ಠ_ಠwarning/content: see general warnings in the masterlist ! this chapter includes: 5.4k words, killing zombies, guns and knifes, communication barrier won't be stopping these freaks, smoochin, sex happens off screen this time sorry, size difference of fucking course, reader shoots someone non-fatally, s/a (happens offscreen to unnamed characters and is only talked about, but not explicitly by any means), the nickname baby going both ways, bold is spoken or written in korean
➯a/n: baby boy finally getting his own series !! this chapter doesn't have a loooot of twd plot in it but we're fast approaching, i just wanted to establish their own backstory a little bit before we get into the chaos !
♡masterlist + navigation !♡
October 9th, 2010
Day Forty-Six
The trees rustle around in the wind, a slight breeze washing over you as you sit atop a broken down car; journal sat in your lap as you write slowly.
Middle of the street, legs dangling off the side of the Sedan.
A soft whistle calls your attention, peeking over your shoulder to see Mingi emerging from the woods that surround you on either side.
"Anything?" You ask as you slide to make room for him while he steps on the trunk of the car to climb up.
He shakes his head, "no." A simple and clear answer, just like you've come to expect of him over this past month.
"Maybe we should head... this way?" You trace a path with your finger on the map glued down across two pages of your book.
He sits beside you, booted feet dangling further than your own, eyes following your finger. "Mm," he hums in disagreement, tapping at the river on the path and then down to the key.
"Why?"
He slips the pencil from your fingers and turns to a clean page. A shaky, quick pair of footprints is drawn, and then he makes a sound similar to rushing water as he scribbles over them.
"Ah, okay," you nod, "makes sense."
The river would wash away any tracks he might be able to follow. Not that he has a single lead anyways. He hasn't for weeks. But he's still at it.
Chasing ghosts, you think. Must be ghosts by now.
He uses the eraser to trace a path, one going through a neighborhood you haven't been through before. There could be lots of supplies, lots of hiding places.
"Are you crazy?" You snatch the pencil back and glare at him.
One major problem, however.
He pouts at the tone of your voice, clearly thinking the same thing you are.
"We'd have to pass through the highway! That place was riddled with biters last time we were there..."
He only gestures to the map again, tapping dramatically at all of the places that have been colored over with pink highlighter — places you've already been in this short amount of time.
The map only covers the few surrounding county's, and they're pretty much all colored out. All besides the acres upon acres of farmland and those few houses on them.
"Here." He says determinedly, sweeping his finger across the highway, "cars, too."
"Lots of supplies, huh?" He nods, smiling lightly as you slip your pencil and book into your backpack. "You're right."
"Duh," he chuckles, reaching to fix the collar of your jacket. "Make it fast, don't have to stay."
"Promise?" You turn your body to face him, hand on his lap as you look up at him, "you know I don't like to stay-"
"In one place for too long~" He speaks along with you, earning a playful eye roll as you slide down the from the car. "Know that."
"Of course you do, Merlin."
"I'm... Merlin today?"
"Let's go, wizard boy!" You laugh as you pull your bag over your shoulders, heading the direction he'd traced on the map.
He jumps down, grabbing his own bag, "lizard? She calls me lizard, what is wrong with her?" He mumbles to himself as he tightens the throwing knives holster on his thigh, watching you strut down the deserted street; a fond smile growing on his lips. "Wait for me!"
Hand in hand, you and Mingi walk through the woods.
Fallen leaves crunching underfoot and the dull hum of the insects keeping you company as you both stay silent.
Not a lot of words have to be spoken between you; it's been that way since you met. He speaks just enough English to communicate and you've only just learned a few phrases in Korean.
Even with that, something so big, he's quickly became the most important person in your life. Not only because he's the only one trying not to kill you — because he's him.
You met him only on day sixteen. Grid locked on the very highway you head towards now, he had only spoken two or three words to you before he covered your ears as you watched the city be Napalmed.
That was the day he started taking care of you, and you started taking care of him in return.
There's something about him that feels... safe. Like he could never do you any harm. You can look at him and tell.
You can tell a lot by looking at him, actually.
His eyes tell you everything you need to know.
But it doesn't hurt to ask things anyway.
"Do you miss the way things were?" You ask suddenly, and you know he's thinking about it deeply as he stays silent for a good moment.
"No." He finally says. "I like this way."
"Why?" Seems like a good question to ask.
"More... free."
"There has to be something you miss."
"No." He smiles, swinging your arm lightly as you walk with his hand laced with yours, "this is better."
Mingi climbs up the steep slope in-front of you, up over the railing and onto the highway; head practically on a swivel to check his surroundings. "Come on," he says quietly, reaching over to help you as you struggle with the incline.
He grasps your hand and hauls you up the remainder of the way, "we check for hour."
"An hour? M, this place is a graveyard," you say wearily, holding his arms for stability as you climb over the metal rail, his hands steady on your waist.
"Hour," he nods, shrugging off his bag, going to say more whenever he realizes he doesn't know how to express what he wants to say. Instead, he only looks at you as he sets the backpack down on one of the countless cars.
His dark brown eyes almost shine in the midafternoon sun, his features soft as you meet them.
"I won't let you get hurt." Tone is a very powerful tool between you two. Even when you can't fully understand each other's words, the meaning behind them always manages to get across. "Stay to me, it's okay."
You look around the graveyard of vehicles for a moment before sighing, "okay, just an hour." You drop your bag next to his and get to work.
He's never out of your line of sight, hardly ever far enough away that anything more than a whisper is needed to speak as you both rummage through the leftover belongings.
It doesn't seem like too many people have been here before you. Things are exactly as people left them when fleeing the gridlocked highway. Like it's just been frozen in time; a snapshot of history.
You pop the trunk of what must be your dozenth car and smile down at the hidden treasure you've uncovered. "Hey, here."
"Hm?" He's popping up from the vehicle next to you immediately, tilting his head as he sees your genuine smile.
You gesture him over, and he makes his way quickly. "Holy shit." He chuckles, looking down at it with you.
Bags upon bags of nuts and seeds, freeze dried fruit, boxes of granola bars, sticks of jerky. "Thank goodness for paranoid people." You laugh as you take one of the jerky sticks, ripping it open immediately and near-moaning as you bite into it.
He smiles wide, tapping the open trunk for a moment before stepping back, "we need bags-"
"I'll get them!" You chime, a newfound pep in your step as you head back up the short stretch of road you've covered.
He watches you for a moment, eyes searching the space ahead of you just to be sure before he puts his attention on the trunk again; ripping open a box of granola bars and opening one up immediately.
You've been living off of berries and small game, the latter courtesy of Mingi and his throwing knives. And if you want to keep searching, keep surviving, fuel is one of the most important factors. This is a major win.
You don't know how he knows so much about survival or why he's so good in this literal end-of-the-world scenario, but you do know that you'll stop questioning him after this. You haven't seen one infected person, and you've just hit a serious jackpot.
His cheeks are puffed with the way he's stuffed the granola in to have use of both of his hands as he rips open all the boxes and dumps the bars into the trunk, discarding the boxes on the highway. "What are you doing?" You ask as you sit down on the paved road, opening up his bag and pulling his few changes of clothes out.
"Save room," he hums, peeking down at you, "what are you doing?"
"More efficient this way," you look up at him as you roll up his shirt and stuff it into your bag. "Right? For food, for other stuff." You explain with a point to each backpack.
He thinks for a second before nodding, going back to his task while you finish yours.
The shuffling of footsteps reaches your ears before it does his, quickly sitting up on your knees and searching the area as your hand finds the knife on your belt.
He notices your tense state, slipping a knife from his holster before he even hears the groaning of the threat.
You manage to spot it from your kneeled position, pointing silently. His head snaps to follow your finger, pinching his weapon tightly.
It doesn't even have time to snarl whenever it finally notices you both, only opening its rotten mouth with the intention of it, because his knife lands right between its eyes.
"Start looking in morning," Mingi groans as he falls back on the couch shoved in-front of the door.
You had just cleared the house on the edge of the neighborhood, settling in as the sun lowers below the horizon.
You hum in agreement, peeking out of the blinds one last time before stepping away and into the candle lit living room. "Safe here, right?"
He nods, crossing his hands behind his head and closing his eyes. "No shifts tonight."
If Mingi says it's safe, it must be.
You sit on the floor next to the couch and pull your sneakers off, sighing with relief. He peeks an eye open and chuckles, making you look to him. "What? It feels good!"
He bites his cheek for a second before sitting up, pulling his boots off and falling back down dramatically.
"Right?" You laugh, "told you so."
You pull out your journal, flipping to the latest page. Mingi's soft breaths become a dull and soothing background noise as your pencil scratches against the paper.
We found lots of food today in a car on the highway. Mingi killed another one. I didn't get as scared when I saw it. The blood still makes me queasy. We're still looking for you, but I'm starting to lose hope.
October 10th, 2010
Day Forty-Seven
There were no signs of you in that neighborhood either. I hope you're just being smart and staying off the beaten path. I hope you have someone to take care of you. I can't stand the thought of you being out there all alone.
The wind rushes through the single cab truck. Mingi behind the wheel, you sitting cross legged in the passenger seat, your bags on the floor in-front of you and your journal in your lap.
We've got a truck now. Found it in a garage with the keys hanging up, almost a full tank. Sometimes it still feels like stealing. Like we're doing something bad. But I'm starting to learn that's stupid. We're just doing what we need to survive. I hope you're doing the same.
You look over to him, and he gives you the courtesy of pretending he doesn't notice the swirling storm of emotion in your eyes; keeping his on the road ahead.
I hate to be a pessimist, but are you even alive? I like to think so but, I have my doubts. Mingi is such a good tracker. And the world is so violent for someone as soft as you. If it did happen, I hope it was quick. And I hope someone had the sense to
You clear your throat, barely audible over the wind, wiping your eye as a stray tear spills.
not let you turn into one of those things. If one day I find you, I'll be so happy. But I'm alive now, and I know that for sure. Mingi is alive now, and here, with me. I can't keep putting us in dangerous situations. I hope you can forgive me.
You shove your journal to lay atop your bags and take a deep, shaky breath as you look out the window. The sunset stares back at you, gleaming orange and yellow. It only makes you more sure of your decision.
The world may have ended, but it didn't stop spinning. And you're alive. Mingi is alive. You have each other.
"We can stop looking now."
He looks over, eyes sad and understanding at the same time. One hand comes down from the wheel and holds yours gently as you ask, "where do you want to go? The world is ours, you know?"
"I think..." He taps his fingers against the wheel, lips pressed together. "Anywhere."
"Anywhere? Nowhere special in mind?"
"No," he gives you a light smile, "just with you."
It earns him a huff of air like a laugh, "getting attached already?"
He only shrugs playfully, lacing his fingers in yours.
Take what you need and God bless.
The sign propped on the window of the pharmacy stares back at you, glare shining off the glass from Mingi's flashlight. "For tonight?"
"Better than the truck." You shrug, pulling the door open with little hesitation. The glass windows give you a good view inside, illuminated by the moon and your lights. The bell rings as you step inside with him right behind you.
Knives already drawn and at the ready, you clear the open area with no problem before throwing your bags down on the counter.
You busy yourself with binding the doors with his extra shirt so no surprises can find their way inside, while he slips into the back room; searching the stock shelves.
All of the labels are in English, so he just sighs before deciding to leave that up to you. "Useless," he mumbles, scanning the room once more. His face perks up when he notices the desk, a blanket draped over the chair.
"Tada~" He grins, holding up the blanket as he comes up to the corner of the store you've tucked yourself into, hidden away behind the counter.
"No way!" You beam up at him, "no blood or anything, good eye, Malcom."
He scoffs a laugh, yanking it back before you can grab it. "Malcom? Why with names?"
"Because it's fun to mess with you," you smirk, standing up and reaching to grab it when he steps back, raising a brow. "C'mon, I'm just playing," you reach instead for his belt loop, hooking a finger onto it, "I know your name..."
It started because you pronounced it wrong. Said you gave up and just started calling him different names that start with the same letter. A new one every day for the most part. Now that you think of it, you don't think you've ever said his actual name out loud.
You step forward, squaring his hips with yours as he watches with a hint of surprise. "Of course I know your name, how could I not?"
It's not like you've never been this close before. There's a dozen different instances that come to mind. Hiding in a closet with your bodies pressed together, holding onto each other as you wait on a branch for walkers to pass below you, his arms wrapped around you as you awake from nightmares, and yours around his in the same vein.
But it's different. It's quiet with something peaceful rather than with something frightening. It's making your heart race pleasantly, rather than thudding with fear.
His hair hangs over his forehead, shading his eyes in the low light of the moon through the storefront windows. You swear there's a blush on his cheekbones.
"I know your name, Mingi."
He lets out a shuddering breath, letting the blanket drop as you drag your finger on his hip. "What-"
"Let's have sex."
"What?!"
You bite back a laugh at his shock, shaking your head, "I want to do it. Do you?"
His eyes flick across your face wildly, hands twitching by his side. "Sex? The... sex?" He groans as your hand trails lower, his head tilting back.
"You know what I mean?"
"Yes." He says airily, "this is crazy."
"If you don't want to-"
You can't finish your sentence. He won't dare let you, cutting you off with his lips on your own.
October 11th, 2010
Day Forty-Eight
"You're smiling like an idiot." You grin just as wide as him as you sit up in the morning, morning sun shining on your near-naked form.
Laid atop the blanket you both slept on, his smile is only broken by a yawn before it goes right back. He folds his hands under his head and watches as you pull your top on, "what about... a cabin?"
"Hm?" You crawl over him and straddle his waist. Pushing back a stray hair on his forehead, "out in the woods?"
"Can find one," he nods, certain, "something safe. Maybe North. Me and you." His hand slides across your back softly and his arm drapes around your shoulder as you lean and peck his lips.
"Sounds good." You lay your head in the crook of his neck, sighing quietly. "Anywhere with you. Safe."
Mingi is fully dressed and leaning over a large map spread out on the counter, brows furrowed as he looks down at it.
"You know," you begin, jumping a bit as you pull your jeans on, "I think somewhere like Montana might be good. There's a whole lot of nothin' out th-"
A knock on the glass makes your heart jump to your throat, wide eyes snapping towards the sound and Mingi's doing just the same; fingers already pinching a knife.
It's a trio of men — living men — and you spot more than two guns.
"Shoes," Mingi points at you with his free hand, eyes never leaving the strangers, "fastly."
"Yup," you drop to the floor and pull your sneakers on quickly as he stalks towards the bound doors.
"We aren't going to hurt you! Just surprised to see something living!" One of them yells through the glass, making you jolt as you shove your things into your bag.
"M, don't open it!" You whisper sharply, running to his side and grabbing him by his bicep. Hiding partly behind him, you scan the strangers as they do the same to you and Mingi. "They might hurt us."
"We're sitting ducks in here," he groans, reaching back and pushing you the rest of the way behind him. You don't know what he's said, but you know the edge in his tone.
The men's voices are muffled through the glass as they talk to one another, and eventually the skinny Asian one steps forward. "Hey, really," he says loud enough for you to hear, hand held out to show them empty, "we don't want to hurt you, we aren't like that. We just want to see what kinds of meds are left in there. We ca- We'll even leave our guns out here! Please, one of our people is sick."
Mingi turns his head from them finally and looks down at you, clearly not having caught a lot of the words. "They want pills," you say for him, pointing to the counter and the shelves behind it. "Weapons stay out there."
He slowly slips the knife back in the holster with the others, stepping forward, "get bags, stay to me."
"Yeah, no kidding," you scurry back quickly while he hesitantly unbinds the door. Slinging one bag over each shoulder and then yanking up the blanket, you're back behind him by the time he opens the doors.
"Thank you, man," the man who'd spoke up smiles, taking the guns from his companions before they step inside; nodding to you and Mingi. "We really appreciate it."
He looks to you for clarification, grabbing one of the bags, "thank you. Someone is sick." Nodding, he takes your hand and leads you out of the shop.
"We going now."
"Wait, wait, a second!" The man follows after you as you throw your bags into the truck. "Is it just you two? All alone?"
"Nice meeting you," you say flatly, tossing the keys over the vehicle and into Mingi's hands.
"Hey, we have a camp!" His words don't make Mingi pause, but they do make you. "It's safe- well, it has been! So far at least..."
"And?"
"Well... I know how dangerous it is on the road. And, we've got room, could always use an extra pair of hands-"
"How many of you?"
Mingi calls your name from inside the truck, clearly telling you to get in.
"About fifteen? Women and kids, too."
You look to Mingi, who's shaking his head. "Sorry, man," you say, pulling the passenger side door open when he reaches across and pops it open. "We'll take our chances on our own. You understand, right?"
"Yeah, of course- hold up!" He speedwalks towards you, "here. At least take this." He holds a handgun out to you, handle toward you, "we've got more than enough and I don't want nobody else's death on my conscience."
You eye it suspiciously for a second before he gestures it again, "take it. Twenty round capacity, it's full right now but it goes fast. Look for ammo for a twenty-two pistol."
You grab it before he can change his mind, but it doesn't seem like he would have anyways. He just smiles softly as you peek down at it.
"Thank you." You nod, switching the safety on before tucking it in the back of your waistband. "What's your name?"
"Wooyoung," he reaches his hand out and shakes yours, "what's yours?"
You give your name, and then nod toward Mingi, "that's my man, Mingi."
"Not very talkative, is he?" He chuckles, fixing one of the long guns on his shoulder as it slips.
"We're a little weary of people."
He taps on the wheel as he watches you and Wooyoung closely, keeping his eyes on the man's hands.
"That's understandable. You, uh, be safe out there."
"You too. And thanks."
You climb into the truck before he can say more and slam the door closed, looking over to Mingi. "Do you-"
"Maybe." He nods, already reading what you were going to say. "Seems... nice?"
"Yeah, he seems genuine..." You watch Wooyoung walk back to the open doors, keeping watch for his men inside. "Maybe we could, I dunno," you shrug, "give it a try? Our little cabin in the woods isn't going anywhere."
He takes a second to translate, to think. "You choice. Where you go, I go."
You take a long deep breath before leaning over and rolling down his window, "hey, Wooyoung?"
He looks to you quickly, eyes a bit hopeful.
"You guys need a ride?"
October 25th, 2010
Day Sixty-Two
It's been a long time since I wrote to you, at least it feels like. Mingi and I joined some others. A camp. It kind of feels like before. The kids still work in their school books, and people all chip in to keep things running. There's so real leader, which kind of concerns me. People need someone to follow, especially in times like this. Someone good. People are too easily influenced. There's a man named Randall in o
The zipper of you and Mingi's tent comes undone quickly. "You're back," you turn to greet him with a smile — but it drops quickly.
You snap your journal shut and stand quickly, "M, what happened?" His face is tense, eyes a bit bloodshot.
"We're leaving."
"What? Are you hurt, are you bit?" You push his sleeves up quickly, searching his arms before he cups your hands, looking at you with dead seriousness.
"We are going, Wooyoung coming too. Not safe, these people-" He takes a sharp breath, shaking his head, "not safe."
"O-okay," you nod, "okay, it's okay." You reach up and pet back his hair gently. "Sit down, baby, breathe while I get our things."
He lowers himself to the floor shakily, watching as you hurry and shove your things into your bags. If something is enough to make him worry, it's more than enough to make you leave.
He goes on scavenging runs with other men in the group, and he's never come back shaken like this.
It's near dusk, quiet beside idle chatter within tents and the crackling of the small fire in the center of the camp.
The sound of the zipper makes Mingi react on instinct, knife drawn and hand ready to fling it before he sees Wooyoung. "Jesus," he sighs as he steps inside, "just me."
"What happened out there?" You ask as you pull the bag over your shoulders, grabbing the blankets up from the floor of the tent. When you turn and get a good look at him in the lantern light, you gasp, "Wooyoung, your lip..." Busted and red with crusted blood.
"I-" He shakes his head, "let's get out of here first. I don't want people trying to stop us. I grabbed us some extra ammo and food from the van. Let's go before someone notices."
"Young," you call out as he steps back out quickly, "what the fuck?" You follow regardless of your confusion; because Mingi and Wooyoung are the only two people you trust. And if they agree that you need to leave, you will. You still want to know why, though.
Mingi follows after you, hand on your shoulder as you question Wooyoung.
"Those men are sick," he says, voice tight, like he's choked up with tears or bile in his throat. "I cannot stay with them."
"What about the others?"
"That... that's up to them. I told Mary what happened, word will get around. I'm not sleeping next to them one more night." He throws his bag into the back Mingi's truck, and takes the bags from you both to do the same while you set the lantern down a bit more carefully.
"Where you folks off to?"
Mingi wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you into him at the sound of the man's voice. "Leaving." He snaps, glaring daggers.
He's standing just a few feet away, sauntering closer. Dave, the man who almost always leads scouting and scavenging trips. "Come on, you're really going to leave over what happen-"
"Yes, we are," Wooyoung says quickly, drawing his gun on the man.
Your eyes widen, clinging to Mingi's arm tightly as he pulls you closer to the truck.
Wooyoung is something of a pacifist. Never in these past two weeks have you even imagined him hurting someone living. That's just the way he is.
But the safety on his gun is off and it's pointed right at Dave.
So you quickly get in the truck, shoving yourself into the middle of the seat as Mingi climbs into the driver side.
Dave sets his hands on his hips as he comes face to face with Wooyoung. "You won't pull that trigger."
"I will. You're a disgusting person."
"Do it then."
It's a staring match. The truck engine turns over and comes to life. "Wooyoung, let's go!" Mingi yells, eyes worried and brows pinched together.
"Pull the trigger, Wooyoung." Dave says, his hand slowly slipping behind his back. "Or I will-"
A gunshot rings out in the air. Loud buzzing in your ears. A shout of pain follows.
Your arms shake as you lower your gun, watching Dave drop to the dirt as he clutches his bleeding calf. His own weapon dropped behind him before he could pull it on Wooyoung. "You bitch!" He screams, fuming.
People are starting to exit their tents, more lanterns being flicked on. "Let's go!" Mingi yells, taking the gun from your trembling hands as you stare wide-eyed at your own actions.
Wooyoung appears blurry to you as he sprints the few feet and flings himself into the truck, slamming the door. "Go, go!" And Mingi is already going the second the door is shut, wheels spinning as he peels away from the camp as fast as possible.
"Baby..."
You're parked off of the main road, middle of the night. Wooyoung is curled up in the cab, you and Mingi taking the truck bed with some blankets folded below you. Stars blinking down at you.
You haven't spoke a word.
He rolls over on his side next to you, eyes shining with concern. "Baby?" He says again softly.
"I shot someone." You say plainly, swallowing around the lump in your throat. "I shot a gun at someone for the first time and it was someone alive."
"He was not good-"
"So he deserves to be shot?"
"Yes." Comes his answer without a second thought. He tucks his arm under your head as you turn on your side to face him, other hand coming to sooth over your hair.
"What did he do?"
He takes a moment, clearing his throat and sniffing, "it was... there was a family. Father, two daughter. In the woods... and they — we told them stop. Wooyoung tried to make them, but they hit him. Held us back... while they had... turns." The words sound like they burn like acid on his tongue, like they disgust him. And they do. He could do nothing to stop the others; outnumbered and outmatched.
The cogs turn slowly in your head, connecting the dots of his broken story telling. "Oh, M," you pout, tears in your eyes to match his own, "it's okay, here." You whisper as you wrap your arms around him, his silent sobs shaking the truck lightly. "Shhh."
He hugs you tightly until his tears stop, he holds you even after that. You must have cried yourself to sleep, because your arms are loose around him and your breathing is soft and even.
He holds you for a few hours, at the very least. Staring blankly at the side of the truck bed and stroking your head gently while he tries to sort his thoughts.
He only moves when his arm below you is completely numb, slowly pulling himself to sit up and lowering you carefully. He flicks the lantern on and grabs your shared bag, finding your journal inside of it.
He's only written one or two things inside before now. He needs to get it out.
I'll kill anyone if they try to hurt her like that. If they try to hurt anyone like that, I'll put a bullet in their head without a second thought. The world goes to shit and they think it's their time to do whatever they want. That's not how things work. It can't be. Otherwise, what's the point?
We need humanity, that isn't humanity. That's plain evil and it disgusts me. I feel dirty having just been there. I can't wrap my head around how someone can do that. That's another person. That's a living person, how can you do that? Especially now when we need each other more than ever. We should have given those girls shelter and given that man a handshake.
This can't be what we become. It can't. There should be no place for that kind of evil in this world when every turn we take we already have to raise a gun. There was so much bad in the world already and now we have a chance to make a it new and this can't be how it is.
He bites his lip, bites back his tears, eyes drifting to your sleeping form.
I already failed her once. I won't ever let it happen again. She doesn't deserve that. She doesn't deserve this world at all. I'll put everything I have into protecting her. Into keeping her safe. I won't be able to live with myself if she gets hurt. She's the only light I can find in this bloodshed.
I won't let this world take her away.
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𓉘 Days In 𓉝 @beomkyum @yukisroom97 @cherryandsugar @choreomvnia @md2317 @jiminbility @faeriful @natmonroe @booposaurusrex
Summary: You can't believe your luck when you find the perfect house for cheap.
Warnings: Dark fic, horror, haunted house, danger, SMUT - somnophilia (of a sort), sex dreams, masturbation, p in v intercourse - references to murder and suicide, gore, a horror ending, explicit language, adult themes All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI
Dividers by me
Masterlist
A/N: Oh boyyyyyyyyy, you guys. Happy Halloween!!!!! I hope this story helps make your season a little spookier.
Huge thanks to @stargazingfangirl18 for the initial inspiration for this and then for talking the whole thing through with me. Thank you, Siri!!
Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜
You stood in the middle of the living room, hands on your hips, surrounded by boxes, and felt, possibly, the happiest you’d ever felt. You’d done it. You’d bought your first house. And it was beautiful. You couldn’t believe how lucky you’d been. Priced to sell was an understatement. Especially for this neighborhood. Especially for the pristine condition. Especially for how recent a build it was. You were only the second owner. The realtor had seemed a little cagy about answering questions, but when the inspection came back clean as a whistle, you stopped worrying about it. You weren’t going to borrow problems. You’d bought it from a bank, so you assumed it was some sort of foreclosure situation. Well, as crass as it was, their loss was your gain. You owned a house! Eeee!
It couldn’t have come at a better time. You needed a change, a big one. You’d been deeply unhappy, caught in a rut with no one to lean on. So you’d picked up everything and moved to a new place. A completely fresh start. You couldn’t wait to see what this new life held in store for you.
For now, what it held in store were high ceilings and built-in arches. Your old apartment could never. This was the first step to the ideal, happiest you.
You were celebrating by unpacking boxes, aided by a moderately expensive bottle of wine you’d been saving for a special occasion. You’d made sure to unpack your wireless speaker first and were now blasting a high-energy oldies mix, reveling in the fact that you didn’t share walls with anyone anymore. “I love you, baaaaby,” you shouted along to the music, “and if it’s quite alright, I need you baaaaaby, to warm the lonely night.” Your half-drunk glass of wine sloshing dangerously in one hand while you rifled through a box of knick-knacks with the other. And yes, you were a little drunk, but that didn’t explain the intense chill that ran up your spine. And then–
BANG
BANG
BANG
The house shook with the force of whatever had just happened. You jumped, wine spilling across the hardwood floor in a gruesome red splash. Your heart was in your throat. Adrenaline rushing through your veins. What the fuck was that? The sounds had come from upstairs. You took a deep breath and tried to calm your body. It’d probably just been a stack of boxes falling or– There was obviously an explanation, and you just needed to go upstairs and look.
