” she growled, her voice raw and needy, like she was barely holding herself together. “Squeezing my cock like you don’t want me to leave. But we both know you’re a greedy little slut, don’t we? Loving how my cock is rearranging your insides.”
You whimpered, your pussy pulsing around her as if to prove her point. She laughed—a low, dark sound that sent shivers down your spine—and then she was fucking you harder, faster, her cock slamming into you with a force that made your toes curl and your mind reeling. You could feel the head of her dick brushing against your cervix, that delicious mix of pain and pleasure that had you teetering on the edge.
“Come for me,” she demanded, her voice raw and ragged. “I want to feel that tight little pussy milk my cock, sweetheart.”
You didn’t need to be told twice. The coil in your belly snapped, and you came apart around her, your pussy clamping down on her cock like a vice as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Your body convulsed, your thighs trembling with the sheer force of your release. Every nerve seemed to ignite as your nails dragged down her back, leaving fiery trails in their wake as you rode out the most intense climax of your life.
Ghostface groaned, her rhythm faltering as she felt you clench around her. “Mmh-, Fuck,” she snarled, her hips stuttering, her cock twitching inside you. “You’re perfect. So fucking perfect, my good girl.”
But she didn’t stop. No, she kept pounding into you, her thrusts relentless even as your orgasm subsided, even as your body started to feel oversensitive and raw. She was relentless, mocking your helplessness as she battered your sweet spot, each deep and deliberate shove a reminder of just how easily she could unravel you with a touch.
“God, you’re perfect,” she panted, collapsing on top of you, her weight pressing you into the mattress. Her mask was slick with sweat, but she didn’t take it off. No, she wanted you to remember who was doing this to you. Who owned you. “My perfect little slut. My sweetheart.”
You lay there, trembling and completely undone, your cunt still fluttering around her cock as she pulled out of you with a wet, lewd squelch. You could feel the sticky mess of your own release dripping down your thighs, but you barely had time to catch your breath before she was flipping you onto your stomach, spreading your ass cheeks wide.
Her gloved hand landed a sharp smack on your ass, the sound echoing through the room like a gunshot. You yelped, but the sting only made your pussy clench in anticipation. “I haven’t cum yet Y/n,” she growled, lining herself up with your entrance. “I’m going to fuck you until you’re overflowing.”
And then she was inside you again, her cock sliding into your slick, swollen cunt with ease. She pressed down on your head, tangling her fingers in your hair and shoving your face into the pillow. Her other hand gripped your hip, pulling you back to meet each thrust, each one deeper and harder than the last.
You moaned into the pillow, your ass bouncing with every shove, your pussy stretched impossibly wide around her girth. She was relentless, her pace unyielding, her grip unbreakable. You were hers—totally, completely hers—and she was going to make sure you never forgot it.
You were drooling as Ghostface rams her hard cock into your pussy with a relentless, primal pace. She buries it deep within you, making you moan as she stretches your walls to their limit. "Mmh, ‘m so full…" you pant, your voice airy and breathless, "so big... so thick. You're splitting me apart." Your fingers dig into the soft comforter underneath you, nails clawing at the fabric.
Ghostface grunts with smug satisfaction, her hips never faltering in their relentless rhythm. "Your pussy hugs my cock so perfectly," she groans, her voice muffled by the mask, "like it was made just for me. I've imagined this countless times, but the reality is so much better." Her fingers dig into your hips as she continues to pound into you mercilessly. "You were made for this," she growls, her breath hot against your ear, "to be beautifully filled with my cock over and over again, for me to take you."
Her leather-clad hand tightens its grip on your hair, wrenching your head back harshly and forcing your arching back to collide with her firm chest. The other hand roughly cups your chin, compelling you to look at the mirror on your bedroom wall. "Keep your eyes open," she hisses, her distorted voice thick with lust, "see how pretty you are taking my cock. I've imagined fucking you like this, in front of the mirror, forcing you to watch me fuck you."
Your eyes lock onto your reflection, transfixed by the sight of Ghostface's masked figure looming behind you, hips pistoning relentlessly into your pliant body. Overwhelmed by the intensity, you beg "P-Please choke me. Fuck m-me deeper, please!"
Ghostface brashly adjusts her grip on your throat, wrapping her strong, gloved hand around your neck and applying just the right amount of pressure to cut off your air supply without suffocating you. As she does this, her other hand leaves your hip and travels up to your breast. She squeezes roughly, the cool leather of her glove contrasting with the heat of your skin. She pulls and twists your hardened nipple, eliciting a whimper of painful pleasure from between your parched lips. Your toes curl in response to the exquisite pain-pleasure combination.
"I jerk off so often to the thought of breaking into your room and fucking you while you sleep," Ghostface confesses in a low, gravelly voice, panting with arousal. "No one would ever have to know. I've cum to the sound of your pretty little moans countless times as you touched yourself—me watching from your window." She pauses, her voice dripping with lust and intimidation. "But you love that don't you? Someone secretly getting off to you, watching your every move, seeing you for the whore you really are."
Your nails dig into her sweat-slicked hips, desperation fueling your grip as you yank her against you, like you're trying to fuse your bodies together. Her engorged cock, throbbing and hard, pistons in and out of you, the swollen head battering against your cervix, sending shockwaves of raw pleasure through your core. The room echoes with the lewd symphony of your fucking—the sharp, rhythmic slap of flesh meeting flesh, the ragged, gasping breaths tearing from your throats, and the obscene, wet sucking sounds of her juicy cock plowing through your soaked pussy.
As if not satisfied enough, Ghostface changes pace and begins to pound into you mercilessly. Her hips collide with yours with such force that it feels like she will break through your cervix entirely. Every ridge and vein of her thick cock battering against your inner walls makes stars dance in front of your eyes. "No one will ever hurt you like she did again Y/n," she growls with deadly seriousness. "They'll be dead before they even lay a finger on you."
Your heart swells at her vow, the intensity of her possessiveness striking a chord within you. It's all you ever wanted, someone to love and protect you with such ferocity. You moan wantonly at her words, feeling her cock twitch inside you. "It's y-you, only you can m-make me feel like this…," you gasp out, eyes shut, drunk on her lust for you. "I n-need you to p-protect me, l-love me, please!"
"Gonna fill you up with my cum, sound good sweetheart?" Ghostface growls, her hips stuttering as she nears her own release. You hum your assent just as your orgasm crashes over you, pulling you under in a tidal wave of ecstasy. Ghostface follows with a guttural groan in your ear, her cock pulsing as it pumps you full of her thick, hot seed.
"All good, darling?" she asks, gently maneuvering your spent bodies into a comfortable position, still buried deep inside you. Her gloved hand soothingly caresses your matted hair, lulling you into a sated sleep as you bask in the warmth of her presence. "So full, so… so good," you mumble, already drifting off, feeling utterly safe and cherished.
Epilogue
Your eyes flutter open, the morning light filtering in through the curtains as your senses slowly awaken. The first thing you notice is the comforting weight of Ghostface's arms wrapped possessively around your waist, pulling you flush against her lithe frame. Her skin feels like silk against yours, the heat radiating from her form enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth and safety.
You inhale deeply, the intoxicating scent of your lovemaking still clinging to the sheets—a heady musk of sweat, sex, and something uniquely her. The memories of last night come flooding back—desperate hands groping heated flesh, tongue and lips marking territory, bodies joined as one in the throes of passion. Your cunt clenches at the vivid recollections.
Shifting slightly, you feel the unmistakable shape of Ghostface's semi-hard cock nestled snugly between your legs, the evidence of your tryst painting your inner thighs. A shiver runs through you at the delicious soreness between your legs, a reminder of how thoroughly and attentively she had taken you, over and over until you were boneless and sated.
Pulse quickening, you slowly turn in her embrace to face your savior, careful not to wake her. Curiosity thrums within you like a living thing—with a trembling hand, you reach up to finally unmask the woman who had so ardently defended your honor, who made you feel more alive and desired than you ever had before.
Your fingers find the edge of the iconic ghost face visage and gently tug it free. Raven locks spill out, no longer confined in their usual shroud. The mask drops away to reveal achingly familiar features, now softened by sleep and free of her usual glasses.
Karina. The Karina. Your heart swells near to bursting with gratitude and overwhelming affection for this beautiful, complex woman—your classmate, your stalker, your killer, your lover.
Tears prick the corners of your eyes as you drink in every detail of her face, committing it to memory. The elegant slope of her nose, the sharp cut of her cheekbones, the plush petal pink of her slightly parted lips. In this unguarded moment, she looks almost innocent, a far cry from the deadly sociopath who had ruthlessly killed for you and then so thoroughly claimed you.
Leaning in, you press your lips against hers, pouring every ounce of emotion into the kiss. Karina's lips are soft and yielding beneath your own, and you feel her body melt into your embrace as you deepen the kiss, your tongue delving into the warmth of her mouth.
As Karina's eyes flutter open, a mixture of confusion and joy washes over her face, her dark irises shimmering with unshed tears. "Y/n..." she breathes out, almost reverently, as if she can't quite believe this is real.
You smile softly, tenderly cupping her face in your hands as your thumb traces the curve of her cheekbone. "My protector, my savior..." you whisper against her lips, your breath mingling with hers, "my love."
The words hang heavy in the air between you, weighted with meaning and promise. Karina's breath hitches, her eyes widening slightly before they soften, brimming with adoration and devotion. "I've always been yours, Y/n," she murmurs, "from the moment I first saw you. I knew I would do anything to keep you safe, to make you mine."
Your heart soars at her declaration, warmth blossoming in your chest and spreading to the tips of your fingers and toes. Overcome with emotion, you capture her lips in another searing kiss, trying to convey everything you feel—the depth of your affection, your need, your eternal commitment.
Karina responds with equal fervor, her strong arms encircling your waist and pulling you flush against her lithe body. Her hands roam your bare curves possessively, leaving trails of heat in their wake. You melt into her touch, surrendering yourself completely to the intensity of the bond you share.
Your hands begin their exploration, mapping the familiar terrain of her body with reverent care. Fingertips glide over her skin, tracing paths downwards with deliberate slowness. Each caress is a silent promise—a vow of eternal devotion and protection that binds you both together.
Your touch finds its way lower still until it encounters the rigid heat of her growing erection. A shiver courses through you at the realization of her desire, mirrored by your own. You take Karina's thick cock in your hand, feeling it pulse with life under your fingers.
Sliding down to position yourself between her toned legs, you lock eyes with Karina's intense gaze. Your hand moves to grip the base of her shaft, feeling it pulse hotly against your palm. Leaning in, you drag your tongue along the sensitive underside, relishing her sharp intake of breath at the sensation.
Slowly, teasingly, you trail open-mouthed kisses along her rigid length, worshipping every throbbing inch. When you reach the tip, you swirl your tongue around to lap up the leaking precum, savoring the salty-sweet taste that is uniquely Karina. She groans softly, one hand fisting in the sheets.
"Fuck, Y/n..." Karina breathes out shakily as you take the swollen head into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks to suck lightly. Her hips cant upwards, seeking more of your wet heat.
Releasing her with an obscene pop, you dip your head lower to nuzzle her heavy balls. You take them into your mouth one at a time, rolling them gently with your tongue, feeling them draw up tight. Karina's breathy moans spur you on as you lavish them with attention.
Your hand finds her spit-slicked shaft again, fingers curling around the thick girth. You stroke her slowly from base to tip, squeezing and twisting in the way that makes her abs clench and her thighs tremble. Karina grows impossibly harder in your grip, her cock twitching with barely restrained need.
Meeting Karina's heated gaze, you take just the bulbous head into your mouth. You moan at the taste of her, salty and musky on your tongue as you swirl it around the ridge. More precum gushes from the slit and you lap it up greedily, relishing how it coats your tastebuds.
Your lips stretch wide to accommodate her substantial girth, the corners of your mouth pulled taut as you work to swallow her down. You feel every prominent vein and ridge slide across your tongue, the hard, velvety flesh pulsing against your palate.
Karina's gloved fingers tangle into your hair, firmly gripping and guiding your head down further onto her length. Her grip is gentle yet commanding, urging you to take more of her into your eager mouth. You obey without hesitation, parting your lips wider and relaxing your throat to accommodate her impressive size. Your nose presses flush against Karina's pelvis as you swallow her cock down to the hilt, your eyes fluttering shut at the heady sensation of being so completely filled by her.
You can feel every twitch and throb of Karina's shaft as it rests heavily on your tongue, stretching your lips obscenely. A sense of primal satisfaction washes over you, knowing that you're the reason for her pleasure, that your mouth alone can reduce her to this state of blissful agony. You worship her cock with reverent devotion, your tongue working diligently to trace every ridge and vein, laving the sensitive underside and flicking across the weeping tip to gather the salty-sweet essence of her arousal.
The room fills with the lewd sounds of your slick slurping and the occasional muffled gag as you push yourself to your limits, taking Karina deeper each time. Your fingers dig into her muscular thighs for purchase as you bob your head faster, driven by an all-consuming need to bring her as much pleasure as humanly possible. Strings of saliva drip down your chin and tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you barely register the discomfort, too focused on your single-minded goal.
Karina's breath comes in ragged gasps above you, her composure slowly crumbling under your relentless ministrations. Her hips start to rock slightly, thrusting shallowly into the welcoming heat of your mouth. You moan around her, the vibrations causing her to tighten her grip in your hair as a low groan escapes her throat.
As dawn's light spills through the window, gilding your intertwined bodies, you feel the tension building in Karina, her abs flexing and thighs trembling against you. Humming around her, you glance up through your lashes to make heated eye contact, giving her an encouraging nod.
With a few more guided thrusts, Karina finally unravels, spilling her hot, viscous seed down your waiting throat with a feral groan. You swallow greedily, welcoming her release, savoring the intimate taste of her and the knowledge that you brought her to such shattering heights of ecstasy. You continue suckling gently as she pulses and twitches through the aftershocks on your tongue.
Finally releasing her softening member with a wet pop, Karina's fingers immediately soften in your hair, transitioning to a tender caress. She brushes a few stray locks from your face, tucking them behind your ear with a touch so gentle it makes your heart flutter. This tender side of Karina is such a contrast to the dominant, dangerous aura of her Ghostface persona. It makes you feel cherished, protected. Like you're the only one who gets to see behind the mask.
"Y/n," Karina says softly, tilting your chin up to meet her gaze. Her dark eyes shine with open adoration and vulnerability you never expected from the woman who so ruthlessly killed for you. "Will you be my girlfriend?"
Your heart swells at the question, at the raw emotion in Karina's gaze. A smile spreads across your lips as you climb up her body to snuggle into her welcoming embrace. "Definitely," you murmur against her mouth, capturing her lips in a sweet, sensual kiss. "I'd love to be yours."
Karina's arms tighten around you, holding you close as if she never wants to let go. You settle into her embrace, your head resting on her chest, listening to the steady thrum of her heartbeat. A deep sense of contentment and affirmation washes over you.
This is exactly where you're meant to be—wrapped up in Karina's love, claimed as hers in every way. The horrors of last night, the shock of Yunjin's death, the revelation of Karina's secret identity—it all fades away, eclipsed by the sheer rightness of being held in her arms.
Your heart hammers against your ribcage as you stride down the school hallway, fingers laced tightly with Karina's. The warm, soft skin of her hand sends tingles up your arm. You steal glances at her as you walk, admiring her casual outfit—an oversized blue dress shirt worn unbuttoned, draping over a fitted black tee that clings just right. Her hair falls softly to her shoulders, a stark contrast to the dark, mysterious Ghostface persona, yet equally captivating. You can't keep the huge, giddy grin off your face.
Whispers rustle through the crowded hall as you pass, eyes tracking your every move. Shock, confusion, disbelief color their faces.
"Is that Y/n with Karina? I thought she was dating Yunjin?"
"Where is Yunjin anyway? She's never absent..."
"Since when are those two a thing?"
Their stares bore into you but you keep your head held high, Karina's hand an anchor tethering you. Let them look, let them talk. Nothing can touch you when you're with her.
"Well, well. If it isn't the school's latest lesbian duo," a familiar voice cuts through the din. Belle materializes before you, flanked by her clique of designer-clad sycophants. Her fiery brown eyes rake over Karina with blatant disdain. "Seriously, Y/n? You dumped Yunjin for this? Couldn't find anyone better to munch your carpet?"
Anger flares hot in your chest but Karina squeezes your hand, keeping you calm. You meet Belle's harsh glare head on, jaw clenched. "I'm dating Karina because I love her. She's the best thing that's ever happened to me."
You pull Karina close, arm snaking around her waist. "And she satisfies me in ways Yunjin never could," you add with a smirk. "In every possible way." Karina's body stiffens slightly beside you in surprise of your intensity.
Belle scoffs, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Please, you're pathetic. You deserve each other." She stalks off, her entourage trailing behind her like shadows.
Karina's eyes gleam with something more than admiration—a glint of desire sparked by your boldness. She tugs gently on your hand, pulling you away from the lingering onlookers with silent determination.
The two of you slip into an empty washroom nearby; Karina locks the door behind you with a decisive click that echoes in the confined space. The sudden silence envelops you both like a cocoon—intimate and charged with anticipation.
Your heart pounds a staccato rhythm against your ribcage as Karina stalks forward, backing you up until the cold edge of the porcelain sink digs into your lower back. With a fluid motion, she smoothly turns you around, guiding you to face the mirror.
Your reflection stares back at you in the grimy mirror, pupils blown wide with need, cheeks flushed and lips parted—a wanting visage. Karina's body presses against yours, pinning you in place. Her hands find the hem of your skirt, fingers brushing against your bare thighs as she pushes the fabric up to bunch around your waist.
You shiver, goosebumps rising on your skin from her playful touch. Your panties are already soaked through from anticipation, clinging to your sensitive folds. Karina hooks a finger under the drenched fabric, pulling them aside from your slick to reveal your glistening center.
The sharp sound of a zipper cuts through the charged silence, unnaturally loud in the empty washroom. It's a stark reminder of where you are, of the illicit act about to take place. Your eyes widen as Karina frees her erect length from its confines, the engorged head already slick with precum.
She notches herself at your entrance and your breath hitches, lodging in your throat. With one powerful thrust, Karina sheathes herself fully inside your eager pussy. A strangled moan spills from your lips at the sudden intrusion, walls stretching to accommodate her thick length.
Your fingers scrabble for purchase against the cold porcelain sink, nails scraping as Karina starts to move. Each deep stroke sends sparks of agonizing bliss ricocheting through your body. You can feel every ridge and vein of her cock as she plunders your cunt.