The chills were still crawling through your body, but that was just the adrenaline, just your spiked heart rate. As you approached the staircase off your front hall, you grabbed an umbrella that’d been haphazardly leaned against the door frame until you could find a permanent place for it. With a vice-like grip around the handle, the sharp tip pointed out to stab any would-be intruders (Oh god, please don’t be an animal. You had no idea how you’d get rid of it yourself), you forced yourself up the stairs. The first thing you noticed when you got up to the top was that the doors to what you’d decided would be your bedroom, the guest room, and your office were all closed. You hadn’t done that. Holding the umbrella out in front of you, you cautiously opened the first door, then shrank back in defense. But there was nothing there. It was completely empty. The gentle sounds of the suburban neighborhood at night filtered in through the open window. Oh right. You’d opened all the windows upstairs to let the lingering mustiness of the unoccupied house air out a little bit. A gust of wind must have blown through and shut all the doors. That was all. You let out the tension in your body with a laugh, then closed all the windows. But you didn’t glance outside to see that no wind blew through the trees and the air was completely still.
Your first night, you slept a little weirdly. You couldn’t remember your dreams, beyond the fact that you had some, but whatever they were, they’d left you feeling unsettled. You chalked it up to being in an unfamiliar place and got out of bed, ready to start your day.
You went for a run, excited to explore your new neighborhood. You also hoped that being out and about would give you a chance to meet some of your neighbors. You never really knew anyone in your apartment building. People were always moving in and out, which made it hard to forge any real relationships. Now that you were somewhere permanent, you were hopeful that that would change.
But as you ran, you quickly became discouraged. People were out: working on their yards, getting the mail, bringing in groceries. But anytime you tried to initiate contact, with a friendly wave and a happy “Good morning!”, you were just met with uncomfortable stares. The worst was an elderly couple tending to their flower beds. At your greeting, the woman leaned over to her husband and whispered something in his ear. He looked up at you, making eye contact, and sadly shook his head. Then they both got up and went inside. You didn’t understand what you’d done wrong.
You reassured yourself as you got back to your house that these communities could be insular. Maybe new people didn’t move in very often. You would just strengthen your resolve. Win them all over. You could do it. They’d see. You were gonna be a great neighbor.
Two days later, you were making good progress. You’d unpacked all of the essentials you needed to live, and now you were focusing on the little sprucing-up projects you wanted done before you’d get the furniture all in place and art on the walls. Fresh coats of paint in some of the rooms, updated fixtures here and there. The house didn’t need much work, but you were making it yours. It filled your heart to do it.
Currently, you were on the highest step of your stepladder in your bedroom, taping where the wall met the ceiling before you started painting an accent wall. You weren’t the most comfortable up so high, but you’d checked to make sure the stepladder was perfectly steady before you’d gotten on it.
You were about halfway done when a chill went up your spine, and you swore that you felt something behind you, and then, as you instinctively turned your head to look, the step stool just tipped over, the right two feet coming fully off the ground and you tumbled off of it with a shout, landing in a jumbled heap on the ground.
You breathed heavily as your brain tried to catch up with what had happened. Without thinking, you were already cradling one hand against your chest. It’d taken most of your weight when you’d hit the ground. It hurt, but the pain wasn’t blinding. You tentatively touched your wrist and then carefully rotated it. You could move it. It wasn’t broken. With a sigh of relief, your heart still pounding in your ears, you picked yourself up and turned back to deal with the stepladder. But– That wasn’t right. It was just sitting there, perfectly upright, like nothing had happened. No. It’d fallen over. Hadn’t it? Maybe– Maybe when you’d felt something behind you, you’d turned around more sharply than you’d realized and lost your balance. That was what happened. It was the only explanation.
As you went to wrap your wrist, just to be safe, you ignored the loud voice in your head insisting that you’d been shoved.
You loved this kitchen. You loved it so much. Marble countertops, a gas stovetop with six burners and a built-in griddle, an honest-to-god breakfast nook. It was like the whole thing had been plucked right out of your dreams. You still had no idea how you’d been able to afford a kitchen like this, how this whole house hadn’t been snatched right up above asking the moment it’d been put on the market, but you weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. You just let yourself be happy with it.
Your music was blasting, and you danced around the built-in island as you made yourself dinner. Your first real meal in your incredible kitchen, all of your cookware finally unpacked, put exactly where it all needed to go in the ample cabinet space.
You were sauteeing vegetables when your favorite part of the song hit, and you did a little shimmy as you sang along. But you were cut off when, right up against your ear, you heard a warm, low chuckle. You jumped and whirled around, your spatula held out at the ready. But there was no one there. Of course, there wasn’t. You were alone.
You shook your head at yourself. It must have been something in the song, or the sound had traveled in from outside, or– Or any number of things. You were just scaring yourself. It was fine. You took a deep breath to settle yourself and went back to making dinner.
You were in your bedroom. Well, except you weren’t. Not exactly. The shape was right, and you knew it was your room, but none of your things were there. None of your decorations. None of your furniture. Still, it felt familiar to you. You were on the bed, lying on top of the covers in a short, gauzy nightgown. The bed was a little softer than you preferred, the comforter a little downier. There was an armchair set across from the bed, with a man sitting in it. You’d never seen him before, but he was familiar too. He was tall, you could tell, even sitting down. Broad. He had soft-looking dark brown hair and a thick beard. He was staring at you.
He didn’t say anything, but you knew what he wanted. You placed one hand on the inside of your knee, slowly moving it up your thigh. With your other hand, you grasped your breast through the nightie, tweaking the nipple with one finger. You let out a little gasp and he visibly swallowed. The hand on your leg rose higher, but you didn’t rush it. You were taking your time, letting yourself feel. That was what he wanted.
Your hand finally reached your core, and you moaned softly. Oh. You weren’t wearing any underwear. You brushed your fingers across your lower lips, slowly, gently, moving your way between them. Over on the chair, the man leaned forward, and you spread and lifted your knees so he could see.
As you brushed your thumb against your clit, you wanted to close your eyes, sink into it. But you kept your eyes open. He wanted you to look at him, see him. He wanted your eyes on him as you came apart.
You didn’t try to stifle your gasps and moans as you moved one finger inside of yourself and increased the pressure on your clit with your thumb, moving it in small, fast circles now. With your other hand, you pinched your nipple hard. His icy blue eyes were on you. He licked his lips. The wave was rising inside of you, higher, higher, but you needed more. You slipped another finger inside yourself, spreading them slowly. You moaned at the stretch, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enou–
You woke up with a throbbing between your legs, and your breath caught in your throat. Memories of your dream slammed into you. That was– What? What was that? You rolled over onto your stomach, burying your face in your pillow, muffling your embarrassed laughter. Then you reached over to your nightstand to grab your vibrator so you could finish yourself off before you moved on with your day.
You checked the thermostat for the third time in just a few hours. It’d been chilly all morning, but the readout still said 70℉, exactly what you’d set it at. You must just be running cold today. You grabbed a sweatshirt and hoped you weren’t getting sick. Maybe you’d pick up some zinc at the store.
You couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching you. You were alone in your house. You knew this for sure because, as silly as you felt, you’d checked all the rooms. You’d checked the windows too, but of course, there was no one there. You closed all of the curtains anyway.
Now you were standing in your bedroom, trying to talk yourself into getting dressed. You were being so ridiculous. You knew it, but something you couldn’t put your finger on had you so completely unsettled. You took a few deep breaths. Come on come on come on. And then, finally, you changed as quickly as you could.
And you were fine. Of course, you were fine. Even though your heart thumped. Even though your skin crawled. You were fine. Another deep breath, and you left your room, turning off the light as you went.
But once in the hall, you realized you’d left your phone on the bed. You turned around to go get it and stopped abruptly. The light was still on. You’d turned it off. You knew you’d turned it off. You forced yourself forward and then paused in the doorway. You flipped the light switch. The lights turned off. Then you flipped it again. The lights turned on. Flipped it again. They turned off. Everything was working exactly like it was supposed to. You must not have actually flipped the switch all the way when you’d left the room. There. Simple explanation. Everything was fine.
You moved forward to grab your phone, sitting at the foot of the bed, exactly where you’d thought it was. As you started to turn back around, but before you were fully facing the doorway— you only caught it out of the corner of your eye—something rushed past the door, through the hallway. A flurry of movement alone. You saw heard felt it. What the fuck? What the fuck?
Your whole body was frozen, a chorus of nope nope nope running through your head. What was going on? You coaxed yourself forward enough so you could look through the hall. Nothing was there. But you had seen something. You knew you had. You had to get out of here.
You sat in the corner of the coffee shop, both hands wrapped tightly around the large, warm mug of herbal tea. Something calming. You’d settled down. Your breathing was back to normal. It was time to think about this rationally.
Ghosts, the supernatural, none of that was real. It was just things people made up for movies and books. Whatever you saw was because you were already on edge this morning, your brain in overdrive, looking for things to be afraid of.
Still. You took out your phone and googled “what to do if my new house has a weird feeling,” and were met with pages upon pages of results telling you it was perfectly normal to feel uncomfortable in your new home. Unsettled even. It could even send your brain into fight or flight, checking for threats everywhere in a new environment.
You breathed a sigh of relief. This was perfectly normal. Nothing was wrong with you. You just needed to keep working to make the space your own, and everything would settle out.
Later, when you were getting out of your car in your driveway, you noticed your next-door neighbor at her mailbox. Perfect. Forging connections would definitely help you feel more settled. But as you started to walk over, she turned around and quickly walked into her house, slamming the door behind her. You were sure she’d seen you. Why was everyone in this neighborhood so cold?
You were back on the bed in the room that was and wasn’t yours. The man stood over you now, his fingertips hovering over your naked body. You couldn’t move, but that didn’t worry you. He didn’t want you to move, and you wanted to do what he wanted.
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed out, his voice sonorous, hitting you deep in your gut. “And here you are, just for me. I’m so lucky.”
There was deep tenderness in his eyes, but something else too. Possession. It sent a thrill through you. No one had ever looked at you like that before.
He hummed to himself as his fingers ghosted over your thigh. “But now that I have you, what should I do with you?”
When you opened your mouth, you found that you couldn’t speak. But once again, it didn’t worry or scare you. You were his; you'd do what he wanted.
He tentatively pressed his fingers to your skin, like he was testing something. He closed his eyes when he made contact and exhaled. His touch sent a shock up your spine. “It’s been such a long time since I've been able to touch anyone,” he rumbled, full of awe. “You really are perfect.”
He dragged his fingertips up your thighs, but then skipped over your core, landing his hand on your soft stomach. You whined in displeasure, trying to tilt your pelvis up at him. He ignored it.
“I don’t even know where to start. I want all of it. All of you. All of you, forever.”
You whined again. Your wetness was pooling between your legs, starting to soak into the sheets. You needed more of his touch, anywhere. Everywhere.
“Patience, sweetheart. We have all the time in the world. All we have is time.”
You opened your eyes, suddenly thrust into full wakefulness. You were soaking wet, with only fragments of memories of what got you that way. But you barely had any time to focus on that. You were freezing. Your entire bedroom was absolutely freezing.
You stepped back from the door to let the HVAC technician in, wrapped in a thick blanket over your sweatshirt and thick leggings. He paused over the threshold, rubbing his hands together and exhaling. “Oh shit,” he exclaimed with a whistle. “You weren’t kidding. It’s freezing in here. Must be at least a twenty-degree difference from outside.”
“Yeah,” you said a little helplessly. “It’s been a little chilly the last week, but it feels like it got much colder in the night.”
You led him to the thermostat, and he examined it. It still read 70°. “Hmm,” he hummed, opening the cover and giving it a once-over. “Seems like it’s probably just not communicating properly. Maybe triggering your AC when it shouldn’t. I’ll take a look downstairs and see what’s going on.”
You were trying to force yourself to focus on reading a book when the tech came back upstairs. His brows were furrowed, and he seemed lost in his own thoughts. You set your book down, not trying to be quiet, and he looked up, like he was surprised to see you there. “Everything okay?” you asked nervously.
“Huh?” he blinked at you. Then he shook his head, like he was trying to rid it of something. “Yeah, everything’s fine.” He paused, then looked at you very carefully. “You been in this house long?”
You shook your head. “Just a couple weeks.”
His gaze narrowed. “Has everything been okay?”
“What do you mean? Besides the thermostat?”
His eyes focused on you, like he was surprised by your presence again. “No, I– I don’t know. Sorry. Don’t mind me, I just must be feeling a little off today.” He shook his head one more time, then returned to business. “Furnace and AC both seem to be working fine. So it must be the thermostat. I’ll just replace it with a new one real quick, and you should be right as rain in a few hours.”
You breathed a sigh of relief, feeling even better once you heard warm air being forced through the vents. It made it easy to ignore the way it seemed like he couldn’t get out of your house fast enough.
In the room that wasn’t quite yours, you stood in front of a free-standing full-length mirror. You were wearing a short black dress that hugged your curves, a silver necklace around your neck, matching bracelets on both wrists, like cuffs. The man was behind you, pressed against you, his head hooked over your shoulder, making eye contact with you in the mirror, one possessive hand on your stomach, the other coming up to gently wrap around your neck.
“I’ve been waiting for something for so long,” he whispered into your ear. “Now I know I was waiting for you.” Both hands moved away from you, briefly, coming back together behind your head. Gently, carefully, reverently removing your necklace. He moved slowly, a look in his eye like he was unwrapping a gift he’d been staring at for ages. The necklace disappeared, and he moved on to the zipper of your dress. He lowered it achingly slowly. You didn’t move. He didn’t want you to. You knew that.
He moved the dress down your body at a glacial pace, revealing you inch by inch. His gaze flicking back and forth between your back and the mirror. Taking all of you in. Once it was down to your hips, he let it drop. You weren’t wearing anything underneath, fully exposed to him. For him. It didn’t occur to you to try to cover yourself. Why would you?
One hand came back around to touch your stomach. It drifted lower, and then he dragged it, oh so slowly, up to your chest. You felt his cold breath on your neck as he sighed–
You were lying on the bed, and he was on top of you. Finally. Your bracelets were still on, and now they were hooked together, keeping your arms above your head. You didn’t try to move them. You stayed where he put you. Of course you did. Your breath felt trapped in your chest. You were waiting. For him. You needed it. He was touching you, your whole body, like he couldn’t get enough. Like it would never be enough–
You were on your side. He was pressed up behind you. The mirror was next to the bed now. So you could see yourself. See him behind you, as he kissed up your neck. Behind your ear. His fingers danced along the cut of you. Between your lips. One, two, three fingers briefly slipped inside. You didn’t need it. You were ready.
You were ready you were ready you were ready you were ready.
You whined. Low and loud and needy. He hushed you. Then. Finally. Finally finally finally he thrust himself inside you. Forcing a grunt a whine a moan out of you. You kept your eyes open, locked on the mirror so you could see your face and his as he was finally inside of you, where he belonged. So you could see the ecstasy on both your faces.
He kept his eyes on yours as he thrust. As he set a punishing pace. As the pressure inside of you built and built and built. As one arm held you so tight to him, arm over your pelvis, hand between your breasts. His fingers pressing bruises into your skin. The other was between your legs, pressing pressing pressing against your clit, tight circles too much too much too much not enough just right. The hand on your chest pressed even harder, pushing you into his broad chest like he was trying to meld with you.
As you climbed up up up and finally crested over, the air between his mouth and your neck, in all of the spaces where your bodies made contact, went blurry, squiggly, like he was literally breathing you in. You felt something inside of you go, but it wasn’t a loss. It was right. It was perfect.
You came with a scream. “Andy!” A name on your lips you hadn’t realized you’d known.
“Mine mine mine,” he chanted as he chased his own release. “Forever. Eternity.”
You woke with a start. Your chest heaving. You were exhausted, like you hadn’t slept at all. And you were sore, stiff, all over. Between your legs. Inside of you. Almost like you’d–
Before you had time to wrap your head around that, you realized something else. You were absolutely freezing. The whole room was freezing. So much colder than it was before. No! You’d fixed it! No!
You didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with this. You were too cold, too worn out. Too fucked out, your traitorous brain supplied. You didn’t want to deal with that either.
You went into your bathroom and turned on your shower as hot as it could go. You didn’t turn on the exhaust fan. You needed all the steam you could get. Once the small room had warmed up a little, you quickly stripped and stepped into the glass shower stall. You stepped directly under the stream of hot water, pushing everything else, all of the very not right, out of your head. Focusing on just getting warm. You weren’t sure how long exactly you stood there for. Awhile. Long enough for the chill to finally leave your bones. Once you stopped shivering, you started cleaning yourself. Trying to let yourself go through your normal routine on autopilot. But that wasn’t possible when you found so many tender spots. On your legs, your hips, your stomach, your chest. New bruises. Like fingerprints. Like someone had gripped you too tight. Like your drea–
You pushed that thought away before you could even fully think it. Not real. Not real. Not real. You were losing it. Starting to come apart at the seams. Maybe you’d been too isolated. Maybe that was it. That had to be it. You took a deep breath to calm yourself. Then, as you started to get back to washing yourself–
Something brushed against the back of your neck. Like someone’s hand. Like someone had touched your neck. You weren’t making it up. It wasn’t just in your head. It’d happened. You’d felt it.
With your heart in your throat, you whirled around on instinct. And right there, over where your shoulder had been, in the steam, was the shape of a man’s face. You saw it. You saw it. Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god.
You crashed out of the shower, barely keeping your feet under you. You were soaking wet, but you didn’t stop to dry off. You couldn’t. You had to get out of there. You tore into your bedroom, grabbing the first leggings and sweater you could find, throwing them on as you continued to move. You grabbed your phone off your nightstand as you rushed past it. You had to get out of there. You couldn’t get out fast enough.
You didn’t feel safe until you were standing in the street in front of your house, trying to catch your breath, water dripping down your back. You bent over like you’d just run a marathon, adrenaline coursing through you. You needed to get your head on straight. You needed to think about this rationally. It was just a house. It was just a house. If you thought it enough times, maybe you’d believe it.
You slowly straightened up, trying to force yourself to breathe normally. And that’s when you saw your next-door neighbor, sitting on her front porch with a friend, staring at you. And maybe it was just the adrenaline that hadn’t dissipated yet, but– No. Absolutely not. Not today.
You stormed across her lawn, your best ‘fuck you’ smile on your face, not caring that you were still dripping. Not caring that you looked like a crazy person. “Hi!” you greeted when you’d gotten to the porch, too loud, too aggressive. “We haven’t been introduced yet. I’m your new next-door neighbor. I moved in a few weeks ago,” you gestured at your house, like they hadn’t just seen you run out of it like a bat out of hell.
“Oh my god,” your neighbor’s friend exclaimed, her eyes wide.
“I know,” your neighbor, whose goddamn name you still didn’t know, said to her, shaking her head.
“I can’t believe you moved into the Barber house,” her friend said to you, her voice tinged with horror. “Why would you do that?”
“What?” you asked, confused, some of your righteous anger leaving you.
She shook her head instead of answering your question, no longer able to look at you. “It was so awful, so awful, and then you just moved in like–” She sounded like she was on the verge of tears. Without another word, she got up and fled into the house. You and your neighbor both stared after her. What was going on?
After a minute of silence, your neighbor turned her steely gaze onto you. “You know,” she said, her voice cold, “maybe it seems like a lot of time has passed since it happened, but it’s still very fresh for this whole neighborhood. We’re still trying to recover. We don’t need someone coming in here and trying to dredge it all up again.”
“What–” you stuttered, “what happened? I don’t–”
“It isn’t easy for anyone here to talk about. They were our friends. I’m sure you can understand that.” Then, without another word, she got up and followed her friend into her house. And you were left standing on her porch alone, trying to catch up.
All you could do for several moments was just stand there, gaping. Your hands were shaking. Your mind was racing. But then, suddenly, you realized how creepy you were being. Oh god, she’d probably call the cops. So, with dread building in your chest, you forced yourself back to your own property.
You stopped at the end of your driveway. You couldn’t make yourself go further. Something was happening. You were missing something big. But you knew now, for sure, that there was something very wrong with your house. So, finally, you did the thing you should have done when things first started getting weird. When you first moved in. Before you even bought it. You took out your phone and you googled your address. Now with the added knowledge of adding Barber to the end of it.
Barely breathing, you clicked on the first result. Three Dead in Gruesome Apparent Murder Suicide. And there right at the top, a picture of your house surrounded by police. Oh god oh god oh god. You wanted to puke. But you made yourself keep reading.
The Barbers were a family of three: Andrew, Laurie, and their teenage son Jacob. Andrew was an assistant district attorney. Laurie ran a children’s community group. They were well-liked. Pillars of the community. And five years ago, all three bodies had been found in what was now your basement, a shotgun laying next to Laurie. It had rocked the entire community, leaving everyone desperately searching for answers.
You kept scrolling until you stopped dead in the middle of the page. A picture of the Barbers, happy and alive. Laurie was beautiful, picture perfect, smiling adoringly at her family. Jacob looked like any normal teenage boy, hair in his eyes, annoyed to be there. But that wasn’t what had your heart going still in your chest. No, that was the man looking straight at the camera. Looking at you. Andrew. Andy. Without a fucking doubt, the man from your dreams.
Your phone slipped from your fingers, landing hard on your driveway. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t breathe. What was happening? What– How– The fear was louder than anything else. You’d never been so scared in your life. You had– You had to go.
You ran into your house for the last time. You raced up the stairs, not looking around you. In your bedroom, you pulled a duffel bag from your closet, then just started shoving clothes into it indiscriminately. You didn’t know where you were going to go or what you were going to do. You just had to leave now now now.
When the bag was full, you tore back down the stairs, grabbing your purse and your car keys, heading right for the door. You were going to be okay. You were going to get out. But when you tried to open the door, it was locked. You didn’t remember doing that. You hadn’t done that. With trembling fingers, you flipped the deadbolt and then watched with horror as it flipped right back. No no no no no no no no.
You rushed to the nearest window in desperation, but it wouldn’t budge either. You cried out in frustration and panic. You moved to grab your phone then remembered that you’d left it on your driveway. No.
As you were about to run to your back door to see if you could get out that way, all of the lights in the house began flickering. On and off on and off on and off. And your bluetooth speaker suddenly buzzed to life, filling the house with music.
You’re just too good to be true
Can’t take my eyes off of you
You’d be like heaven to touch
I want to hold you so much
And there he was, standing in the middle of your living room. Andy. He was there and not there. You could see through him. But it was him. It was unmistakable.
“Shhh, calm down, honey,” he cooed. “It’s alright. You’re alright.”
“A– Andy,” you could barely get it out, your voice was shaking so badly. You couldn’t wrap your mind around it, couldn’t get control of your fear. You were talking to a dead man. “Please let me go.”
“Honey,” he started, his tone placating, “you know I can’t do that.”
“Why not?” It came out as a sob, helplessness crashing down on you.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he cooed, his brow furrowing at your distress. “Because we belong together.”
That’s when your tears started. This was another dream, right? It had to be. Maybe you’d never actually woken up. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be real.
The music got louder, and Andy crouched down in front of you. “This is our song,” he said softly, “remember? From your first night here. I’m sorry I scared you that night. I was– I was very upset. You were barging into my house and– Then you started changing things, changing my house and– you understand that’s why I had to push you right? Why I tried to make you go. But then. Then you stayed, and I started to get to know you. And I realized all the ways we fit. I realized the truth. That you were brought here for me. So that we could be together forever.”
You took a deep breath, forcing it. You wanted to tell him he was insane, but it was even worse. He was dead. A ghost. How could you reason with that? “Andy, no,” you started slowly. “All I did was buy a house. I’m so sorry that something awful happened to you, but this is my house now–”
“THIS IS MY HOUSE!” he roared, suddenly floating above you. The lights flickered even more intensely, and all of your shelves shook, books toppling over. And just for a moment, just for a flash, Andy’s face changed. Half of it disappeared, blood and viscera and bone and emptiness where his skin should have been. But then it was gone, back to normal, and he was once again on the ground in front of you. “This is still my house, that I had built for my family. The people who are meant to be my family are just a little different than I thought.”
You swallowed hard, trying to stop shaking. You had to find a way out. You had to get out of here. Andy was moving, floating, pacing, back and forth, mumbling to himself now. “That fucking bitch. Destroying everything I’d worked so hard for, everything I’d earned.” He was distracted by his own anger. You took the opportunity to start to crawl backward, see if there was something you could do to force the door open. “And then after all that, they left me alone here on top of it,” he continued, before his eyes locked on you, halfway to the entryway. “But you understand that better than most, don’t you, sweetheart? Being alone.”
You stopped in your tracks, collapsing back onto the floor. “What? No, I’m not alone!”
He shook his head sadly at you, like you were being ridiculous. “Honey, come on. I know you. I see you. All I do is watch you. You never go anywhere. You never see anyone. You never talk to anyone. You’re just as lonely as I am. But it’s okay. We have each other now. Forever.”
It was that word, forever, that made the bottom drop out of what you were feeling. Oh no oh god. It was only pure terror now. What was he going to do? What could he do?
He was crouching down in front of you again, so close to you that you could put a hand through him. But it wouldn’t do any good. You knew that. “Andy, I–” you didn’t know what to say, but you had to make him understand. Make him see sense. At the very least, to buy you some time. Get you out of this house. Burn it down, maybe. Destroy every part of it so that you could start over. Again. “You’re right. I see that now,” you lied, trying so hard to keep your voice even. “We fit. But– But we just can’t be together. I’m alive. I need– I need to live my life. We– We aren’t on the same plane.”
Andy shook his head, gliding closer to you as you tried to back up. He was practically on top of you now. It was a horrifically unsettling feeling. It made all the hair on your body stand up straight. “No,” he said, “no, we don’t need to worry about that. You’ve made me so much stronger. Since you came here, I can do so many more things. Things I never dreamt of when I was all alone. And after last night, I made you feel so good, and in return, you gave so much of yourself to me, my love.” The dream, you realized with a start. When it looked like he was actually breathing you in– And the exhaustion you’d woken up with. Like he’d taken part of your lifeforce. “Now I’m strong enough to do what I need to do. To make sure you never leave me.”
Your eyes got wide, and the panic that’d been ebbing and flowing this entire conversation spiked to a degree it somehow hadn’t reached yet. “Andy, Andy, wait, no! What does that mean? What are you going to do?”
He didn’t respond, just brushed his translucent fingers down your cheek, leaving an awful chill in their wake. And that’s when you heard it, the barely there hiss coming from the kitchen, accompanied by a sulfuric smell that you’d been too afraid, too heightened to notice until this point. Oh god, your beloved gas cooktop. You started sobbing. You couldn’t stop. Doubled over on the floor of this house you thought you’d been so lucky to find.
“Shh, sweetheart, it’s okay, you’re alright,” Andy consoled you. You could feel the whisper of his fingers over you’re hair. “It won’t hurt at all. You’re going to fall asleep, and then when you wake up, you’ll be here with me. Forever, in our beautiful home. It’ll be perfect.”
omg the way every inch makes me drool idk what u did to me i haven’t been the same since 😃 ur so talented i owe u my kidney for that fic alone ! would ever consider part two?? no pressure !!!
EVERY INCH 2
2200 words, m!ghostface x f!reader
follows Every Inch. NEXT: Every inch 3
SERIES MASTERLIST
A/N: He's never unmasked. He is night walks coded. Thank you for all the love on my first Ghostface fic. This was a "one shot fail" because of your engagement & enthusiasm.
WARNINGS: I8+ piv, noncon, he calls himself daddy, voyeurism, dirty talk, masturbation, knifeplay, hair pulling, manhandling, choking kinda, degradation, pet names. NO USE OF Y/N.
SUMMARY: Last time you saw ghostface, he was unconscious from the car wreck and you had your way with him. Now, he's coming to take what's his.
You've put Ghostface behind you, at least in terms of fearing for your life. He's finally left you alone. He must be too humiliated to face you after you restrained him and had your way with him in the car while he was passed out. You still look at the picture you took every day. You'd like to get it printed and stick it on your bathroom mirror. He looks so pathetic with his own mess all over his robe. But it's not just the humiliation you love to see. It's his cock. . .
Yeah, his cock. You've thought about it more than a few times. He would've given you every inch. All you had to do was ask. And the video of him whimpering? You save that for special occasions. Like when you need to cum in a hurry.
It's Friday night and you're lying in bed after getting home from seeing a movie. You make sure your vibrator is charged before you start reading, but soon enough you get distracted. You're looking at your video of Ghostface coming all over himself when a call pops up on the screen. No ringtone. Your phone is still on silent from the theater.
The restricted number still makes your heart jump even after such an empowering victory. But you rip the bandaid off and answer it on the first ring. "Hello?"
"So... how'd you like the movie?" the voice changer asks you.
You panic and hang up, but when he calls right back, you answer again. "This isn't funny, whoever you are."
"You know it's me, baby. You feel it in your. . . pants."
"What do you want?"
"I asked how you liked the movie."
Friday night. Lucky guess. You know he’s not going to let it go, so you might as well answer. You’re not going to give him the satisfaction of acting aghast that he knows what you did tonight. "Fine, I liked it. It was fun,” you say dismissively.
"Picked a bad time to refill your drink. . . Missed a great kill."
Your heart jumps. ". . .you were there?" The theater wasn't even that crowded. How could he go undetected? Surely you would have recognized something about a man you rode into oblivion.
He's bemused. "What, you thought I was gone? Nowhere?”
"wishful thinking," you reply.
Ghostface says, “Oh, we both know what you really wish for. . .”
You’re not even going to argue.
“How was your date?"
"How was yours with your hand?" You retort.
"You didn't look interested.”
"What, are you gonna ask me out?" Your face heats up as you hear your own words.
"Not tonight. 'Cause you've got a date with that toy and my picture, don't ya?”
You freeze.
He taunts, "Want a third wheel?"
You ask, "How long have you been watching me?"
"Never stopped, sugar." You feel like a fool for thinking he had. “I’ve just been a little. . . distracted.”
You scoff.
". . . Okay, did you call just to talk?"
"Wanted some audio with my visual this time."
"Pervert."
“oh I'm the pervert," he chides. Your face is burning up.
"You know, you’ve still got something of mine.” His knife. You’ve hid it somewhere special. “Keep comin’ for it. . .but don’t wanna interrupt you.”
You look out your window, which faces the woods. "Cause you put on a good show, baby." There’s never been a reason to close the curtains. You preferred to see danger coming. Danger like him. A lot of good that’s done you.
“You’re a creature of habit, aren’t you?”
Are you that predictable?
“Lucky for me,” he adds darkly. His breathing becomes audible. “Oh, you like this, don't you . . . knew ya would. . . . .Dripping already.” His voice is steady through the equalizer, but his speech pattern tells you his dick is hard. And god damn if he isn’t turning you on.
“Dip a finger and show daddy how wet you are.”
Before you know it, you're doing it. You don’t show him, but you curiously dip you fingers and pull apart the clear string of of your arousal
“Two fingers . . let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” You lie there clenching your thighs together.
“Ah, fuck it. Go ahead, turn it on,” he says but you don’t move. You clench your thighs together. “Turn it on,” he repeats firmer, and something possesses you to turn your vibrator on.
“Yeah, that’s it . . .”
You don’t even need the picture now, or the video, or your reading. But you don’t exactly want to let him make you come this fast.
He sighs and says, “You’ve got a nice, juicy pussy." He spits, which the voice changer doesn’t process.
You close your eyes and recall what it felt like impaling yourself on his cock.
"You don't have to say it," he reassures you menacingly. "I know I’ve got a nice cock.”
He’s right about that. You close your eyes as you touch yourself. You’re too horny to think straight, but in the back of your mind, you try to tell yourself he killed your friends. He killed your friends. It doesn’t make you any less turned on. You sigh in shame at yourself. How does Ghostface have you wrapped around his finger?
“Oh, it’s only natural, baby. This cock’ll fuck you right up.” God, why does that turn you on? “In the guts and the head.”
"Real shame I wasn’t awake.” He breathes heavily for a few seconds. "Coulda been even better for you.”
You fail to suppress a moan as heat is bubbling in your core.
“Yeah. . .Can’t stop thinkin' about this cock, can ya?”
You turn up the intensity of your vibe.
“Not everyday someone takes every inch of this.” He moans weakly then spits again. “Filthy girl. Swallowed it right up.”
“So tell me, sugar," his breathing is even heavier now. "How do you want it?”
“What if i don’t” you lie, then gasp at the tension in your core.
“Then why’d you take it,” he says with a bite and the heavy breathing stops.
“Because,” you pant. “It was there.”
You’re getting close. “How do you want me,” you self-loathingly ask. He doesn’t answer. You look at your phone and he’s gone. Shit. You open the video you took of him and as soon as you hear him whimper, your body jerks as the tension bursts inside you. As soon as you finish pulsing, the regret hits you like a tidal wave. So fucked up. Soooo disgusting. You need a shower.
—---
You take a long, hot shower, listening to music. You sigh, feeling a little better already. You turn off the water.
“Soaking wet. That’s how I want you.” You freeze and the only sound is the dripping water for a few seconds while the song changes.
“Come on, you’re smarter than this.” The voice changer echoes through your bathroom and you almost fall over. “What’s next? Going down to the basement?”
You stand silently in the shower with your heartbeat echoing in your ears. There’s nothing you can do. You squat down, hugging your knees. There’s no good option.
The shower curtain slowly draws open and he looms above you.
“My turn, baby." The glint of a knife–your own kitchen knife–catches your eye. He tilts his head slightly and observes you for a moment. Then he pulls your hair and violently forces you to your feet. You begin to slip and he catches you, then manhandles you out of the tub and you whimper. You’re thrashing around wet and naked. He drags you to the bathroom sink and puts you between him and the sink, both of you facing the mirror. He reaches out and wipes the mirror with his robe to make sure you can see.
The sight is surreal. You’re completely nude with Ghostface up against you. One gloved hand cups your breast while the other raises the knife. He stays behind you and holds your own kitchen knife to your throat.
He inhales audibly. “So clean and so filthy.”
You elbow him in the gut. “Let go of me.”
“Afraid not, baby. . .” The hand leaves your breast and slides lower. He presses on your hip, bringing you tight against him. “Too late now.” His hips push forward and the massive shape of his hard cock makes you weak.
He holds you still with just one of his big arms as you struggle. “Coulda had it how ya wanted.”
The unwelcome throb between your legs is spreading through your abdomen.
“Now you’re gonna take it right here.” He keeps you pinned to the counter, the arm with the knife holding you still while he lifts his robe and tugs his PJ pants down. “You’ve put me behind you after all.” He jerks you back against him, pulling you off the counter and holding you tight against his hard dick. He lightly trails the tip of the knife down your cleavage and your stomach, dipping into your belly button on its way down to your mound. Then he holds it handle-up and teases your cunt with the flat of the knife as you watch in the mirror. The cold metal sends a shiver down your spine and you watch your nipples harden.
“Who are you?”
“Your favorite bad guy. Ask me a. . . harder one.” He grinds himself against you.
“What do you want?”
“To know what your insides feel like.” You suck in a deep breath and register the smell of weed as his cock twitches against your bare skin. “When I’m awake,” he adds.
He pries your legs apart with his knee, then his glove brushes your inner thighs as he aligns his cock at your entrance. “Oh you’re ready ready,” he says. He notches himself with the thick head of his cock resting snug against your wet little hole, then he holds you tight and shoves himself into you with a sigh. You have to try not to moan with the most welcome stretch. “Hell yeah,” the mask says into your ear. Thank God you’re so wet, because there is a lot of him. He pulls back, then slams into you, bottoming out with a grunt then another sigh. You watch your face in the mirror and try to wipe the enjoyment off it.
The hand with the knife rests against your chest as he pounds you. “You’re lucky you’re so hot.” You want to memorize the feeling of his cock inside you so you can come to it later instead of giving him the satisfaction right now. He pants as he thrusts into you harder. “So. . .damn. . . hot.” You look down watching your breasts jiggle as he rails you. “I don’t think so. . . baby.” He grabs your chin and makes you look back up at the mirror. Your drooping eyelids give away how good you feel.
“Take it like a bad girl.” He grunts and brutally fucks you in the way you’re afraid only he can. No, no, you shouldn’t be thinking thoughts like this. “A real bad girl.” A climax is gathering in your lower belly. “Cock hungry little slut,” he bites and it makes you twitch. “This pussy’s mine now, you know.”
He buries himself inside you for another minute and makes it rough. “Now or never baby," he pants. “Know you wanna come on this cock.” God, you do. “Do it now.” He slams into you harder than ever and groans as he begins to pulse inside you. You can’t stop it. The feeling of his climax trips you into your own. Your needy cunt chokes his cock, milking him of an unfathomable load. He fucks you through it and your body jerks into his imposing, robed form. His cum is in every crevice of your core. You can’t help but moan and sigh.
“Good girl,” he says.
His cock slides out of you, leaving a void that slowly caves in on itself. He tucks it back into his pants.
------
Ghostface forcibly positions your chin to take one last look in the mirror. Then he picks up your phone from the counter and forces you to swipe the camera on. He points it at the mirror and says, “say cheese.” He tosses your phone back on the counter, then slams you chest-first into the back of the door with an impact. He holds the knife to the side of your neck and says, “you’re welcome.” He really smells like weed.
“Now where’s my knife.”
“I don’t have it,” you claim.
“I don’t believe you.”
“What’s so special about it?”
“It’s mine.”
“The cops have it.”
“No they don’t. Why are you lying?”
You’re not really sure. He presses the flat of the knife so hard against your throat you start to choke. “Okay,” you manage hoarsely. He lets you breathe. You look behind him toward the toilet.
He drags you by the elbow to the toilet. He opens the back of it and the knife is wrapped up in a grocery bag. “You watch too many movies,” he says. He pushes you out of the way, opens the door, and leaves. The song turns to Call Me by Blondie.
NEXT: PART 3
--------------------------
Please engage (reblog/comment) if you want more of this <333 It might go a long way in motivation.
Yes this is my night walks coded ghostface but I think most people reading this don't know what night walks is lol.
Call Me:This Blog::Red Right Hand:Canon. But in this case it especially makes sense 🥹
@hearteyed-shawty had a song rec last time: I'm Yours by Isabel Derosa.
wc: 35k?? happy halloween!!
angst/fluff/horror/dark content ghostface au, college au, NERDJO :PP (ethan landry who?) pretty scream-canon level death/gore, lots of description of death, main character death, naoya zenin, manipulation, utahime is a cockblock but we <3 her. a bit of crisis going on as you can imagine. reader is awkward sometimes but not secondhand embarrassment awkward. lmk if i missed anything.
you stayed with shoko that night, that was who utahime had called. she lived in the next town over. you introduced yourself as you sat on her couch. she threw a blanket over your shoulders comfortingly and you decided right then and there that she and utahime were going to be perfect for each other.
you didn't remember much after that, only the distant feeling of warmth and comfort that she gave you in her home. it was something you fought to feel, the lack of memories and the overwhelming emotional void making it hard to cling on to any of it. you had to remind yourself of her kindness, of the situation you were in and the way she extended her home to you. otherwise, you would have forgotten where you were as the world slowly slipped away from you.
it was hard to think, your body and brain felt so numb. shoko had to usher you to the bathroom, almost shoving the toothbrush in your mouth herself.
that next morning you spent in an empty office at your university. your hands were remained tucked under your thighs, the position bringing you the slightest semblance of comfort you felt needed to survive. as they spoke to you, you stared at the floor, your mind in a fog.
you handed over your phone, which had been buzzing with notifications over the past twelve hours. you hadn't read any of them, you didn't have it in you to care about that at the moment, and you certainly didn't care enough muster up a response. you heard the clatter of the policeman's reading glasses on the desk before he opened them with one hand, gently placing them on the tip of his nose.
"you seem to have a lot of phone calls with this guy. long ones, too," he said gruffly.
utahime was in another room, with another officer. you wondered what she was saying. the administrative staff would sometimes enter the rooms, only lasting what felt like a few minutes at a time, before they moved back into the hall. you wondered what sense the mix of your stories made, what they were thinking. the windows were covered, you couldn't see if they pulled anyone else.
the cop lifted your phone to his ear, and you could hear ringing on the other side. it didn't last more than three seconds before the distant robotic voice came through, telling him that the line was no longer in service. he sighed.
"he knew you were staying with your friend?"
you blinked. "i don't know, but i assume so, yeah."
"but he never said it out loud?"
"no…" you fought the urge to look at him like he was stupid. "he implicates a lot of things, he doesn't… just say things out loud like that. hardly."
"like, plausible deniability."
"like, mind games."
he nodded, his eyes squinted in thought. you had a feeling he didn't believe you. you wondered if utahime's story corroborated yours, if her perception had shifted at all.
the whole ordeal took five hours. they finally let you go, the water on the table remaining untouched. your stomach was devastatingly empty to the point where it spoke more than you did.
leaving the room, you saw utahime sitting in one of the office chairs. her jacket was bunched in her hands, her posture unkind as she stared off into space. still, hearing the door click open, her attention jumped to you with hollow eyes and desperation. she stood abruptly, dropping the jacket, which shoko caught before it could hit the floor. you didn't notice her standing behind utahime.
utahime lunged at you, wrapping her arms around your neck. she didn't say anything, just held you like you were going to disappear forever. you held her tight, burying your face into her shoulder to hide the hot tears finally erupting.
"i told them, i'm sorry," she whispered. "i told them about the calls, and everything."
"i told them, too," you sniffled.
she nodded with a heavy sigh, shaking with the sobs she was holding back. she pulled away with glossy eyes, keeping a tight grip on your forearm. she glanced over her shoulder where satoru had been waiting. he was standing now in front of his chair, with a clueless expression on his face, waiting his turn.
"i don't know what he's doing here," utahime muttered. "doesn't he have classes?"
shoko cleared her throat behind her. utahime winced with a weak apology, soon tugged away by her girlfriend to give you some space.
satoru approached you with desperate quickness, standing in front of you close enough to where you thought he might hug you. he seemed conflicted himself, his hands shoved in his pockets with uncertainty. his eyebrows were pinched upward while his wide eyes searched you, dragging over your silhouette to see if anything had changed.
he breathed, "hey."
"hey," you said too casually, a hint of humor in your tone. you wiped your cheeks. his lips twitched.
"i heard the news, i heard your name, and i…" he closed his mouth for a moment. "i'm glad you're okay, i'm glad…" it wasn't you.
"yeah, uh, me too," you sniffled. "i don't really know what to do with myself, right now, i just need…"
you weren't sure what it was, if there was anything in the world that could really satisfy you right now. your mind was fuzzy, you couldn't comprehend the next steps for you now that you were involved in a police investigation, linked to multiple murders.
"a distraction?" satoru smirked hopefully.
you looked over your shoulder, where utahime and shoko stood in the corner of the room. utahime was tucked into shoko's shoulder, her arms wrapped around herself.
you looked back at satoru. "another time, maybe."
he nodded. "i can wait."
a smile hinted at the corners of your mouth. adoration warmed up your cheeks at the tone of his voice, like he was convincing himself. "i'll see you tomorrow, okay?"
satoru smiled slightly, taking a step back. he looked to your friends and waved them goodbye, before turning around and leaving the office.
your shoulders deflates as a heavy sigh left you, and you let your weight fall against the wall behind you.
★✰
you decided on staying at shoko's that night as well, you could imagine utahime's apartment building crawling with police and crime scene investigators. it wouldn't last very long. it was just another crime scene, more pointless evidence piled together in the very thick stack papers of their file on ghostface, that would lead to a dead end.
your professor gave you the option to take a rain check on your test, but you declined. you weren't sure it would really end up benefiting you, and with time you might end up forgetting all the things satoru had been spending his time helping you with.
it's not like postponing it would make your life any easier, or the phone calls and murders would stop.
utahime dropped you off at your class that morning, the two of you didn't bother to meet up with mei or naoya. they still texted you incessantly, checking in like concerned parents during that first week of moving out. mei called you a few times after you let her know you were okay, but went back to texting after realizing you wouldn't answer.
you were one of the first ones in your class, it was strange to realize how much time was freed up by not sitting on the quad with your friends.
after some time alone, you heard some shuffling behind you. you turned slightly, to see satoru in his seat.
his expression brightened. "hey, you're here."
"i couldn't let all your efforts go to waste," you said.
"i'd do it again," he said with shrug, smirking.
you grinned, the expression lazier than you intended it to be. your exhaustion weighed down your face. "don't say that, you might have to."
satoru looked at you pointedly, his voice smooth, "don't get my hopes up."
you shook your head and looked back to your table, flustered. even in the barren cove of your stomach, you felt a small flutter.
it was hard to decipher if it was the detachment from your surroundings or the fact that you'd spent all week with satoru, but you breezed through the test. there was hardly a moment where you second-guessed yourself as you worked through the equations.
at the end of class, you looked over your shoulder, and satoru was already looking at you. his face split into a smile, like he was proud to get caught. you smiled back, then collected your things and stood.
he was quick to stand next to you. "how you feeling?"
you laughed slightly. "i think i fried my brain."
satoru lead you to the door, looking down at you as he chattered about one of the questions on the test. his eyes sparkled with passion, his eyelashes fluttering as he made a joke about vademon emerging from the depths of the cosmos.
you weren't quite listening, too caught up in the way he kept himself positioned behind you, his torso curling around the side of your body with a slight lean. your eyes traced the muscles of his neck to the sharpness of his jawline. it was hard to look at anything else.
he met your eyes with a teasing raise of his eyebrows. "what are you looking at?"
"i'm just... looking," you said with a slight shrug.
someone cleared their throat, splitting apart the staring contest. you and satoru looked ahead, to see naoya standing up against the wall opposite the classroom door.
you could tell he was uncomfortable, like he knew he was interrupting something. his shoulders were weighed with insurmountable guilt, the football player tucked into himself, making himself small.
satoru's expression flickered with annoyance, and he straightened up. he took a step forward, pushing up his glasses with the knuckle of his pointer finger.
"naoya," you greeted gently.
"hey," he said stiffly. "can i talk to you?"
you didn't miss the way naoya's eyes flickered to satoru, an irritated frown digging itself into the crevices of his face. satoru stared back, equally as irritated. nerves flared in your chest.
you sighed. "uh, yeah, sure." you looked up at satoru, catching his attention. his face softened. "i'll see you later?"
his lips quirked into a smirk., nodding his head "yeah, i'll text you."
satoru glanced at naoya, raising his eyebrows in a fleeting display of victory before he walked away.
naoya's eyes followed him with revulsion, turning in the opposite direction with you. there was a noticeable distance between your shoulders, and you kept your hand clasped around the strap of your bag.
the hallway was empty, students disappearing around corners and into classrooms with a thick cloud of terror following them. it slithered the building like a snake, curling around the ankles to the back of people's necks, inciting a petrifying feeling that urged them to tuck themselves away.
"so…" he cleared his throat again. "how are you holding up?"
"is that a serious question?"
he scratched his head. "it's a dumb one, but yeah. i'm just… sorry."
you stayed silent, staring at him.
"i'm sorry about the prank, the costume, and everything." naoya swallowed. "i was stupid, and i took it too far. i really am sorry."
a sigh escaped you as you looked him, he could hardly meet your eyes. his nervous energy translated into the way his fingers twitched at his sides, or messed with the zipper to his jacket. it was uncharacteristic of him to be this vulnerable, or to give an apology at all.
"i meant it, you know, when i said i wouldn't let anything happen to you…" he said, surprisingly earnest, and soft. "seriously, this guy…" he scoffed, shaking his head. "whoever this douchebag is, i don't care, he's not laying a finger on you."
you hummed, your lips twitched as they fought a smile. "i think utahime said she's getting a gun. she said shoko knows someone, or something."
naoya grinned. "you think she's for real?"
"i know she is."
he chuckled, shaking his head. silence fell over you as you reached the doors leading outside.
naoya stopped, placing his hand on the door. "my party is still on tomorrow, by the way."
you blinked at him, and he continued talking.
"i was hoping you'd still go, it's supposed to be fun, you know?" he explained. "it'll be a nice distraction for everyone."
you opened your mouth, but he interrupted.
"nothing's going to happen at a party, he can't just break in and start killing people. and you won't be alone," naoya reasoned.
"i don't know, naoya…" you shrugged, and watched as he deflated. "i'll think about it."
"you can't just live your life in fear, y/n. you have to live."
★✰
the setting sun slowly lowered in the sky, the once-white blinds were now illuminated with a bright orange. the sun seller through the cracks and dotted along the walls of your bedroom.
the utahime's voice rang in your head from earlier that afternoon. the way she asked you over and over and over again, if you would come with her. if you were sure you would be okay.
"you say the word and we'll be there, okay?"
she would be at shoko's again, but you had to head back to your apartment for clothes. you couldn't find it in yourself to see it as worth it to take a bus back to her place, to be just as alone as you are now.
you were curled up under your blankets, fingers tapping anxiously against the bedsheets while you waited for some higher being to suddenly will you to sleep.
you tried watching tv, but it was putting on an act in your own home. the dialogue droned on and eventually all the noises muddled together while you spaced out, a desire for normalcy that you couldn't fulfill. you thought about texting utahime to distract yourself, but you wouldn't be doing anything other than disrupting the distraction she needed from your life, even if she didn't say that part out loud.
noaya and mei were off the table.
the air conditioner thrummed, and the window whistled with the wind.
when you had come back, everything was how you left it. there wasn't a book or piece of clothing out of taste, like any of his interest in the apartment had dissipated without you in it.
you checked the time on your phone, and then groaned. 7pm.
you turned on your side, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you unlocked your phone. your fingers moved on their own and before you realized it you were sitting up in your bed, your phone pressed to your ear while your other hand white-knuckled the blankets.
"… hello?" satoru said, with clear confusion.
"hey," you started. "are you doing anything tonight?"
there was a rustling on the other end, papers sweeping through the air and a book closing.
"nothing important… nothing really, at all," he conceded. "are you doing okay?"
"yeah, i just… can't sleep."
"it's 7pm." he paused. "is this a booty call?"
"what?" you squeaked, jaw dropping open in shock.
his laughter echoed through the phone, becoming distant as he threw his head back, before he brought the phone close to him again.
"absolutely not." you shook your head, as if he could see.
"so, what, you just wanted to call me?" satoru asked, his voice dropping slightly. it sent a familiar chill down your spine.
you sighed, "i don't know, utahime's gone and i'm at home. i– i don't really know why i called. i think i'm just looking for a distraction."
"yeah, this sounds like a booty call."
"it is not—"
"but if you want, i can come over," he offered, a smirk playing at his lips. "if you don't want to be alone right now."
"that's nice, but… i don't want to be here, either."
"… you could come to mine," he said. "i'll come pick you up, you know, buddy system."
"really? are you sure?"
"yeah." you heard the squeak of a chair as he stood. "i can be there, and we can do something once we're here, but, text me your address."
it took satoru twenty minutes until he was standing outside the complex building, leaning against the banister of the stairs on his phone.
you gently pushed open the door behind him and watched as he straightened up, dropping his phone in his pocket to look at you. he had a bright grin on his face as he looked over you, from the fuzzy socks to the uneven strings of your sweatshirt.
"hey," he stepped down to the sidewalk and you followed. "how are you holding up?"
"i'm getting tired of that question," you said, a slight frown on your face. "every iteration of it."
satoru chuckled, finding his place next to you like he belonged there, his arm against the back of yours, towering over you so you could still get a good look at him without craning too much. you leaned in to the warmth that seeped through his closes, drawing you in.
"okay," he hummed. "you still up for some digimon? please say yes."
you grinned. "yeah, that'll work."
your shoes clicked against the sidewalk, avoiding all the cracks and crannies that bled weeds and roots. satoru stayed glued to your side, pressing into you more as you passed groups of people. he'd look from them, to you, grinning like there was a inside joke you weren't part of. still, you smiled back, unease whispering over the back of your neck.
ten minutes of chatter passed before satoru pounced the steps to his apartment complex in front of you, he opened the door, guiding you in before him just to speed ahead of you again to press the button to the elevator. the gesture made your stomach flutter, dissolving the fear that had grown to make a home inside you.
the lift was empty, and as the doors shut behind you he pressed his arm against your shoulder casually, the grin never leaving his face.
"i should warn you, my roommate is still home," he said. "i think he's heading out soon, though."
he lead you into his apartment, tossing his keys in the bowl next to the door. you kicked your shoes off, looking around. it was spacious, with tall ceilings and a wide hallway. there was a long rug spread out in the entryway, and an arched doorway to the living room.
satoru took you through the walkway, and you admired the glory of their living space. their couch was a large, creme l-shape. on the opposite wall they had a mounted tv that was bigger than you think any other student on campus had, the walls were decorated with in shades of blues and purples.
it was squeaky clean, and you imagined satoru scurrying around with his arms full of laundry to prepare.
"suguru!" satoru called out. "hey, we're back."
there was a rustling behind one of the closed doors. his voice was muffled, "yeah, alright."
satoru looked back at you, resting his hand on the doorknob to his room. "he's off to see his lady friend soon."
he winked.
he opened the door and flicked on the light, which led to a dim lamp in the corner of his room.
satoru's bedroom was big, but there wasn't much room to walk. he had a large bed in the center of the room, with a light blue comforter haphazard across white sheets. there was an ottoman in front of it, only leaving a few feet of carpet before his media console that supported his tv. his desk took over one corner of the room, on one side had his computer and the other was scattered with papers and open textbooks. he had a tall dresser next to his closet, familiar notebooks set on top.
there were posters above his bed, related to digimon with scattered references to other anime. one of them was a poster for kfc, the outlier making your eyebrows twitch.
a pile of clothes peeked out from under his bed, dark sleeves laid out against the carpet like they were crawling away.