In the mirror, your eyes meet Karina's, wide and pleading. A silent entreaty passes between you, a plea for discretion, for quiet. But a wicked smirk curves Karina's full lips. She leans in close, her breasts pressing into your back, hot breath fanning across the shell of your ear.
"I want everyone to hear you sweetheart," she purrs, voice low and rough with lust. "I want them to know you're mine, Y/n. That this pussy belongs to me."
Her words send liquid fire flooding your bloodstream, your walls clenching tight around her thrusting cock. Karina's fingers dig bruisingly into the soft flesh of your hips as she increases her pace, each forceful thrust making you grunt with pleasure.
Each shove was stronger than the last, driving breathy moans from your lips—the obscene sounds bounce off the tiled walls and echo throughout the washroom. Anyone passing by will surely hear your wanton cries and know exactly what's happening behind the locked door.
The knowledge only serves to heighten your arousal, the threat of discovery an intoxicating aphrodisiac. You arch your back, pushing against Karina, taking her impossibly deeper. Her labored breaths mingle with your own, punctuated by the vulgar slap of flesh against flesh.
Karina fucks into you with wild abandon, her pace becoming erratic, losing all semblance of rhythm. Her fingers tangle in your hair, yanking your head back as she ruts into your spasming cunt. Your body is a livewire, every nerve ending alight with rapture.
"Fuck, you feel so good Y/n," Karina groans, her voice strained. "So fucking tight. I'm going to fill this greedy little pussy sweetheart."
The slick porcelain of the sink bites into your palms as you brace yourself against Karina's relentless onslaught. Your knuckles turn white from the force of your grip, your body trembling as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. It's almost too much, the intensity of the sensations threatening to overwhelm you.
Your reflection reveals your contorted face, flushed with ecstasy, and Karina's intense gaze, fixated on her lover. Her eyes are dark with lust, the pupils blown wide with desire. There's a hunger in those beautiful eyes, a raw, animalistic need that steals the breath from your lungs. She looks at you like she wants to devour you, to consume you until there's nothing left.
Karina's thrusts become more erratic, more desperate, as she chases her own release. Her fingers tighten on your hips, the blunt edges of her nails leaving crescent-shaped indentations in your skin. Each mark is a reminder, a physical token of this moment, of the way she’s fucking you so thoroughly.
Your own climax builds, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter in your core. It's like a spring wound too tight, ready to snap at any moment. Your thighs quiver, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as you teeter on the edge of oblivion.
And then, with a particularly deep thrust, Karina sends you flying. Your climax crashes over you like a torrent of euphoria, your body convulsing as pleasure surges through your veins. Her name tears itself from your throat, echoing off the tiled walls and announcing your ecstasy to anyone who might be listening.
Karina succumbs to her own release, her hips jerking as she spills herself inside you. Her growl is loud and long, a primal sound of satisfaction and triumph. She fills you with her warm goopy seed, marking you from the inside out, asserting her ownership in the most intimate way possible.
In the aftermath, you slump against the sink, your legs trembling and weak. Karina's weight is a comforting presence against your back, her breath hot and damp against your neck. For a moment, there is only the sound of your mingled panting, the rapid beat of your hearts as you both try to catch your breath.
Karina's cock is still throbbing inside you, depositing her hot, sticky seed deep within your core. Her grip on your hips loosens, but she doesn't pull out just yet, as if reluctant to break the connection between you. Your breaths come in ragged gasps, and your entire body thrums with pleasure from the mind-bending orgasm you just shared.
Moments later, she gently pulls out of you with a wet pop, her cum dripping down your thighs, leaving a warm sticky trail. She smirked, a predatory glint in her eyes that sends chills down your spine. Reaching for some tissue, she nonchalantly cleans herself up before discarding it in the nearby bin. You can't help but stare at her, both aroused and intimidated by her confidence.
Your breathing slows, each inhale a ragged gasp that struggles to steady itself in the aftermath of such overwhelming pleasure. You feel Karina's presence like a living brand against your skin, her touch lingering even as she pulls away to adjust herself. The bathroom seems smaller now, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat—a heady reminder of what just transpired.
"Well," Karina drawls out lazily as she zips up her pants, "we should probably make an appearance. Wouldn't want to keep our adoring fans waiting any longer." Her eyes glimmer with amusement as she extends a hand toward you. With a sultry smile, she kneels down, her fingers trailing along your thighs as she tugs your panties back into place, ensuring they trap the warmth of her cum nestled deep within you. She smooths down your skirt, her touch lingering with deliberate slowness, igniting a fresh wave of desire before she stands, pulling you close for a searing kiss.
Emerging into the hallway, you're acutely aware of the disarray you present: hair tousled, clothes askew, skin still tingling from Karina's ministrations. The murmur of voices hushes abruptly as curious eyes lock onto the two of you. A crowd of students stands frozen in place, their expressions ranging from shock to envy.
Karina wraps an arm around your waist with casual ease, pulling you close so that every step forward is a shared stride. Her smirk is unmistakable—a bold statement that leaves no room for doubt about what just happened behind closed doors. As if marking her territory once more, she leans in to brush her lips against your temple, an intimate gesture charged with possessiveness.
The hallway buzzes with the silent hum of countless eyes observing—each gaze intensifying the charged atmosphere between you. The scent clings to both of you like an invisible shroud; it's intoxicating and undeniable, a testament to power dynamics laid bare for all to see.
With each step through the throng of onlookers, something shifts within you—a realization settling into place with all its implications. This wasn't just an act—it was a declaration etched into the fabric of who you are now with Karina by your side. The thrill courses through your veins like liquid fire as you stride forward together: unapologetic and united amidst whispers that will echo long after you've passed by.
ohh, this reached 1k.. this is another favorite that I was happy to write about.. there may or may not be something this halloween, who knows :3
thank you for reading & re-blogging, everyone ❤️
warnings: angst, fluff, no happy ending, blood, mentions of throwing up, medical stuff, major character death
a/n: here is the long awaited dani angst!! tbh this was actually not the first idea, that idea will come out eventually but i want to do it on my own time. also this heavily inspired by mr. plankton, great kdrama yall should watch!! anyways enjoy and feel free to cuss me out in my comments or inbox :D (also if u see any typos no u didnt.)
The white noise machine whirs loudly as it attempts to drown out the noise in and out of the office. It fails as the ticking of the clock on the wall practically fights against it. You scratch at the seam line of your jeans coinciding each scratch with the tick of the clock. By the fifth tick a pain courses through your brain settling itself at the back of your head. Your fingers pause its picking before making its way to the nape of your neck where it tangles itself into your hair.
Your hand slowly pulls as you try to offset the constant ache with a new sudden one. You’re disrupted by the other door in the office opening, it closing again when the person steps in. The doctor stands behind his desk, pulling his chair out as he sits down, the creak when he sits makes you wince.
He offers you a small smile as he smooths out the manila folder, a nervous tick you presume. “I’m Dr. Harrison. Do you know what brought you here?”
“Umm..” You trail off, exhaling as you try to rack through your memory. You shake your head as you realize you have no memory of the day. “The last I remember I was standing in line to pick up breakfast for me and my friend and then I was in the hospital being told to come here.”
The doctor nods before sighing softly. “You fainted. You were sent here because of your MRI results.”
You nod slowly before lifting an eyebrow slightly, laughing a bit. “MRI? Isn’t that the brain scan thingy? Seems a bit too serious for a simple fainting, I mean don’t you guys usually just give someone crackers and water before sending them on their way?”
“Usually that’s after the scan. It’s standard protocol for a fainting accident after all fainting could be an indication of something more serious.”
Nodding you fidget slightly in your chair. “Well I’m ready for my water and crackers.” The words don’t make the man laugh, instead he offers you a somber frown. He opens up the manila folder pulling out what seemed to be a x-ray scan. A light turns on, the small x-ray board on his desk gaining your attention. He places the scan on it and looks at you. Your brows furrow as you lean forward trying to decipher what you were looking at, drawing a blank, you turn to him. “What is this?”
He releases a soft sigh, a grimace overtaking his features and you can practically see the pity in his eyes. He leans forward, a pen in his hand as he points to one of the many white clumps on the scan. “When we scanned your brain we found these clumps, eight to be exact. These clumps are your brain cells essentially tangling with each other, view them as rubber bands around a watermelon, the more they tangle the greater the pressure until they ultimately burst.”
The doctor continues talking but it grows muffled, nausea rising in you as you begin to fidget in the chair. Your hands shake as you rub them against your thighs, the material of your jeans rough against them. You attempt to catch the breath that seems to want to escape you. Bringing your hand up you rub your thumb knuckle against your eyebrow, a habit you’ve had for years.
“How long?”
It’s clear he wasn’t expecting the interruption as he clears his throat. “Two months.”
Your heart drops.
“Two months?”
“If I’m being optimistic, yes.”
It grows silent due to his words, you bury your face in your hands as you nod into them. You drag them down your face and breathe out to calm yourself. “Is there anything we can do?” Your words come out muffled due to your hands, but the doctor still hears you as he shakes his head.
“Sadly nothing. The best I can do is give you some medicine to ease any pain that will arise.” A tear makes its way down your face, its path cut off by your fingers. The man offers you another small smile as he pushes his chair back, pulling some things out of a drawer. He closes the drawer and pulls himself back into the desk, the creak of the chair sending a pang of pain to your head. You watch as he writes on a paper, sliding it over to you you can see it’s your prescription. Your hands shake as you grab it, as you pick it up you notice a pamphlet under it.
Looking up at him you tilt your head in confusion.
“It’s a pamphlet detailing our end of life program here at the hospital. Nothing has to be decided now of course, but just for your consideration.” You can’t help the scoff that slips out of you, stuffing the script in your pocket you stand abruptly.
“Am I free to go?” The man nods and you don’t give him a chance to speak once more, making sure to leave the pamphlet on purpose.
It’s raining when you get outside and it takes everything in you to not go back into the hospital and cuss them out for bringing you to a hospital twenty minutes away from the cafe, but you decide to not test your already poor luck. It takes you about an hour to make it to the cafe, having to stop to take shelter under a store’s doorway, you release a sigh when you notice that you at least had remembered to keep the top on. Though your gratitude would prove to be fruitless as you yourself are soaked. You wince as you sit down, the leather uncomfortable against your wet skin.
It takes you another hour to get home, stopping to grab your new medicine and food that you knew you would be asked for once you got home. Opening the front door to the studio apartment you are greeted with harsh clicking and curses. The scene isn’t uncommon to you, a smile making its way to your face as you take off your shoes and hear the banging of a desk. Shutting the door softly you walk deeper into the space pausing as you watch Yoonchae play a game.
You met, or really found, Yoonchae when she was only fifteen. Your office had been broken into, when you found her she wasn’t attempting to rob you, but instead just eating the food you had stored there. The sight of her reminded you of well, you. She was terrified when she caught sight of you, begging you to not call the police. After reassuring her, you sat her down and talked to her, it was then you found out she was an orphan and was living on the streets. It didn’t take a lot for you to decide to take her in, offering her not only a home but a job working with you and your vaguely illicit business.
That was two long years ago, and she had become a sister to you. Your heart aches at the realization that soon you would have to leave her. A lump forms in your throat at the thought of not being there for her, your only comfort being she would turn eighteen before you go, ensuring that she wouldn’t have to worry about social workers or anything of the sort. You’re pulled from your thoughts from a sudden shout, shaking your head at the foreign language that spills from her lips.
You approach her as quietly as possible, waiting until it seems something important is happening on the screen before placing the bag of food in her line of sight. She shrieks before hitting your hand to get you to move. You laugh as she panics, when she dies she turns to you quickly. “What is your problem?” She shouts at you.
Her anger only makes you laugh louder as you place the food on the desk next to her. “I think you’re back again.” You say while pointing towards the screen as your laughter dies out. Your words make her turn back towards the screen quickly. As she plays you take it as your chance to run to your room. Grabbing fresh clothes you grab the pills out of your pocket, the weight of their meaning heavy as reality hits you once more.
Untwisting the cap you grab a bottle of water that was on your nightstand and take a couple pills out. When they’re down you hide the bottle in a drawer and head to take a shower.
Once finished you place your soaked clothes in the dryer and head back to the living room throwing yourself on the couch. You watch as Yoonchae turns her chair to face you, french fries sticking out of her mouth. She tries to speak but her words are muffled making you roll your eyes.
“Can you act like a normal human being and speak after you eat?” She flips you off before swallowing her food, making sure to exaggerate the action to irritate you.
“Satisfied?” You nod, which makes her roll her eyes. “Where the hell have you been?”
You prop your head on your hand and shrug. “Out.”
“Well no duh smart ass.” You reach out and slap her knee, smirking when she yelps. “What was that for?”
“No swearing.” The younger groans before leaning in and shoving you making you laugh.
“Oh yeah, your girlfriend showed up again today.” You groan moving your hand away from your head, letting it fall on the couch pillow, hoping laying there will somehow suffocate you. Turning your head you look up at her.
“What did she want?” She hums as she turns towards her desk, looking through a stack of paper. She exclaims when she pulls out a bright sticky note, rolling next to you, a smirk is apparent on her face.
“She wants you to steal her away from her wedding.”
At the mention of a wedding you push yourself up. “Someone’s marrying her crazy ass?” Yoonchae nods as she turns back to her computer, opening what seems to be another game. You reposition yourself to sit instead of laying, grabbing a pillow and laying it on your lap. Yoonchae immerses herself in the game and you watch her. You take in this familiar setting, a wave of agony washes over you as you realize that this scene isn’t forever. You shake your head to clear yourself of the thoughts before they could spiral, you sigh softly as you start to speak. “Hey Yoonchae, what would you do if you found out you were going to die?” She didn't respond at first, but you knew she heard you. Her head tilted and her brows furrow, she pauses her game and spins towards you. She hums softly, clearly in thought.
“Well, how long would I have?”
“A couple months.”
She nods slowly before answering, “Well I think I’d find my biological parents first. Then I’d get revenge on everyone who wronged me.” She says this in a tone to show she’s mimicking a villain, making you both laugh. As you both relax she breathes out. “And when I’m in my last moments I’d ask everyone for forgiveness. I’ve wronged many people that deserve an apology from me.” You take in her words with a nod, simply messing with the material on the pillow. “What about you, what would you do?” She asks.
You hum, pretending to think about it though in reality you were trying to find an answer that wouldn’t give off your current predicament. “Well,” you start, settling on piggybacking off her answer, “My parents are dead. I’ve wronged more people than I have been wronged, so I guess I’d have to go down the forgiveness route.”
The younger nods before turning back to the computer, unpausing her game.
That night you find yourself struggling to sleep, the weight of reality crushing you. You were dying, soon too. Yoonchae’s words echo in your mind, one in particular — forgiveness.
The truth was you weren’t a very good person, sure you weren’t terrible, but you’ve hurt enough people that the news of your death would probably make them happy. Your jaw clenches as you attempt to sort through your mind to remember their names, not knowing whether to blame your fading memory on your brain quickly deteriorating or just poor genetics taking effect.
Your brain somehow musters up five names, but it doesn’t give you much relief as you realize you would now have to come up with five very different ways to ask for forgiveness.
When your brain has a flash of pain you knew it was a task for you tomorrow. As you try to let sleep take you your phone buzzes on the nightstand and you scold yourself for forgetting to turn off the ringer. Picking up your phone you see a notification, one you have no reason to be getting, announcing auditions being held in New York for backup dancers for an artist tour.
You hum taking it in, your brain working overtime as a plan appears in your head, placing your phone back on the nightstand you knew what you were doing tomorrow.
You wake up the next morning with your head in a porcelain bowl, your body rejecting everything it has ever eaten, which wasn’t a lot, learning you’re going to die tends to ruin one’s appetite. When you’re confident you are good to move, you push yourself up but find yourself grasping onto your sink counter. You close your eyes as your head pounds and the room spins around you.
The cool marble of the counter does little to ground you, and you feel as though you’re floating until there's a knock on the door. You hold your breath, trying to ease the sharp pain that each knock brought.
“You okay?” You feel your heart drop at Yoonchae’s voice, you didn’t want her seeing you like this. With a newfound strength you rush to clean up your mess, when you do you turn on the sink brushing your teeth, wincing as the taste of mint brings back nausea. Finishing you turn off the faucet, place your toothbrush back and inhale as your now shaky hands grab the doorknob.
You try to compose yourself before opening the door to see a very concerned Yoonchae staring back at you.
“Hey.”
Yoonchae raises an eyebrow at you. “Hey? You good?” You nod in response as you pray she doesn’t notice the shiver that racks over your body, she doesn’t but you can tell she doesn’t fully believe you. “You sure?”
“Yup. Pancakes for breakfast?” The question successfully distracts her as she nods enthusiastically. “Alright, get everything ready for me I’ll be there in a second.” She rushes to the kitchen and you let your body lax against the door allowing yourself slight relief, which is short lasting as another sharp pain presents itself in your head. You push yourself off the door and turn off the light as you stumble out to the hallways.
You drag yourself against the wall to your room, the hallway spinning around you. When you get to your room you stumble into it, practically falling as you search the desk for your medicine. Finding it you open it and take a few in hope of relieving this pain you’re in. You lean against the desk with your eyes closed, letting the symptoms pass through.
When you’re able to open your eyes without feeling like throwing up or like you’re being stabbed in your head you cuss yourself out for not asking about the symptoms you’ll face or how fast you were going to experience them. Shaking your head you close the bottle and hide them again before making your way to the kitchen where Yoonchae is sitting on the counter.
“About time,” she jumps off the counter and shoves a bowl of pancake batter in your hands, “I’m starving chop chop.”
You laugh and head to the stove, which was already on with a pan on it. “You already put butter on it?” You hear her grunt in response which you take as a no and butter the pan. It’s quiet as you cook, Yoonchae on her phone and you deep in thought. The auditions were held in a little over month, and were on the other side of the country, a trip that could take quite a bit if timed right. With just a bit of planning this could definitely be your forgiveness plan.
Turning the stove off you slide a plate of pancakes to the girl and sit across from her. You watch as she eats happily, a small smile making its way to your face. She looks up and glares. “Why aren’t you eating?” Her cheeks are stuffed and her words are muffled which make you laugh.
“What I say about eating and talking?” She rolls her eyes and stuffs her mouth again. “If I sent you a list of names, could you find their locations?”
Yoonchae nods and swallows her food. “As long as they exist I can find them.” You nod before pushing your plate towards her, which she happily takes.
Standing from the table you make sure to push your chair in. “I need you to find some people while I’m out today.”