"we'll be in here, if you don't mind," he said, crouching down to the console. "i've got the dvd player hooked up, and honestly i did it so long ago i don't know if i could figure it out again."
you perched yourself on the side of his bed, leaning back on your hands as you watched him open up the cabinets. he pulled a stack of dvds out, asking if you had a preference, to which you shook your head.
there was a distant creak in the hallway, followed by heavy footsteps drawing closer.
satoru's roommate leaned against the doorframe to his room, his arms crossed across against his chest, his dress shirt rolled up to his forearms, and his legs crossed at the ankles. he had long black hair, half of it pinned up into a bun while the other half splayed across his shoulders and back. it swooped at the ends, shiny and taken care of.
suguru's eyes flickered from satoru, to you, then back to satoru. "i'm heading out."
"yeah?" satoru looked up, his hands feeding the dvd player. "you coming back tonight?"
he chuckled. "probably. doubt she'll let me stay."
"even in these trying times?"
suguru gave him a skeptical look, that only made satoru snicker. suguru then looked at you, his eyes boring into you like an all-knowing being.
there was a teasing tilt to his voice, "it's not too late to get out, you know. there's a police station around the corner."
satoru threw the empty dvd box at him. "what kind of advice is that? you live with me."
"exactly, i have authority on this."
"you have bias."
suguru laughed breathily, his smile splitting his face in half. "whatever, man. i'm heading out," he looked to you. "it's nice meeting you, y/n."
you waved as he walked out the door, his footsteps descending until they hit the entryway rug. the front door unlocked and opened.
"tell her i said hi!" satoru called out in a sing-song tone, his head thrown back in a shit-eating grin as he looked down the hallway. the joyful gleam of his teeth made you smile, too.
"she'll never speak to me again," suguru replied, deadpan. the door slammed behind him.
you tilted your head. your eyes trailed across satoru's back, to the sway of his hair revealing his undercut, then the jacket that concealed his arms. his fingers smoothed over the plastic of the dvd box as he picked it up.
"his lady friend not fond of you, or something?"
satoru laughed dryly, then looked over his shoulder as his tv flickered on. "she's not fond of anyone, actually."
"even him?"
he tsked, shaking his head, as if he was cursed with a burden of knowledge that wasn't his to share. "y'know, sometimes i'm not convinced."
satoru straightened, unzipping his jacket. he tossed it over the back of his desk chair, before turning to face you.
he had changed into a digimon shirt (you imagined sometime after you called him), a trading card displayed across his chest. it was tight around the muscles of his biceps, fitting snugly around his abdomen just above where the waistband of his joggers was tied in a neat bow.
"you dressed up?" you couldn't stifle your laugh or the adoration sparkling in your eyes.
"well, of course," he said like it was necessary to his cause. his motioned to his body. "it's a special occasion."
"and if i had said no to digimon?"
"i'd change your mind."
he shut his bedroom door and crawled into bed, leaning back against his headboard with his hand behind his head. he looked at you expectantly, his lips curling into a smirk.
you settled in next to him, leaving a space between you. afraid to cross the line– being in his bed, in your pajamas, the lights dim. your body remained tense, your knees pulled up slightly and facing away from satoru like he carried some sort of disease.
his teeth tugged at his bottom lip, a poor attempt to bite back his amusement. he licked his lips and shifted closer, his arm moving from behind his head to around your shoulder, his body pressing up against yours.
you relaxed only slightly as he pressed play on the remote, and the theme song filled the room.
you had come to learn just how full of words satoru was, it seemed like he could talk forever about anything. especially digimon. he shifted in excitement when they mentioned one of his favorites, or a concept he found interesting, his body leaning into yours as he pointed to the screen and rambled on about it.
somewhere along the line, you had settled into his chest, the sound of his heartbeat luring you further to sleep. his hand ran up and down your arm soothingly, the pads of his fingers occasionally dancing down your skin to draw delicate patterns.
you'd made it through three episodes before your phone started ringing, and you slapped your hand over it like it was an incessant fly.
you flipped it over. you hovered your finger over the button, watching it shake, and then declined the call. no caller id.
"you okay?"
"hm?" you looked at satoru, nodding. "yeah, fine."
he cocked his head. he let you sit in the silence, wordlessly letting you know you how much he thought that was a stupid answer. "you get a lot of phone calls."
"it's– spam," you said, shrugging weakly. "happens all the time."
satoru straightened up, with a bewildered smile. his bright eyes bored into you like crisp ocean water that nipped at your neck as you slowly descended deeper and deeper, you could feel the pressure splash against your jawline, desperate to stay above water. your fingers dug into the comforter like it was a life raft.
"you sure? you look like you've seen a ghost," he chuckled, his gaze trailing up and down. it hovered over the way your fingers dipped underneath your thighs and trailed back up to where your neck bobbed.
you paused. "its, honestly, satoru–" you shook your head. "i don't even know how to tell you, it's a lot."
"so, what? i can take it."
your phone rang again, and you snapped your head in its direction. it was face up now, displaying the same contact.
"what, is it a prank call?" satoru's gaze flickered between you and your phone.
you reached over and declined it again. "no, it's a call. it's just, um…"
your stomach felt empty as it slowly churned nothing, folding in on itself.
"i've been getting these calls, from, uh, this guy..."
"a weird guy?"
"well, it's, uh, ghostface."
"… ghostface.," he repeated. "like…?"
"like the guy on the news, yeah."
"like the serial killer— he's calling you?" he braced his palm against the air. "you sure this isn't a prank call? is this a joke?"
you ran a hand down your face, fighting the urge to channel all your anxiety into irritation at the fact that you were repeating all this again. "i'm not joking, and it's him. he's shown up before, at my apartment. and there was that attack– it's him, okay?"
you breathed heavily, the only sounds of his apartment being you and the digimon on his tv.
"okay," he said slowly. "what does he want?"
your mouth was dry. you cleared your throat, the action filling your throat with rocks and needles.
you shook your head, looking at his closed bedroom door, "just… attention. power."
satoru licked his lips, his eyes a deep blue in the shadow of his own bangs drifting down his forehead. "did you tell the police?"
you paused, looking down at your hands. your face twitched. "yeah, i… i had to. utahime, it was… it was in her building. he was right there." you looked up at him. "we didn't even hear it."
he nodded, like he could understand. but, even through the glossiness of your eyes, you could see the distance. uncertainty that almost mirrored the same everyone else had– helplessness and confusion— but there was something missing.
"what'd they say?"
you laughed at that, the sound wet and groggy. "nothing. absolutely nothing, if anything, they think i'm in on it. i'm the only lead they have… but, you know, if he kills me, they'll be right back at the drawing board. so…"
"he won't kill you," satoru said with sudden conviction. as if there was one thing he could be certain of in life, it was that. "you're not dying."
you looked at him, and he reached forward to wipe his thumb across your cheeks. his touch was gentle, his thumb pad soft and deliberate as he brushed away your tears. after they were gone, he cupped the side of your face with his palm.
"satoru, how do you think this ends?"
"not like that," he shook his head. "it's not happening."
he stopped to think. "what about naoya?"
"what about him?" you blinked, stray tears running down and melting into his skin.
"what about what he did?" satoru asked, eyes narrowed. "the costume, the knife, that was insane. if he can joke like that… wasn't that one guy on the basketball team?"
"football."
he rolled his eyes. "football. don’t you think it's something he's capable of?"
the idea was so far fetched it made you laugh again, shaking your head. "i don't think so. naoya's not exactly smart enough to be a serial killer. i think the police talked to him, anyway."
satoru's lips twitched. "how'd your talk with naoya go?"
"fine," you sighed, "i think i'm going to his party tomorrow."
"still? must have been one hell of an apology."
"well, he didn't. and i didn't forgive him… but, he said i can't just not live my life. i think he's right." you shrugged. "i think utahime would go with me, if i told her."
"i'll go with you."
you shook your head. "satoru—"
"i'm serious." he nodded. "if you're going, i'm going."
"you don't have to do that."
"what can utahime do that i can't?" he raised his eyebrows. there was a moment of silence. "exactly."
you started to smile, biting your lip. "naoya might actually kill you."
satoru smirked. "he can try."
you paused. "what's his problem with you, anyway?"
"some people just didn't get enough love from their parents," he sighed, brightening at the sound of your laugh. "i don't know, we shared one class freshman year, and he's had it out for me since. i think he's got some sort of complex."
"sounds like him."
the tension dissipated from the air, and satoru leaned against his bed frame again with his palm supporting the back of his head. you fixed your posture, not realizing how hunched over you'd been in wallowing in the details of your life. you cleared your throat, and satoru tugged you closer to him.
he urged your body to press up against his, and you turned to face him. your chin rested on his chest, one of your arms thrown across his torso as you blinked up at him. his face was inches away from yours, the sweetness of his breath floating across your face and teasing the back of your throat.
"thanks for letting me come over," you said softly.
satoru's face broke into a grin. "i should be thanking you. i've never been a booty call before."
you groaned, trying to turn away from him. he barked out a laugh, wrapping his arms around you. his legs tangled with yours, locking you in place while he swarmed you with the warmth of his body. his fingers found purchase in the softness of the skin on your sides, hiking you closer to him.
"you can't get away from me that easily."
you laughed, faking a struggle against the tightness of his grip. the two of you rolled over, you pathetically swatting against him as you were pushed on to your back, his overbearing frame hovering over you.
he caught your wrists with one hand, pinning it above your head. his other hand slithered from your waist to support your lower back, raising your hips against him.
the giggles died in your throat as you looked at him, catching the shift in his gaze changing from softness to hunger. he chewed on his bottom lip, eyeing the way your chest rose and fell. your cheeks burned under his stare, his head slowly lowering until his nose brushed up against yours.
you waited, a smile tugging at your lips at his uncertainty. you caught the way his eyebrows crinkled in desperation, like he was fighting his own instincts.
"satoru…"
the bed buzzed rhythmically, shocking the both of you. he jumped slightly, pulling himself back ever-so-slightly to glance at your phone. his hold loosened on your wrists, and he lowered your body against the bed again, skill keeping his hand flush against your back. the pads of his fingers curled pathetically, fighting the temptation to squeeze.
you slithered your hand from his grasp, reaching your phone. you turned it over to see utahime's contact flashing on the screen.
"decline it."
you glanced at satoru, rolling your eyes. "i'm not doing that."
his forehead dropped against your collarbone and he shook his head, letting out a whine. he rested his body against yours, the only thing stopping him from dropping his body weight against yours was the way he kept himself propped up on his elbows.
your free hand ran through his hair absentmindedly as you answered the call, you felt a purr rumble through his body. you opened your mouth to speak, but were interrupted.
"where are you?" utahime demanded.
you winced at her volume, hastily trying to turn it down, and satoru chuckled against your chest. "i'm at satoru's."
"are you out of your mind?"
turning down the volume didn't help.
"no—"
"you know it could be him, right?"
satoru's head perked up, and he met your eyes. his lips split into a loose smirk, amused by the accusation.
you rolled your eyes again, feeling the butterflies in your stomach clip in your throat. "you think he's going to kill me in his own apartment?"
"not the point i'm making," she drawled. "it's way too late to be out of the house."
you glanced at the clock on your phone, 10pm. "i didn't know i had a curfew."
"you do, and you should be at home. do you want us to come pick you up?"
satoru huffed, his warm breath seeping through your clothes and clinging to your skin. you could have sworn his teeth grazed against you, but the feeling was fleeting.
"no, and i'll be fine, okay? i'll text you when i get home."
"i'll be watching your location," she warned. "i love you!"
you grinned. "i love you, too, 'hime."
the call ended, and you tossed your phone against the sheets. satoru tucked his arms underneath you, pulling you beneath him.
"so, you have a curfew?"
"i guess so," you said sheepishly, embarrassment warming your cheeks. "she might kill me."
"i like her," he smirked. "she's looking out for you."
"yeah," you breathed. "i should get going though, before she sends a wellness check."
"i'll walk you," he brought himself on his knees, allowing you the space to prop yourself up on your elbows. "it's the least i can do, before you get grounded."
you reached for the pillow behind you, shoving it in his face.
★✰
you sat in the backseat of shoko's car, looking at the house with weary eyes. it was a large, dated house on the outskirts of town, away from the hustle of college life and apart from where anyone under the age of 50 would want to live the rest of their days. you wouldn't have guessed the home existed out here, surrounded by woods in every direction. the road up to it was made of gravel and dirt, you had been table to tell you were getting close by the raising number of solo cups littered on the ground.
"leave it to a trust fund baby to cheap out on a fucking rental," utahime muttered, her arms crossed. she scoffed, and then looked at you, her expression changing to something much softer. "are you sure you want to be here? we can go."
shoko nodded approvingly in the front seat, looking at you through the rear view mirror.
"no, i want to," you sighed. "and i think satoru is on his way. i can't just feed him to the wolves."
utahime shook her head. "he's a grown man, you know. he's fine."
shoko parked far from the house near the trees, wanting her exit later to be something quick and easy, and not having to wait for a line of people to file out before her. you slammed the car door behind you and trudged through the steep dirt to get to the house, the music becoming louder and vibrating your bones. there were beer cans scattered on the ground, as well as some shoes and chip bags.
it was just after 10, and naoya sent out a text at 7.
the floorboards of the porch creaked beneath your shoes, and you pushed open the front door.
the house was filled with people, they flung themselves over the couches and the stairwell, some of them laid out on the floor in conversation. the inside of the property wasn't much better when it came to garbage, though the coolers around were starting to turn into makeshift trashcans.
shoko lead the way to the kitchen, casually ducking under a game of darts in the hallway. you followed quickly, wincing as you heard the needle puncture drywall behind you.
"hey, you guys made it!"
naoya grinned, opening his arms wide upon seeing you enter the kitchen. he had mei tucked beside him, looking unamused. when her eyes landed on yours, she looked away quickly, and then disappeared behind him.
shoko didn't look in his direction, instead skirting around the kitchen island to open up the cooler on the floor. noaya didn't seem to care, he approached your side and clasped his hand down on your shoulder.
"what do you think, huh?"
"pretty big turn out," you glanced around the kitchen. "i thought you said people were too freaked out to come?"
"nothing a little bribery can't fix," utahime drawled, opening the fridge. she frowned. "naoya, did you get any fucking food?"
"dining room," he said, tilting his head. "and no bribery, just a promise of price, adultered fun."
she looked over her shoulder, shutting the fridge. "it's unadulterated. unless you ordered a hooker."
he looked up in thought, and utahime disappeared into the dining room, her girlfriend quickly following.
you turned to naoya, irritation bubbling in your gut. "what, she can't even look at me now? after what she did?"
naoya blinked, whipping himself around for a second. "what? who, mei? i mean…"
"she can talk behind my back but can't say anything to my face?"
"hey, listen…" naoya said, putting his palm out. "it's just awkward, alright? and, you haven't even texted her back yet. so, how is she supposed to talk to you?"
"don't defend—"
"i'm not defending," he said, shrugging. "but i didn't invite you both for a cat fight in my kitchen. you need to relax."
he smiled brighter at your frown. "come on, drink something. drop all the ghostface shit for one night."
you rolled your eyes, brushing his hand off your shoulder. he snickered, taking a step back to lean against the wall. "god, you're fucking unbelievable."
"i gotta check on mei, okay? have fun!"
the fridge was full of mixers and unlabeled cocktails, you lifted one of the jugs and inhaled, the smell of vodka and citrus burning your nose. you winced, setting it down immediately and reaching for a canned margarita instead. the sweet strawberry flavor bubbled over your tongue, the fizzle sticking to the sides of your cheeks and in your throat. you forced a harsh swallow, hoping it would bring down the lump in your throat.
the air in the dining room was thick, various smells wafting together and creating an ungodly stench that made your skin itch. groups hung around the long table that stacked with cheap snacks and party favors. you reached between two people who couldn't care for your presence, your arm extending over the center for a small bag of chips.
the house was beautiful, a wild contrast compared to the rotting wooden shutters and missing bricks from the walls just outside. the interior had fine detailing that could only be found in older homes, across the deep cherry windowsills and archways. the ends curled, once smooth wood now chipped with time and reckless parties. the walls were a floral, sage wallpaper that peeled at the edges. you played with one of the corners, smoothing it down just to watch it roll back up.
you passed through the open entryway, craning your neck up to those who leaned against the banister on the second floor. the stairs were against the wall, climbing up and turning into an open catwalk that overlooked the entrance of the home. you felt your stomach dip into itself as the fencing wobbled against the weight of someone leaning. they must have felt it, too, quickly taking a step back and tucking their palm into their pocket instead.
decorative tables lined the walls of the long hallway leading to the back of the house, fake flowers tucked into tall vases that still had water. you observed the pictures hanging on the wall, the images of a family dated by the fuzzy quality of the camera and the filter that made the world look so much brighter.
you pulled your phone from your pocket, unlocking it to open your messages with satoru. your thumb hovered over the keyboard until your eyes flickered to the corner of the screen, absent of a wifi symbol. no service.
"you have got to be—"
"hey."
you turned, breath stuttering at the closeness of the voice behind you. the breath swirled over the back of your neck in a minty fog.
satoru stood with an amused grin, his long fingers caging in a soda can that still bubbled.
"hey, you're here," you grinned, relaxing.
"of course i am," he tilted his head, "can't leave a pretty girl like you all alone at a party like this."
the inside of your cheeks bruised with the pressure of your teeth grinding the tissue, desperate to fight the too-bright smile threatening to take over. heat closed in on the sides of your neck as you cleared your throat, your eyes drifting along his body. a tight black t-shirt that complimented his torso, and dark pants. your gaze flitted back up to see the knowing smirk on his face.
"did you leave your glasses at home?" it was more of a comment then a question.
the absence of the black frames only drew more attention to his eyes, bright and undisturbed. they tracked you with ease, each twitch of your fingers and the nervous bob of your throat, like you were something for him to study. no action of yours went unnoticed.
"oh, yeah. i didn't want to risk breaking them," he itched the side of his head, just above his ear where his glasses would normally sit. "why? you think i look bad?"
"what? no, i—" you shook your head. "i just noticed. i like them. but i like you without them, too."
"really?" his tone was far too hopeful for someone who looked at you like he was hungry.
"yeah," you shrugged. "i like your eyes. they're pretty."
he was blushing now, too, not expecting such a declaration from you. his hand tightened around the can, the aluminum jolting and spurting soda that spilled over the webs of his fingers.
"oh! sorry," he mumbled. he swapped the soda into his other hand, observing his hand helplessly. he mumbled under his breath, something along the lines of stupid and excited.
you giggled, sliding the sleeve of your shirt over your fingers and taking hold of his hand. you slid the fabric over his fingers, absorbing the sweet soda with gentle care. satoru's breath hitched as your thumb pressed into his palm tenderly, massaging the skin longer than necessary.
as you let go of his hand, his reach followed. he caught himself quickly, pulling his hand back and tucking it into the pocket of his pants as if to keep it contained.
he smiled sheepishly. "thanks."
"yeah," you nodded, grinning. you turned away from him, opting to explore the house instead of dwelling on how nice his warm hands felt against yours. he followed you as you lead him to the back of the house his chest knocking into your body as he trailed.
you passed the bathroom at the end of the hall, and found yourself at a crossroads of the dining room entrance on the left and the loft on your right. groups of people passed between the rooms with drinks and snacks cradled in their hands, bouncing up and down as they found their friends again.
"this house is huge."
satoru agreed, his eyes trailing the long line of windows to the backyard. they were old windows, the kind that would be pushed out to open instead of up. his long legs brought him to the loft, brushing past the groups of people that danced to the music was booming from the living room.
someone came stumbling towards you, and satoru was quick to pull you to the side before they could make contact. instead, they bumped into the person behind you, with a string of incoherent apologies and a wave in their direction as they kept trudging.
satoru looked down at you, his grip firm on your waist. "you okay?"
"fine," you breathed with a ghost of a smile. his fingers tingled against your skin. "i didn't expect so many people to show up, i thought it was going to be… smaller this year."
"me too," he nodded. "but i guess i didn't see myself showing up, either."
"not a fan of parties?"
"not a fan of—"
a crisp clap of hands sliced through the air, drawing your attention from satoru. his fingers tightened around your waist instinctively, digging into the skin like you'd be dragged away from him.
naoya stood in front of you with a taunting smile that elongated his face and gave you view of the back of his throat. he was astonished, his eyes flickering between the two of you with his hands clasped together at his chest.
"no way," he drawled, his face tight. "you invited this dipshit?"
you rolled your eyes, unable to contain the irritation that seeped from you. "fuck off, naoya."
"woah! i'm just asking. i'm impressed, actually," he widened his stance, extending his arms across the space with flat palms like he meant no harm. "i thought you were too much of a recluse to show up to a party like this, gojo."
satoru laughed to himself, shaking his head. his eyebrows raised and he looked in the opposite direction, like he knew something nobody else did. he didn't dignify naoya with a response, finding it more entertaining to leave him hanging instead.
"don't be a dick."
"i'm just saying the truth," he said simply, taking a step forward. he looked at satoru curiously, his chin jutting up to make up for the inches satoru had on him. "you must got a pretty big night planned, hanging out with, her, huh?"
satoru cocked his head, interest sparkling in his eyes. "maybe i do."
naoya laughed, the sound sharp and unnatural. "keep that up, gojo. i like the confidence, it'll make it better when she learns how much of a freak you are and runs."
"naoya—"
"so far, she's pretty into it." satoru chuckled, his fingers squeezing the skin of your waist.
you wrapped your hand around his forearm, tugging him away from the jock and closer to the living room with you. he followed happily, his hand gliding down your back and pulling away enough to melt into yours.
he glanced behind him, where naoya glowered.
"go find mei, yeah? maybe you can get half my luck tonight."
the two of you slipped through the living room, finding an empty spot next the couch. you leaned against the wall and he stood next to you, caging you in between him and the end table.
you shook your head, scoffing. "he's such an asshole, satoru. i'm sorry."
satoru shrugged with a hollow laugh. "not your fault, just don't know what you see in that guy, really."
"nothing," you said quickly, disgust digging in to the corners of your lips. "he just kind of sticks around. with mei, mostly."
he hummed. "a match made in heaven."
a smirk tugged at the corners of your lips, and you swallowed it down with a swig of your drink.
satoru massaged your free hand, watching the way you tilted your head back to gather the last drops of the cocktail. his gaze hovered over your throat, where a red droplet slipped from the corners of your lips and dipped into each curve along your skin. he reached over, pressing his thumb gently against the skin, gathering the stream.
you blinked at the contact, swallowing the last of your drink and looking at him in time to see the way he pressed his thumb against his lips and licked. he smirked, dropping his hand and resting against the wall.
satoru suddenly jolted, his hand instinctively digging in to his pocket. his expression was narrow and bothered as he pulled out his phone with a pout, judging the contact that flashed across the screen.
"sorry, it's my roommate." his gaze flickered to the door, then back to you. "i'll be right back, i just gotta take this."
"okay," you smiled sightly. "i'll be here."
satoru passed through the rooms, tossing his empty can in one of the trash bags bundled up on the floor. there was a pile of trash surrounding it, evidence of people too drunk and disrespectful to bother picking up after themselves.
your eyes followed satoru as he left the house, catching a glimpse of his body descend the front steps and stride across the lawn with his phone pressed to his ear.
the cushions on the couches were taken up by ground of people bunched together, the wooden frame surely cracking beneath the pressure of far too many throwing themselves on top of each other. people laid out on the floor as well, leaning on tables and desks in the corners of the rooms to take the stress off their dancing feet.
you ascended the stairs instead, opting to explore for a bit longer. they creaked beneath your feet, worn with years of use, the wood beginning to dip into the shape of shoes. you brushed past those who ran up and down the stairs, seemingly chasing each other.
the groups upstairs had dwindled down. as you crossed the catwalk you pressed your palm against the banister, watching it wobble. quickly, you reeled your hand back and continued across the hallway, the fencing replaced with a deep blue wallpaper. it lured you further into the home, lined with closed doors with various items on the handles that made you cringe.
one of the doors was cracked open, catching your attention. you hovered against the frame, waiting for any debaucherous noises. it was silent.
hesitantly, you pushed open the door to the grand bedroom. your eyes were drawn to the long arch over the middle of the room spread between two wooden pillars. it lined the high ceiling, lighting up the room with a chandelier hung in the center.
you crossed the carpet, plush and taken care of, and ran your hands along the mahogany dresser. it was topped with an empty vase, a jewelry box, some unlabeled books you sure had empty pages.
you dawdled towards the closet, curiosity pulling the strings of your brain.
peeling the door open, you cocked your head at the size. it was clearly meant to be a linen closet at one point, narrow but tall. a hang bar was installed inside, just below a shelf. there was only one item hanging, a long black gown that tugged a frown over your lips.
you looked up at the shelf and the black fabric that dipped over the edge, too tall for you to see. you reached up on your tip toes into the darkness, your fingers curling around cheap plastic. you pulled the item forward, a sharp gasp catching in your throat at the sight.
the ghostface mask stared back at you.
you yelped like it burned, dropping it immediately. it clattered on the floor, next to a pair of dark boots. "fuck!"
panic swelled in your chest with your heavy breaths, and you walked backwards until you felt the back of your legs collide with the bed. you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to sit as the fear washed over you.
you braced your hands against your knees, hunching over to find comfort in balling yourself up. you slowed your breathing, trying to flush out the dread that stuck to your skin and made your bones stiff.
your mind drifted to naoya, and his shit eating grin when you tore the mask from his face. you scoffed to yourself, betrayal twisting in your gut and forcing a tight snicker from you. of fucking course it's naoya.
laughter ghosted from your lips as you left the room, shutting the door behind you. your stomach sewed together with anger, then ripped itself apart. you imagined all the ways you would yell at him, you imagined bringing utahime into it as well. she wouldn't let him live another day.
your legs drifted along the floorboards of the house, bringing you to the kitchen where you grabbed another drink and cracked it open. this one was peach mango.
you took a seat on the stairwell, bunching up your knees slightly to balance the can on your jeans. it left a ring of condensation as you spun it around, letting the cool water seep into the fabric.
the minutes alone stretched on, burning your skin with irritation and anxiety as you wondered how long satoru would be. you pulled out your phone briefly, double checking the signal in the corner that still read no service.
you drummed your free hand against your jeans in silence as you observed the people around you.
there was a commotion by naoya's music setup, a group of people raising their voices at each other in excitement. you peeked your head forward to see into the living room, keeping yourself perched on the steps. they spoke over each other, eyes wide and shoving their phones around the circle.
suddenly, the music was unplugged.
"yo, they found a fucking body!"
the can crinkled in your hands.
"who is it?"
"it's off the west building's balcony!"
"we gotta see it!"
a stampede descended the stairs behind you, pushing past you to jump down the last few steps and stomp their feet on the ground. you leaned into the railing with a wince, trying to make yourself as small as possible as they stumbled past.
numerous drunk bodies slammed to the floor before they scrambled back up and out the front door, letting it swing open and hit the people behind them. through glimpses between their springing bodies, you saw car lights flicker on an quickly peel out of the grass. some of them caught air as they descended the gravel, the screeching of metal echoing in the night.
the house was suddenly quiet, the distant hum of the fridge and mumblings of the tv being the only sounds left. the front door continued to swing against the wind, and you carefully stood up and latched it close.
a body on campus, your mind was reeling with the possibilities of who it could be. any of your professors, the security guards or the admin working late. but, it meant that he wasn't here.
you thought back to naoya's fucking costume in the closet.
still, your stomach throbbed with anxiety, alcohol sloshing wildly, climbing higher and higher.
you walked to the dining room, grabbing another bag of chips off the table. you peeled it open, leaning against the wooden frame as you glanced around the empty house. you hadn't spotted naoya or mei run out in the haze, and you were certain shoko and utahime were locked in a bedroom. satoru was outside somewhere.
you strolled to the tv, which was now playing psycho. a lump formed in your throat, and you pressed your fingers against the skin as you tried to swallow it back down. reaching for the remote, you shut the tv off and tossed it back on the couch.
"hey, naoya?" you called out. you peeked into the loft, and then the kitchen. "naoya?"
silence remained in the house, only to be broken by the creak of your footsteps in the hallway.
"are you looking for naoya?"
you jumped, turning around. mei was standing there, a hand on her hip with pout dragging down her lips.
she looked to the side, "yeah, me too."
your shoulders relaxed, and steadied your breath. you picked up the trash scattered across the floor. "well, if you don't know where he is, he must really be lost."
she sighed behind you, pulling her lips into her mouth without comment. she followed you as you walked back to the kitchen and opened a garbage bag, throwing the trash inside. she observed from the entryway, standing against the door frame and letting her eyes linger over you.
"last i saw him, he said he was taking care of the router," mei said, tilting her head. "he was freaking out because there's no service."
"i'm not looking for him," you said definitively. you shook your head, "not when he brought that stupid costume. i can't believe i thought—"
"what costume?"
you rolled your eyes, looking back at her. your jaw clicked at her feigned innocence. "what do you mean 'what costume'? the costume, mei. he thinks that shit is funny."
"he doesn't have the costume."
"yes, he does."
"no, he doesn't," she straightened. "y/n, i watched him throw it away."
you froze, looking at her. the irritation on your face flickered, pinching with confusion as you settled into the silence. your eyes became unfocused, drifting off to the wall while you thought back to the closet, the dark cloak and face mask that haunted you.
"y/n, why—"
"i saw it. in the closet upstairs," you said softly, your voice cracking with fear. you could feel your hand shaking, holding a smashed beer can. your grip became lax, letting it clatter into the trash bag with the rest of them.
she stared at you, then uncrossed her arms, "show me."
kicking past the bag, you brushed past her with panic brewing in your stomach, pinching it together and splitting it apart. it threatened to buckle your knees as you swiftly ascended the stairs, mei nipping at your heels. you lead her through the hallway that peered over the entryway and loft, until you were met again with the far corner of the house.
you could feel the heat of her gaze burn into your back, and you resisted the urge to frown.
you nudged the door open with a long creak, and flicked on the light next to you. carefully, you approached they closet door, turning the knob with a shaking hand.
empty.
the darkness stared back at you, and you were quick to look around the bottom of the small space. the shoes were gone, the mask was no longer on the shelf. you peered into the small space like there was any more room to hide than what you could see yourself.
"i swear, mei, i saw it. it was right here."
"in here? in this closet?" she drawled.
"yes, mei, i—"
there was a crash downstairs. something kicked, that skittered across the floor.
your gut was screaming at you, turning on itself and spurring up bile that trapped in your throat. you looked over your shoulder at her, meeting her brown eyes that were blown wide in fear. her eyebrows tilted upward with panic and worry, the dread sinking into her face.
you were wrong. he was here.
the blood drained from your face, circulating most where your fingernails dug into your palms. you could feel your body itching to become dead weight, to collapse into the floor and remain until it would all be over.
she opened her mouth, and you shook your head frantically.
slow steps slammed against the stairs, making their way closer. you could hear the heavy weight drag against each step before grinding into the next one, driving a chill up your spine and hiking your shoulders against your neck. you squeezed your fists to fight off the dread that prickled your skin like a cold whip lashing against goosebumps, the icy hot feeling bringing cold sweats with it.
mei's hand shoved you in to the closet, beckoning you to shut the door behind you. you reached out for her to bring her with, breathing out a 'what?' in panicked confusion, but she brushed you off. anxiety nipped at your fingers as you watched her crouch beside the bed on the opposite side of the entryway, laying herself against the carpet on her forearms.
you leaned back in the closet, pulling the door close enough to leave a sliver of space to keep an eye on mei. shakily, you checked your phone again. no service.
the footsteps dragged through the hallway, labored, looming closer and closer to the door. there was a slam against the wall, a grunt following. you bit back the bile rising in your throat as you waited in the closet, keeping your eyes on mei, who kept her eyes on you.
the bedroom door creaked. "guys...?"
recognition flickered in mei's expression, her eyes becoming squinted in your direction.
he groaned. "where did you...?"
you watched mei jump up to stand, and you found the confidence to open the closet door. you stepped out cautiously.
"naoya?"
your stomach dropped to your ankles.
naoya was hunched over himself, looking forward with a weary gaze. he wobbled against the doorframe, his arms wrapped around his stomach and digging into his sides, trying to soothe a stomach ache beyond salvation. blood bloomed in pools across his shirt, which was stretched wide with the lashings of a knife and displayed the deep wounds. the blood seeped through his shirt, saturating the fabric and pooling over the creases in his arms and dripping on to the floor.
his knees buckled but he persisted in keeping himself upright. his face was soaked with a mix of tears and blood, smeared around his cheeks and in his hair. it stuck up where it had been pulled at, and blood coated his ear just below. there was skin split open on the side of his neck, gushing into the neckline of his shirt.
mei screamed, covering her mouth. "naoya?!"
"mei, i can't, i'm so… tired…" he mumbled, looking up with teary eyes.
you stepped closer to mei, your wide eyes trained on naoya. mei was stiff, and you gripped her hand tightly in hopes to wake her up. your palm was clammy and raw, grating against her skin.
naoya fell forward, and you pulled mei to take a step back. he groaned as he hit the floor.
behind him, a figure stepped into the doorway. you stared down the lifeless eyes of the plastic mask you had seen earlier.
ghostface tilted his head as he looked back at you, mocking. he looked from you, to mei. she whimpered beside you, squeezing your hand back.
he looked down at his hand, and you followed his gaze to the knife coated in blood. he showed it off in the light, watching it gleam as blood dropped down the blade. he carefully dragged his gloved hand over the metal and wiped it clean.
"oh, fuck," you whispered.
he lunged at mei first, and you tugged her sharply in your direction as you stepped to the side. she crashed into your chest and your back hit the dresser behind you, the wooden furniture rocking back and slamming against the wall. the knobs of the drawers pushed into your sides, digging into your muscles. you turned around briefly with tears prickling your lashes, and your eyes catching the blue vase that teetered on top of the dresser.
you reached for it, and as ghostface looked back, you slammed it against his chest and watched the glass shatter, soaking his cloak in water. you reeled back as he stumbled, and dragged mei with you as you carefully stepped over naoya's body to run through the hallway. you heard her gasp behind you, clamping her hand over her mouth as she willed herself to leave him behind.
the two of you descended the stairs in a flurry, knocking into each other haphazardly. you braced your hand against the rail, only to reel it back to your chest as pain sizzled up your arm. you winced, watching the blood flow down your palm, cut open by a piece of glass.
you reached the bottom, your ankles burned as you slammed your feet against the floorboards, digging your heels into the wood to propel yourself forward.
your body acted faster than your mind, slamming into the door while your hands fumbled with the doorknob. you tried jerking it open, just to be met with resistance. you looked up to the locks, wiping your eyes to see clearly. your hands jiggled the deadbolt, and then the chain, trying to get them to unlock.
the desperation shook your hands around the cool metal, the locks slipping from your hand with the sweat and blood of your grip.
mei's neck craned up at sudden movement. her face was struck with fear. "y/n."
you fumbled with the lock that refused to become undone. "it won't unlock," you whimpered.
"y/n," she said again, her voice stronger. you didn't get a chance to look up before she grabbed your forearm and pulled you into the living room with you.
wood crackled above you, the sound of the railing splintering shattered the air. you looked up in horror to see naoya's body dropping off of the balcony, his arms swinging up helplessly as he plunged through the air.
his body slammed against the floor with a loud crack, eliciting a sharp scream from you and mei. the air cracked your throat and your hands cupped over your mouth in reflex, your hot breath heaving against the skin. beside you, mei shook, rocking back on her heels.
staring at naoya's body, your hands shoved against mei's arm. blood pooled underneath him. footsteps stomped down the stairs. "go, go."
mei found her footing, bolting through the archway into the loft. she stopped for a moment to peer out the windows, her eyes catching the old, wooden furniture that was piled up against them as a barricade. you grabbed her arm to follow you, bringing her in the dining room. your head was spinning as you tried to put together a plan, all exits being boarded up or sabotaged, all you could do was run in circles.
you skittered to a stop half-way through the kitchen, and she crashed into your back, her hands curling around your arm and digging into your flesh to steady herself. ghostface stepped through the doorway and stood at the end of the kitchen, and you couldn't shake the image of naoya's body a few feet off to the side. collapsed in front of the front door.
ghostface took a step forward, and you scrambled backward, your hands bracing against the kitchen counter. your stomach fell further, helplessly trying to scoop itself up and give you a semblance of structure to spur yourself onward.
you turned around to run the opposite direction, only to be stopped by mei stuck in place, struck in horror. in front of her, another ghostface.
you glanced back, watching the one behind you tilt his head. the one in front of you shrugged, and then snatched mei to his chest. she cried out, and he turned her around so her back was against him, his knife pressed against her throat.
mei's eyes were blown wide with helplessness, but she shook your head. her voice was hoarse, quivering, "y/n, run—"
you reached forward anyway, but before you could grasp his arm you were jerked backward to the floor. your back slammed against the tile and you were quick to pull up your knees and prop yourself up on your elbows, looking above you. the second ghostface stood beside you, his boots nudging against your waist. he leaned over you, almost inquisitive.
he raised his boot and hovered it over your stomach, you heard mei cry as a blade slashed over her skin.
you grabbed his ankle and pulled, dragging his foot over your head. he floundered in the air, his arms flying out to brace for impact, his body hitting the floor with a rough groan. you took the chance to pull yourself up and run towards the entryway, kicking away the beer cans across the floor.
there was an exasperated sigh from the other ghostface behind you, followed by a body hitting the floor and mei's moan of pain.
hallway, back of the dining room, grab mei and run upstairs. figure it out.
you held back an audible groan as you saw naoya's body, willing yourself to step over him once more and run down the hallway to the back of the house. you could hear clamoring behind you, and you glanced over your shoulder to see the two ghostface's by the front door, one of them disappeared into the living room while the other followed.
you circled back to the dining room, finding mei limp in the corner, thrown against some chairs. she had a cut on her stomach, slowly seeping through her shirt.
"come on, mei, up," you groaned, grabbing her arm and hoisting her up to her feet. "can you walk?"
"yeah, s'not deep," she winced, leaning against you. her eyes fluttered shut.
"come on, upstairs," you breathed, turning around.
ghostface stomped into the kitchen, and your breath hitched. you picked up one of the wooden chairs, fueled by the adrenaline in your veins, and swung it at him. a leg of the chair splintered against his arm, half of it falling to the floor. he huffed, grabbing another leg and pulling the chair out of your grip to slam it against the wall. it shattered completely.
you turned into the kitchen and grabbed the knife block, running your hands over the slots. empty.
instead, you picked up the block and turned around, slamming it against his head. that sent him backward, stumbling against a side table and squeezing his head soothingly through the cloak.
you ran past him, and mei followed. you made it through the hallway and rounded the banister to ascend the stairs. you turned to look at her, and watched as she stumbled against the wall, the blood loss rapidly devolving her ability to see straight. the cut was deeper than you thought.
a hand clamped around your throat from behind, his fingers digging up into your jaw as he jerked your body backward. your feet lifted into the air for a moment and you scrambled, trying to reach around to land any sort of hit.
he pulled you into the living room and threw you against the floor. your head hit the ground, your eyes widening in desperation as white flickered over your vision. sharp pain throbbed from the back of your head and spread over your skull, slowly trickling down your spine. you landed between the couch and the coffee table, cups crunching against your sides as you attempted to hoist yourself up with your hands braced against the cushions.
ghostface was quick to crouch in front of you, hovering his knife in front of your face in a wordless threat. his face was inches in front of yours.
you glared, boring into the soulless eyes of his mask. your jaw locked in place as you breathed heavily through your nose.
"fucker! get off of me!"
your attention was splintered when you heard mei scream, a scuffle behind him happening in the entryway. you leaned to the side to get a glimpse, and he only followed your gaze and blocked it with his silhouette. he tilted his head forward, his knife bouncing in the air in front of your nose to make a point.
he gestured to your hands still braced on the couch, and you pulled them off. you leaned back on your elbows, and he nodded.
ghostface stood up straight, and stepped to the side as his partner entered the room, who had his bicep locked around mei's neck. her face was red, her fingers clawing at his sleeve. blood stained her hair, following the long pattern of her braid. his partner dropped her to the floor, where she coughed helplessly against the carpet.
with her hunched over, you could see a gash stretched along her back. there was one in the side of her leg as well.
the two masked figures looked at each other, nodding and gesturing vaguely in a secret conversation. the one in front of you looked back at you.
the other one walked over to mei again, his boot knocking against her side to catch her attention. she refused, and he kicked harder, eliciting a groan.
she looked up, and he leaned just enough to grab a fistful of her hair. she whined again, her hands shooting to the top of her head as he pulled her higher and higher until she was balancing on her knees, her back stretched the straightest it could be.
your body surged forward, stopping only when the man in front of you pointed his knife at you warningly. he then crouched down, balancing on his toes with his arms resting against his knees.
the ghostface on the other side sighed heavily, the sound weighed with disappointment. he used his free hand to fumble with the hood of his cloak, pulling it down, and then reached in front of him to drag the halloween mask from his face.
his hair pooled at his shoulders, the shiny strands curling like inky tentacles. he ran a hand through his hair, sweeping them over his back and giving you a clear view of the wide grin that split his face in two. he showed off all his teeth as they gleamed in the light, pure joy pinching at the apples of his cheeks and drawing his eyebrows upward as he chuckled.
his bangs fell back into his face and he shook his head to swipe them away, calming his laughter.
your jaw dropped slightly, the horrifying shock sharpening the curves of your face. your eyes were wide, despite the way the rest of your face was pinched together with a degree of tension that was about to snap. you stared as your mind ran in circles.
suguru looked at mei, who became limp with the reveal. his grin remained, "what? speechless?"
you looked to the masked figure in front of you, as the pieces slowly clicked together. your body leaned forward on its own, your head tilting. "no…"
he fumbled with his mask, grabbing the chin and lifting upwards off his face. it tilted back with the hood of his cloak, the white tufts of his hair bouncing back over his forehead. he cocked his head to the side, his wild eyes wide and swimming with excitement as he observed you, taking in your presence and your reactions without the sheer, black curtain in his way.
satoru's smirk was full of pride. "hey, sweets."
"no, no, no, satoru…" you shook your head with a whimper, looking down. you closed your eyes and felt the tears fall again, soaking into your cheeks. disbelief clouded your mind, and you silently wished for this to all be some nightmare your mind conceived in the sickness of your life. "satoru?"
satoru, who you'd been sharing classes for years. he was so quiet, so alone. he had thick glasses and dorky digimon shirts, and he orders the sweetest stuff on the menu because it's the only thing that tastes good.
satoru's excitement was dulled with gentle concern. "come on, pretty. don't be like that."
cool metal nipped at the skin under your chin, and you tilted your head up to meet his gaze.
"you're so pretty when you cry."
"you're sick."
"'sick'," he repeated with a scoff, shaking his head. he dropped his knife from your chin, and stood. he looked back at his roommate. "you hear that, suguru? she said we're sick."
"she said you're sick, not me."
satoru pouted, rolling his eyes. he looked at mei. "what do you think, mei, huh? is he sick?"
she whimpered, looking up at him. you gauged the recognition in her eyes, the desperation that could only be derived from something personal.
suguru looked at you, letting go of mei's hair. she collapsed to the floor. "you know who i am, y/n?"
you narrowed your eyes, and he stepped closer.
he lunged forward in a quick motion, grabbing the edge of the coffee table and throwing it easily to the other side of the room. it clattered against a chair, both pieces of furniture breaking each other and crashing into the wall.
you flinched back, and he grabbed you by your forearm and lifted you into the air before pulling you into a headlock. he braced his knife against your collarbone, the blade slowly splitting the fabric of your shirt and dipping into your skin. you groaned through gritted teeth as he dragged it and the pain bloomed across your chest. he tucked you tighter against him as you dug your nails into his arm, a snicker leaving his lips as he watched the blood spread over your skin.
satoru's nostrils flared, and he directed his attention to where mei laid on the floor.
"now you girls match. you're best friends, right?" suguru grinned. "you have to match."
he slammed the knife into your waist, and the air was sucked from your lungs. the pain seared across your flesh, pulling a weak scream barely contained by gritted teeth. you then groaned, bending over to the best of your ability in a pitiful attempt to soothe yourself. he whipped the knife back out and you instinctively pressed at your wound, whimpering at the pain that sizzled on your skin.
your blood poured over the back of your shaking hand, dripping off your wrist and staining your clothes.
suguru shoved you, and you stumbled into satoru, your back flush against his chest. he wrapped his arms around you, one securing your waist tightly. his glove wrapped around your wound and pinched the skin together, eliciting a sharp scream from you as your body writhed in protest. the pain was unthinkable, shooting through your veins like hot fire.
quickly, satoru covered your chest with his other arm, pressing against the sliced skin from suguru's blade. you breathed harshly through your nose, biting back a moan. his hand hovered over your shoulder, held tight in a fist as he gripped his knife, the tip of the blade tapping against your cheek. in the distance of your hazy mind, you heard him shushing you.
satoru leaned, pulling you closer against him. his warmth was suffocating, overwhelming you from all angles as it seeped into your sweat-soaked skin. his breath tickled your ear as he lowered his head next to yours, grazing his teeth against the shell of your ear for a moment.
"no, suguru," he murmured, his minty breath wafted against your face. he squeezed your waist, earning a raw groan from you. "best friends are loyal, aren't they? best friends are supposed to trust each other, right?"
he giggled, the sound sending a chill down your spine. "tell me, sweets, do you think your friends are loyal?"
"the fuck are you talking about?" you seethed, looking at suguru. satoru's arm tightened around your stomach, you could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest behind you.
your chest was tight, your body was too small for the way your heartbeat was slamming against the confines of your ribcage. blood was rushing in your ears, crashing waves against the curves of your canal and digging into your brain.
suguru's face dropped. "answer the question."
you glared.
"come on, now," satoru purred. he angled his knife away from your face, instead using thumb to tilt your head in his direction. you met his stare, your face pinching in confusion. his eyes were hooded, his gaze flickering over the corners of your face with a growing smirk on his lips. his pupils were dilated, what were once soft blues full of adoration and wonder, were now gaping holes boring into you with excitement and dark promise.
"talk to me, sweets. are your friends loyal?"
you held eye contact, ignoring the way your stomach was spiraling. your eyes fluttered as he adjusted his grip on your body, possessive. "yes, they're loyal."
he threw his head back with a playful groan, rolling his eyes. "oh, no. that's the wrong answer, sweets."
you narrowed your eyebrows at him, bile pulled taut in your throat. "what?"
"what, you don't believe me?" satoru tsked. "i learned that first night i called you. you need proof, hm?"
his arm around your core dropped for a moment as he dug through his pocket, pulling out his phone. he tossed it to suguru, and then wrapped his arms around you again. as you winced, he rubbed his thumb in slow circles against the burning skin, coaxing your body to relax against him.
your glare moved back to suguru who caught his phone, and then flickered down to mei.
she shared a look with suguru, utter hopelessness escaping her cries as the tears flowed down her face. "suguru, don't do this. don't, please."
he tsked. "mei, now's not the time to beg."
suguru found what he was looking for in the phone, his face lighting up with delight. he turned up the volume for everyone to hear, the corners of his mouth twitching in excitement as he pressed play.
there was a rustling in the audio, the phone had been hidden somewhere.
"yeah, she's hardly even a person," mei's voice cut through the rummaging, slightly muffled, but still hers.
you looked to mei, but she kept her head down.
"it's kind of sad, she and utahime are so co-dependent. like those freaky conjoined twins."
utahime. utahime was still here, somewhere.
"you think so?" suguru drawled.
"it's fucking pathetic, losers. both of them."
suguru tsked as the video ended, shaking his head. he swiped a few times. "oh, here's my favorite. satoru likes it, too."
satoru scoffed, his elbows tightening around the curves of your body. "fuck off."
"— so, what? what'd you say?" the recording played.
"i told them the truth. by the end of the year, naoya and y/n are hooking up. everybody knows it."
"you think so?"
"yeah, y/n practically flutters her lashes every time he's around. she wouldn't put up with her shit how she does if she wasn't into him."
"i thought they were just friends."
"no woman is 'just friends' with naoya zenin."
"what about you?"
"… well—"
your face dropped in disgust, your eyebrows scrunching together in disbelief as you stared at mei. she refused, but still, you stared. you wanted her to feel the fire in your eyes, and let it burn her skin. blood was rushing to your face, pooling against your brain as you thought back to the close nights you spend with one of your best friends. talking about life, your friends, the things you wanted to be.
your gut was turning, a blade of betrayal slicing through you, swirling your intestines and knotting them together. the skin around your wounds seared with anger, quickly spreading all over your body in a silent rage as blood poured down your torso. the pain was dissipating as our mind settled on the anger. you found yourself questioning how many things she must have said about you before, if these were the only ones caught on recording with her homicidal fuck-buddy.
your jaw dropped. "are you fucking kidding me, mei?"
"i'm… sorry." she sighed.
"you told people i wanted to fuck naoya?" you tried to step forward, but satoru pulled you tight against him. "are you fucking serious?"
her bloody hand clutched her stomach, the blood flowing over her fingers and dripping on to the rug beneath her.
"talk about projection, right?" suguru joked, tossing satoru's phone on the couch. "is that loyalty? spreading rumors like that?"
he strolled closer to mei, standing beside her like she was a dog at his feet. he leaned slightly. "everyone knows mei will do anything you ask her. tell you anything you want, for a price, whether it's money, favors, sex."
"fuck you," she said groggily, looking up at him.
he straightened. "been there, done that. i'll say, i had a good time."
satoru snickered beside you, sighing dreamily as he inhaled. you felt the whiff breeze over your neck, tickling your skin. he nudged his nose against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine as he played with the sensitive skin. "loyalty isn't a one way street." he murmured. "even dogs know that, don't they?"
satoru purred, "oh, pretty. what to do, what to do?" he paused. "should we put her down?"
"what?" you croaked, looking at him. mei looked up, having lost the energy to speak.
he grinned, batting his lashes. "after all she's done? she was worse than naoya, look where it got him." he gestured behind him. "he was a fucking idiot, but he was loyal, wasn't he? a good dog."
"you're out of your fucking mind."
"am i?" he questioned through gritted teeth. "i'm looking out for you."
his hold across your chest tightened, his hand pressing against your cheek to hold you in place. you could feel the coldness of his knife radiating next to your ear. "i've always looked out for you."
his tone vulnerable with the kind of sympathy you wouldn't expect to be holding you at knife point.
satoru looked up at suguru, anger burning a hole through the charming veil he'd presented. he nodded towards mei in command, and suguru followed by grabbing her arm and lifting her up against his chest. her knees were weak, she was barely able to stand.
"she's been spreading shit for years," satoru accused, outstretching his arm and jabbing his knife in her direction. "you remember freshman year, when you were taking that advanced calculus class? you struggled so much the first semester, and got a good footing just time for finals?" his eyebrows were pinched as he looked at you, all but begging you to understand. "and you did so good, too. you were so proud, i was so proud."
you stared at him, the disgust sharpening the angles of his features, the definition thick in the shadows dipping beneath his cheekbones. your eyebrows squinted in bewilderment, incapable of pulling yourself away, stuck floating in the darkness of his eyes. you remembered what he was talking about, the horrific struggle you had your first year with calculus that your classes in high school did a pisspoor job of preparing you for. you remembered pulling all-nighters one after the other, and being in such a deep state of delusion you were begging your own brain to understand the material.
and then, one night, it clicked. after enough studying and talking you off the ledge from your advisor, the class started to make sense. you worked on old assignments you misunderstood, talked to your professor, and the fog lifted and you passed your final with flying colors.
satoru recalling your life with so much accuracy sent a cold chill over your body, tingling the back of your neck and shooting down your spine. your stomach fluttered. he was watching. he was so proud.
"… and then someone said you slept with you professor," he reminded you, his face scrunching in disbelief. "and the idea got passed around until the admin brought you in, right? asking you all those questions, like you'd done something wrong."
he was watching.
"who do you think did that, pretty?"
your gaze drifted to mei, who leaned on suguru for support. his face was disgusting, like he couldn't be bothered with the mess or the blood that dripped on to his clothes.
she didn't respond, and suguru scoffed. he adjusted the grip on his blade before leaning forward slightly, and plunging it into her stomach. she wailed, and you lurched forward, only to be pulled back again by satoru.
"spread that shit around with yuki," satoru snarled.
"you weren't the only one, there were others," suguru said, twisting the blade. his face remained unchanged with her cries as she bent over, clawing at her skin. "that rumor about utahime being admitted because she was out for a week? the ones about naoya, too, but, well…" he shrugged. "it was naoya, so..."
he pulled out the knife, followed by her whisper of a groan. she collapsed to her knees, her body sinking lower and lower as her will to live escapes her in weak breaths. the blood gushed out of her, staining the rug and the floor beneath. you watched with wide, teary eyes as her body wavered, unable to hold herself up straight.
satoru snickered at that, shaking his head. "what a fucking tool, that bastard had it coming in life. someone would get to him sooner or later. we were just lucky to get him first."
he tucked you into his side, his arm wrapping around your back and fingers played across your stomach. he held you like you were his, like this was a comfortable interaction and he was showing off to his friends and there wasn't a body rotting next to the stairs.
satoru tutted. "don't feel bad, sweets. y'know how often he picked on me? first week of freshman year, he spit on me and said he was aiming for the trash can." he looked over, narrowing his eyes at mei. "was there a trash can, mei? you were there."
she swayed in response, and he shrugged.
"ah, well. guess you'll have to take my word for it." satoru smirked, amused. he looked at you, tilting his head and dragging his eyes over your frame. "you lookin' a little pale, pretty."
"those rose-tinted glasses finally coming off, huh?" suguru questioned, raising an eyebrow. he tsked, his knife bouncing in the air like a wagging finger.