“Where are you going?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
You tilt your head back enjoying the sun on your skin. You’re a sight to see, leaned up against your bright blue Jeep with sunglasses covering your eyes. Bringing your head down you catch sight of a woman eyeing you as she walks past. Lifting your sunglasses up you wink at her, making the woman flustered as she walks away.
You let the glasses drop over your eyes once more as you bring your eyes back to the building in front of you. When you bring your hand up to check the time you see people pour out of the building, you nod in satisfaction as the time coincided perfectly with the break, just as you planned.
You see her before she sees you, at least that’s what you believe before she walks right past you to cross the street. A scoff leaves you before you nod and push off the side of your car following behind her.
“Daniela!” She ignores your shout, but you know she heard you. But giving her the benefit of the doubt you call for her again. “Dani! I know you can hear me!”
She doesn’t turn back but instead tries to walk faster past the people on the sidewalk you guys were now on.
“Is this really how we’re going to act?” You shout. And when she continues to keep walking you nod to yourself. “Fine, I guess I’ll just have to scream as loud as possible to get your and everyone's attention.” This causes her to freeze and you smile knowing you got her. You quickly let the smile drop when she turns around, the anger very clear on her face.
“You wouldn’t.” The disdain in her tone brings a pleasant chill down your spine.
“Oh, but I would and you know it too.” Her jaw clenches and you enjoy the sharpness it brings to her jawline. You watch as her knuckles go white from her hold tightening on the strap of her bag.
“What do you want?”
You tilt your head to the side, acting as if you’re thinking about it when the truth is you already know. “Get lunch with me?”
She scoffs before looking at you with disbelief. “Are you fucking serious?” You nod, and she has to look around to see if she is being pranked before she turns back to you. “You have a lot of nerve.”
“So I’ve heard.”
Huffing out she licks her lips in annoyance. “Why the hell would I ever go out anywhere with you?”
“I’ll pay for it.” Her features relax and you can see the wheels in her mind start to turn, you smile knowing that you got her.
“I’m choosing the place.”
You nod and lift your arms. “Lead the way.” She turns around leaving you to follow her. You find yourself being led to a very clearly expensive restaurant, which didn’t surprise you, you guys did live in Los Angeles after all.
The waiter brings you guys to a table by a window, when you both take a seat he places a menu in front of both of you guys.
“Can I start you guys off with a drink?”
“Yes,” Daniela starts, “I’ll have a diet Coke, and I’m sure she’ll have whatever diabolical, heart stopping drink there is.”
The man laughs politely before turning to you expectantly. “I’ll just have water, thank you.” Daniela looks at you with disbelief as your waiter nods and walks away.
“Water? Really?”
You shrug. “I’m trying to be a bit healthier.”
“Why? Are you dying?” And you know she’s joking, but you feel yourself tense up, your hand gripping the napkin on the table. When she notices you not laughing she stops, raising a brow. “I was just joking, lighten up. I’m not that lucky.” Her words cause a laugh to leave you, she truly had no idea.
The waiter comes back with both of your drinks, when he places them down he pulls out a device to start your order. “Are you guys ready or would you need a few more minutes?” You nod, though you hadn’t even opened the menu, you know you were going to order whatever Daniela was going to.
“Can I have the dumpling soup, please?” The waiter of course nods before turning to you.
“I’ll have the same.” You tell him offering a thank you as he grabs both the menus from the both. When he walks away once more Daniela takes a sip of her drink before clearing her throat.
“So why have you come to see me today?”
You sigh softly. “Let's wait till the food comes out first.”
Daniela groans quite loudly, garnering a few stares, though she doesn’t care. “Why not just tell me now? Why are you dragging this out?”
“Because, we’re here to eat, so let’s just wait. Why don’t we just catch up?”
“Catch up? Are you serious?” Her jaw clenches, leaning back into the seat she crosses her arms. The scene isn’t unfamiliar to you, the only difference between then and now is her eyes are now filled with hatred and not heartbreak.
You both stay silent until the food comes, before you can even consider getting a taste Daniela finally speaks. “Will you tell me now?”
“I see patience still isn’t your strong suit.”
Daniela scoffs and lets her spoon drop to the table with a clank. “Are you of all people seriously criticizing me?”
“It’s not criticizing, I’m simply pointing out an observation.”
The blonde doesn’t say anything, instead silently seething. She pushes back from the table and stands. “I’m not doing this with you, enjoy your lunch.” But before she can walk away you stand, grabbing her wrist.
“Wait, I’m sorry. Please, sit back down.” You can see the hesitance on her face, and she doesn’t move. “Please.” You try again. She huffs out as she harshly pulls away and goes back to her seat. She takes a sip of her soup while you sit back down across her.
She looks up at you as she takes another spoonful, cocking an eyebrow. “Can I ask you to continue now or will I still be considered impatient?”
You shake your head. “I wanted to meet you today because I’m going on a trip and I want you to come with me.”
She doesn’t react, not at first at least, but when she does it isn’t one that surprises you. Her laughter, though directed at you, is comforting due to it being familiar. When she realizes you aren’t laughing she clears her throat and places the spoon down once more. “You’re being serious.” It’s more of an observation than a question and when you nod in response she leans back in her chair once more. “Why the hell would I go on a trip with you?”
“Cause I’ll pay you a lot more than what your job is.”
She leans forward and you cringe slightly as her elbows rest on the table. “How much we talking?”
“How ever much you want.”
Her eyebrow raises and her honey eyes are filled with suspicion and curiosity. “So if I were to say…three hundred fifty thousand?”
You sigh as you begin to do some math in your mind before pursing your lips and nodding. “That’s doable.”
“Seriously?” She exclaims, knocking her elbow onto the table, hissing as she rubs it and you clean the small drops of soup she splashed onto the table.
“Yeah, seriously.”
“How do I know you’re not lying?” You shrug as you reach into your pocket to pull out your wallet. Grabbing a few bills you lay them on the table and push your bowl towards her carefully to ensure it doesn’t spill.
“You don’t, you’ll just have to trust me.” Standing, you smile once more at her. “I’d consider putting your two weeks in when you get back, we leave when that time runs out.” You don’t wait for a response, you simply place your wallet back into your pocket and leave.
Yoonchae grunts as she places a bag into the trunk. “You sure I can’t come with you?” You nod as you place another bag next to the one she just placed. Closing the trunk you turn to her offering her a small smile. She nods, but you can tell there is something wrong.
“What’s wrong?”
She chews at her bottom lip and it worries you, Yoonchae was not someone who would hesitate to speak. “Chae?”
“Are you okay?” She blurts out the question and it shocks you.
“Yes, of course, why?” The younger shrugs and it’s clear she has no trust within your answer. “Hey,” you start to grab her attention, lifting her chin gently so she has no choice but to look at you. “Talk to me.”
“It’s just…you asked that death question and now you’re going on a trip to apologize to your exes. I can’t help but think that there is something you’re not telling me.” You take in her words slowly, silently cursing at just how smart the younger one is. You know this could be your chance to come clean, but just the thought of leaving her with worry solidifies your choice in keeping your condition a secret.
“I’m not hiding anything, that day I almost got hit by a car and I guess it put things into perspective.” The younger one nods slowly, but you can still see the doubt. So you do what you know will work. She looks up as you bring your pinky up, her eyes lighting up when she realizes what it is. Lifting her own pinky she interlocks hers with yours. “Better?” You ask her.
“Yup.” And when she pulls her finger away you feel your stomach drop in guilt. She leans against the back of your Jeep as you bring your wrist up to check your watch.
“I should start heading out.” She pushes off the car with a frown. “You remember the rules?”
Her eyes roll in annoyance. “Yes.”
“Repeat them.”
You hold back a laugh as she groans. “No physical jobs and no one allowed in the house.” You nod in approval. “Though I don’t know why I can’t do any drop offs, I’m strong.”
“That lie aside, I need you to be safe. I hired someone to do those physical jobs for me while I’m gone. She should be here tomorrow.”
Yoonchae looks at you in disbelief. “I don’t need a babysitter!”
“Good thing she isn’t then.” You say to her as you walk along the side of your car, opening the door to the driver side when you reach it. “Consider her your first employee.”
“Employee?” She trails off, her eyebrows furrow before they relax as excitement takes over her face. “Does that mean?” The smile on her face is huge as you nod.
“Yes, when I come back you’ll be taking over. So remember to keep her at the same standard. No questions, nothing obviously illegal, and no missing person cases.” You can tell she isn’t listening to you as she’s way too busy celebrating the news instead, it doesn’t anger you though, you trust her. You interrupt her celebration by bringing her into a hug, which she reciprocates immediately. “I’m gonna miss you Chip.”
“I’m gonna miss you too Dale.” She says to you, and the old nickname hurts your heart slightly.
“Call me everyday, alright? And be nice to your employee.” You tell her as you get in the car.
“Yeah yeah, I’ll be a better boss than you don’t worry.” She says as she leans into the window, and you laugh.
“Now go inside, I’ll call you when I reach Phoenix.” She nods, shoving your head once before heading inside the apartment.
When you reach Daniela’s place she’s waiting outside with a huge suitcase and annoyance clear on her face. As soon as you park the car and get out she’s already pulling her luggage towards your trunk. “Took you long enough, what were you doing, killing someone for someone else?”
You scoff. “I’m not a murderer.”
“I’m sure you would be if the price was right.” She says as she places her stuff in the trunk once you open it for her.
“I see you still don’t understand what I do for work.”
“Oh really?” Her tone is condescending as she closes the trunk and heads to the passenger while you head to the driver. When she gets in she buckles herself in and turns towards you. “If I don’t understand, why don’t you tell me then?”
You turn on the car after buckling yourself in. “I get paid to do tasks that people don’t want to do themselves.”
She scoffs as you begin to drive, following the path the GPS lays out for you. “And you’re telling me murder isn’t one of those things people have asked of you?”
“Yoonchae and I don’t do anything illegal.”
“That’s right you looped a child into your nonsense.” She connects her phone to your car's bluetooth, playing some random song from her library. “Speaking of which, my phones have been acting really weird since we’ve broken up.”
You feel her eyes on you, taking a glance at her, you roll your eyes at the accusatory look she’s giving you. “Nothing to do with us. You know for someone judging what I do so much you seem mighty comfortable taking money from me, which, by the way, comes from said terrible business.”
“Of course, it’s like Robin Hood. I’m taking from the evil rich, you, and giving to the kind poor, me.” She says it smugly and you just shake your head, focusing your attention only on driving. The drive is mainly quiet, Daniela not wanting to talk to you more than she has to, and you simply lost in your thoughts. When your head started to ache midway through the drive you took it as the perfect time to stop, blaming it on low gas when Daniela looked at you confused. As she headed in to use the bathroom and get snacks, you had snuck a couple of pills in hopes your head calmed; it didn't.
Driving the rest of the way was hellish as Daniela’s music blasted and the cold of the AC brought chills to your body. When you finally arrived at the hotel, you rushed the check in. Grabbing your bags you threw one key at Daniela and ran to your room, practically throwing yourself on the bed.
You close your eyes as you let the coolness of the sheets ease your head. You don’t open your eyes when the door opens knowing that it was Daniela. She huffs as she lets the door slam behind her and you feel something hit your face. Moving the blanket that was now covering it, you slowly open your eyes.
“Thanks for waiting asshole.” She says as she sits on her own bed. You don’t respond as you close your eyes once more. You feel yourself drifting off until something hits your face again.
It takes everything in you not to lose your mind as you pull the pillow away and lift yourself up. Propping yourself up on your hand you look at her. “Yes?”
“I’m hungry.” You let out an exasperated groan at her words.
“Then get something.” You close your eyes once more as you hear her huff. You think you’re free as you hear muttering and moving around until you feel a presence above you. Opening one eye you look at her with annoyance.
“Are you seriously going to sleep when you haven’t washed up or anything?” You exaggerate a groan as you push yourself up, your head aching terribly at this point. Pushing past her you make a show of grabbing your stuff and heading towards the bathroom.
When you close the door behind you, you stumble slightly and throw your stuff haphazardly on the counter. As the ground beneath you starts to move you still yourself against the marbled counter, grazing your thumb against it you allow the coolness to send chills through your body.
Your mind stops spinning and the floor stills under you and you finally open your eyes. Splashing water on your face you go and turn on the shower.
When you finally finish you have no energy left in you, stepping out you see Daniela eating while watching something on TV. Throwing your clothes on your bag you flop onto the bed once more.
“I put your stuff in the fridge.” It surprises you, you expected her to not grab anything for you, your drive having been nothing but silence.
You muster up a thanks though as you use whatever little strength you have left and head to the room’s mini fridge. Inside you find the food, you’re surprised when you realize she remembered what you liked. You bring it to your bed, not worrying about the light coolness of the food now.
You both eat in silence, the only sound coming from the TV, playing some show you didn’t know.
When you can’t eat anymore you get up and put it back in the mini fridge. As you go to head back you see her getting up to do the same. You stop her before she gets up and hold your hands up. “Here, I got it.” She raises an eyebrow and hands you her leftovers before getting back in her bed.
After you finish you walk back to your bed, turning off your side lamp as you finally lay down.
“Is it cool if I leave the TV on?” Daniela asks. It was a question you knew was coming, Daniela hated the dark.
“I’m still scared of the dark.”
You smile as she says the words. “I know.” You speak softly, not knowing whether it was to not startle her or because of exhaustion. “It’s fine.”
She doesn’t respond and you take that as the end until she speaks once more. “Did you call Yoonchae?” It impresses you how she remembered what you didn’t.
“No.” You say lowly. “I’ll text her now and call her in the morning, I’m drained.” But before you can reach for your phone which was charging on the nightstand next to you she speaks out.
“Is her number still the same? I can call her while you sleep.” You sigh out at her words, relief filling you.
“It is, thank you.”
She lets you speak the last line, and as you begin to drift off you hear her whispering softly on her side.
You wake early the next morning, the TV now playing an old sitcom. You stand and go for the pill bottle hidden deeply in your backpack. Stuffing it in your pocket you then head to your other bag to grab clothes for yourself. Heading to the bathroom you get ready for the day. Daniela is still sleeping when you finish, and you don’t expect her to wake up any time soon. So you decide to get you both some breakfast.
After grabbing your phone, wallet, and room key you leave. Phoenix is already hot when you step out, though it’s a heat you’re slightly familiar with because of living in Los Angeles, it still makes you uncomfortable due to it being elevated here. Not many stores are open as the sun was just rising, and as the sky turns beautiful shades of pinks and oranges you can’t help but take a picture of it. Sending it to Yoonchae, you stuff your phone back in your pocket and look up.
You see people shuffling into one store, which seemed to be a cafe. Seeing as it seemed popular you decide to head in too. Your assumption was solidified as the inside was slightly crowded, office workers outweigh the everyday person. The cafe workers are clearly great at their job though as you find yourself at the front of the line quickly.
You order yourself coffee, Daniela some matcha drink you’re sure she’ll like, and you both breakfast. It’s done quickly and you leave a tip as thank you. You take your stuff outside and sit on the curb, past you would be a bit more worrisome about how you looked to others, but the you now realized time was too short to worry about such things.
You take a sip of your coffee as you watch the sky shift, the colors changing gradually. Your shirt sticks to your back, but you don’t worry too much, instead you keep your eyes on the sky. As it shifts to blue and the clouds become more scarce, the street around you begins to liven. But you still pay it no mind as you take your first bite of the bagel you had ordered.
As you sit there you decide what you want your last moments to be; laying in the grass and taking in the beautiful blue of the sky.
By the time you finish Daniela’s drink is warm, and you know she would kill you if you handed her it. So, getting up you toss it in the nearby trash can, wincing at the thought of wasting, before walking back into the cafe.
New drink in hand along with her still warm bagel you head back to the hotel. Walking into the room you find Daniela not only wide awake, but singing and dancing around the room. You leaned against the door to watch her better, as you take in the happiness you haven’t seen in her in a while to your surprise you feel your heart race. Your jaw clenches as you push back the old feelings that are suddenly trying to resurface. Pushing off the door you make your presence known.
When she turns to you you lift up her food and drink. “Room service.” She squeals in surprise before heading into the bathroom to take out her toothbrush. When she comes back she snatches the food from you and takes a seat at the desk. As she digs in you start to pack up your stuff. “Checkout ends in an hour.”
She doesn’t respond, but you know she heard you. When you finish getting your stuff together, which wasn’t very long, you didn’t take many things out, you drop back on the bed. Opening it you see multiple texts from Yoonchae, all complaints about the roommate you have found for her. Shaking your head you call her.
She answers the call immediately and you hear a loud groan.
“Why did you have to hire her? She’s so fucking boring.”
You laugh. “That’s a good thing, you need someone who will bore you and keep you straight.” She scoffs and you can hear the familiar foreign curses. “Where’d you even find her? The library in the news section or whatever sections they have there.”
“Your lack of knowledge in libraries is very concerning, maybe I’ll ask Giselle to bring you to one.” This answer gets you hung up on and you can’t help the shocked laugh that escapes you.
“She hung up on you?” Daniela asks, she has turned the chair around to look at you. You nod and she laughs too. You watch as she gets up to toss her stuff away and also get her stuff together. When she finishes you get up and grab both of yours' stuff.
“Can you reach inside my wallet and leave a tip for the staff?” You ask her, and she nods reaching inside your pant pockets and you have to physically hold off any chills you get from her touch. She opens the wallet and pulls out a few bills, you don’t see which they are, but you know she definitely pulled out some big ones, not that you minded.
After she checked the room to make sure you guys had everything, you both head down to the lobby, where you check out with a thanks. When you finish putting your stuff in the trunk you both get in.
“So, where to next?”
You adjust the car AC before twisting your body to face her. “Houston, but I have to stop somewhere around here first. It shouldn’t be too long.” She nods and turns on her music once more. It doesn’t take you long to get to your destination, the house you were heading to being very close.
“Umm…” Daniela turns to you with furrowed brows, “Whose house is this?”
You sigh, turning off the car and unbuckling your seat. You don’t answer her quite yet as you get out of the car and head to the trunk. You pull out a hidden duffel bag which was filled with money. Grabbing a couple stacks you head to Daniela’s side of the car and lean into the window.
“Old friend’s house, I won’t be long.” You don’t give her a chance to respond as you turn and head towards the house.
As you get closer to the door your heart begins to race and your nervousness starts to rise. It takes you a few moments to hype yourself enough to knock on the door. You hear someone yell that they’re coming and you begin to really feel sick. When the door finally opens you’re transported back to your teenage self.
“Hi Manon.” Your words come out weak and barely above a whisper, but you know the other hears you as she chuckles lightly.
“You have a lot of nerve.” She tells you, and you can’t help the small smile that rises from the familiar words.
“So I’ve heard.” She nods as she takes you in, tilting her head to the side with a sigh.
“You look like shit.” And the words make you laugh, though they really shouldn’t.
“Would you believe me if I told you I hear that too?”
She chuckles once more, though this one is more of a hum than a laugh before leaning against her door. “What do you want?” At her question you raise your hands, showing the stacks of money you had taken. Her eyes widen in shock as she straightens herself and sticks herself out slightly looking around. Not seeing any of her neighbors she pulls herself back in and moves to the side. “Come in.”
You nod and step inside her house. Stepping past the threshold you are met with immediate coolness and the smell of lavender. A soft hum rings through the house from a machine deeper inside the residence, you don’t pay it much mind as she closes the door behind you and motions for you to follow her to a table that was in the dining room. “Sit here.” She says as she points to one of the brown chairs. She heads back into the kitchen while you place the cash on the table.
When she comes back she places a glass of water in front of you. “Here.” You mutter a small thanks, taking a sip, while she takes one of the stacks and starts to inspect it. You let her be while you take in the rest of the house, or at least what you can see. It’s clear she lives alone, as the table only has two tablemats, one of which is clearly unused.
Her house seems to be decorated more for comfort than aesthetic, not that it was ugly, it was just more comfortable.
Taking another sip of your water, you jump when you feel something graze your leg. Looking down you see a cat, rubbing once more against your leg. You push back your chair and lean down to pick it up. You rub the center of its head, right between its ears, smiling when you feel it purr.
“Her name is Ophelia.” Manon says as she places the stack back on the table. You nod at her words, rubbing Ophelia’s head once more before placing her down on the floor. You watch as she struts away.
“She’s pretty.” You say, following the cat's movements as she heads to a bowl near the wall. Manon hums in agreement before taking a sip of her own drink, tea you assume as you watch steam rise from the cup. “She’s a brat.” She says after a few beats of silence, and you laugh softly.
It grows silent again, you waiting for her to lead the conversation. She picks at her nails while you rub a thumb against the glass of your cup. “How long do you have?” She asks. The question surprises you, but you don’t let it show as you wipe away the condensation the ice in the cup causes. She gives you the time to breathe as she takes another sip of her tea.
“How’d you know?” You ask her as you let your hand fall from the glass, crossing your arms while you lean back. She lets out a soft hum as she breathes out, clearly trying to collect her thoughts and choose the right words.
“My mother.” She sighs looking down momentarily before looking up once more. “Before she passed she looked just like you. Sunken cheeks, dull eyes, and slight tremors.” A laugh escapes you at the last one, you thought you were able to hide the now consistent shake of your hands. “What is it?” She asks when you look up at her once more.
You purse your lips as you move one of your arms to the armrest, resting your head in your hand. Rubbing your thumb against your eyebrow you sigh as you let your arm drop once more. “My brain doesn’t want to work anymore.”
She nods, sighing. “The brain is a tricky one.”
“Don’t I know it.” You trail off, turning towards Ophelia who was now laying near the windowsill. “I have a little over a month left.” You hear her breath catch, and watch as drops of tea spill on the table from her bumping her knee against it.
“That’s…” She trails off, but you bring your eyes back to the window, taking in the sky once again. “I’m sorry.” Her words are earnest and you nod. “So, this.” You look back at her to find her pointing towards the two stacks of cash. “Is some sort of last chance to heaven sort of thing?”
You laugh at the words and shake your head. “I don’t believe in a heaven. It’s an apology of sorts. I…I wasn’t the best person to you when we broke up, and I know money can’t really cover for that, but as you know I don’t really have the time to make it up to you as I should.” She stands from her seat when you finish and you follow her curiously. She walks past you and your view of her is blocked and you can’t help but wonder if you messed up. You sit up when she comes back with a rag in her hand and heads back to her side of the table, wiping up the drops of tea.
She folds up the rags as she sits back down looking at you. “You’re right it doesn’t make up for it, but I appreciate it.” And you breathe out in relief. “Is the girl waiting in your car part of this ‘forgiveness crusade’?”
“Yeah.”
“What’d you do to her?”
This question makes you clearly tense as you remember just what you had done to the woman in your car. “I broke up with her because she ‘wasn’t fun.’” Manon winces at your words, shaking her head.
“That ones worse than what you said to me.” And you can’t help but agree with her. Your break up with Daniela was ugly and cruel, and you can still remember the way she looked at you, hurt so clear in her eyes you wanted to do nothing but rip your heart out. At the thought of this the regret is clear on your face and Manon takes note of it. “You didn’t mean, did you?”
“No.” You bring your hand back up to the cup and rub your thumb once more, erasing the condensation. “It was getting serious and I was scared.”
Manon hums. “Sounds like you. How you making it up to her?”
“She’s a dancer and I’m bringing her to an audition for a tour in New York. Oh, and some money.” She takes in your words as she takes another sip of her tea.
“Do you still like her?”
You fidget slightly in the chair at the question. Licking your lips you breathe through your nose, humming softly. And Manon nods with a knowing smile on her face. The soft hum of the machine in the background stops and you take it as your way out.
“I should get going, I have to get to Houston.” And Manon nods once again and the smirk on her face makes you roll your eyes. She walks with you towards the front door.
“Who is next?”
“An old friend I fell out with.” You tell her as you open the door, your head starting to pound slightly. As you’re about to walk out she calls for you. When you turn around you feel slightly lightheaded, and you’re so out of it you don’t notice the look of horror on her face. The last thing you hear before everything goes black is her saying that you're bleeding.
You wake to the sound of cussing and it takes you a few seconds to recognize the ceiling of your car. Feeling a warm breeze you look over to see the passenger window is open. You sit up and hear Daniela start cursing again.
“Stupid fucking GPS, how are you rerouting me when I’m not even off the highway yet?”
You turn yourself to face the front and place an arm on both of the front seats. Leaning forward you turn towards her. “It’s probably because the car is programmed for Canada.”
You wince when she screams and grip the headrests tightly when she swerves. You stay silent as she pulls to the side of the highway and jump when she turns to you suddenly after putting on the hazard lights. “What the fuck is your problem?” You lean back as she shouts and smile widely.
“I didn’t do anything.” You nod towards the GPS. “Where we going?”
“The hospital.” She glares and crosses her arms. “Why the fuck is your car programmed for Canada?”
You snort at her question. “What is this? Twenty questions? Scoot over.” She moves out of the driver’s seat and into the passengers while you pull yourself towards the front. When you settle in the seat and buckle yourself in you turn to look at her. “I pissed Yoonchae off last year so she decided to fuck with the whole system. Took her an entire month just to give me my music back.”
She laughs incredulously as you turn off the car GPS and take out your phone to start the route to the hotel in Houston. As you put your phone in the holder she turns to look at you confused. “Where are we going?”
“Houston.” You can feel her stare on you as you merge back onto the highway.
“Shouldn’t we be going to hospital?”
“Why?”
She slaps your arm and you wince. “Maybe cause you fainted.” You raise a hand to wave her off.
“Dehydration. I’m fine now.” You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and grimace when you catch the sight of dry blood. “Can you wet a napkin and give it to me?”
She does as you ask of her and when she hands it to you she starts again. “That didn’t seem like a simple pass out. I mean you were bleeding!” She points towards the napkin that now laid in your hand to emphasize her point. “Plus that girl seemed really freaked out.” She says this with a weird tone, but you brush it off with a sigh.
“I’m fine.”
But your response isn’t believable to her. “I don’t know, I think we should go-” You cut her off with a groan.
“I said I’m fine! Can we drop it now?” You didn’t mean for your tone to be so harsh, but before you can fix anything she huffs.
“Fine, be like that. I don’t give a fuck.” She turns towards the window and the car goes silent. It doesn’t take long for you to feel bad and you can’t help but take small glances at Daniela. After about half an hour you cave in, not being able to take the silence.
“I’m sorry.” You start. “You were just being caring and I had no reason to yell at you.” She stays silent but you know she heard you due to her scoffing as soon as you finished. Sighing, you try again. “You know I’ve planned for us to stay in Houston for a few days, meaning we’ll have a lot of free time. So…we can do anything you want.”
This gets her to break as she turns her body back towards you. “Anything?” You nod to confirm and she exclaims immediately before she starts listing everything she would be forcing you to do. With the mood much lighter you can’t help but smile, feeling lighter than ever.
By the time you get to Houston you both are exhausted, after checking in you both get into the room and crash.
When you wake up the sun is setting and the smell of food fills the room. Turning your head you see Daniela holding a plate of food in front of your face with a smile. “Look what I got.” She says in a sing-songy tone causing you to laugh. Lifting yourself up you stretch before sitting against the headboard and grabbing the food from Daniela.
“Thank you.” She nods and hops back onto her bed before grabbing her own food. You didn’t realize how hungry you were until you were halfway done. Daniela groans and you look over to see her plate cleared.
“I’ve never eaten anything that good before, my god.” You agree with her and turn your attention to the cartoon playing on the TV. “So I was thinking tomorrow we go to the zoo, eat lunch there, you buy me and Yoonchae some souvenirs, then we come back, change and go to this fancy restaurant I saw.”
You look at her, your brows furrowing in confusion. “Fancy?”
She nods excitedly as she gets up from her bed haphazardly, her phone in hand. When she stands in front of you she shoves her phone in your face. You have to lean back a bit to get your eyes to focus on the screen. When you can finally see clearer you see a well rated restaurant that looks extremely expensive. But it’s not that that worries you, it’s how weirdly intimate and dare you even say, romantic the atmosphere seemed.
You bring your eyes up to her face and at the look of excitement you decide to keep that thought to yourself. You slightly nod to let her know you’ve seen what she wanted you to see and she pulls the phone back, jumping on her bed.
She kicks her feet up and down, humming as she scrolls through her phone and you can’t help but watch her. You feel your heart start to flutter and your mind goes back to your conversation with Manon. You absolutely did still love Daniela, but to be completely honest with yourself you don’t think you ever stopped. It didn’t help that Daniela seemed to have warmed up to you once again.
Before your mind could spiral any further your head starts to throb, and just like that you’re brought back to reality.
Sighing softly you stand to put your food away, your appetite now disappearing.
You both spend the rest of the night watching random cartoons before falling asleep once more and before you know it you’re standing in front of capybaras with a pair of tiger ears on your head.
When one of the animals gets closer to the glass she runs and shoves her phone in your hands. “Quick, take a pic of me and the baby!”
You nod and lift her phone up, taking a couple pictures before your breath catches in your throat. You look over her phone to get a better look and your face starts to burn when you do. Daniela seems to be loved by heaven as the sun suddenly hits her perfectly. Her already light eyes seem to brighten, and the lip gloss she’s wearing seems to sparkle. She pushes away from the exhibit to come closer to you, and you can see her freckles clearly when she comes up right in front of you.
God, she is so beautiful.
You don’t realize she’s talking to you, until you see her glare in suspicion. “Sorry?” You say to her, your mind still reeling, but you try your best to pay attention to her.
“I asked how I looked.”
“Oh.” You hand her phone to her. “You looked beautiful.” Your words come out more breathless than you mean for it too, and it surprises Daniela. Her cheeks become slightly red and she looks away as she grabs, or more so snatches, her phone from you. “Good.” She says, still refusing to look at you. “Let’s go to the tortoises now, I want to feed them.”
You don’t bother responding and just follow behind her. When you guys make it to the exhibit you show them your ticket and they hand you the food, which you give to Daniela. The animals immediately walk over to the fence when Daniela kneels down and holds a piece of lettuce for them. You watch the smile grow impossibly wider on her face as she continues to feed them and you immediately take a picture. Your heart jumps when she looks up, and you can’t help but take another one.
“Come here and feed one.” You nod immediately, placing your phone back in Daniela’s bag, which she had you holding, you go to her side and lean down next to her, grabbing a piece of lettuce she was giving to you.
A tortoise immediately eats from you, and you see why Daniela is so excited by it. When it finishes eating you grab your phone again and ask for another piece of lettuce, which Daniela gives you, and you take a video of you feeding it.
As soon as the lettuce runs out Daniela complains about being hungry, so you both settle on getting ice cream to save room for dinner. After buying you both ice cream, vanilla with sprinkles, you guys sit on a bench and eat it in a happy silence.
Crunching happily on the cone the blonde turns to you. “I’m surprised you still have the ears on.” Her words are muffled, and you have to fight the reflex to scold her.
You shrug lightly. “You said they’re cute.” She smiles and nods before turning back to her cone.
After you both finish you spend a few more hours exploring the animal exhibits before calling it a day and heading back to the hotel to get ready for dinner. You get ready first, thankful you brought a few fancy, or fancy adjacent, outfits with you. As you are in the bathroom finishing up, you decide to take a few pills in hopes to prevent any episodes.
When you finish you get out and sit at the desk chair waiting for Daniela. You spend most of your time texting Yoonchae, most of it being her complaining than anything else. You look up when you hear the bathroom door open, sitting up immediately when you see how she looks.
She’s wearing a very pretty dress that holds tight to her body. Your mouth goes dry as you trace her curves with her eyes. She doesn’t seem to notice as she smiles at you. “Ready?”
You nod and follow her out. During the drive to the restaurant you can’t help but take multiple glances in adoration. When you guys arrive you open the door for her before the valet attendant could, and smile even wider when she thanks you. Handing the keys to the attendant you both walk into the restaurant.
As soon as you crossed the threshold your thoughts from the night prior were confirmed; this restaurant’s atmosphere is very intimate and romantic. You hear Daniela gasp softly and you look towards her in concern. “It’s so beautiful here.” You feel chills run down your spine at her words, did she like this atmosphere? Did she choose this type of place on purpose?
You don’t get to think about this for long as the host waves for you two to come closer. You let Daniela handle everything, since she had book the reservation, and you two are led to your table. You make sure to pull out her chair for her before taking your own seat.
Your eyes widen when you take a look at the prices. “This place is expensive.” Not that you were worried, and it’s clear Dani wasn’t either as she simply hums. It doesn’t take long for the waitress to come to your table with water, which the blonde makes sure to point out how fancy the glass looks. Dani then orders for you both, which doesn’t bother you, you liked it when she chose things for you.
“So,” she starts, “What are we here in Houston for again?”
Putting your glass back down you look up at her. “Meeting an old friend.” She grunts slightly and her reaction surprises you. When she sees you look at her in confusion she starts again.
“Just wondering why you keep calling your exes your friends.” Her answer makes your heart skip, as you try to decipher her disdain. Rubbing your hands against your pants you swallow your own saliva at the possibility of her potentially being jealous.
“She’s not an ex, she truly was just a friend.”
Dani nods as she breaks the piece of bread that was her plate, making it clear she wasn’t going to eat it. “What’d you do to her?”
You truthfully didn’t want to answer that question, you were just getting on Dani’s good side, potentially even reigniting a romance with her. But you also knew with just how fragile your twos’ relationship stood at this moment you couldn’t lie to her, especially given the huge lie you were feeding her everyday. So clearing your throat you speak. “I stole her idea for the business, and left her alone.”
She grimaces at your words and you look down. “Well, at least it wasn’t worse than what you did to me.” And you can’t help but frown at her words.
“I’m sorry I treated you like that before.” But since you were still looking down at your lap she didn't hear you clearly.
“What’d you say?” You look up and clear your throat, but before you go again the waitress comes back and places your food down. After pouring wine in both your wine glasses she leaves you two alone once more. When Dani takes the first bite you decide to try again.
“I’m sorry. What I said to you, it wasn’t true and was just meant as a way to be cruel. I shouldn’t have said that and if I could take it back I would.” You wince when Dani’s knife scrapes against the plate as she freezes. When she looks up her hazel eyes are filled with emotions, but the most noticeable is rage. She places her cutlery down as she leans in, her tone rough.
“What do you mean it wasn’t true?” Inhaling you sit up straighter, clearing your throat once more out of nerves rather than necessity.
“I had broken up with you because I was scared. Because we were becoming more serious. So I just said whatever I could to get you to never reach back out.”
You words cause her to scoff and you see her try to quell the anger that she is now feeling. Her jaw clenches and though you know her anger towards you is not good you can’t help but appreciate just how pretty she looks even enraged.
Turning back to you she sighs through her nose. “Let’s not talk about this right now, we can discuss this later.” And she goes back to eating while you can only watch her like you were a child that had been scolded. The air is tense and it’s clear the waitress can feel it when she had come back, offering you a sympathetic smile as she checks on you both. When she leaves you wish she had taken you with her.
You don’t bother eating, your appetite gone now that you knew Dani was angry at you and it seems your actions just anger the other even more as each time she looks at you she rolls her eyes. When the bill comes you pay without hesitation and tip the waitress way more than was asked as an apology for the tense table she had to keep coming back to.
While you wait outside for the attendant to bring back your car Dani stands far enough away from you that another person could have stood between you two comfortably. And when you hold the door open for her once more she doesn’t thank you, even slamming the door before you can close it for her.
Before you get in you take a second to breathe to calm yourself a bit, getting in the car it amazes how the air genuinely feels cold too. It takes a few minutes for her to start talking and when she does your body reacts immediately by leaning in towards her.
“Do you know how low I felt after you broke up with me? I doubted myself because of you and for you to have the nerve to just tell me that you just said it because of your insecurities? I can’t believe you, I knew this trip was a mistake. I knew trusting you once more was a mistake.”
Your heart breaks at her words and you can feel your eyes well up with tears. You don’t respond, not being able to due to the lump in your throat.
The silence sticks as you get to the hotel and that night you both go to sleep without a word. The next day isn’t any better as you both get ready without a word, and when you buy breakfast for her she takes it without giving you another glance.
You guys sit at a bench in a plaza when you try to talk to her. “Dani-” She cuts you off before you can finish.
“Don’t. Not now.”
You nod your head deciding to respect her wishes. When another hour passes she speaks, though she sounds cold. “When is your friend coming?”
You furrow your brows when you realize you have no idea. “I don’t know…hold on I’ll be right back.” You stand and walk over to the side as you call Yoonchae.
“You have a lot of nerve.”
“Not now. I’ve been waiting where you said Lara would be for about an hour and not a single sight of her.”
“Huh? That can’t be.” You hear her chair roll and the familiar sound of typing. You look around as you wait, seeing if you can possibly spot her. Yoonchae gains your attention once more when she curses. “Okay, don’t be mad. But she’s actually in Miami.”
You groan as you pinch your nose bridge. “How did you fuck that up?”