"fuck you," you narrowed your eyes at him.
suguru laughed, his eyes sparkling. the sound was like a gut punch, and you fought every instinct to step back and cower down. it was the laughter of someone crazed, the sound hardly contained in the walls of the home.
he held his jaw in his hand, looking to the windows in faux reflection. you followed his gaze, squinting through the darkness outside to the woods surrounding the house. among the distant trees, you spotted a familiar tattered SUV left behind.
your jaw was tight with tension, the muscles snapping together and gritting your teeth.
"where's utahime?"
suguru looked to satoru, his face falling for a fraction of a second. his lips parted ever so slightly as he drew in a sharp breath, recognizing his misstep. confusion flickered over his eyes, which he blinked away and replaced with a wall of anger.
"utahime."
the stench of blood was thick in the air, copper mingling with the waft of satoru's cologne that clouded your body. you leaned against him in anticipation, attempting to put distance between yourself and the man who's mind was breaking down in front of you.
"satoru, find her."
satoru's hands squeezed your body, drawing the breath out of your lungs.
"suguru—"
"we're finishing this. find them."
his grip slowly loosened as he took a step back, leaving your skin to feel bare. the draft in the air hit your skin, wet with blood and eliciting goosebumps to dance across your skin. his sleeve pulled away from your skin, the squelch of the fabric peeling apart digging into the depths of your ears.
suguru looked to you. "i'll keep her here. utahime can't be far."
satoru's face pinched with skepticism, seconds of dawdling as he stared down suguru. he was waiting for something, a crack in the facade, a twitch of his fingers. the gears were slowly turning as he weighed his options, before nodding slowly.
he tapped his hand against your hip. "stay here."
the command cemented your feet to the ground, though you knew you didn't have a real choice. you could run now, take a few steps back into naoya's corpse ripped apart behind you. the locks on the door were broken, cemented to keep you stuck inside. satoru's cloak whished against your legs as he backed up, his heavy boots stomping against the stairs as he made his way to the second floor.
suguru stepped forward, and you mirrored his actions as you walked backward. his smiled tauntingly, wordlessly pointing out how you disobeyed satoru's order. you backed yourself against the archway, wrapping your arms around both sides of the wall and digging your nails into the wooden detailing.
he stepped over mei's body, kicking her to the side. she was unresponsive. dead.
"why are you doing this?" your voice cracked. "why do you care about these people, my friends?"
his eyes rolled back in thought. "the world is better off without scum, don't you agree? naoya and mei, they've spent their lives stomping on other people for fun, but you think we're the sick ones. i have nothing to gain, don't you realize that? truly, i'm here to cleanse the world of people like them."
he grinned, showing off picket fence teeth all the way to his molars. "is it sick to provide a service, to take initiative on such a task? in the name of making the world a better place?"
your eyelids felt heavy, each blink weighed with blood loss. in the distance, you heard satoru whip the old, wooden doors open and slam them against the wall. items clashed as he threw furniture around to check every nook and cranny, tearing through each room in desperation. your face was hot with anticipation, hoping he'd never find her, wherever she was.
"why am i still here?"
"don't act stupid, it doesn't suit you." suguru's voice dropped to a whisper. he was toe-to-toe with you now, leaning forward, "satoru's got a soft spot for you, his head's all twisted with a fantasy he made up. isn't that sweet?"
he raised his blade, lining it up with your jaw. he pressed the cool metal into your skin. "as for me, well… you know what they say about the company you keep, right?"
you sucked in a sharp breath, squeezing your eyes as the blood dripped down your neck. behind the wall you clung to, you reached your arm across the drywall, dragging it lower until you felt the surface of a table.
"you think you're different, don't you? but, i know how filthy you are, you don't get mixed up with people like them without being fucked up yourself." he tilted his head, lifting his knife and bringing it to your shoulder. he dragged it across your skin that tightened with fear. "you knew naoya and mei were bullies. you knew the kind of power they had, picking on people until they would break. fucking sadists, right?"
his expression darkened. "you can play innocent all you want, but you've always been complicit. an echo chamber for shit like this. maybe you don't encourage it, but you certainly let it slide, and hope they won't turn on you next." he tilted his head. "but they did, eventually, didn't they?"
the knife pressed against your stomach teasingly, breaking the skin.
"if you ask me, satoru's got it all wrong. some people can't be saved."
your fingers grasped the corner of something, and you pulled it into your palm. it was big, and heavy, as you heaved it upwards.
stepping away from the wall, you raised the item into the air and slammed it against the side of suguru's face. it was the old music box, the wood splintering against his cheekbones and knocking him to the ground. the metal machinery dislodged at the impact, clattering inside the lid and scattering across the floor as it fell.
he caught himself on the armchair, leaning on it as his hands cradled the blood pouring from his face. the metal handle had broke skin and wedged into his cheek.
he groaned loudly, slowly pulling himself up. "you fucking bitch!"
adrenaline gushed through your veins, your vision focusing again. you turned to run, rounding the archway to the entrance of the home, you tripped over naoya's arm laid out against the floorboard, breath hitching as you caught yourself against the windowsill, just to slip on the pool of blood beneath you and lose balance. your body slammed against the door, hugging any surface to avoid hitting the ground around naoya's body.
the door was a bust, you knew that. you glanced to the stairs, only to immediately be redirected to the banister that overlooked the home. satoru stood, his hands braced against the railing. he called out your name, his voice drowned out by the sound of your heartbeat.
the stairs were also a bust.
you skittered into the kitchen, finding purchase in every surface you cloud to fling yourself forward. your shoes were slick with blood that seeped into the soles and softened the fabric, a disgusting squelch following with every step you took. you flung the kitchen stools behind you, letting them clatter against the ground to block off suguru. you heard him yell at satoru from the living room. his booming voice vibrated the kitchen walls.
"find utahime!"
his boots were rapid against the floor, but sloppy. he crashed into the wall behind you, his body not keeping up with his bleeding brain. he hit the island, and groaned in frustration.
once you made it into the dining room, the empty knife block whizzed past your head. it clashed against the china cabinet, the glass shattering all over the floor. you flinched, covering your face with one hand while your other balanced against the wall.
you threw two dining chairs behind you in the walkway.
"will you fucking stop?!"
you ignored suguru, running into the loft. another right turn and you'd be in the living room again, making a full circle. you looked to the barricaded windows, patio furniture blocking the view of the backyard. a pathetic whimper escaped you as you fiddled with the lock anyway, your slick hands failing to pull the window open.
another item whizzed pas your head, shattering against the picture frame on the wall. it was a plate against the china cabinet.
you looked to your left, seeing suguru. he threw another one, and you clutched your head as you ducked, hearing it clash against the lamp behind your head. the light bulb sizzled as it shattered, the glass exploding in the air and engulfing the room into darkness.
standing again, you took a step to run, only for suguru to lunge in your direction. his hands pulled at your leg, and your body floundered in the air for a moment, before hitting the ground with a rough the thud. your chin hit the floor and you bit your tongue with a sharp cry. the blood pooled against your gums and you spit it out, watching the red crown splatter against the floorboard.
you kicked behind you, hoping to make contact with something. he held your legs down before flipping you over on your back, and you gasped at the sight of him looming over your legs. blood was pouring down the side of his face, the crimson color greasing against his teeth that were pulled into a tight smile that rocked your stomach.
"oh, satoru said you were feisty. i shoulda believed him," he laughed to himself. "would have saved myself a lot of trouble."
you kicked again, and suguru growled. he stabbed the knife into your calf, eliciting a sharp scream from you. the sound was hoarse, fragments of your body slowly shutting off as the adrenaline fizzled.
he pulled it out roughly, then stabbed it higher into your thigh. you screamed again, your hands flying to soothe the pain, just to be slapped away by him. his sick snicker rang loudly in your ears.
you groaned through gritted teeth, reaching above you to grab on to the ottoman. you pulled yourself away from him, and he laughed harder, the sound gurgling in his throat. he watched you like the struggle was for his entertainment, lighting up the darkness of his eyes.
"oh, i've been waiting for this. the chase is the best part, but, this never gets old."
you propped yourself on one elbow while the other pulled you closer to the fireplace. you locked eyes with the fire poker clattered against the ground, still sitting in its holster. you dragged your body across the floor, the fabric against your jeans soaking up the blood pooled beneath your body. you heaved yourself in to your knees, the knife still lodged in your thigh scraped against the floor in the process, and you closed your mouth to scream.
your head dropped as you leaned against the brick, your hand crawling away to grasp the fire poker.
suguru tutted, walking over to you. he kicked the holster away into the living room, immediately grinding the cleats of his boot into your hand.
you screamed, the wetness of your throat making it nothing more than a gurgle as tears slipped into your mouth. your body froze up at the pain, your jaw stuck open in pure shock.
he removed his boot and stepped back, pulling the knife from your thigh. he crouched down in front of you, taking up your blurry vision. you looked up at him with glossy eyes, thinking of satoru. if he was still upstairs, still looking for utahime. you wondered if he heard your screams and tuned them out like it was background noise, if he knew any of this was happening.
"i see it now. you really are quite pretty." suguru tilted his head.
suddenly, suguru's body stuttered, leaning forward slightly. you flinched at the impeding impact, the sound of knife against flesh slicing through the air. you waited for the sizzle of pain against your skin, the blade to be driven through your heart and finally end all of this. but it didn't come.
you blinked, looking at suguru. his eyes bored into you, drifting between bewilderment and shock. his knife slipped from his grasp, the butt of it landing between your legs as his hands shook, slowly rising against to clutch at chest.
he toppled to the side with a gasp, his throat gurgling with incoherent words as he stared down the man above him. blood poured from his back, seeping into the long locks of hair splayed out like a halo.
satoru stood in front of you, staring at you, the length of his blade soaked in blood that dripped on to your jeans. he was crazed, chest heaving with panic as his eyes raked over you and each stab that had ripped apart your skin. his pupils were shrunk, his face tight with horror and fear.
he tossed his knife to the side as he dropped to his knees, crawling closer to you. he lodged one knee between your thighs and the other on the outside, locking you in. his gloved hands inspected your legs and the wounds that hadn't existed the last time he saw you.
he held your face in his hands, blood smearing against your cheeks and mixing with your tears. "come on, pretty. stay with me. i'm here."
you sniffled, shaking your head. your crushed hand seared with pain, and you cradled it in your lap. your mind was a haze of fear and horror. "satoru, please. what are you doing?"
"i meant it. i told you you weren't gonna die. i can't let you die," he breathed, his voice whiny with desperation. still, he had a manic grin. "i'm here, no one's taking you from me, i told you, in the library, remember? they can't split us apart, i promise."
you couldn't remember, you could hardly think as he held you and stared into you. his eyes were hypnotizing, luring you to relax in his arms.
"stay with me, pretty. focus on me."
"satoru, why?" a broken sound erupted from your throat.
"why?" he repeated, his grip on your cheeks tightened for a moment. his mouth was over-saturated with spit that garbled his words, salivating as he looked at you like you were his last meal. "i care about you, sweets. i've always cared. m'not gonna let you go. i did all this, for you. you get it, sweets, right? they've done nothing but bring you down, you deserve so much better than that. i can give you better than that."
his soothing voice softened your disposition at the edges. you felt yourself nod at his words as they slipped through your ears and molded the spongy walls of your brain.
he smiled, tears pricking his eyes as he looked at you. one hand smoothed down your hair, leaving a trail of blood behind. "you're so pretty, you know that? always so, so pretty."
your stomach fluttered at his words, and he pressed his forehead against yours.
"come on, pretty. i'll be so much better. you believe me, right? i can be what you deserve. i just need you. i need you. just— just stay with me, tell me you'll stay with me." he spoke fast, like he counted on his words filling the space in your mind to prevent you from thinking for yourself. he would do all the thinking for you.
the stench of sweat and copper filled the room, but you could only focus on him, the way his hands gripped you like you were slipping away. the thick leather, rough against your skin grounded you to the earth. his devoted declarations dug into your broken and tired brain and settled there in place of your logic and self preservation, the only thing that mattered now was him, with you. you could only think of him.
"i'll stay with you," you breathed, nodding. "i'll stay with you, satoru."
he brightened with triumph, his features twisting together with desperation. "god, you're so fucking beautiful. i just need you, sweets. fucking forever, okay?"
there was a pounding against the front door. "hello?! naoya? y/n?!"
utahime's voice broke through the air, and she hit the door again. the noise was erratic, and she started kicking. "hello? we heard screaming! y/n, where are you?"
satoru didn't look away from you as he gently lifted your broken hand, his touch gentle. he pressed the bruising skin against his lips. "you're with me, right, pretty girl? forever?"
"forever," you agreed.
he leaned forward and kissed you, pulling you flush against his body. the blood from your bitten tongue spread between your mouths, mixing with saliva and snot that dripped from your nose with the tears. he didn't care, his tongue lapping up the sides of your mouth and cleaning the skin, his teeth clashing against yours.
you wrapped one arm around the back of his neck, keeping him close. his warmth was addicting, you concentrated on the feeling of his lips against yours, the softness of his skin and the devotion he poured in to you. you couldn't feel the pain radiating throughout your body anymore, the only parts of you that mattered were the ones that he touched. his hands braced against your cheeks, then your neck, your arms, all staking their claim and taking inventory of what was now his. forever.
"holy shit, is that mei? fuck, shoko, call the cops!"
satoru pulled away, his lips hovering over yours. you leaned forward again, and his face split into a grin as he kept you in place. "pretty girl, you gotta lie for me, okay? can you do that? you gotta lie, tell 'em it was suguru."
your head was spinning. utahime and shoko were here, and they were calling the cops. suguru, mei, and naoya were dead. "yeah, yeah… i can."
"you got me, pretty, right?"
you hummed, your breath weak.
"that's my girl." satoru murmured against your neck. he squeezed your sides. "all mine, so, so perfect. forever."
a bundle of nerves was heavy in your stomach as you stared yourself down in the mirror, your fingers carding through your hair and scrunching at your scalp. you smoothed it down quickly after, then focused on adjusted the hem of your shirt.
"why do you have to go to his place?"
utahime was laid across the couch of your apartment, her duffel back open on the floor next to her. her clean clothes were scattered over the accent chair, the dirty ones in a laundry basket she brought from home.
she'd taken it upon herself to stay with you since the party, not wanting to let you out of her sight ever again. shoko agreed, and made visits every other day.
"would you rather have him hang out here?"
"i don't like it. it's weird." she tsked. "he's not staying with anyone? after his roommate is found guilty for murder with memorabilia all over the place?"
"satoru said they cleared out his room a while ago with anything relating to ghostface, and his mom is coming this weekend to pick up his other things."
"ugh, that's gotta be hard."
"exactly," you agreed, grabbing your bag.
there were soft knocks against the door, and utahime perked up. she rose to her feet, following you closely as you slipped your shoes on and rested your hand on the doorknob.
you glanced back at her. "be nice."
she glowered.
satoru kept his hands tucked into his pockets, leaning against the doorway as you opened it for him. he was beaming, his eyes flittering over you before landing on the raincloud hovering your shoulder.
"hi," you said softly.
"hi."
utahime's arms were still crossed, her repulsion tight on her face as she looked him up and down.
he looked amused, raising his eyebrows as he greeted her as well.
she ignored him. "she needs to home by 9."
"9:30?" he asked, wincing with hope. you looked the other way to hide your amusement.
"9."
satoru nodded, pride blooming in his cheeks. "9. got it."
utahime gave you a long hug, opening her eyes briefly to give satoru a pointed glare that did nothing to deter the smirk on his face. she let go only to white-knuckle the doorknob behind you.
"i'll be back, 'hime."
"i have your location," she said warningly.
you stepped into the hallway, and she shut the door behind you. immediately, his hands wrapped around you and he pulled you in for a gentle kiss, his lips melting against yours.
"she's still not a fan?" he murmured against your mouth.
you giggled, shaking your head gently. "not yet. but she'll get there."
utahime groaned from the other side of the door.
that's all!!!! thank you for reading. i want to hear all thoughts especially if they are critical <3
Dark & monstrous, with a little filth thrown in for good measure
TW: Spooky stories, slight mention of blood, monsterfucking & smut.
A/N: Monsterfuckers, I guess this is for you?
Not totally proofread, so apologies for any typos!
Credit to @lindenhe for one of the header images!
From a young age, you were told horror stories about the monsters that lurked in the shadows. Vivid tales and rumours of an evil that preyed on innocence and moved like the wind. There were never any details, never any description of what form this corruption took, yet the fantastical tales had you hooked, your wild imagination running rampant with images of foul creatures and beasts devouring little children as they explored.
Your aunt lived on the edge of town, surrounded by giant oak trees, and a forest so deep that it swallowed the sun. But it was drilled into you from an early age that the woods concealed a deep, dark secret, an evil of epic proportions.
Many disappeared amongst those trees, many wandered in, never to be seen again. And of course, those who had encountered the evil within didn't return to tell their tale. They didn't return to tell what this depraved being looked like, how it walked through the world…so you had no idea what to look out for, or just how terrifying it would be.
Naturally, as a child you heeded such warnings, took your aunt's stern advice as gospel and infallible. But as an adult, as a woman with her own mind, your morbid curiosity and sense of adventure finally took over, sending your feet tumbling at a rather rapid rate past the forbidden treeline, all prior warnings going ignored. Your eyes were bright with mischief, sparkling with possibility as you ventured past that threshold, past the boundary line of your aunt’s property, into the forest beyond. This excitement was quickly tempered, quickly dampened by a sinking anxiety. One intended to warn you, your body's natural defence system against all the bad lurking in this world.
As you marched past the sun-spotted treeline, your steps certain despite not knowing what awaited you behind the thicket of trees, the atmosphere around you inexplicably changed. It was as if the forest was plunged into sudden darkness, as if night had fallen in the blink of an eye, each step dragging the moon further into the sky. Even though in the outside world the sun was only just beginning to set, you had stepped into a realm all of its own, where time seemed to move quicker, pulling the approaching night with it. Each tentative step brought the dark to the fore, an eerie green hue staining the light of dusk. As the sun dropped beyond the horizon, replaced by the light of the pale moon, the night choked out what little light was left.
Your eyes panned across the sprawling landscape before you, straining to see the path ahead in the diminishing light. Every miniscule movement startled you, every distant sound capturing your undivided attention.
Every crackle and crunch of decaying foliage, every snap of dry twigs and bowing of branches in the wind made your heart leap in your chest, a fear settling in the pit of your stomach. You hadn't realised just how nervous you'd be in such an isolated place, away from the safety of society. Especially with creatures of legend wandering through these trees, haunting the natural inhabitants of the land.
The further you pushed onwards, the more you unwittingly plunged yourself into danger. Unbeknownst to you, from the moment you entered, you had eyes trained on your every move. Surveying you as a predator would its prey. From a distance, under the cover of night. And like many predators in the natural world, this creature liked to play with its food.
There was nothing immediately remarkable about the forest itself, it was a patch of trees like any other, lined with sphagnum moss and teaming with life. As your eyes acclimatised to the dark, you could find your way through sprawling systems of ancient roots and plant life. You admired the resilience of such wildlife, they grew and thrived in unusually dark and stifling conditions, sprouting and flourishing where most plants would have perished. But this forest was home to more than plants. And as you strolled deeper into unknown territory, as you walked yourself right into this mysterious creature's path, you felt a sense of foreboding descend over you. There was a faint path worn into the ground, but no life had trod on it in a long time.
It was like a veil, a curtain of uncertainty and unease. An unusual feeling that didn't sit right in your gut, yet you pushed forward anyway. With each step, that sense of impending danger increased, your body seemingly noticing this danger before your mind caught up.
It wasn't until your ear prickled at distant whispers calling your name, that you truly realised how much peril you had so confidently strolled into. It wasn't just a whisper, it was a beckoning, a tantalising beacon in the night designed to peak your curiosity, designed solely to draw you further in. It was as smooth as the wind, yet made the hairs on your body stand to attention. It seemed far away and simultaneously right beside you.
Each hair on the back of your neck stood on end, your body truly on alert at this unnerving occurrence. Glowing lights flickered between the trees - moving in tandem, as if they were following you on your journey. You rationalised your fear, pushing the worst case scenario to the back of your mind. Perhaps they were fireflies, illuminating your way through the trees. Perhaps you simply imagined the voice calling your name, the imagination can run wild when fear abounds.
Still, each step echoed just a touch too loudly - the snap of twigs sounded into the night and the crunch of dead leaves underfoot rang through the disconcerting silence. Paranoia took root all too quickly, gripping its hooks firmly into your mind. You couldn't shake the feeling that you were being watched, studied by some unknown entity. You couldn't describe it, but there was a presence all around, lingering in the air like the wind and yet simultaneously heavy, a tangible presence in the empty space around you. You felt it in the shadows, in the spaces between spaces, forcing you to constantly check over your shoulder as you plodded forward through the trees. Your lamp only illuminated a small path before you, the dim bulb casting a soft warm glow.
The dark felt oppressive, as if it was closing in around you, stopping you from delving too deeply into those damned woods.
It didn't take long before you felt him lurking from the dark. That thing the children told campfire stories about, the subject of nightmares and whispers. You felt its eyes upon you - a burning, intrusive stare, hot and direct and deeply unfamiliar, yet you were utterly alone.There was a tickle at the base of your spine, an invisible force tracing the valleys of your exposed flesh. Something lingered around you, though you could’ve never imagined what actually lay in wait.
There was something walking through these woods beside you, yet it hadn’t showed itself in corporeal form, it hadn’t yet revealed itself to your eyes. A devil dressed in skin, a predator hunting for its next meal.You'd long heard tales of the evil presence that haunted these woods, but now you truly felt it. Like moisture on a balmy day, it hung all around you, directionless and ever present. The scent of a man wafted through the air, cutting through the thick haze of pine and damp earth. Hints of smoke and sweat, faint traces of Irish whiskey. Peaty and earthen, yet tinged with the sharpness of alcohol. It filled your nostrils, though it seemed so far away. You’d smelled similar scents a thousand times before, yet now it seemed to follow you through the night air. You didn't understand how something could be all around, yet feel so claustrophobic. How it could pervade the air while being right beside you. Yet you felt him beside you, every sense was on edge with his presence.
And suddenly he was right there, the stocky frame of a rather handsome man filling the trailing path before you, and somehow appearing right behind you, blocking any hope of escape.
He flitted through the air in a blink, as if the air gave no friction, as if it parted before him, allowing him to move with inhuman speed through the dense night sky. His steps were floaty, yet flightless. He resembled no more than a man, yet already you could tell this was no mere person of flesh and bone. This was something altogether different.
And there he stood, those lights that followed you through the dark now stood in place of eyes - great glowing globes drenched in crimson, surveying their prey. The dim light of the moon highlighted sharp claws extended beyond the length of his fingertips, glinting dangerously, a threat in themselves. It traced a glowing line around his body, cutting his form from the blackened thatch of trees.
He appeared ready to strike, his muscles tensed, tightly wound under pale skin and coiled ready to pounce. Yet he stood still, taking stock of the intruder before him. You tried to not move a muscle, to evade his gaze by standing perfectly still, as if the dark would protect you, shroud your existence from the eyes of a killer, yet you felt your body trembling, every fibre, every cell vibrating in fear. You refused to even draw breath, refused to inhale deeply with its eyes trained on you, should it give him cause to strike. Your lungs screamed under the force, and eventually had to release that trapped breath.
He could hear every breath, every skip and beat of your feeble mortal heart. Every breath taken and held between fragile ribs. He could smell your fear, smell the pheromones hanging on your skin, clinging to the surface and calling to him in the night.. He expected you to run, to scuttle through the knotted root systems, your voice hollering through the void. But you simply stood, watching him, surveying the evil being standing before you. Even through the fog of fear, you stayed perfectly still, your bones petrified in place.
There was something about your brazen defiance, you’d strolled boldly into his domain, and now stood before him, an insolent human chasing devils in the dark, even as your body rebelled against the very sight of him and shook with fear. He'd seen many mortals venture into these woods, many humans walking into their demise. Most screamed, pleaded for their lives or reckoned with their god before facing their own mortality. Most died with indignity, lost in fear and bargaining with the devil with their last breath. But not you. You stood still, facing him, facing the evil you'd heard about as a child without so much as flinching. It wouldn't be enough to save your life alone, but it did earn a measure of respect.
Your defiance gave the beast pause, and for a moment he simply stood, mirroring your stance, drinking in the vision of beauty before him.
He’d seen beauty of all kinds spanning hundreds of years. He'd seen examples of some of the finest and some of the lowliest in equal measure, in the many years he'd walked this earth. No matter where he roamed, timeless beauty remained the one constant. It was rare, but before him stood one of the finest examples he'd seen in many years.
Even with your face cloaked in fear, panic and dread settling in every crease, and terror furrowing your brow, your timeless elegance radiated from within. He let his crimson eyes soak up your charming form, before he inevitably marred that pretty face with blood.
Time seemed to stand still. You didn't know how long you'd been cemented to that spot, frozen in place by blind panic and dread. Yet he made no move, made no advance towards you.
He simply stared, his crimson eyes scanning the length and breadth of your body, shamelessly tracing each curve, each dip, each swell of flesh and muscle under your clothing.
Though the darkness shrouded your form, he stared and stared, as if light itself was no obstacle. As if the night ceded to his glare. You didn't quite know what to do, if you objected to his obvious leering, would you fall victim to this stranger in the dark? Would it be the last time you protested to shameless ogling, or would it give him pause..It seemed like forever in the silence, you thought perhaps your words would rouse him from his trance, though you weren't anticipating a positive end either way. Perhaps it was worth a try, rather than laying in wait, a willing victim. Mustering up every drop of courage you possessed, you forced your lungs to expand, to push sound from your lips.
“W..what do you want from me?”
He smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. It was an empty expression, devoid of any true emotion. The edges of his lips curled upwards, painting a menacing. mask across his face. He never answered your question directly, somehow increasing the panic in your chest.
And though unsettled, and deathly afraid of what might come next, you couldn’t help but notice how handsome this creature truly was, even as he glowered in your direction.
Your eyes quickly scanned his face, picking out his plump lips and high carved cheekbones with smooth skin stretched across them. Features you’d envy in any other man. His eyes, though glinting with danger and glimmering with flecks of gold, drew you in. You’d never seen such eyes in nature, crimson and full, with swirling patterns throughout. Even from your position a few metres away, they shone clearly, as if producing their own light. Perhaps that was how he trapped his prey. Perhaps you’d fallen right into his trap.
The world around you fell silent, as if nature itself bowed to this wickedness, allowing space for his words to fall into the void. An unnatural stillness descended upon the forest floor, lulling even the most miniscule of creatures into pure submission. This unholy demon quieted nature itself, and stilled the air in your lungs in the same breath. Before even uttering a word, this creature had shown the understated power he possessed, the true potential of his unearthly capabilities.
“It ain’t polite to stare, didn’t yer mama teach you nothin?’” His voice boomed in a place with no sound, dripping with contempt, but also tinged with something cheekier, something akin to teasing, though his eyes sparkled dangerously. You were hesitant to answer, hesitant to move at all, should he take it as a challenge..
“There’s no use runnin’ little dove, you’ll only wear yourself out. Though I do like a chase…”
It was as if he could hear the thoughts echoing between your ears. You hadn’t verbalised your desire to run, but somehow he knew. Maybe it was the fear in your eyes, maybe your skin smelled like fear and the desire to escape.