“Listen, you asked me to do research after a stack of pancakes I was tired and made a mistake! Look on the bright side at least you get to see Daniela in a bikini.” You hang up her after she says that and make your way back to Daniela.
“Looks like we’re going to Miami.” She raises an eyebrow as she looks at you.
“Why?”
“Yoonchae made a mistake.” That seems to be enough for her as she stands and heads to your car.
The trip to Miami was the worst one yet, between Daniela’s cold shoulder, your head hurting and the long drive you couldn’t wait for it to end.
You’re lucky enough to book an oceanfront room right on the strip of Miami beach, which seems to be the one thing you did right these past few days in Daniela’s eyes.
“When are you meeting your friend?” She says to you as she comes back from the balcony where she was taking pictures.
“Yoonchae says she should be in this plaza at around noon.” You show her the plaza Yoonchae sent you and she takes a glance before looking back at her phone. You sigh as you accept this will probably be how the rest of the trip will be.
At noon the next day you find yourselves at another plaza, this one more filled. The Florida sun burns at your skin as you and Daniela wait.
When you see Lara you stand abruptly, leaving Daniela without a word. Following her into the crowd you call for the red head.
Lara turns and is tense, when she spots you her gaze immediately hardens as she stomps towards you. “What is your fucking problem?”
You sigh softly as she grips you with one hand, the other holding her drink. “Let’s talk.” She scoffs as she lets you go and shoves you.
“Talk?” She pushes you again. “Fucking talk? Why the fuck would I ever talk to you?”
“I want to apologize.” She scoffs when she hears this and starts to back up. When you reach for her she snatches her arm away, almost as if even the thought of you touching her burns her. Your hands shake slightly as they stay in the air and you know what you have to do.
Dropping to your knees you let your head hang. You know she’s still there as her shoes are still visible in front of you.
The first drop of her drink surprises you, but you don’t move nor look up as she continues to spill her drink on you. When she throws her cup at you Daniela steps in. “Alright, that’s enough.”
But Lara doesn’t pay her any mind. “You think this sorry ass apology is enough? If you’re really sorry you’d just die.” The world goes mute after this. You’re sure Daniela responds to her but you can’t hear her. After a few moments, or at least it feels like a few moments you begin to laugh.
You didn’t mean to, but once you start you can’t stop. You know you’re a sight to see, covered in some drink while laughing like crazy.
When you finally stop you look up, huffing out with a smile you begin to nod. “Alright. If that’s what you want.” Lara looks at you in disbelief as Daniela grabs you.
“Let’s go.” You let her drag you away to some unknown place where she pushes you to sit down. “I’ll be right back.” You don’t acknowledge her, too deep in your own thoughts. When she leaves you the tears start to fall, the exhaustion of reality weighing heavily on you.
You were dying. You were really dying. And what’s worse is some people want you to. You were such a horrible person that some people truly want you dead.
Your throat hurts from how hard you’re sobbing and when Daniela comes back she holds you. Her touch makes you uncomfortable, you don’t deserve her gentleness, not when you’re this terrible of a person. When you finally run out of tears she pulls away from you, and red rises to your cheeks when you see you’ve dirtied her shirt.
“You feeling better?” You nod and she smiles. “Good, I’m going to try and clean you up now, alright?” You nod once more and Dani starts to use the napkins she had gotten from a nearby store. As she cleans you up she speaks, her voice soft. “I’m sorry she was that mean to you. No matter what you had done to her, you didn’t deserve this.”
You don’t respond which causes her to sigh as she continues to try and clean you up. When she notices that her clean up job won’t get any better with what she has, she looks at you. “Are you okay to move? I don’t think I can do much more.” She says this with a bit of laughter.
“Yeah.” You finally speak, your voice meek and rough.
“I’ll drive us back.” She holds her hand up for your keys and you give it to her. When you get to the car she places her hoodie on the passenger seat so you don’t ruin your seats and you thank her.
When you guys get back it’s like you’re a shell of a person. You shower, change, and lay in bed where you don’t move for hours. It concerns Daniela but she knew there was nothing she could do for you except be there.
You don’t move until early the next morning, where you sit on the balcony taking in the sound of the waves. You sit there as the sun rises, and watch as surfers come and go. And when the sun fully comes into the sky you watch as crowds of people begin to set up across the beach.
Daniela joins you and takes the seat next to you. “It’s pretty out here.” She says, her voice catching on the wind.
“You should’ve seen the sunrise.” You tell her.
“Are you feeling better?”
And though you don't, you refuse to hinder her anymore. “Yeah.” You take a pause to exhale softly. “I’m going to take you back to LA. You can keep the money, I won’t bother you anymore.”
She stares at you and it burns your skin, but you keep watching the ocean. “No.” She says and it shocks you, making your body twitch slightly. “I don’t want to. You said you’re going to make it up to me with this trip and that’s what you’ll do.”
You finally turn away from the ocean and turn to her. Your eyes trace her face to see if she’s being serious, not seeing any you nod slowly. “Alright.”
She breathes out slowly in relief. “Now can we go inside, it’s hot and I need a shower.”
You laugh and nod. You sit at the desk as you wait for her, searching for an activity you both can do when you get a call from Yoonchae.
“If you’re here to compl-”
She cuts you off immediately. “We have an emergency.”
Your heart drops as you sit up. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“Yeah I’m fine, it’s the auditions. They’re moving it up to next week.”
“What? Why would they do that? That makes no sense.”
“I know. I just thought you should know, I gotta go Giselle about to curse me out for being up so early. Love you!”
You tell her you love her back before hanging up. You feel yourself begin to panic, but remember that you have to tell Daniela.
“Dani!” You yell as you stand, before you can call for her again you see blood fall on the desk. Bringing your hand up to your nose you wipe away blood and the room starts to spin. Trying to move you stumble and feel like the air has been sucked out of you. You try to call for Dani again but it comes out meek. As your vision starts to blur you see Dani come out of the bathroom and the last thing you see is the look of horror before the world goes black.
Daniela’s leg shakes as she rubs at her head. She perks up when the door opens but laxes when she sees it’s just Yoonchae. Handing her a cup of coffee she takes a seat next to her.
“No one has come yet?” The younger asks and Daniela shakes her head. Yoonchae huffs in displeasure, but Dani doesn’t pay her any mind.
It’s been two days since you’ve collapsed and you still haven’t woken up. Daniela’s ears perk up slightly when she hears Yoonchae move and watches her warily as she stands to check the wires attached to you. The younger had flown in the day before and had yet to have settled down. Though it drove the older slightly insane she let the younger be as she knew it was a way for her to distract herself. It was clear to her immediately that Yoonchae was trying to put on a strong front, to seem almost as if she was unaffected, but Daniela could see the fear in her.
She could see the way her eyes would get glossy when she stared at you for too long, or how she would hesitate to even say your name.
Daniela understood why, she herself cared for you greatly, no matter how much she tried to deny it, she always would care for you and if she was this devastated she can only imagine what it was like for Yoonchae. To the younger you were her entire world, and now there was a threat to that.
It takes another two hours for the doctor to finally make an appearance. She walks in with a polite smile and closes the door behind her quietly, almost as if not to wake you.
“My apologies for the long wait, the hospital is severely understaffed and I had to scrub up for a couple surgeries and then of course our systems were down for a bit.” She trails off for a bit, waving her hand when she sees the slight disinterest from the two. “But you don’t want to hear about my woes. Let me take a look at what we’re dealing with.” She walks over to the board at the end of your bed.
Daniela watches the doctor’s face, tensing when she sees sorrow fill her features. The doctor inhales and holds it in her chest for a bit, seemingly thinking of her next words.
She exhales before she starts. “Umm..” She pauses. “How long did your friend say she has?”
“Sorry?”
“My apologies. I mean her first estimation.” At the look of confusion she clears her throat. “Do you not know?”
Yoonchae shakes her head, answering for the both of them and Daniela watches as the doctor’s breath hitches.
“Oh dear.” She mutters. “If you will just give me a moment.” She says leaving the room.
Yoonchae turns to Daniela, fear evident in her eyes. “What do you think she means?” The older chews at her bottom lip and shrugs, panic filling her so deeply she couldn’t answer. She can tell Yoonchae wants to ask more but the doctor comes back, interrupting her before she can.
A manila folder is now in her hands and Daniela feels her heart drop. The woman places the folder on the small table by your bed and pulls out a piece of paper. When she flips it around a photocopy of an x-ray is on it.
The two lean forward slightly, confusion clear on their faces.
“This is a photocopy of an x-ray of your friend’s brain. Do you see these circles? These are your friend’s brain cells clumping together, about a month ago there were eight, the scan we had done today shows the growth has started to accelerate, now leading to there being thirteen of these masses.”
Daniela feels lightheaded. “So what does this mean?” Her throat is tight as she speaks and nausea starts to settle in.
“It means that when these cells get too tangled, they will burst and your friend will…” She trails off, but she didn’t have to say the words the two understood what this meant.
“How long?” Yoonchae’s voice breaks at the end and it makes Daniela want to sob.
“If she wakes up she’d be very lucky to see the end of the month.” She pauses to reach back towards the mini desk, lifting the folder she lifts up a pamphlet, handing it to Daniela. “I’d start looking into end of life programs, whether it be here or back at home. I’m truly sorry.” She picks up the folder once more and leaves the room as if she didn’t just ruin their lives with her words.
The silence is almost unbearable, the only sound between them being the steady beeping of your heart machine. Yoonchae breaks first, a terrible sob escaping her. The sound so horrible Daniela has to look away as tears escape her.
She wishes she could comfort her, but she can’t move, sobs wracking through her keeping her stuck. But in some way, it’s comforting, knowing they are both mourning a loss that has not yet occurred.
The following days are terrible, with each moment you don’t wake up the worst everything seems to feel. Yoonchae has become a shell of herself only moving when she had to. Dani tries to get her to eat, knowing you’d kill her if you didn’t at least try to be there for her. So Dani tries to be strong, or at least appear strong. Truthfully she’s struggling, in the moments where she is by herself her thoughts are the only thing to accompany her. She finds they often lead to “what ifs,” her least favorite being the ones that wondered about that past. Wondered what life would be like if you both didn’t break up, if your insecurities hadn’t scared you from her.
She knows not much would be different, a sickness would still take you from her, and she’d still be hurting this terribly. The truth is Dani still loved you, and probably would love you until she died. She wasn’t stupid, she felt her feelings reignite, how could she not have been caring to her during this trip, even when she was cold to you you had been kind, and well forced proximity really works.
But it seemed like all that wouldn’t matter since you were…Dani shakes her head, refusing to think of it.
She wets the rag the hospital gave to her and wipes your neck gently, humming a song as she attempts to clean you.
“You always loved this song.” Your voice is hoarse and scares her slightly from the sudden interruption. It takes her a few moments to comprehend that you’re awake now. You smile at her, or as much you can and it’s enough for her to jump on.
“Sorry! Sorry!” She exclaims when you groan, jumping up from the bed.
“It’s okay.” You tell her though it’s rasped, and she can feel her eyes start to water. Your eyes soften, concern apparent in them. “Are you alright?”
Dani nods, though tears stream down her face. “I’m just really happy.”
You chuckle softly, before wincing. “Is it too much to ask for some water?” Daniela quickly shakes her head before leaving the room to go ask for some water and a nurse. When she steps out she bumps into Yoonchae, who looks at her confused. She doesn’t bother saying anything, she just smiles, squeezes her shoulder, and walks away.
You look up when you hear the door open again, shocked when you see Yoonchae.
“Chip…” Your words open the floodgate and she begins to cry. “Come here.” You open up your arms, but the younger doesn’t move and as you take a longer look you see the anger on her face.
“You lied!” She begins. “You told me I had nothing to worry about, but you already knew!”
You grip the blanket that covers you tightly as you swallow roughly, the dryness of your throat causing sharp pains. “I’m sorry.”
But the words do little to comfort her. “When were you going to tell me? Or were you just going to disappear from my life?” She yells roughly at you, her voice cracking slightly due to her sobs and you can’t do much but look at your down in shame. “Answer me!”
You don’t look up. “I’m sorry.” Your answer clearly isn’t the right one as she huffs shakily and yanks open the door. You hear Daniela yelp in surprise as Yoonchae passes her.
The blonde places the water on your bedside table. “What was that about?”
You look up with a frown. “She’s mad I didn’t tell her.” Daniela nods slowly in understanding, it was a sentiment she related to when she first found out, but your awakening deferred any remnants of anger she had.
“I’ll go look for her, just relax. The doctor should be coming in soon, okay?”
You thank her and watch as she leaves the room. It doesn’t take too long after for the doctor to arrive. “Glad to see you’re awake.” She waits for a response but when you don’t move she knows she won’t get one yet. “You may feel some pain in your throat for a bit but that is completely normal. Do you have any questions for me?”
“How much longer do I have?” The question shocks her but she doesn’t let it show.
“Not much longer. A couple weeks at most.”
You nod slowly before bringing your hands up to your face, dragging them roughly down it. Removing your hands you look at her. “When is the earliest I can be discharged?”
This time she can’t hide the shock as her eyes widen. “Uhh…tomorrow?”
“Okay.”
The doctor offers you a somber smile before patting your leg gently. “Get some rest for now.” You let your head fall back against the mattress, grateful that Daniela had repositioned the bed earlier. Sighing, exhaustion crashes like waves through your body. You grab the cup of water on your table and take a sip, wincing as the coolness causes a sharp pain in your throat.
You’re more thirsty than you know as you down a cup and pour yourself another. You stop at two though as the pain in your throat becomes too much. When you place the cup down the door opens and you immediately turn to look. You deflate slightly when only Dani walks in, which she notices.
“Is she okay?” You ask when Daniela sits in one of the chairs by your bed.
“Yeah, she’s just mad.” She places a hand atop of yours, rubbing it comfortingly. “Give her some time. Did the doctor come in?”
You nod as you move your hand to grip hers softly. “She said I can be discharged tomorrow.”
“She did?” It’s clear she has some doubts, but ignores it as you nod once more. She sighs and rubs your hand again. “Alright, I guess I’ll book our flights back to LA.”
Her words cause you to pop your head up. “What?”
“What’s wrong?”
You look around the room for your phone. “What day is it?”
Daniela’s eyebrows furrow in concern and confusion. “Tuesday. Why? What’s wrong?” You pause momentarily at her words, were you really gone for that long? Shaking your head you turn to her.
“We can’t go back to LA, we have to be in New York by Saturday.” She sighs before leaning in to get closer to you. Cupping your face gently she turns you slowly so you can look at her.
“Whatever you’re planning, don’t worry about it. You don’t owe me anything anymore, I forgive you. Let’s just go back home so you can rest.”
You bring your hand up to grab hers. “Please.” You can see the hesitation on her face. You squeeze her hand lightly to reassure her, and you know you’ve won when she sighs.
“Fine. But I’m driving and the moment you show signs of sickness we’re going home.” Smiling, you nod excitedly.
“I’m coming with you guys.” You both jump at the new voice and turn around, Daniela pulling her hand from you at the sight of Yoonchae. The youngest stands by the door eyeing you two but doesn’t comment on it as she goes to sit in the chair next to the latina.
“Of course.” You tell her a bit too quickly causing her to glare at you.
“This doesn’t mean I forgive you. But…I understand cause I would do the same. Maybe not all this traveling, but I would keep it to myself to not worry you. So while I’m super mad at you, I also understand you and I won’t let me being angry make it so I’m potentially not there when you…” She trails off, refusing to say the word, but the way she swallows harshly you know what she means. You lean towards her, grabbing her hand in means of comforting.
“I’m glad you’re coming with us. I like it better this way.” And Dani quickly agrees which causes a small smile to make its way onto Yoonchae’s face. She shakes her head and pulls her hand away from you.
“Anyways, New York is quite far, huh?”
“Very.” Dani says.
“Well good thing I love a good road trip!”
“Oh thank god!” Yoonchae exclaims as she jumps out of the car. “I cannot be in that car anymore.”
“I thought you love road trips?” You ask as you slam the car door shut behind you, amusement clear in your voice.
“That wasn’t a road trip, that was eighteen hours of straight hell.”
“Yeah maybe because you have the patience of a two year old.” Daniela says as she comes around the car. “Now come help me with the bags.” She turns to you, her features softening. “Can you check us in?”
“Yeah, I got it.” You walk up the stairs and into the hotel. Checking in was quite fast and when you head back outside you see Yoonchae sitting on your suitcase. You shake your head and turn to Daniela. “We’re all good to go.” She nods and lifts your bag up, when she looks at Yoonchae the younger groans and stands up.
“I talked to Giselle by the way, she is going to send some of your clothes over here so you don't have to worry about that stuff.” However, at your words Yoonchae groans again to your confusion.
“Don’t even mention that woman’s name to me.” You laugh at her words and it makes Yoonchae glare at you as you guys walk into the elevator. “You’re laughing but she legit tortured me.”
“How so?” Daniela asks with real concern.
“By being so boring that I genuinely wanted to die.” She freezes at the word and looks at you quickly. “Sorry.”
You wave her off and shake your head with a smile. “You know you hate her for being boring, but she seemed to have kept you safe.”
“Yeah because everything was deemed a threat to her, like literally everything. You know I once offered her a lollipop and she said things like that lead to cavities and can ruin my teeth permanently and shouldn’t be eaten so casually.” You look away to hide your laughter and walk out the elevator when it reaches your floor, Yoonchae dragging your suitcase with huff as Daniela follows behind her with an amused smile.
“Where’d you even find her?” The youngest asks as you guys approach the door.
“A blind date if you could believe it.” You open the door and step to the side holding it open for the other two. “We realized we were incompatible.”
“AKA she was too serious and you were bored out of your mind.” Yoonchae says as she places your suitcase against the wall. Daniela places the other bags next to the suitcase and goes back near the door.
“I gotta go move the car and bring my suitcase up. While I’m gone you guys choose dinner?”
“No need, I already decided we will eat pizza!” Yoonchae exclaims as she jumps on one of the beds and when Daniela looks at you you simply nod in agreement. “Alright then, I’ll be back.” When the door shuts behind her you go to sit next to Yoonchae who is sighing happily. “Hey.” Yoonchae pops her head up and raises a brow. “Can we talk?” The younger nods and sits up, scooting to the edge of the bed to sit next to you. You inhale lightly before speaking.
“How are you feeling?”
“I should be asking you that.” You tilt your head to the side and Yoonchae sighs. “I’m okay.”
“You sure?” And Yoonchae shrugs at the question.
“I guess, I mean I’m as okay as I can be.” You nod and before you can speak again she starts. “What are we going to do?”
“What do you mean?”
She purses her lips, rubbing her hand slightly against her sweatpants. “Do you think Dani can pass the auditions?” She questions this time and you nod. “Then if she gets chosen, what do we do?”
“Go back to LA.” But the answer doesn’t seem to satisfy Yoonchae as she frowns.
“And what about when you?...Well, you know.” You nod slowly as you realize what the real question Yoonchae is asking.
“Well, when I die.” The reference to your future causes the girl to flinch and you rest a hand on her now fidgeting one. “You will continue the business while attending college where you will find a girl that will make you want to quit the business all together and live a happy life. And in the future if you decide to have a kid, whether fur or human, you will tell them about their awesome aunt that went away for a while because she was just too great to have forever.” You pout as you see Yoonchae’s eyes start to shine due to unshed tears. You pull her into a hug and feel your shoulder start to get wet as she begins to cry. “Most importantly you’ll be okay, it will hurt at first but you’ll be okay.” You pull away from her and see tears streaming down her face, and you are brought back to when you had first met her. Bringing a hand up, you wipe some tears away. “It’ll be okay, Chip, I promise. Now let’s not worry about the future, no matter how close or far it is. Let’s focus on now, the present, where I am here, okay, with you.”
She nods and you pull her back into a hug. And as you two sat there, holding each other, you didn’t know that there was someone else who had heard you two.
“Can you please sit down, you’re driving me insane.” Yoonchae says as you pace back and forth in the waiting room.
“I can’t help it, I’m nervous.”
“I don’t know why you know Dani is going to get it.” You sigh at her words, nodding reluctantly as you take the seat next to Yoonchae.
“Didn’t Dani seem off to you this morning?”
“Yeah probably cause you told her she was going to audition for a tour of nowhere. Now relax.”
You huff as you lean back in the seat. “Whatever.”
“Hey.” You both look up. “Is that seat taken?” The new girl points towards the empty seat on the other side of Yoonchae. When Yoonchae doesn’t respond you shake your head. “No.”
The mystery girl nods and takes a seat and you watch as the younger girl stiffens. The orange girl leans forward slightly to see you. “I’m Megan.” She puts her hand out and you shake it, when she puts her hand in front of Yoonchae the younger grabs it weakly and barely shakes it causing you to eye her weirdly.
“I’m Y/N and this is Yoonchae.” You answer for the two of you since the other seemed frozen. Megan smiles widely at you two and you see Yoonchae’s breath catch.
“Are you guys from around here?” Megan asks and you shake your head.
“No, we’re from LA.”
“LA?” Megan yells and you jump. “My bad.” She apologizes quickly, looking very sheepish. “Wanted a change of scenery? I can’t imagine there is a lack of auditions in LA.”
You chuckle and nod. “You can say that. Are you from here?”
“No, I’m actually from further up north, I just moved here recently cause I’m going to college here in the fall.”
“Oh?” You ask with genuine curiosity. “Which college?”
“NYU.” Your eyebrows raise in surprise as you nod to show you’re impressed. But before you can compliment her Yoonchae speaks for the first time.
“I am too!” Her response causes both you and Megan to look at her, though with two different reasons. You stare at her in confusion while Megan looks happy.
“You are?” Megan asks. “That’s so cool, what are you studying?”
Yoonchae swallows roughly as she thinks. “Umm…computer science.”
“Oo, that’s so cool. I’m going for biochem. Hey, let’s exchange numbers so we can hang, maybe we can even dorm together!”
You hold back laughter as Yoonchae nods a little bit too enthusiastically. When she almost drops her phone you almost crack, but are able to hold it in. An older woman steps out of the audition room with a clipboard in her hand.
“The next five people we are seeing are 2416, 2419, 2435, 2444, and 2452.” She then turns around and walks back into the room. Megan stands with a wide smile.
“That’s me, I’ll text you later?” Yoonchae nods quickly and Megan waves goodbye as she enters the room.
“So…I didn’t know you got into NYU?” You ask when you turn to Yoonchae and she groans.
“Shut up.”
You laugh and she starts to hit you. You both pause when someone stands in front of you. When you guys realize it’s Dani you both stand.
“Hey.” She says casually, but you don’t let it distract you.
“What happened? Did you get it?”
Daniela pauses before nodding. “I did.”
You and Yoonchae immediately start celebrating, pulling her into a hug, but Daniela doesn’t move. She pulls away from you two and looks at you guys seriously. “I’m not taking it.” You and Yoonchae stop celebrating, looking at her confused and shocked.
“What? Why not?” You ask.
“Because I don’t want to spend whatever time you have left traveling without you. I’d rather stay with you and Yoonchae.” You look at her in shock before slowly nodding.
“You sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“Well.” You wrap an arm around her and Yoonchae and start heading towards the exit. “How you feel about moving to New York?”
She looks at you confused. “New York?”
“Yup apparently Yoonchae got accepted to NYU.”
Yoonchae groans loudly and you laugh.
3 months later
Your eyes flutter open, wincing slightly when the sun shines in your eyes. When your eyes finally adjust you sigh happily at the sight of snow.
The move to New York wasn’t the easiest, especially with Yoonchae attending college, and having to adapt to the drastically different weathers the east had experienced. But you loved it, especially when it snowed.
You sighed going to shift, but pausing when you felt the familiar weight on your chest. Smiling, you lift your hand and run your fingers through the curly hair.
You and Dani were inevitable, once back in LA to pack up your places, you had sat down and talked both coming to realization you still loved each other and wanted to be together for however long you had left.
None of you had expected you to make it past the end of the month, but now, three months later, you and Dani couldn’t be happier.
You gently push her off of you and get out of bed, pausing when she shifts in her sleep. When she seemingly settles you cover her with the rest of your blanket and get ready for the day.
The pan sizzles softly as you place butter in it. Grabbing the bowl next to you you pour some batter into the pan. You wait until the side facing up begins to have bubbles before flipping it over. As you wait for the pancake to finish you feel hands wrap around you.
Dani exhales against your neck as her cold hands ease their way into your shirt. You yelp as the cold shocks you but she just shushes you.
“You weren’t in bed.” Her voice is riddled with sleep and has a rare deepness in it that runs chills down your spine.
You hum softly in response. “Making us breakfast.” You mutter out, as you remove the pancake from the pan and start another. She doesn’t respond as she pulls you impossibly closer and attempts to nuzzle her face deeper into your neck. You finish just like that, the only sounds coming from the snow hitting the window and the pan sizzling.
Dani refuses to separate from you even when you place a plate at the seat she usually does. Sighing softly you turn around and hug her, resting your head on hers.
“You okay?” You ask her lowly, not wanting to interrupt the peaceful atmosphere. She nods against you and lays a small kiss on the base of your neck before pulling away and sitting down. Her eyebrows furrow as you head back to the kitchen and come back with two more plates.
“Who are those for?” She asks.
“Who do you think?” You ask back playfully. As if timed you hear a knock on the door and go to open it. When you come back this time you’re no longer alone.
“Good morning!” Megan yells and Dani winces.
“Babe.” Yoonchae starts. “Dani isn’t a morning person, remember?”
The girl smiles sheepishly before apologizing and taking a seat in front of Daniela. You sit next to the blonde as Yoonchae goes to sit across from you.
You guys start to eat without another word. Once the first month had passed and you seemed to be getting better Yoonchae demanded you meet up daily, just in case something were to happen.
“Got any plans today?” You ask before taking another bite of your food.
“Class.” Yoonchae answers, her mouth full of food, but before you could scold her the girl beside her does it for you. “Sorry.” She says, her cheeks red in embarrassment.
“Do you guys have any plans?” Megan asks.
You shake your head slightly. “No, Dani has rehearsal later. So probably just finishing this show we’ve been binge watching.”
“Well actually,” Dani speaks for the first time. “Rehearsal was cancelled for today, so we can do anything.”
“Really?” You pause to think. “How about we go sledding?”
Dani perks up and nods excitedly.
“I wish we could go.” Megan pouts. “However, I know this really secret place you guys could go to. Discovered it when I first moved here, no one seems to know about it, I can send you the details later if you’d like.”
“That’d be great!”
When breakfast finishes the two college students leave, not after Yoonchae makes sure to remind you that she loves you which you assure her that you know and you love her too. And when Megan sends you the instructions on how to get to the place you and Dani get dressed and leave.
The heater blows loudly in the Jeep and Dani plays softly with your right hand. “How are you feeling?” She asks you. It was a question you were used to her and Yoonchae asking due to an underlying fear they have had since the moment they found out about your condition.
You bring her hand up to your lips and press a kiss softly to the back of it. “I’m okay.” She sighs softly and nods. You can feel a slight somberness fill the air and frown. “Hey, let’s worry about how I’m going to beat you in every race today.” That seems to be enough for Daniela's mind to shift.
“Yeah alright.” She pauses in thought. “Wanna make a bet?”
“I’m listening.”
“Whoever loses has to do the house chores for the next month.”
“Oh you’re on.”
When you guys arrive at the spot you are happy to see there are no other cars in the small parking lot. Going to the trunk you pull out two sleds, handing one to Daniela when she comes to your side.
With a sled in both of your hands you head start to head down the trail to the small slope Megan said would be there. The walk is a bit difficult due to the thickness of the snow, but you guys are in no rush so you don’t mind. Walking past a few trees you come to an opening where the snow is untouched and some tall plants pop up out of the ground.
Inhaling the cold air you close your eyes slightly, enjoying the cold biting at your cheeks. You open your eyes when Dani bumps you with her shoulder.
“You ready to get destroyed?” And when you nod she pushes you into the snow making you laugh in disbelief as she sleds down the small hill.
After a few races, with her taking victory, you both lay side by side at the end of the slope, snow wetting your hats and making chills run through you both. You don’t mind it though as you take in the blue of the sky.
“Hey.” She calls and you turn your head to look at her. “You think we can find a four leaf clover here?”
You sit up and look at her confused. “What?”
She raises her hand and in her gloved hand you see a clover. “So?” And that’s all it takes for you both to pop up, running opposite ways to be the first to find the clover.
You take off your gloves and stuff them in your pocket when you realize your hands are getting wet anyways. Brushing some snow back you find the layer of clovers, plucking some you sigh when you come up empty. Moving to another spot you do the same, only this time freezing when you find it. Plucking it you lift it up, laughing in disbelief at your find.
“Dani!” You exclaim, though you’re not too sure if she heard you as you look down again only this time your heart drops.
You feel the familiar feeling of wetness flow down your face, and on your hand you see red. Bringing your hand up you wipe at your nose in disbelief and when you pull it away to look you see blood. You let out a shaky breath as you stagger, your head throbbing in pure pain. When you try to walk you stumble, falling to the ground, and a gust of wind blows away the clover.
You can tell immediately that this is it. Death has found you finally and you’re terrified.
Your hand shakes as your vision goes blurry, sharp pains fill in your brain. Each breath you take is choked as you struggle, your chest staggering.
You lose feeling in your hands first, no longer do you feel the numbness of the cold. A tear runs down your face as you start to beg, though you are not sure to who. The sky is a flawless blue, the only white coming from a jet flying through the sky, but you are not at peace as you sob.
“Please.” You say, though it comes out low and barely even whole. Your life starts to flash in front of your eyes as your heart starts to slow and you try to push it away. But as your vision begins to blacken you know there is nothing you can do.
You hear Daniela screaming for you in the small moments of clarity you have and you use every bit of strength you have left to turn your head towards her. As your vision begins to flash in and out you see her running towards you, stumbling as she screams. You want to go to her. You want to get up and tell her you were just joking, and then call Yoonchae to tell her about the amazing prank you had just pulled. But you can’t.
Your vision darkens longer this time, almost as if you closed your eyes, but you know you didn’t. At least you think you didn’t, your body is no longer yours to control as your eyes feel heavy and the rest of you feels missing.
When you can see once more you see Dani is in front of you and she’s sobbing, you so badly want to tell her it’s okay, but no words leave your mouth. She picks up your hand and puts it on her cheek, and you wish you could feel her warmth one last time. Your eyes shut once more, and when you open them again you know it will be the last time that you do.
You see Dani speaking, but your hearing is long gone, as terrible silence fills you now. With one last look at her you try to convey that it’ll be okay, that you love her and Yoonchae. You watch her press a kiss to your palm before the darkness takes over you.
pupu... you never disappoint to hurt me; I can always count on your splendidly written stories to cause me pain — teach me how to write angst pupu, I want to hurt y/n too🥺
Do you have a master list?? I wanna binge read your fics and I don’t have a laptop anymore to have most of them pulled up on more tabs LMAO >:3
yes, i have three? uhm just because they're categorized to what they are.. but they're there, it's the small icons that you'll see on my pinned post c:
Paring: GP! Karina x F! Reader
Prompt: While waiting for your girlfriend to join you for a horror movie night, you receive an unsettling phone call from an unknown number.
CW: Minors DNI, GP! Karina, filthy smut, murder, masturbation, voyeurism, cunnilingus, mirror kink, bj, power imbalance, possessive behavior, asphyxiation, creampies, cockwarming, pet names, derogatory, curse words | Reader discretion is advised.
Wordcount: ~8.5k
a/n 1: happy karina day! ❤️
a/n 2: I would have posted this for halloween last year, but I got busy with work & life... I also revised and unnecessarily extended this; also by the time this is posted, I'll be in Japan for vacation. I'll be back soon c:
With your parents away on a business trip, you had planned an evening of trashy horror movies, your eyes glazing over from the non-stop screen time. Yunjin, your girlfriend, was supposed to join you, but she remained silent all evening. It seems she's drowning her liver in alcohol with her friends, completely forgetting about you. Just as you're about to press play on the remote, your phone rings.
Upon checking the caller ID, an unknown number stares back at you. You answer hesitantly, "Hello?"
A raspy, distorted voice, unmistakably feminine, sends shivers down your spine. "Hey sweetheart," she purrs, making your skin crawl.
"Who is this? Yunjin?" You question, wondering if one of her friends coerced her into playing a prank on you. "This isn't funny, baby."
"Just call me Ghostface, Y/n."
Ghostface? How does she know my name?
"Enjoying your movie?" Ghostface inquires, her mischievous tone unmistakable.
"I was, before some random creep called me," you retort sarcastically.
"Awh, c'mon sweetheart, I know you want to talk to me," she croons, "why else would you still be on this call?"
With a sigh, you lean back against the sofa, examining your nails. "Hmm, I guess you're right."
"Where is your girlfriend tonight, Y/n? Yunjin, was it?" Ghostface asks.
"How do you know that?" You're met with silence. "She was supposed to be here a while ago, but I think she ditched me."
"I don't know about that. Want to say a few words, Yunjin?" A gasp of your name precedes a muffled scream, causing you to bolt upright and pace the living room.
"Who the fuck are you!? What the hell are you doing with my girlfriend!?" Panic and worry for Yunjin's safety consume you, but you soon brush it off as an elaborate, twisted prank.
"Tsk, don't tell me you're actually concerned for her," Ghostface pauses, allowing Yunjin's muffled whimpers to fill the silence. "Remember two weeks ago, when you wished she was dead? How about a couple months back when you received those videos of her screwing Chaewon? Who do you think sent you those videos, hm?"
Stunned, you struggle to comprehend how anyone could know about the videos. You hadn't told a soul, and you never intended to. Yunjin had been horrible to you back then, and you thought you could move past it until she touched you last week. "Y-You?" you stammer.
"Good girl," Ghostface praises, as you put the pieces together.
Fuck. It's been months since you last shuddered with release, and she's the reason. Your girlfriend, Yunjin, had stripped you of that pleasure, leaving your body yearning and unfulfilled. Ever since you discovered her betrayal, you couldn't bear to lay a finger on her. Those videos still haunted you, tainting your view of the woman you once loved.
Last week, while working on a school project, the dam burst, and the accusation slipped from your lips. Yunjin's reaction was explosive—she slapped you, her eyes filled with indignation. You retaliated, spitting venomous words that wished her dead, just to end the torment gnawing at your insides. But how had Ghostface found out? Had she been watching you?
"Why don't you join me in the backyard, darling?" she coos, her voice dripping with smug satisfaction. Intrigued and uneasy, you follow her request, stepping onto the cool concrete by the pool. Across the water, a figure swathed in black stands beside Yunjin, who's bound to a chair with duct tape. Your heart stutters, and your breath catches, a potent mix of emotions swirling in your chest.
"What the fuck is going on?" you demand, trying to mask your fear with anger. "What are you planning to do to her?" You can't help the surge of relief that Yunjin is restrained and powerless.
"Isn't it obvious, darling?" Ghostface's voice is steady and cold. "I'm killing her. For you."
For me?
For me?
Your frustration boils over, and you scream, “I don’t even know you! Why would you do this for me?” You shudder at the idea of this stranger interfering in your personal affairs.
"Oh, but I know you, Y/n," she sings, tilting her head as if examining a prized possession. "I know so much about you."
"So, you're a stalker?" you ask, the word tasting bitter in your mouth.
"No, no," she laughs softly. "I'm protecting you." Ghostface reveals a knife, its blade glinting in the moonlight as she traces it along Yunjin's neck.
The echoing words in your mind make you shudder. This stranger, this Ghostface, claims to know you, to understand you in a way Yunjin never could. And as she presses the blade against Yunjin’s throat, a thin line of blood begins to trickle down, something inside you snaps.
"Do it," you breathe, the words spilling from your lips before you can even register them.
Yunjin's eyes widen, her irises swallowing the deep brown hue as terror takes hold. Her pleading stare begs for your intervention, but the sight of Ghostface slicing through her jugular sends a surge of satisfaction coursing through you. The blood pools around her, creating a gruesome halo that leaves you entranced.
You watch, ravished, as Yunjin’s body convulses in its final moments, struggling for breath that will never come. Her desperate gasps fade into silence, and she lies still in a crimson puddle. Ghostface’s voice, a sultry purr, chills you to the bone as she turns toward you.
"Oh, Y/n, I knew you'd be just like me."
She snaps a photo of the two of you, preserving the twisted memory of the night you found solace in the most unexpected of places. As you gaze upon the image, you can't help but feel a perverse sense of satisfaction. Yunjin had hurt you, and now she'd paid the ultimate price—Yunjin is dead.
The woman who had tormented you throughout your relationship now lay still in a pool of her own blood. A strange sense of liberation washes over you as you meet Ghostface's gaze. She approaches, cupping your face in her gloved hands, and you find an odd comfort in their cold grasp.
"Y-You… actually killed her," you stammer, still reeling from the surreal turn of events. She tenderly wipes away the hot tears that streak down your cheeks. "Why are you crying, Y/n? This is what you wanted, remember?"