The creature moved closer, so close that he could hear your heart hammering behind your ribs. He circled your trembling form, as you tried to still your fear ridden bones. He knew you wouldn’t move a muscle, should it provoke him.
Perhaps you’d heard the fairytales, the rumours and fabrications interwoven with the truth. It was true, he was a monster. It was true, he took what he wanted from the wanderers who entered these woods. But he was not an indiscriminate animal, who’d attack anything that crossed his path. And this human was simply too good to feed on, but simply too pretty to let go. No, he’d have an altogether more intimate experience with this one…
He wanted to hear pretty little sounds fall from your lips, he wanted to be the cause of your pleasure, and spur you towards a mind altering release. Oh, to be the cause of your delight, that would satisfy him for decades. He wanted those delicious moans to stain the silence, to imprint themselves in his mind - they’d feed the part of him that yearned for something other than blood.
But to achieve that he needed to replace fear with pleasure, anticipation with pure unadulterated ecstasy.
He could smell the adrenaline coursing through your veins, the very source of your fear keeping your body standing upright, rather than fainting into the mud.
“Already buzzin’ for me..and I haven’t even touched ya yet…Don’cha worry pet, I can be gentle when I wanna be….yeah, I can be real gentle.” he hummed against the soft skin of your cheek, while you shivered under his startling attentions. He moved around you as swiftly as the breeze, his body riding on the wind, leaving no trace in the soil underfoot. This being moved weightlessly through the air, with one clear objective in mind. It was undeniably clear now what he wanted, it wasn’t to kill, or to feed…no, this thing, this unholy creation wanted to devour you, To consume you in every way possible. It both disgusted and excited you in equal measure. The thought of being worshiped by a being that could so easily kill you, to have it tucked between your legs or nestled inside your body, was truly titillating. Yet you couldn’t yet give yourself over to it, you couldn’t yet succumb to such a force.
First, you needed to know its name.
To know the name of a demon gave you dominion over it, a certain power in a situation where you felt utterly helpless. This was the one anchor you could have to the world in a very quickly spiraling reality. With a deep breath, you pushed your plan forward. “That’s all well and good, but a gentleman would tell me his name first..”
Perhaps charming the demon would coax its name from its lips, perhaps he was more foolhardy than he seemed.
“Tut, tut, tut….whoever said I’m a gentleman darlin’....there’s no word for what I am…” he said, his strange southern drawl almost dripping with every word.
The creature was almost mocking you now, each syllable painted with derision, as if the very notion that you’d have the upperhand was laughable.
He didn’t waste any time in taking what he wanted, in closing the physical gap between you. In one smooth motion, the creature encircled you, one hand holding you close, the other running its fingers up and down the length of your side. His thick digits traced a torturous path across your clothes, not quite breaching the barrier between you, yet, though you felt as if he was carving a trench through you. You felt the intensity of his stare even as you looked into the distance, it was heavy and determined. Your body didn’t quite know how to react. The air was warm, yet you were plagued by chills, goosebumps lining the surface of your skin. His touch felt like fire against your flesh, as if he was searing his brand into you with every caress, even though the protection of your cotton shirt.
The dim light of the moon glinted off of the sweat clinging to your skin. Beads gathered along the ridge of your collarbone, the dip of your hips. Whether from nerves or the anticipation of what was to come, your body expelled moisture which stuck to the surface of your skin, clinging to it as this monstrous creature now did.
“My mama would always say that it’s stupid to get in between a woman who knows what she wants….do you know what you want, pet?” he whispered, though no breath fanned your ear, no air brushed against your flushed skin. Though that wasn’t the thing drawing your attention, no, the thing pulling your focus was the undeniable evidence of his arousal pressing against your thigh. So even monsters had needs, you thought. And as soon as that thought flashed in your conscious mind, so too did other, more veracious sentiments. You wondered what a creature such as this looked like, beneath the layers of fabric that masked its unholy nature. What would the body of something so profane truly resemble? Would it mirror that of a man, carved of flesh and bone, with appendages that worked just the same….or would it be truly gruesome? Somehow you knew you’d find out this night. You’d not leave this place unscathed, without this beast's body pressed against yours in a rather unceremonious joining of flesh. Though compared to the alternative, compared to the fate that befell so many others, that would be the preferable outcome. There was no escape from a beast as swift as the wind, so you would have to confront your fate head on.
Your body shook with an unholy mixture of fear and anticipation, trembles of trepidation and undiluted excitement, as the very antithesis of godliness surrounded you, his hardened and chilled flesh pressed against your own. He didn’t take what he wanted with any haste, in fact it was the opposite. This being of legend circled you, made sure you felt each and every inch of his immortal vessel, each chiseled muscle, badly hidden beneath ill fitting clothing. Before enticing you into a sacrilegious matrimony of flesh, this devil without a name did everything it could to arouse, to excite, to utterly destroy any apprehension left within your weak human frame.
You weren't a prude by any stretch of the imagination, you'd had boyfriends before, as well as the odd regrettable one night stands. Yet you couldn't help the giddy excitement that set in at the thought of being intimate with something so evidently inhuman, something of myth and the subject of all your campfire stories as a child. It felt surreal, but altogether riveting and somewhat taboo. Would you be the first human to behold the beast in all its glory? Would you be the first human to survive such an encounter? You'd hoped he'd just let you go, but truthfully you had no idea what this things intentions were with you, other than to extract his pleasure from your flesh.
In truth, you never thought you'd make it this long. The moment you laid eyes upon the creature haunting those woods, you were sure you'd be torn to shreds, like the other poor misfortunes who'd crossed its path. But this devil in human flesh seemed to take a particular liking to you, he seemed inexplicably drawn to you, and thus far, had seen fit to keep you in the realm of the living. You truly never expected his affections to stretch to physical intimacy. The prospect hung heavy in the air, thrilling and new.
As he encased you with his body, toying with your fragile human emotions, you couldn't help but have a rather unexpected physical response. Every brush of his hands brought a shiver to your skin, the closer he got, the more he stoked the fire within. God help you, he roused something long buried, a desire you’d long forgotten. The dark hid the depth of your depravity, masked the automatic movement of your hand to the bulge, your fingertips deftly exploring the wanton arousal that pressed against your thigh. He was hard already, though you never expected the size. You could only allow your mind to conjure a picture of what lay beneath those filthy cotton trousers. You could only imagine what his bulge looked like in the flesh.
In this state, there was no mistaking him as a man. Not with his eyes, the color of dried blood, consuming you as you stood stock still, trapped under his heavy gaze.
No, in this form, he was very much every inch a monster, though somehow you didn’t stray from his affections. There was still so much you hadn’t seen, still so much to be revealed that would shock you to your core.
You didn’t even notice the fabric fall from his shoulders, exposing his body, which took the form of a human man, but appeared as if it was carved from marble - hard, cold, the surface undisturbed by the pulse of blood through veins. It was both familiar and eerily alien to behold.
Your eyes traced a path down the rippling muscle standing proudly by your side, landing on a rather shocking sight, hanging between two thick, sculpted thighs. His member hung thick and flushed, dangling heavily between two strong legs, awaiting its sheath.
You could already tell that this would hurt, but somehow you looked forward to the pain. You looked forward to accommodating him within your entirely mortal flesh, your body wrapped around this perfect specimen like it was designed specifically for him. You knew it wouldn’t last, that delicious stretch would only linger for a moment, before devolving into a deep burning pleasure. One look at that thing swinging between his legs, and you were certain it’d ruin you for any other man. Any remaining fear transformed itself, changed form entirely into pure unadulterated want, rumbling deep within. It sat below your gut, taking root as the beast approached. He still hadn’t told you his name, still hadn't given you the thing you needed to hold sway over him.
He didn’t need to speak, didn’t need to make a sound.
One look and you had thrown yourself into the mud below your feet, finding a home amongst the decaying foliage and soft moss that lined the forest floor.
Those carmine eyes seemed to hold sway over your feeble mortal body, you seemed to fall victim to his influence, despite the strongest of wills.
“Spread em wide for me darlin’, let me in…just like that…” he gasped, overwhelmed by the softness of your flesh, the undeniable warmth emanating from the plush lips between your plump thighs.
You obeyed without hesitation, never once considering fleeing, not when every inch of your body trembled for him.
He didn't even bother to undress you, instead opting to simply push the folds of fabric around him, your skirt rucking over your knees, your intimates callously torn to one side. He was impatient, a flaw in his thus far measured countenance.
Though impatient to feel your needy flesh wrapped around him, he couldn't help but spread your swollen lips with his claws, the sharp tips causing your body to flinch with each motion. He teased, running those pointed claws along your slick folds, making sure the path was ready for the ravaging. You never expected such a beast to behave in such a way - taking pleasure simply from your body's reactions to his intrusion. When he'd thoroughly riled you up, he removed those clawed hands and drew them to his lips. He licked your essence from the digits, his eyes never leaving yours.
He lined himself up, dragging the head of his flushed cock against your soaked entrance, letting it slip through your folds, lubricating his way forward with your own juices. It was filthy, yet seemed the most natural thing in the world. He cupped your jaw, his large palm encasing most of your face within it. He felt soft, almost too soft for a man. You expected hard, calloused skin, but instead he stroked you with feather light touches, with gentility and surprising reserve.
“Gonna go slow love, gonna enjoy this...” he smirked. Without much preparation, he pushed in, sheathed himself within you in one smooth motion. He sank into your waiting body with an unrelenting hunger, something draining you dry would simply never achieve. Your mind went blank, the searing heat of his cock stretching you filling every spare space in your mind.. It burned, and delighted all at once.
You felt his mouth press hot against your throat, the slick coating of saliva form against your delicate skin. But you couldn't react much. All you could do was lose yourself in his eyes; red and burning in the half light. You couldn’t even form words, couldn’t protest against the pain. All you could do was draw breath, gasp for air that just wouldn’t come quick enough. All you could taste was the moment, your nostrils filled with a mixture of his scent and the damp earth underneath your head.
Sharp claws extended from the tips of his fingers, moving across the surface of your skin and tracing faint patterns across your chest. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to draw blood, to mark you.
A few droplets of blood beaded from the broken skin, but didn’t remain there for long. They were swiftly lapped up by a pointed tongue.
Every inch of your body was drawn to his like a tide to the moon, your hips matching his devastating pace, your hands finding their way into the messy thatch of hair at the nape of his neck.
“Feel me in there, do ya?” he teased, never once relenting in his faultless assault on your aching body. “That ache in your belly? That's me settlin’ in love, no gettin’ rid of me now…not when I've tasted such sweetness, not when such a pretty cunt takes me so well”
Even through his insatiable teasing, panted and groaned against the shell of your ear, his hips never faltered in their relentless rhythm. The beast rutted into you as if he was chasing something. You were sure to feel that familiar soreness for days. His weight pressed your hips into the soft soil, clumps of mud gathering under your nails as you clawed at it for something to ground you, something to anchor you to the real world. He rutted into you like an animal, a truly possessed being. Like he was searching for an answer, and only your body could provide it.
He claimed your flesh, faint red marks littering the surface of your skin from his merciless clawing, as if he was branding you, leaving his mark for all to see and ruin you for any future lover. Even still, the beast hadn’t told you his name - you knew not who defiled you, only the stories of his craven past. Even still, you gave yourself to him willingly.
“You’ll know my name before I go…in fact I’d bet I’ll have you crying it out…”
It was a growl; a low, guttural promise. You knew this monster would claim you in every way a person could be claimed, body, soul, flesh and blood. Perhaps it was like a man, and it’d plant its seed inside you, to spawn a new kind of monster. To bring its evil into the world anew. Or perhaps it’d simply leak onto your thigh, unwilling to stick to its destination, leaving you spent and empty, longing desperately for more.
You knew for certain the beast was close, and like a man he would soon expel himself inside you, leaving that delicious sting behind, along with an unsatisfying desire for fullness. You remembered how it felt with old boyfriends, you’d never want them to pull out after, though they always shrivelled up and slinked out like a slug. You’d hold this creature close, and feel him do the same. But you never expected it to drive you towards your own peak simultaneously. As soon as the thought entered your mind, you felt the familiar sting of a sharp claw toying with your engorged bundle of nerves. It knew how to make you scream, how to make your toes curl into the dirt beneath your feet, how to make you lose yourself in the moment - away from your disappointing thoughts.
The trees echoes with the sound of skin slapping against skin, the unholy moans that inevitably fell from your lips only spurring the beast on further towards its goal. He barely made a sound, save for the occasional groan and a satisfied grin thrown in your direction. But he didn’t need to speak, didn’t need to communicate verbally. His cock drove so deeply into your body, it was as if he was speaking through it. As if he was claiming you with his cold flesh. With each unruly thrust, each devastating blow to the sensitive muscle of your cervix, each probing prod further into your body, you felt him, you heard him. It was the strangest sensation, but he had taken you, completely. But it was only when you felt the hot ropes of spend paint your insides that you truly knew what possession felt like. You knew then that this beast had carved its name inside you, far from prying eyes, in the one place you could not read it, but you knew it was there.
You knew, as soon as he pulled his spent cock from your body, and disappeared into the wind, that the stories your aunt told you as a child were all true. Evil roamed these trees wearing the skin of a man, but it was something far, far darker. For not even a man would leave you cold and disappointed in the dirt, not even a man would leave without telling you his name.
Frank can run from his past—but he can’t hide. Sooner or later, God’ll cut you down.
Frank Castle x F!Reader
Gentle (adj.): free from harshness, sternness, or violence
Frank is not a gentle man.
Never was.
Frank understands the importance of judgement. Of retribution.
The first kill came when he was ten.
Bastard deserved it, then some.
Retirement felt like submission for a long time. Felt like… acceptance. Forfeiting. Giving up. Frank’s not a guy that knows how to quit. Not when it’s in his blood. You can only subdue a man for so long.
But you can’t change his nature.
Summary: What’s done in the dark will be brought to the light. After almost twenty years of retirement, Frank’s past hits your family with a vengeance; a vengeance much like his own. A bounty on your family—in blood.
Warnings: Slow burn to violent, bloody explosion. Graphic depictions of violence and death/murder (not any characters we love). Angst. Bit of fluff mixed in. Hurt/comfort. Trying for horror. Kinda southern gothic vibes. Ignoring how time works bc Frank would be old af. Break-in. Pieces of comic-canon Frank. Sleep disorders/disruption. Lies. Guns. Family trauma. Stalking. You and Frank are married with twin girls who are around the age of sixteen. Reader is a nurse with implied trauma. 18+ only. Reader is always a consenting adult.
TW: Murder, explicit smut, erotophonophilia (deriving sexual excitement from killing), face fucking, manipulation & slight stockholm syndrome..overall he’s not a good dude.
Thanks to the lovely @volklana for collaborating with me on this! And always being such a fantastic support 🖤 and @mintwrit3z for beta reading.
Ao3 Link
Word count: 9.6k
There’s something about the quiet reflection of smoking alone, while a party rages on behind thick concrete walls, that you’d always found incredibly relaxing. Your focus lay solely on your breath and the object balanced delicately between your fingertips. For a few short moments, it seemed like it was just you and the night, in silent communication.
Autumn was your favourite time of year. Crisp, cold nights and fresh days with the sun dipping lower in the sky. You felt the magic of this season hanging heavy in the night air, it was as if it spoke to you. Perhaps it was because you were born in autumn, perhaps it was the mystical nature of the season. The veil between the worlds was thinner, and as Halloween approached, you felt the subtle shift in the elements. Taking a large lungful of smoke, you communed with the darkness, enjoying a brief moment of peace in a night full of frivolity and alcohol fuelled debauchery. But the black night shrouded all manner of sins from your eyes, and in that moment, your only focus was on the glowing embers dying at the tip of your cigarette. You had no idea what horrors lingered in the shadows, what terror lay only inches from your feet.
With your back propped up against the heavy wooden door, music boomed from inside, penetrating the thick oak slab behind your head, yet your mind was caught in a thick fog. The night air was cool, your breath and smoke mingling in the frigidity around you. For once, you weren’t overthinking how you looked or dissecting a conversation you just had. For a brief few minutes, you had true calm descend over you in the form of cold evening air and invigorating substances in smokable form. That is, until the door swung open, sending you hurtling into two veined arms that quickly righted you upright and encapsulated your torso.
“Jesus…shit…you scared me…”
Your asshole of a boyfriend simply laughed, a rumbling display of amusement spurred on by your skittish reaction. He simply nuzzled his chin into your neck, huffing in delight against the delicate skin and inhaling a nosefull of your scent.
“What's the matter, baby? You look like you've seen a ghost..”
“Aem, quit it, you know I'm normally not scared so easily” you scowled, your face painted with fake displeasure. Though you couldn’t help but squeal as his hands wandered your sides, hitting every ticklish spot on their way, breaking your face into unrestrained smiles. Aemond was always incredibly handsy, though as touch starved as you were, you never complained. You loved getting attention from the prettiest man you’d ever encountered, you felt blessed to have his hands roaming your flesh, his good eye trained on you and only you.
You'd only been together a few months, and though the relationship was relatively fresh, you'd fallen…hard.
Aemond was unconventionally attractive. His face, though it looked like it had been carved from pale white marble, was marred by blanched pink scars, which spanned the length of his right cheek. One eye had been damaged in an accident as a kid, so in its place sat a prosthetic painted in the most dazzling shade of sapphire blue. Somehow, it only added to his ethereal nature, never detracting from his unusual beauty. That, alongside an entirely black wardrobe consisting mostly of band shirts and leather, complimented his stunning features. He was a man of great contrast, his look most striking, while his personality was more reserved. He was the most captivating, yet troubled young man you'd ever laid eyes on, and you couldn't help but fall face first into quite an intense entanglement after being introduced.
Aemond was always the most attentive partner, always paying heed to even the smallest details. He noticed things most boyfriends would completely ignore: changes in your expression & body language, slight shifts in your mood, and he always anticipated your needs before you’d even have to ask. When you were around friends, Aemond’s hands stayed connected to your skin at all times, holding your hand, tracing delicate patterns against the back of your palm, or running his spindly fingers along the column of your neck. His eye would always be on you, following you around the room. In private, he was even more impassioned. He loved feeling your body pressed against him, the warmth of your flesh against his own. Instead of psychoanalysing these slightly possessive traits, you leaned into them, rivalling his intensity with your own eccentricities. You were a rather odd, but well balanced match.
On this night, as you stood in the dark, your face only highlighted by the glow of your cigarette, Aemond took advantage of the privacy the shadows afforded and peppered your neck with kisses, pulling you tightly against his chest as you stood resolutely, facing into the black night. You loved how needy he was, but also domineering in equal measure. He never used those sculpted muscles against you, except to further your pleasure, to satisfy you in every way you desired. And now he cuddled you against the cold, sheltered you from the chilled wind blowing through the trees. “It’s such a nice night out…you thirsty baby?” his warm breath vibrated against your skin. He extended a hand out, a chilled beer bottle grasped between several graceful fingers. Even the sight of them made you shiver, though that could’ve also been the bitter breeze swirling around your ankles. “Thank Aem, I'm parched.” You happily snatched the slim bottle from his hands, your fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary against his digits, which earned a smirk, the corners of his mouth turning upwards as the fermented amber liquid ran down your throat. The familiar quenching of thirst came with a promise in itself, you could see the hints of mischief present in his smile.
In return for his generosity, you extended a frigid hand, the end of your cigarette blooming between your dainty fingers. He didn’t even need to say anything; instead, Aemond leaned down, wrapping his plump lips around the thin paper. One sharp inhale and his body filled with an addicting sense of elation, one he sought out in other avenues of life. He found it touching your body, pulling you close, and feeling each curve and valley of your perfectly sculpted frame under his fingertips. He found it in coaxing those pretty mewls from your lips, a soundtrack he’d gladly play on repeat. Yet there was always the pull towards something darker, something a little more… taboo.
As he stood with you in that doorway, the swell of your arse pressed against his quickly growing bulge, Aemond realised that the evidence of his other, perhaps more niche hobbies lay only inches away, neatly tucked around the shadowy corner.
It was only sheer luck that you hadn’t noticed a pool of sticky crimson blood inching across the damp mud, crawling towards your feet - but the night had long descended, the sun had fallen from the sky, replaced by the heavy blackness of an autumn night. The dark provided cover for his lurid savagery, shrouding the horrors from your sight.
With one drag, Aemond filled his lungs with the delicious sting of nicotine. There was only one languid last puff left, one draw of the bitter nectar he so often craved. With a sharp exhale into the night, he dropped the butt of the cigarette to the ground and stubbed it out, the heel of his shoe squelching the dying embers into the damp earth. Not too far away, the mud was stained red with blood, a pool slowly forming beneath the corpse of a man who dared lay his beady eyes on you across a packed dancefloor earlier that same night.
Warm hands kept you pressed to his chest, pulled close to a heart beating softly beneath leather clad skin. In that darkened doorway with the man of your dreams hanging on your every breath, you found yourself smiling like an idiot. Your eyes were drawn to the curve of Aemond’s mouth as it encased the last of your cigarette. You marvelled at the swell of his cheeks as he billowed smoke into the crisp night air. He always stole your focus, captured your attention simply by existing. You were utterly entranced by his sharp, angular features. Such beauty in a man was rare, but he had both softness and a sharp edge, a traditional pretty boy look laced with danger and the added oddity of his disfigurements. He somehow appeared angelic and devilish in equal measure, an enigma wrapped in the most beautiful packaging. And as he held you against the frigid wind, the darkness encroaching on your romantic moment, you couldn't help but be completely taken with the man you called yours once more.
Yet the wind brought with it a certain anxiety, a subtle foreboding that settled in your mind. As he crushed the remains of your cigarette under his boot and pulled you tightly into his arms, sandwiching your body between his hardened chest and the wall, you utterly fell to his wiles, melting like butter under his smoldering gaze. You couldn't help but see a glint of mischief in that unyielding stare. As if he had a plan you were not yet privy to, but it was wrapped in warmth, in a certain affection that you sought out in every room.
Before long, strong hands dragged you from the chill of night and guided you back into a sea of drunken bodies, each one swaying to their own rhythm, some with the music, some following a tempo of their own design. Each one moved like a branch in the breeze. The intoxicating scent of liquor billowed from inebriated lungs, mouths that messily combined on the dance floor, swapping saliva and the lingering traces of whatever they'd been drinking. Bodies undulated like the tide, a swell of flesh to music, yet even that couldn't distract you from those dazzlingly blue eyes piercing into your flesh as his searing grip held on and led you across the crowded room. The atmosphere numbed any unease in your mind, the sense of frivolity and joy contagious. Even under the haze of alcohol, you felt Aemond’s eyes trained on you as he walked you through a sea of drunkards. Never once did you suspect distrust in your relationship, yet he kept his eyes on you as if you’d disappear into the night.
Instead of allowing you to wander into the haze of debauchery that surrounded you both, Aemond pulled you flush to him, and began to sway along with the other bodies in the pool.
His hands wandered to your hips, feeling in the dark for anywhere he could grasp onto. Moving in tandem with the pulsing rhythm, his hips were pinned against your own, undulating in time with one another. You allowed your mind to go blank, to exist solely in the moment with Aemond, his eyes as hypnotising as the thrumming beat over the speakers, the swell of want between his legs enough to send waves of desire through your body. It was almost intoxicating, surrendering to the music and the feeling of uninhibited bodies around you. It was a certain type of freedom, a complete departure from your regular life.
It took a while for people in their drunken stupor to notice that someone was missing, and inebriated people eventually tottered around the room in search of a man who’d never walk through those doors again. Aemond noticed the commotion, yet remained cool and collected, instead channeling his focus towards you, as your body mirrored the mindless drones around you, swaying in time with the music. He was never one to dance, usually opting to prop up the wall with a beer in hand instead, but he'd follow you anywhere, would do anything you asked. That included grinding on the dancefloor to the dulcet tones of ‘Don't Fear the Reaper’, well lubricated by several shots of whiskey beforehand. You'd have never realised that he also had an ulterior motive for his compliance. Participating in such a charade was a small price to pay, to keep certain secrets hidden.
It took several more minutes for you to notice the panicked faces wandering around the dance floor, yet the gravity of the situation didn't quite register, your mind had been swallowed by lust and alcohol. Lipsticked lips sloppily met Aemond’s warm cheek and you hurriedly dragged him by the hand over to a group where his sister had been standing. The music rumbled on, though you leaned into Helaena’s shoulder, whispering into her ear. “Hel, what's going on?”
Helaena shrugged, clearly too lost in her drink to comprehend the situation. “It's really weird, isn't it, to think this fuss is all because of you?”
You loved the bones of her, but she was scattered at the best of times, let alone when she had imbibed on her favourite beverages. Sometimes she simply made no sense and spoke words into the ether without any context at all. “I love you, Hel, but you make no sense sometimes..” you laughed, before returning to Aemond and snuggling into his waiting arms.
Gossip made its way around the room - unfounded words swirling in the mouths of drunk people like the ice clinking in their cups. Young men had been going missing in your neighbourhood the last few months, some turning up disfigured, some slashed and beaten beyond recognition. But all undeniably dead. It was enough to strike fear into the coldest of hearts, and Aemond hadn't left you out of his sight since. You found it strange, some names you’d even recognised, but they weren’t close friends, only people you’d encountered in passing. Friends of friends, faces you'd have recognised in social situations like tonight. A strange sense of foreboding settled in your gut, but the alcohol numbed any immediate reaction to the chatter, dulling your usually acute intuition.
Still, the atmosphere inside had changed, and despite something gnawing at your mind, a subtle warning sign that you pushed to the side, your immediate desires took control, and you pulled Aemond upstairs. To your chagrin, the bedrooms were already occupied, so you headed outside, perhaps the dark would shield you from prying eyes. It seemed Aemond had the same thought, his voice carrying above the din of some cheesy rock song, “Wanna play a game?” and he nodded in the direction of the back door, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips.
Out in the dark with Aemond, despite the stinging chill in the air, you couldn’t keep your hands off him. The night provided adequate cover for your lewd activities, though at any moment someone could walk through the door and catch you in the act. Somehow, the danger made your boyfriend that much hotter, his perfectly sculpted body that much more irresistible. Only the stars were witnesses to your ravenous appetite, to the dip of your tongue into the warm caverns of Aemond’s mouth, exploring each other as if it were the first time. Those twinkling lights saw every grinding thrust of hips and wandering palm, searching for friction against a willing body.
The heat of his breath stung like frostbite, while the wind nipped at your cheek. Yet you only leaned into his warmth, you soaked up every ounce of affection this beautiful man bestowed upon you. You never imagined feeling so wanted, so seen. Aemond always made you feel like the only woman in his life, the only one he saw. His hands carved a path through skin, warm fingertips frantically grasping at flesh as if you’d soon disappear into the night, vanish like a puff of smoke beneath frenzied fingers.