You struggle to find the words, your heart racing as you avoid the dark voids of her ghostly mask, instead focusing on Yunjin's lifeless form. "Right now, I've never wanted someone more than I do in my life," you admit, your voice barely a whisper.
"What are you trying to say, sweetheart? Do you want me?" You roll your eyes, irritated by her taunting, as you break free from her hold. "You want to know something, sweetheart?" she continues, her voice low and seductive. "I see the way you touch yourself at night after your girlfriend runs home."
"What?" you demand, shocked that she could possibly know such an intimate detail about your life.
“You’re such a tease, Y/n,” she purrs, making your body shiver. “You leave your curtains open, allowing anyone to see your beautiful face as you come undone. It’s as if you’ve been craving this all along—being stalked, watching your cheating girlfriend die, and now, begging to be fucked by me. You’re asking for it, sweetheart.”
Ghostface's words resonate within you, and you realize just how true they are. Yunjin had never truly satisfied you, especially in the past few months. The thought of someone witnessing your most private moments had secretly thrilled you, and the knowledge that Ghostface had taken the life of the woman who hurt you was almost enough to make you whisper, ‘I love you’. It doesn't help that Ghostface is swathed in an ominous, dark outfit that clings to her lithe figure, or that her voice—deep and raspy, even with the distortion from her voice modulator—makes you wonder how she'd sound as she moans in ecstasy.
"I can see it in your eyes, darling. It's written all over your face," she murmurs, her fingers gently brushing away the remaining tears. You hide your flushed cheeks in your hands, ashamed by your desires but unable to deny them any longer.
“Why don’t you head upstairs, I’ll take care of the mess here,” she whispers, the suggestion sending shivers down your spine. You nod, your legs wobbling like jelly as you make your way back inside the house, your thoughts consumed by the tantalizing promise of what’s to come.
You rush upstairs to your bedroom, your heart pounding in your chest as a maelstrom of emotions swirls within you. The adrenaline from witnessing Yunjin's death still courses through your veins, mingling with the guilt of your complicity and the undeniable arousal that's been building since Ghostface first spoke to you. As you sink onto your bed, the events of the evening replay in vivid detail behind your eyelids.
Yunjin's lifeless body, crumpled on the concrete. The wicked glint of Ghostface's blade as it sliced through flesh. The intoxicating sense of power that surged through you in that moment, watching the life drain from the woman who hurt you so deeply. These images dance in your mind, intertwining with lustful fantasies of Ghostface's dominating presence, her raspy voice promising dark delights.
No longer able to resist, your fingers trace down your body to where the fabric clings to your warmth. The cotton of your shorts is soaked, and as your fingers press firmly, the material drags sensually over your sensitive skin, pressing into your throbbing clit. Each slow circle teases a shiver from your spine, with the friction sending waves of pleasure through you. Your hips lift instinctively, creating a delicious rhythm as your fingers slip expertly over the wet fabric, tracing the outline of your folds beneath. The room fills with your breathy moans, the tantalizing barrier of the cloth heightening every sensation, keeping you on edge in a blend of desire and restraint.
As your pleasure builds, you pinch and roll one nipple between thumb and forefinger while biting down on your lip. Your hips undulate in longing as increasing slickness gathers at the entrance below. Your breathing quickens as one hand slides lower, dipping between the wet folds of flesh to find the aching bud nestled within.
Your back arches off the bed as you stroke yourself more insistently. In your mind's eye, you see Ghostface looming over you, her hungry gaze fixated on where your fingers disappear into inviting wetness. You wonder what her face looks like beneath the mask—whether she bites her lip in arousal or if her eyes go dark with desire.
You pick up the pace, fingers working feverishly between your legs. Your free hand clenches the sheets, wishing it could grip her dark robes as you imagine her lips and tongue tasting your intimate center. A moan slips past your lips as you tease and rub your sensitive clit, increasingly desperate for release.
As your impending orgasm builds, your thighs tremble and toes curl into the mattress, chasing the sensation of pleasure that threatens to overwhelm you. With a grunt of frustration, you plunge two fingers deeper inside yourself, seeking that final push to bring you over the edge. Panting and gasping for air, you're teetering on the brink of completion—
Suddenly, the creak of the door makes your eyes fly wide open. Hand frozen in place, you whip your head toward the sound to see Ghostface standing in the doorway, head tilted slightly as she takes in the explicit scene before her. Heat floods your face at being caught in such a vulnerable, intimate moment. But even stronger than the embarrassment is the exhilaration of excitement that courses through you under her unseen gaze.
Pulse pounding between your legs, you swallow hard as Ghostface takes slow, deliberate steps into the room. Each step brings her closer to the bed, to you splayed out wantonly for her to devour with her eyes. When she reaches the edge of the mattress, her masked face angles down, and you can feel her stare raking over every inch of your exposed skin. Goosebumps prickle in the wake of her examination. Your lungs seize, breath catching in your throat as anticipation mounts.
"Don't stop on my account, sweetheart," Ghostface purrs, the deep rasp sending tremors down your spine to your aching core. "Go on—show me how badly you want it."
You hesitate only a moment before continuing to pleasure yourself, keenly aware of Ghostface settling into a chair across from the bed to enjoy the show. As your fingers resume their needy strokes, your heavy-lidded gaze drifts over to drink in the sight of her. She sprawls back and spreads her legs wide, drawing your attention to the prominent bulge barely concealed by the thin black denim. Your breath hitches, arousal spiking at the physical proof of her desire for you.
With a deliberate slowness that borders on tortuous, Ghostface approaches the bed, looming over you. Her gloved hands, cold against your feverish skin, skim along your sides as she helps you remove your shirt. You wriggle out of your shorts, leaving you completely bare and exposed to her penetrating stare. Quivering under the weight of her unseen but palpable appreciation, you feel utterly vulnerable—and more aroused than you've ever been in your life.
Ghostface steps back, letting her hands fall away. Your needy whimper gets caught in your throat as she begins to undress with meticulous allure. The black robe parts and slides off her shoulders, pooling at her feet, revealing a perfectly sculpted body with alluring curves and latent strength. Your eager eyes take in every inch of exposed skin until she hooks her thumbs in her waistband. Her pants and underwear join the robe on the floor, and your mouth goes dry at the sight of her thick cock springing forward, striking her firm abdomen, already glistening at the tip with pearlescent beads of precum.
She stands before you in all her naked glory, a flawless body that seems carved from marble—save for the mask that remains in place, shrouding her face in mystery and adding an illicit edge to the erotic scene. Your hands itch to reach out and touch, to map the hills and valleys of sleek muscle and soft skin. To worship the deadly, perfect creature who killed for you.
The very air seems to crackle and dance with the tension stretching taut between your naked bodies. A dark, mocking chuckle drifts from behind the mask as Ghostface regards your wanton, needy form splayed out before her like an offering.
"Oh sweetheart, you're so greedy," she croons, voice dripping with cruel amusement. "Can't even wait a moment, can you? Such a desperate little slut."
In a move almost too swift to track, she leans down, one gloved hand gripping your chin as she looms over you. The blank eyes of the mask bore into yours, pinning you in place as effectively as any physical restraint.
"You'll get what you want, Y/n," she promises, words laced with dark intent. Her thumb drags over your trembling bottom lip. "But only when I say so."
With swift movements, she produces a roll of duct tape, securing your wrists above your head to the bedpost. The knife that ended Yunjin's life glints in the dim light as Ghostface cuts a strip from her discarded robe, using it to blindfold you. The fabric is still warm from her body and reeks of blood. Your heart pounds wildly in your chest, each beat a loud echo in the chilling silence.
"That pretty mouth of yours..." Her distorted voice sneers in your ear. "I'll put it to good use later." She snatches your damp underwear, still slick with arousal, and forces it into your mouth as a makeshift gag. The fabric tastes musky against your tongue as you whimper and squirm against the restraints. Her gloved hands trail down your body, over your stomach, and between your legs, spreading your thighs wide apart.
Without warning, Ghostface dives between your thighs, her tongue was on you in an instant, greedy and relentless. She didn’t tease, didn’t play—she went straight for your clit, lapping at it like it was her last meal. You gasped, your back arching off the bed as her tongue flicked and circled, each movement sending jolts of electricity straight to your core. She moaned against you, the vibrations making your toes curl and your thighs tremble.
“That’s it sweetheart,” she growled, lifting her head just enough to speak before diving back in. “Let me hear you. Let me know how much you love this.”
And you did. You loved it. Her tongue was a weapon, stabbing and swirling, licking and sucking until you were nothing but a quivering mess. Your hands strained desperately against the duct tape binding your wrists, fingers flexing in a futile attempt to break free. Each movement only heightened your sensitivity, driving you wild. Your hips bucked uncontrollably, seeking more of her relentless touch as she expertly worked you over. The edge of her mask scraped against your sensitive skin, the sharp contrast of cold and heat only making you wilder.
“Pleas-,” you whimpered against the makeshift gag, the words muffled and almost indistinct. You weren’t even sure what you were begging for—more, less, or simply release. Your mind was a haze of sensation, unable to process anything beyond the raw need coursing through you.
Ghostface chuckled, her voice a teasing melody that curled through the air. “Please what, sweetheart?” She paused, letting the silence stretch, her intent clear in the way she savored every syllable. “You know what I want Y/n—use your words.”
But you couldn’t. You were too far gone, teetering on the edge of an orgasm so intense it felt like it might kill you. She knew it, too. She always knew. With one final, brutal flick of her tongue, she sent you hurtling over the edge. Your body seized up, every muscle tightening as you came hard, repeating her name like a mantra. Your pussy clenched around nothing, gushing wetness that Ghostface eagerly drank down, her tongue lapping at your folds like she was starving for it.
“Fuck,” she murmured, pulling back just enough to admire her handiwork. “You’re so fucking wet Y/n. Look at this mess.” She dragged a gloved finger through your slickness, holding it up to the light before slipping it into her mouth with a low moan. "So sweet, so responsive. I knew you'd be perfect for me the moment I first watched you touch this greedy little cunt."
Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, but she wasn’t done with you. Not even close. Before you could recover, Ghostface reached over, her fingers deftly removing the makeshift gag and blindfold. You gasped at the sudden freedom, but she gave you no time to savor it. With the knife in hand, she sliced through the restraints on your wrists, freeing you but leaving you feeling even more exposed.
"Relax darling," she whispered, her breath hot against your neck as she crawled up your body. Her naked skin was a fiery contrast to yours as she pressed the mask against your neck, grinding her cock against your soaked pussy. "I want you ready for me—to take everything I give you."
"Do you feel that Y/n?" she murmured, her voice dripping with sexual depravity. "That's how much you turn me on, sweetheart. I'm so fucking hard for you."
You could feel it—every throbbing inch of her pressing against your entrance, demanding without words. You wanted her inside you, needed it so badly it hurt. And she knew it.
"Beg for it Y/n," she growled, her hips grinding against you in slow, deliberate circles. "Beg for my cock."
With newfound freedom, your hands reached up to clutch at her shoulders. "Please," you moaned, your voice trembling with desperation. "Please, I-I need it. Fuck m-me with your cock.”
"That's my girl," she purred, her hand sliding between your bodies to line herself up. And then, with one sharp thrust, she was inside you, filling you so completely it stole the breath from your lungs. You cried out, your nails digging into her back as she began to move, her hips slamming into yours with a ferocity that left no room for gentleness.
"Mine," she snarled, her hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises. "This greedy little pussy is mine. Say it sweetheart, I need to hear it."
"Y-Yours," you choked out, your voice breaking on a sob as she hit that sweet spot deep inside you. "Only y-yours."
She fucked you like she owned you—and maybe she did. Her cock pistoned in and out of you, each thrust pushing you closer to climax again. You could feel the wet slap of skin on skin, hear the filthy sound of your pussy taking her in. And through it all, she watched you, those cold, empty eyes of the mask somehow seeming alive with lust.
Her gloved hand gripped your hip, fingers digging into your flesh like she was afraid you’d try to escape. But you wouldn’t. You couldn’t. You were too busy arching your back, pressing your breasts against her naked form, skin flushed and electrified with need. Every ragged breath was a plea, begging for more of her unyielding rhythm. Your hardened nipples grazed against her smooth skin, sending electric shivers down your spine. Her other hand tangled in your hair, yanking your head back so hard your vision blurred. She leaned down, her mask pressing into the crook of your neck, her breath hot and ragged against your skin.
“You’re so fucking tight,” she growled, her voice raw and needy, like she was barely holding herself together. “Squeezing my cock like you don’t want me to leave. But we both know you’re a greedy little slut, don’t we? Loving how my cock is rearranging your insides.”
You whimpered, your pussy pulsing around her as if to prove her point. She laughed—a low, dark sound that sent shivers down your spine—and then she was fucking you harder, faster, her cock slamming into you with a force that made your toes curl and your mind reeling. You could feel the head of her dick brushing against your cervix, that delicious mix of pain and pleasure that had you teetering on the edge.
“Come for me,” she demanded, her voice raw and ragged. “I want to feel that tight little pussy milk my cock, sweetheart.”
You didn’t need to be told twice. The coil in your belly snapped, and you came apart around her, your pussy clamping down on her cock like a vice as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Your body convulsed, your thighs trembling with the sheer force of your release. Every nerve seemed to ignite as your nails dragged down her back, leaving fiery trails in their wake as you rode out the most intense climax of your life.
Ghostface groaned, her rhythm faltering as she felt you clench around her. “Mmh-, Fuck,” she snarled, her hips stuttering, her cock twitching inside you. “You’re perfect. So fucking perfect, my good girl.”
But she didn’t stop. No, she kept pounding into you, her thrusts relentless even as your orgasm subsided, even as your body started to feel oversensitive and raw. She was relentless, mocking your helplessness as she battered your sweet spot, each deep and deliberate shove a reminder of just how easily she could unravel you with a touch.
“God, you’re perfect,” she panted, collapsing on top of you, her weight pressing you into the mattress. Her mask was slick with sweat, but she didn’t take it off. No, she wanted you to remember who was doing this to you. Who owned you. “My perfect little slut. My sweetheart.”
You lay there, trembling and completely undone, your cunt still fluttering around her cock as she pulled out of you with a wet, lewd squelch. You could feel the sticky mess of your own release dripping down your thighs, but you barely had time to catch your breath before she was flipping you onto your stomach, spreading your ass cheeks wide.
Her gloved hand landed a sharp smack on your ass, the sound echoing through the room like a gunshot. You yelped, but the sting only made your pussy clench in anticipation. “I haven’t cum yet Y/n,” she growled, lining herself up with your entrance. “I’m going to fuck you until you’re overflowing.”
And then she was inside you again, her cock sliding into your slick, swollen cunt with ease. She pressed down on your head, tangling her fingers in your hair and shoving your face into the pillow. Her other hand gripped your hip, pulling you back to meet each thrust, each one deeper and harder than the last.
You moaned into the pillow, your ass bouncing with every shove, your pussy stretched impossibly wide around her girth. She was relentless, her pace unyielding, her grip unbreakable. You were hers—totally, completely hers—and she was going to make sure you never forgot it.
You were drooling as Ghostface rams her hard cock into your pussy with a relentless, primal pace. She buries it deep within you, making you moan as she stretches your walls to their limit. "Mmh, ‘m so full…" you pant, your voice airy and breathless, "so big... so thick. You're splitting me apart." Your fingers dig into the soft comforter underneath you, nails clawing at the fabric.
Ghostface grunts with smug satisfaction, her hips never faltering in their relentless rhythm. "Your pussy hugs my cock so perfectly," she groans, her voice muffled by the mask, "like it was made just for me. I've imagined this countless times, but the reality is so much better." Her fingers dig into your hips as she continues to pound into you mercilessly. "You were made for this," she growls, her breath hot against your ear, "to be beautifully filled with my cock over and over again, for me to take you."
Her leather-clad hand tightens its grip on your hair, wrenching your head back harshly and forcing your arching back to collide with her firm chest. The other hand roughly cups your chin, compelling you to look at the mirror on your bedroom wall. "Keep your eyes open," she hisses, her distorted voice thick with lust, "see how pretty you are taking my cock. I've imagined fucking you like this, in front of the mirror, forcing you to watch me fuck you."
Your eyes lock onto your reflection, transfixed by the sight of Ghostface's masked figure looming behind you, hips pistoning relentlessly into your pliant body. Overwhelmed by the intensity, you beg "P-Please choke me. Fuck m-me deeper, please!"
Ghostface brashly adjusts her grip on your throat, wrapping her strong, gloved hand around your neck and applying just the right amount of pressure to cut off your air supply without suffocating you. As she does this, her other hand leaves your hip and travels up to your breast. She squeezes roughly, the cool leather of her glove contrasting with the heat of your skin. She pulls and twists your hardened nipple, eliciting a whimper of painful pleasure from between your parched lips. Your toes curl in response to the exquisite pain-pleasure combination.
"I jerk off so often to the thought of breaking into your room and fucking you while you sleep," Ghostface confesses in a low, gravelly voice, panting with arousal. "No one would ever have to know. I've cum to the sound of your pretty little moans countless times as you touched yourself—me watching from your window." She pauses, her voice dripping with lust and intimidation. "But you love that don't you? Someone secretly getting off to you, watching your every move, seeing you for the whore you really are."
Your nails dig into her sweat-slicked hips, desperation fueling your grip as you yank her against you, like you're trying to fuse your bodies together. Her engorged cock, throbbing and hard, pistons in and out of you, the swollen head battering against your cervix, sending shockwaves of raw pleasure through your core. The room echoes with the lewd symphony of your fucking—the sharp, rhythmic slap of flesh meeting flesh, the ragged, gasping breaths tearing from your throats, and the obscene, wet sucking sounds of her juicy cock plowing through your soaked pussy.
As if not satisfied enough, Ghostface changes pace and begins to pound into you mercilessly. Her hips collide with yours with such force that it feels like she will break through your cervix entirely. Every ridge and vein of her thick cock battering against your inner walls makes stars dance in front of your eyes. "No one will ever hurt you like she did again Y/n," she growls with deadly seriousness. "They'll be dead before they even lay a finger on you."
Your heart swells at her vow, the intensity of her possessiveness striking a chord within you. It's all you ever wanted, someone to love and protect you with such ferocity. You moan wantonly at her words, feeling her cock twitch inside you. "It's y-you, only you can m-make me feel like this…," you gasp out, eyes shut, drunk on her lust for you. "I n-need you to p-protect me, l-love me, please!"
"Gonna fill you up with my cum, sound good sweetheart?" Ghostface growls, her hips stuttering as she nears her own release. You hum your assent just as your orgasm crashes over you, pulling you under in a tidal wave of ecstasy. Ghostface follows with a guttural groan in your ear, her cock pulsing as it pumps you full of her thick, hot seed.
"All good, darling?" she asks, gently maneuvering your spent bodies into a comfortable position, still buried deep inside you. Her gloved hand soothingly caresses your matted hair, lulling you into a sated sleep as you bask in the warmth of her presence. "So full, so… so good," you mumble, already drifting off, feeling utterly safe and cherished.
Epilogue
Your eyes flutter open, the morning light filtering in through the curtains as your senses slowly awaken. The first thing you notice is the comforting weight of Ghostface's arms wrapped possessively around your waist, pulling you flush against her lithe frame. Her skin feels like silk against yours, the heat radiating from her form enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth and safety.
You inhale deeply, the intoxicating scent of your lovemaking still clinging to the sheets—a heady musk of sweat, sex, and something uniquely her. The memories of last night come flooding back—desperate hands groping heated flesh, tongue and lips marking territory, bodies joined as one in the throes of passion. Your cunt clenches at the vivid recollections.
Shifting slightly, you feel the unmistakable shape of Ghostface's semi-hard cock nestled snugly between your legs, the evidence of your tryst painting your inner thighs. A shiver runs through you at the delicious soreness between your legs, a reminder of how thoroughly and attentively she had taken you, over and over until you were boneless and sated.
Pulse quickening, you slowly turn in her embrace to face your savior, careful not to wake her. Curiosity thrums within you like a living thing—with a trembling hand, you reach up to finally unmask the woman who had so ardently defended your honor, who made you feel more alive and desired than you ever had before.
Your fingers find the edge of the iconic ghost face visage and gently tug it free. Raven locks spill out, no longer confined in their usual shroud. The mask drops away to reveal achingly familiar features, now softened by sleep and free of her usual glasses.
Karina. The Karina. Your heart swells near to bursting with gratitude and overwhelming affection for this beautiful, complex woman—your classmate, your stalker, your killer, your lover.
Tears prick the corners of your eyes as you drink in every detail of her face, committing it to memory. The elegant slope of her nose, the sharp cut of her cheekbones, the plush petal pink of her slightly parted lips. In this unguarded moment, she looks almost innocent, a far cry from the deadly sociopath who had ruthlessly killed for you and then so thoroughly claimed you.
Leaning in, you press your lips against hers, pouring every ounce of emotion into the kiss. Karina's lips are soft and yielding beneath your own, and you feel her body melt into your embrace as you deepen the kiss, your tongue delving into the warmth of her mouth.
As Karina's eyes flutter open, a mixture of confusion and joy washes over her face, her dark irises shimmering with unshed tears. "Y/n..." she breathes out, almost reverently, as if she can't quite believe this is real.
You smile softly, tenderly cupping her face in your hands as your thumb traces the curve of her cheekbone. "My protector, my savior..." you whisper against her lips, your breath mingling with hers, "my love."
The words hang heavy in the air between you, weighted with meaning and promise. Karina's breath hitches, her eyes widening slightly before they soften, brimming with adoration and devotion. "I've always been yours, Y/n," she murmurs, "from the moment I first saw you. I knew I would do anything to keep you safe, to make you mine."
Your heart soars at her declaration, warmth blossoming in your chest and spreading to the tips of your fingers and toes. Overcome with emotion, you capture her lips in another searing kiss, trying to convey everything you feel—the depth of your affection, your need, your eternal commitment.
Karina responds with equal fervor, her strong arms encircling your waist and pulling you flush against her lithe body. Her hands roam your bare curves possessively, leaving trails of heat in their wake. You melt into her touch, surrendering yourself completely to the intensity of the bond you share.
Your hands begin their exploration, mapping the familiar terrain of her body with reverent care. Fingertips glide over her skin, tracing paths downwards with deliberate slowness. Each caress is a silent promise—a vow of eternal devotion and protection that binds you both together.
Your touch finds its way lower still until it encounters the rigid heat of her growing erection. A shiver courses through you at the realization of her desire, mirrored by your own. You take Karina's thick cock in your hand, feeling it pulse with life under your fingers.
Sliding down to position yourself between her toned legs, you lock eyes with Karina's intense gaze. Your hand moves to grip the base of her shaft, feeling it pulse hotly against your palm. Leaning in, you drag your tongue along the sensitive underside, relishing her sharp intake of breath at the sensation.
Slowly, teasingly, you trail open-mouthed kisses along her rigid length, worshipping every throbbing inch. When you reach the tip, you swirl your tongue around to lap up the leaking precum, savoring the salty-sweet taste that is uniquely Karina. She groans softly, one hand fisting in the sheets.
"Fuck, Y/n..." Karina breathes out shakily as you take the swollen head into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks to suck lightly. Her hips cant upwards, seeking more of your wet heat.
Releasing her with an obscene pop, you dip your head lower to nuzzle her heavy balls. You take them into your mouth one at a time, rolling them gently with your tongue, feeling them draw up tight. Karina's breathy moans spur you on as you lavish them with attention.
Your hand finds her spit-slicked shaft again, fingers curling around the thick girth. You stroke her slowly from base to tip, squeezing and twisting in the way that makes her abs clench and her thighs tremble. Karina grows impossibly harder in your grip, her cock twitching with barely restrained need.
Meeting Karina's heated gaze, you take just the bulbous head into your mouth. You moan at the taste of her, salty and musky on your tongue as you swirl it around the ridge. More precum gushes from the slit and you lap it up greedily, relishing how it coats your tastebuds.
Your lips stretch wide to accommodate her substantial girth, the corners of your mouth pulled taut as you work to swallow her down. You feel every prominent vein and ridge slide across your tongue, the hard, velvety flesh pulsing against your palate.
Karina's gloved fingers tangle into your hair, firmly gripping and guiding your head down further onto her length. Her grip is gentle yet commanding, urging you to take more of her into your eager mouth. You obey without hesitation, parting your lips wider and relaxing your throat to accommodate her impressive size. Your nose presses flush against Karina's pelvis as you swallow her cock down to the hilt, your eyes fluttering shut at the heady sensation of being so completely filled by her.
You can feel every twitch and throb of Karina's shaft as it rests heavily on your tongue, stretching your lips obscenely. A sense of primal satisfaction washes over you, knowing that you're the reason for her pleasure, that your mouth alone can reduce her to this state of blissful agony. You worship her cock with reverent devotion, your tongue working diligently to trace every ridge and vein, laving the sensitive underside and flicking across the weeping tip to gather the salty-sweet essence of her arousal.
The room fills with the lewd sounds of your slick slurping and the occasional muffled gag as you push yourself to your limits, taking Karina deeper each time. Your fingers dig into her muscular thighs for purchase as you bob your head faster, driven by an all-consuming need to bring her as much pleasure as humanly possible. Strings of saliva drip down your chin and tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you barely register the discomfort, too focused on your single-minded goal.
Karina's breath comes in ragged gasps above you, her composure slowly crumbling under your relentless ministrations. Her hips start to rock slightly, thrusting shallowly into the welcoming heat of your mouth. You moan around her, the vibrations causing her to tighten her grip in your hair as a low groan escapes her throat.
As dawn's light spills through the window, gilding your intertwined bodies, you feel the tension building in Karina, her abs flexing and thighs trembling against you. Humming around her, you glance up through your lashes to make heated eye contact, giving her an encouraging nod.
With a few more guided thrusts, Karina finally unravels, spilling her hot, viscous seed down your waiting throat with a feral groan. You swallow greedily, welcoming her release, savoring the intimate taste of her and the knowledge that you brought her to such shattering heights of ecstasy. You continue suckling gently as she pulses and twitches through the aftershocks on your tongue.
Finally releasing her softening member with a wet pop, Karina's fingers immediately soften in your hair, transitioning to a tender caress. She brushes a few stray locks from your face, tucking them behind your ear with a touch so gentle it makes your heart flutter. This tender side of Karina is such a contrast to the dominant, dangerous aura of her Ghostface persona. It makes you feel cherished, protected. Like you're the only one who gets to see behind the mask.
"Y/n," Karina says softly, tilting your chin up to meet her gaze. Her dark eyes shine with open adoration and vulnerability you never expected from the woman who so ruthlessly killed for you. "Will you be my girlfriend?"
Your heart swells at the question, at the raw emotion in Karina's gaze. A smile spreads across your lips as you climb up her body to snuggle into her welcoming embrace. "Definitely," you murmur against her mouth, capturing her lips in a sweet, sensual kiss. "I'd love to be yours."
Karina's arms tighten around you, holding you close as if she never wants to let go. You settle into her embrace, your head resting on her chest, listening to the steady thrum of her heartbeat. A deep sense of contentment and affirmation washes over you.
This is exactly where you're meant to be—wrapped up in Karina's love, claimed as hers in every way. The horrors of last night, the shock of Yunjin's death, the revelation of Karina's secret identity—it all fades away, eclipsed by the sheer rightness of being held in her arms.
Your heart hammers against your ribcage as you stride down the school hallway, fingers laced tightly with Karina's. The warm, soft skin of her hand sends tingles up your arm. You steal glances at her as you walk, admiring her casual outfit—an oversized blue dress shirt worn unbuttoned, draping over a fitted black tee that clings just right. Her hair falls softly to her shoulders, a stark contrast to the dark, mysterious Ghostface persona, yet equally captivating. You can't keep the huge, giddy grin off your face.
Whispers rustle through the crowded hall as you pass, eyes tracking your every move. Shock, confusion, disbelief color their faces.
"Is that Y/n with Karina? I thought she was dating Yunjin?"
"Where is Yunjin anyway? She's never absent..."
"Since when are those two a thing?"
Their stares bore into you but you keep your head held high, Karina's hand an anchor tethering you. Let them look, let them talk. Nothing can touch you when you're with her.
"Well, well. If it isn't the school's latest lesbian duo," a familiar voice cuts through the din. Belle materializes before you, flanked by her clique of designer-clad sycophants. Her fiery brown eyes rake over Karina with blatant disdain. "Seriously, Y/n? You dumped Yunjin for this? Couldn't find anyone better to munch your carpet?"
Anger flares hot in your chest but Karina squeezes your hand, keeping you calm. You meet Belle's harsh glare head on, jaw clenched. "I'm dating Karina because I love her. She's the best thing that's ever happened to me."
You pull Karina close, arm snaking around her waist. "And she satisfies me in ways Yunjin never could," you add with a smirk. "In every possible way." Karina's body stiffens slightly beside you in surprise of your intensity.
Belle scoffs, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Please, you're pathetic. You deserve each other." She stalks off, her entourage trailing behind her like shadows.
Karina's eyes gleam with something more than admiration—a glint of desire sparked by your boldness. She tugs gently on your hand, pulling you away from the lingering onlookers with silent determination.
The two of you slip into an empty washroom nearby; Karina locks the door behind you with a decisive click that echoes in the confined space. The sudden silence envelops you both like a cocoon—intimate and charged with anticipation.
Your heart pounds a staccato rhythm against your ribcage as Karina stalks forward, backing you up until the cold edge of the porcelain sink digs into your lower back. With a fluid motion, she smoothly turns you around, guiding you to face the mirror.
Your reflection stares back at you in the grimy mirror, pupils blown wide with need, cheeks flushed and lips parted—a wanting visage. Karina's body presses against yours, pinning you in place. Her hands find the hem of your skirt, fingers brushing against your bare thighs as she pushes the fabric up to bunch around your waist.
You shiver, goosebumps rising on your skin from her playful touch. Your panties are already soaked through from anticipation, clinging to your sensitive folds. Karina hooks a finger under the drenched fabric, pulling them aside from your slick to reveal your glistening center.
The sharp sound of a zipper cuts through the charged silence, unnaturally loud in the empty washroom. It's a stark reminder of where you are, of the illicit act about to take place. Your eyes widen as Karina frees her erect length from its confines, the engorged head already slick with precum.
She notches herself at your entrance and your breath hitches, lodging in your throat. With one powerful thrust, Karina sheathes herself fully inside your eager pussy. A strangled moan spills from your lips at the sudden intrusion, walls stretching to accommodate her thick length.
Your fingers scrabble for purchase against the cold porcelain sink, nails scraping as Karina starts to move. Each deep stroke sends sparks of agonizing bliss ricocheting through your body. You can feel every ridge and vein of her cock as she plunders your cunt.
In the mirror, your eyes meet Karina's, wide and pleading. A silent entreaty passes between you, a plea for discretion, for quiet. But a wicked smirk curves Karina's full lips. She leans in close, her breasts pressing into your back, hot breath fanning across the shell of your ear.
"I want everyone to hear you sweetheart," she purrs, voice low and rough with lust. "I want them to know you're mine, Y/n. That this pussy belongs to me."
Her words send liquid fire flooding your bloodstream, your walls clenching tight around her thrusting cock. Karina's fingers dig bruisingly into the soft flesh of your hips as she increases her pace, each forceful thrust making you grunt with pleasure.
Each shove was stronger than the last, driving breathy moans from your lips—the obscene sounds bounce off the tiled walls and echo throughout the washroom. Anyone passing by will surely hear your wanton cries and know exactly what's happening behind the locked door.
The knowledge only serves to heighten your arousal, the threat of discovery an intoxicating aphrodisiac. You arch your back, pushing against Karina, taking her impossibly deeper. Her labored breaths mingle with your own, punctuated by the vulgar slap of flesh against flesh.
Karina fucks into you with wild abandon, her pace becoming erratic, losing all semblance of rhythm. Her fingers tangle in your hair, yanking your head back as she ruts into your spasming cunt. Your body is a livewire, every nerve ending alight with rapture.
"Fuck, you feel so good Y/n," Karina groans, her voice strained. "So fucking tight. I'm going to fill this greedy little pussy sweetheart."
The slick porcelain of the sink bites into your palms as you brace yourself against Karina's relentless onslaught. Your knuckles turn white from the force of your grip, your body trembling as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. It's almost too much, the intensity of the sensations threatening to overwhelm you.
Your reflection reveals your contorted face, flushed with ecstasy, and Karina's intense gaze, fixated on her lover. Her eyes are dark with lust, the pupils blown wide with desire. There's a hunger in those beautiful eyes, a raw, animalistic need that steals the breath from your lungs. She looks at you like she wants to devour you, to consume you until there's nothing left.
Karina's thrusts become more erratic, more desperate, as she chases her own release. Her fingers tighten on your hips, the blunt edges of her nails leaving crescent-shaped indentations in your skin. Each mark is a reminder, a physical token of this moment, of the way she’s fucking you so thoroughly.
Your own climax builds, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter in your core. It's like a spring wound too tight, ready to snap at any moment. Your thighs quiver, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as you teeter on the edge of oblivion.
And then, with a particularly deep thrust, Karina sends you flying. Your climax crashes over you like a torrent of euphoria, your body convulsing as pleasure surges through your veins. Her name tears itself from your throat, echoing off the tiled walls and announcing your ecstasy to anyone who might be listening.
Karina succumbs to her own release, her hips jerking as she spills herself inside you. Her growl is loud and long, a primal sound of satisfaction and triumph. She fills you with her warm goopy seed, marking you from the inside out, asserting her ownership in the most intimate way possible.
In the aftermath, you slump against the sink, your legs trembling and weak. Karina's weight is a comforting presence against your back, her breath hot and damp against your neck. For a moment, there is only the sound of your mingled panting, the rapid beat of your hearts as you both try to catch your breath.
Karina's cock is still throbbing inside you, depositing her hot, sticky seed deep within your core. Her grip on your hips loosens, but she doesn't pull out just yet, as if reluctant to break the connection between you. Your breaths come in ragged gasps, and your entire body thrums with pleasure from the mind-bending orgasm you just shared.
Moments later, she gently pulls out of you with a wet pop, her cum dripping down your thighs, leaving a warm sticky trail. She smirked, a predatory glint in her eyes that sends chills down your spine. Reaching for some tissue, she nonchalantly cleans herself up before discarding it in the nearby bin. You can't help but stare at her, both aroused and intimidated by her confidence.
Your breathing slows, each inhale a ragged gasp that struggles to steady itself in the aftermath of such overwhelming pleasure. You feel Karina's presence like a living brand against your skin, her touch lingering even as she pulls away to adjust herself. The bathroom seems smaller now, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat—a heady reminder of what just transpired.
"Well," Karina drawls out lazily as she zips up her pants, "we should probably make an appearance. Wouldn't want to keep our adoring fans waiting any longer." Her eyes glimmer with amusement as she extends a hand toward you. With a sultry smile, she kneels down, her fingers trailing along your thighs as she tugs your panties back into place, ensuring they trap the warmth of her cum nestled deep within you. She smooths down your skirt, her touch lingering with deliberate slowness, igniting a fresh wave of desire before she stands, pulling you close for a searing kiss.
Emerging into the hallway, you're acutely aware of the disarray you present: hair tousled, clothes askew, skin still tingling from Karina's ministrations. The murmur of voices hushes abruptly as curious eyes lock onto the two of you. A crowd of students stands frozen in place, their expressions ranging from shock to envy.
Karina wraps an arm around your waist with casual ease, pulling you close so that every step forward is a shared stride. Her smirk is unmistakable—a bold statement that leaves no room for doubt about what just happened behind closed doors. As if marking her territory once more, she leans in to brush her lips against your temple, an intimate gesture charged with possessiveness.
The hallway buzzes with the silent hum of countless eyes observing—each gaze intensifying the charged atmosphere between you. The scent clings to both of you like an invisible shroud; it's intoxicating and undeniable, a testament to power dynamics laid bare for all to see.
With each step through the throng of onlookers, something shifts within you—a realization settling into place with all its implications. This wasn't just an act—it was a declaration etched into the fabric of who you are now with Karina by your side. The thrill courses through your veins like liquid fire as you stride forward together: unapologetic and united amidst whispers that will echo long after you've passed by.
so write 🫵 or aespa is gonna haunt your dreams; they'll bound you to a chair and force you to watch a discography of their mvs, in non chronological order 😈
so write 🫵 or aespa is gonna haunt your dreams; they'll bound you to a chair and force you to watch a discography of their mvs, in non chronological order 😈
want to write a vampire au (idol will be vampire yall will be the human) one day but idk which group so uhh…..vote time (there will be a follow up after this one is done to figure out which idol)
its so fun watching jmj fight it out like winter was ahead last night now karina got her it makes me excited to see who will win (unless yall tie it 😒😒)