He was always passionate, desperate to have you close, but in the biting darkness, he seemed more frenzied, less controlled than you’d seen him before, as if a fire burned within him that couldn’t be quenched. Or perhaps it was the whiskey. Either way, he was insatiable. His movements were messy, frantic. Plump lips captured yours in an impassioned embrace, your back braced against the pebbledashed wall of the house, the embers of the party slowly dying inside. Aemond’s fire roared brightly, the flames of passion swelling in his eyes.
You moved in tandem in a messy celebration of limbs and spit, neither one of you cognisant of your surroundings, both oblivious to the position of your feet as you danced in passionate unison. Your steps were clumsy as Aemond flung you from wall to wall, your back taking the brunt of his zealous maneuvers. He was a man possessed by desire, but there was something far darker driving his insatiable lust, something you’d very quickly be confronted with, face to face.
In a whirlwind of tangled limbs and blundering footsteps, you managed to lose your footing and your grip on your boyfriend's muscular frame somehow. You stumbled in the dark, losing your balance over something dense on the ground. Tumbling forwards without anything to grip onto, your knees immediately hit the damp earth, taking the brunt of the fall. They squelched into some wet mud, no doubt ruining your favourite dress, but other than that, only your pride was hurt. It was only when you stood up and inspected your hands under the dim flickering light over the back door that you realised it was more than mud; it was thick and sticky, coagulated into revolting globules.
Under the warm, fading light of a lone bulb, you saw your hands covered in a deep crimson substance, which you quickly recognised as blood - even under the influence of copious amounts of alcohol. It wasn’t an illusion, your mind wasn’t playing tricks. It dripped from your fingers into the earth below your feet, staining the ground as it fell. You cast your gaze towards the object that hindered your steps in the dark, and immediately noticed a pale hand dislodged from the mess of grass and sodden muck. Earth encrusted digits led your eyes towards a face, ghostly and drained of life, smothered and half-buried in the damp soil. Two vacant eyes stared into the night, their colour leeched from their place, a result of a throat slashed, and left to drain the contents of his body into the earth below. His body had been mercilessly butchered, cast aside into the mud, and left to rot under the watchful gaze of the moon. Left to the elements, as if nothing more than rubbish. Though you didn’t recognise his face, reality quickly set in.
A blood-curdling scream bubbled up from your lungs, spurting from two kiss-swollen lips, before being quickly silenced by a large hand. The sound didn’t even get the chance to echo into the night before the man you loved grabbed you and gripped your skin so hard it was sure to bruise. Aemond had wrapped himself around you again, one hand clasped around your mouth, the other holding your waist tight. “Shh,” he hissed in your ear, as if the shock would subside on command, as if you'd not just stumbled across a fucking dead body at a party. What was his name? His face looked familiar, but so pallid and pale, with his skin reflecting the bitter chill of death, you couldn't quite tell who it belonged to.
“Sshhhhh…I couldn’t just let his eyes defile you, I had to teach him a lesson...see” he teased, while sniffing at your neck. The hand around your mouth directed your gaze downwards once more, as if looking upon the icy cold flesh of a dead man once wasn’t enough. No, you were forced to look upon a man you scarcely knew, but who had the audacity to look in your direction just a minute too long for Aemond’s liking. You wriggled under his grasp, desperate to run away, to find an escape from his clutches. “That's insane, why? Why would you kill him for simply looking at me? You know I only have eyes for you, Aem, but this…this is nuts..”
“You belong to me,” he murmured, the words serving as both a promise and a sure threat. “And I do. not. share.” His voice rumbled against your skin, vibrating through your bones and settling deep within you. Those words, staccato against the cold night air, each consonant emphasised, would be imprinted in your psyche, committed to memory in flesh…if you survived the night that is. His eyes sparkled with something close to amusement. You’d never seen this side of your boyfriend before, a whole new person emerged from behind those eyes. One who relished in danger, who delighted in inflicting fear. He revelled in the terror he caused, drank in every drop of panic pouring from your face. It seemed a switch had flipped in Aemond, where once was Jekyll, now shone Hyde. He’d become the monster, the bump in the night. Where once lay affection, deep seated and genuine, his eyes now only reflected his delight in your terror. They were devoid of any true emotion, any connection you once shared, if you indeed ever did, was now replaced by sheer derision and ridicule.
“I will make sure you never forget who you belong to.”
Every word emphasised by sharp sibilance, every consonant harsh and unexpectedly aggressive. You loved Aemond’s voice once, only minutes earlier infact, each rumbling low note and how he could command with such minimal effort. Yet with one sentence, he managed to erase any trace of love, and instead instill fear; chilling you to the bone with words alone, whispered into the crisp night air. Despite the chill running through your veins, nipping at your skin and drawing goosebumps to the surface of your flesh at Aemond’s cold glare, and despite the corpse lying mere inches from your feet, that one line was enough to stir something within you.
The thought of Aemond taking you in the open air, claiming your body with cold steel pressed against your skin, although wicked and slightly deranged, forced a need you never knew you had to the forefront of your mind. Perhaps deep down, you always knew who he was, perhaps you liked his possessive nature, his forceful and domineering personality. As reserved and well tempered as he was, it always lingered just beneath the surface, waiting to rear its head. Something in his voice let you know he meant it, let you know that you weren’t getting out of this house without him utterly claiming you, flesh and bone.
The rest of the world melted away as he pulled you closer, constricting his arms around your chest like a python. The party slipped into the darkness, clouded by dizziness and fear. All you could hear was the sound of your breath, as it was squeezed from your lungs, right before Aemond released his grip and allowed you to draw air once more. It was all a game, your life a frivolity. Even still, you couldn’t help but let arousal wash over you. Arousal mixed with fear proved to be an intoxicating combination, a drug you had never experienced before.
Seeing that glimmer, that faint light in your eyes as he laid claim to your body, Aemond was emboldened to push onwards, to find his pleasure in a body willing, pliable, and waiting in his grip. Yet he needed to know just how far he could push, just how much he could take from you before you’d recoil in disgust. He needed to know just how far he could push you before you’d break. Delving one hand slowly into his jacket pocket, Aemond withdrew a knife, its handle settling into the curve of his deft hand. Even in the dying light, its blade danced and glittered, shining menacingly against the blackness. Your eyes widened, yet you didn’t move, didn’t dare breathe against the shining silver he drew to your pale flesh.
With a sharp knife to the throat, the steel pressing against your delicate flesh, you trembled beneath its pointed blade. Aemond tested your mettle, pressing it hard enough to break the skin and draw a minuscule drop of blood to the blade. A hiss escaped your lips, swallowed quickly by Aemond’s plump mouth. No sooner had you made a sound, he wrapped his pouting lips around yours, taking his pleasure from your pain. He’d never given you cause to be afraid before, but now, with hardened steel slicing at your throat, and a sparkle you’d never seen before gracing his natural eye, Aemond looked every bit the villain. “I never took you for a sadist…but you seem to be enjoying this a little too much..”
“There's a lot you don't know about me, darling.” he whispered, a menacing smirk creasing the pale skin of his perfectly chiselled face. Despite the hairs at the back of your neck standing on edge, and your nervous system all of a sudden plunged into a state of fight or flight, you couldn’t help but succumb to the wiles of this perfectly handsome man. Even with his flaws and his newfound savagery, your body ached to feel him, to feel his warmth and that deliciously familiar sting as he ravaged your body.
The driving bassline of ‘Psycho Killer’ thumped through the brick walls, a fitting soundtrack for Aemond’s mindless ravaging of your helpless frame. There was nothing you could do to stop him in this moment, nothing you could do to escape…but if you were truthful with yourself, you really didn’t want to. Even with fear licking at the edges, your nerves pulsing in time with the groovy bassline thundering through the concrete walls, you abandoned all reasonable judgement in favour of potential pleasure. You lapped up his undivided attention, his utterly deranged attempts at securing your affections. And no matter how much your mind sought to escape his greedy clutches, how desperately a rational part of you wanted to flee, another part of you craved Aemond’s touch, no matter the circumstances, no matter how grim your surroundings may have been. Your body instinctively knew how crazy he was for you, how deeply he craved the comfort of your flesh, and how he’d kill to keep you all to himself. A part of you loved it; a voice that sounded when his hands roamed your body, all controlling and all enveloping. And now it was that part of you that drove you further into his embrace, that relinquished control of your flesh to his greedy hands. As you closed your eyes and shut the world out, you could only feel his slender fingers worshipping your body, every touch a prayer to your depraved soul. They traced a path through your skin, gripping at every inch as if his hands could strip it from your bones. It wasn’t long before you felt the evidence of his appetite pulsing against you, a thick bulge caressing your abdomen, searching for friction and warmth, searching for its target.
In a flurry of raw passion and craze-fuelled lust, Aemond’s hands flew to your head, grasping your hair at the root and tugging at it until your scalp throbbed; an undeniable stinging sensation that forced you to do its bidding. He pushed you down, your knees once more hitting the blood sodden earth. Once again, your eyes fell on the dead body lying only inches from you, yet Aemond forced your eyes upwards, tugging at your hair until he had your undivided attention.
It was obvious what he wanted, and he knew just how to make you squirm while getting it. Before long, his cock had sprung free of its tight denim prison and hung heavy before your face.
You could never quite grasp how well endowed he was for a petite man. It seemed so disproportionate to his body, yet you never once complained, except for the moments in that initial intrusion of course. The crisp night air nipped at the delicate skin. It was this cold air that only intensified the pleasure when your lips wrapped around his shaft, when the warmth of your mouth enveloped his cock, drawing him into your throat as far as you were physically able. His hips immediately chased a rhythm which mirrored the music from the other side of the wall, pistoning relentlessly, pounding your throat, causing you to gag and choke around him. There was no time to tease, no time to accommodate his size in your throat. Yet he didn’t let you move. His fingers flexed at your scalp, coaxing your mouth deeper still. The pain prickled, a sharp stinging sensation, yet it was dulled by the force of his merciless thrusts. His hips kept up an unforgiving pace, chasing a release that all too quickly approached.
Before long, your throat was painted by his unending supply of semen, as unrelenting and demanding as the tempo of his hips against your jaw. You greedily swallowed each and every drop, milking his cock with hollowed cheeks. He was stunned at your veracious appetite for his cum, the haze of orgasm washing heavily over his tired eyes, yet you kept up your enthusiastic pursuits. Even after release, Aemond stayed rock hard. His solid phallus throbbed in your mouth, veins pulsating against the muscle of your tongue even as he pulled out and let it rest on the tip, the protruding vasculature quivering against the warmth of your lips. The thought of ruining your cunt as one of his victims lay alongside you had him ready almost immediately, every inch of his body thrumming at the prospect. To see the woman he craved and the man he so furiously butchered laying side by side became part of the fantasy, part of the game.
The fear present in your eyes, mixed with a shameful desire for what he had to offer only spurred his arousal, the war raging in your mind between sheer terror and a desire for absolute pleasure evident in tear-stained eyelids. Your mascara had run down your cheeks, painting your face as it fell. Aemond admired his work, yet he was only getting started. His desire to ruin you, to take exactly what he wanted from your pretty cunt and have you fall apart around him was titillating.
For months, he watched you play the part of the dutiful girlfriend, yet you entertained lustful stares from random men. Holding their leering gazes across a room. It was a shame, but he simply had to punish you, to mark you as his own. If you didn't submit, if you wouldn't behave…well..Killing you was never part of the plan, but his blade was thirsty, and brats must be shown the error of their ways. Perhaps he'd show some mercy if you were good.
His hands remained interwoven with your scalp, fingers tugging at the roots tightly to keep you in line. The sting provided a sharp reminder that your boyfriend had in fact killed a man, who laid face down in the dirt only inches from your feet. Yet you couldn’t help the heat of arousal building with every tug. As Aemond dragged you from your knees to your feet, pulling you tight to his chest before spinning you around and pinning you against the wall, the coil in your core grew increasingly tight. He didn’t even have to fuck you to make you a quivering mess beneath him. Any trace of fear left seemed to leak down your leg with evidence of your arousal. Your face grazed the pebbledash finish on the side of the house, but it wasn’t long before he forcefully arched your back, pulling your head backwards by the hair and pressing your cunt against his tumescent cock. He didn’t even need to undress you; he had easy access once your panties were pushed aside. Aemond loved it when you wore such short dresses; he fantasised about moments like this. Your underwear was sodden, you didn’t even need to be touched to be ready for Aemond’s intrusion into your body. “Hm,” he snickered, that knowing smirk plastered firmly onto his chiselled face. It was amusement, laced with derision and mocking, something completely foreign to your ears from a man you only knew as loving, though truthfully, you had clearly ignored many aspects of his personality, perhaps you saw it and ignored it in favour of his more amorous qualities. Desire can cloud judgement, and you’d definitely misjudged Aemond.
He took full advantage of the ample lubrication. Nudging the folds of your cunt with his spongey pink tip, he tilted his hips and found the right angle so that he could easily plough into you with devastating effect. In one swift motion, Aemond speared your cunt with his impressively thick cock. Another ear-splitting scream left your lips, this time caused by the force of being impaled by your boyfriend's egregiously large penis rather than a corpse scaring the life out of you. Usually, he gave you time to adjust, inched his way in, and let your walls stretch to accommodate his size, but tonight he saw fit to punish you, to brutally defile your body as he saw fit. Perhaps it was retribution for letting your eyes linger on another longer than appropriate, perhaps this was bubbling within him for a long time. He didn’t stifle your screams this time, he let them ring out for everyone to hear.
Time passed in a blur, your body no more than a vessel for containing Aemond’s rage. You were pinned against the wall by his veined forearms, blood pumping through his body with the exertion. You could do little to adjust to his onslaught, your body didn’t have time to get used to the feeling. His sharp hips pistoned against the plump curve of your arse, the sound of skin slapping echoing out into the hollow night. You knew you’d be bruised, your skin would bear the mottled remnants of his anger for days, stained with multicoloured blotches. You let your mind wander, settling into the thick fog of pain and numbness. It’d be over in just a minute, with the pace Aemond had set; he was sure to come undone quite quickly. There was no restraining raw, animalistic desire and his was on full display. Eventually, the pain of his forceful penetration dulled, the sharp sting muted, and all too soon you felt the familiar coil settle in your core. You knew there’d be no relief, yet you allowed yourself to hope, to picture the sweet release that could come, if he was merciful.
This wasn’t reminiscent of any other time you’d fucked, any other time he used your body for his pleasure. There was no love present here, no affection, only crude carnal desire. Raw, unfiltered, tainted with ego and testosterone. Pure adrenaline coursed through his system, driving each callous thrust. There was no hint of gentility in his movements, no trace of the man you’d once made love to. This monster chased his own high, using your flesh as he saw fit. Your skin would bear the evidence; it’d remind you of this night even when the memory dulled. Even when the haze of potential pleasure clouded your recall of his brutality. Mottled bruising would stain the surface, remind you of the sudden appearance of this alter ego, this second self Aemond had long hidden. A bloodthirsty creature that lingered underneath the surface, and reared its head when jealousy spilled over. Considering the alternative, being used as no more than a fleshlight was a preferable outcome. Considering the violence you’d seen at his hand, the body that day in the dirt as a result of his rage, being used for his sexual release was the least egregious path.
Yet, even though your mind knew all this was wrong, that you were upset and betrayed, that you wanted the gentle man you loved back, you couldn’t deny the physical response your body had to being so roughly handled. You couldn’t deny the burning between your legs, the ever tightening coil as his cock ravaged your cunt. And though your mind had slightly more trouble overcoming the whole jealous rage-murder-thing, your body seemed more than capable of withstanding each revenge fuelled thrust, each slap of skin and bone against your delicate flesh. Even the sound of his pale skin smacking against yours drew goosebumps to the surface and sent a fresh shiver through your bones. You knew you’d fall apart around him soon. The question was, would he find his high before your banks burst around him?
Aemond certainly wasn’t shy about making noise, letting his guttural grunts ring out into the night. He didn’t care who heard, he didn’t care who witnessed the punishment he inflicted upon you for casting your eyes towards another. He watched your body swallow his cock, over and over, as his hips kept up their punitive pace. Somehow, the sight of his cock disappearing into your body, sheathed within such warmth, it pulled emotion from him that he never knew he had. He didn’t think he was capable of forgiveness, of being anything but cold and vengeful. Yet this seemed like a fitting punishment for you, taking his length over and over, taking him so deeply into your body that he felt the very essence of you coming apart around him. The moonlight danced on your juices, which coated his cock from tip to base. It was mesmerising, hypnotising, evidence of your arousal and devotion, even under such gruelling circumstances. Aemond felt the familiar flutter of your walls around his shaft, the telltale sign that you were on the precipice of release. Yet you held yourself together, you held your peak back. And he would drag you there, he’d show you just how merciful a violent man could be, with the evidence of his passion staring at them from the cold ground.
Aemond’s change of heart was sudden and rather shocking. Instead of verbalising his ideas, instead of communicating, he halted his brutal assault all at once, pulling his pants up around shaking knees and leaving you empty, without warning or any thought for your building pleasure.
You just stood, in a state of shock and right on the edge of release, desperate for relief, when it stood tantalisingly close. He hadn’t finished, he didn't even wipe himself off, he just…stopped. And before you could comprehend why, Aemond’s hand found the nape of your neck. His grip was tight, consuming, his touch like tongues of flame against the contrasting chill of the night air, yet he didn’t grab tight enough to cause you pain. Just to bend you to his will, to let you know that you belonged to him, and him alone.
He pulled you into the warmth of the house once without a word, ignoring the sheen of sweat on your brow, and the red hot flush that burned beneath your skin from his efforts. As you walked through sticky swathes of drunken people, you kept your eyes trained on the beer stained floor, hoping that nobody would notice your disheveled state. The crowd were too engrossed in their bottles to notice, but you were certain everyone had heard your lurid activities outside, even above the din of the playlist that blasted through crackling speakers in the living room. Approaching the one person you knew would miss your presence, you said a quiet goodbye to Helaena before disappearing through the sea of inebriated bodies, into the ink-black night with Aemond guiding your way. His hands gripped your spine like a vice, directing every step, controlling the depth and pace of every breath you took. Yet there was something oddly freeing about it. Something strangely comforting about removing your autonomy and giving complete control to this unhinged human.
He controlled your every move, even when his hands weren’t on your body. You felt his red hot stare lingering as he rounded the bonnet, making his way to the driver door.
The dark leather creaked as he sank into the plush seat, the material shifting under his weight, accommodating and molding to his shape as he settled into it. It gave way to him like clay, fitting to his svelte yet strangely dense and muscular form. He didn't reach for the radio, didn't force small talk where it wasn't needed. From the minute the key turned in the ignition, Aemond had you right where he wanted you; unsatisfied and on the edge of reason. He left you empty and confused, waiting on tenterhooks for his next move.
As he steered into the night, with only the glow of the headlights shining against the tarmac, his hand moved to rest on your thigh, long fingers digging into the soft flesh, leaving crescent shapes in their wake. He may as well have branded you, his touch felt like flames nipping at your skin. Not once did that hand leave your thigh, not once did he lift his fingers from their resting place.
Each squeeze made your breath hitch in your chest, each time getting a little tighter, pinching the skin just a little more. You knew there was a chance those marks would be permanent, scars to remind you exactly who you belonged to, like a tattoo carved into flesh.
Passing streetlights illuminated the smirk permanently painted onto his face. The pale glow from the outside glinted off of his prosthetic eye, catching the sapphire hue and somehow making Aemond look even more menacing. Each flickering bulb formed a rhythm; you found yourself tapping your fingers to the beat of each one as it whizzed by. Perhaps it was a way to distract from the sting of nails digging into your thigh muscle, perhaps it was a coping mechanism - a way to make sense of all that had happened tonight, and all that was sure to come in the early hours of morning. Despite the pleasure you were denied, and the lingering ache within you from Aemond's onslaught, you couldn't help but recall the horrors you had seen also.
You’d left that man lying face down in the dirt. Would he be found by some other drunken soul, stumbling over his chilled corpse as they sparked up a cigarette? Wound someone find out who had led him to his inevitable death?
The torturous silence stretched into the night, the only sound underneath that metal roof were the mingled hushed tones of your combined breaths.
No door could contain Aemond's fervour, no barrier of wood could keep him from his plans. As soon as his feet crossed the threshold, he pulled you down the hall, pulling you into the bathroom hastily. He didn't verbalise his carefully crafted plans, he never once let you know where his mind was going, you simply followed wordlessly, accepting your fate as it came.
You certainly didn't expect plump lips to meet your own in an unusually passionate embrace, before backing you into the shower, still fully clothed. You didn't question it, but your eyes clearly communicated your confusion, ad Aemond answered with a familiar cheeky grin.
His hand reached behind you, releasing the water from its chamber. It was hot, like fire in liquid form. Like dragon fire, tongues of flame licked at the surface of your skin. Aemond didn't seem to notice, it didn't seem to faze him, and immediately crowded around you, backing you against the glass wall. He had less grip under the running water, his hands couldn’t get purchase on your skin. Clawing hands slipped under the flow of running water, yet that didn't hinder his frenzied actions.
He crowded you against the glass, held your body tightly with one hand, while the other wandered to the slick column of your throat. Nimble fingers wrapped around delicate skin, pressing slightly on either side. Just enough to remind you of his power, just enough to keep you malleable under his touch.
He’d already punished you that night, taken his anger and malice out thoroughly on your pliant cunt. So instead of abusing his power and alienating the one good thing he had, he decided to incentivise good behaviour. To show you he could be the devoted man you thought he was, as well as the one you found tonight. To keep you truly under his thumb, he needed to be merciful as well as vengeful. Besides, it was fun to watch you fall apart under his touch, to watch your eyes roll back in your head as his body brought you immense pleasure. Dropping to his knees, Aemond hooked one of your thighs over his shoulder as you braced yourself against the glass, eyes widening with each surprising development. You could scarcely believe the vision before you, it was a shocking u-turn, a swift pivot back to the passionate, tender man you called yours only hours earlier, though that sharp edge remained. The man you thought you knew so well was not lost, merely buried beneath the thin veil of a monster. You just let it happen, not daring to question his intentions, not daring to interrupt.
A hot tongue darted from his jaw, catching the falling water on its rough surface before plunging to its purpose. His jutting chin nuzzled between your legs, his pointed nose angled slightly upwards to stimulate your sensitive clit. Aemond knew what he was doing, he always did, but this night he set about devouring you with renewed purpose and surprising enthusiasm. One dazzlingly blue eye peered up at you from between your folds. He seemed to know just where to apply pressure, how to stimulate the most sensitive spots that would make you melt into his mouth. He was still the man who devoured you at every turn, who took pleasure in pleasuring you. But this time seemed different, this time he seemed determined to watch you come undone, to assert dominance in the most unlikely of positions. Every breath, every sweet exclamation and high pitched whine only fed his ego further. You were truly and devastatingly under his thumb, and you knew it. With one swipe of his tongue, you’d fallen into his trap. There was no escaping it now.
So instead of fighting the pleasure that welled deep within, that wrung tighter with each lapping sweep of his textured tongue you gave yourself over to it. You resigned yourself to the duality of his wanton violence, to his murderous tendencies and slightly insane possessive nature, with the man that knelt before you, the one you'd fallen for. You even allowed yourself to enjoy it, to lose yourself in it and lap up each and every ounce of tainted love Aemond deemed fit to give.
Even over the patter of running water, your exclamations of ecstasy echoed between the thick glass panes keeping you aloft. Your knees had long buckled beneath your tired frame, you were only kept upright by Aemond's strong shoulders and one solid sheet of glass behind your back.
It wasn't long before you found the pleasure you were earlier denied in a warm supping tongue, ravaging your cunt as if it’d never taste your flesh again. As if your skin contained the sweetest of nectar, a delicacy Aemond sought out most fervently.
It was merely minutes before you were spilling into the open caverns of his mouth, your body succumbing to his expert ministrations, seceding its battle with guilt and fear to an overwhelming blanket of ecstasy. Aemond sucked every drop from your dripping cunt, licked and sucked your swollen clit long past the point of release, until he had you writhing around his head, begging for relief from the almost painful overstimulation. It was only then, as your pleading rang in his ears, that Aemond finally relinquished his efforts, and made his way back up your body, to share his reward with your waiting mouth. You could taste yourself on his tongue, in his searing kiss. He claimed every inch of you, everything you had was his.
And now, as he gave you everything you wanted, you were more than willing to succumb to his every whim.
Though when the haze of pleasure wore off, when the coil in your gut had been let loose and you could think clearly, your mind reeled, remembering every gory detail the night held.
You were truly stuck, wedged firmly under his thumb, and Aemond knew exactly how to keep you pliant and willing, he knew exactly how much your body yearned for his hands, how you couldn’t possibly resist the call of his body, even when your mind fought to escape.
The next morning, knuckles rapped on sagging wood that could tell a multitude of stories. Glazed eyes opened the door to reveal local police, investigating a missing person's report.
The man without a name, the corpse in the cold, who everyone assumed had Irish goodbyed, never made it home. Yet another young man in recent weeks who never graced their own front doors again, who disappeared without a trace. His body had been discovered tossed onto the side of a blackened road, far from anyone who loved him, or even knew his name. His roommates called it in, knowing he was supposed to walk home that night. They knew he'd never stay out, never leave his cat unattended without saying anything. It was out of character for him to stay out without so much as a text, or posting about his night. They knew something was very wrong when he didn’t grace their flat by 4am, and they raised the alarm.
Two level headed cops interviewed every hungover face in that living room, every person that stayed and slept where they stood. As expected, memories were foggy, clouded by alcohol and recreational drugs, now wreaking havoc on tired bodies. Yet despite hazy recollections of that night, Aemond’s name came up a few times for having disappeared throughout the night. Sore heads and cloudy memories all pointed to Aemond as acting suspiciously, though nobody outrightly suspected him of being a killer. A few names graced tired lips, a few people who had left early, some who had a reputation for trouble, some who were known to disappear without saying anything. Yet it was Aemond that drew attention, it was him that stuck in the clouded minds of everyone who attended that night.
It wasn’t long before trouble graced your doorstep, the hollow sound of knuckles knocking at your door stirring you from sleep, and bringing you out into the hallway. You were groggy, moving slowly, but you heard someone at the door. Aemond was already up, and had answered the front door clad in nothing but his boxers. To some it might have been seen as pure laziness, you knew better. You knew that the sight of his sculpted body would throw off whoever was on the other side of that door, knocking at an ungodly hour as a migraine rattled through your brain. You could barely hear what they were saying from your perch atop the stairs, but you did hear several questions being asked, and so out of curiosity, you wandered to the landing to get a better view. It was the police. Shit.
Every morose detail came flooding back to you, in grotesque clarity. The blood, his face under the pale moonlight, the wound that spanned the breadth of his neck. The violence and brutality of it all. You’d honestly forgotten most of it, the vivid details were diluted by alcohol and knocked loose by Aemond’s bipolar behaviour afterwards. But seeing two officers in uniform grace your apartment door brought it all back, including the overwhelming sense of horror. It was all you could do to run to the bathroom and rid yourself of the guilt before someone spotted you.
After you’d expelled your guilt into the porcelain bowl, washing your face with cold water and tidying yourself up to the best of your ability, you decided to join Aemond downstairs. It was better than hiding. You only caught part of the conversation, and even as you descended the stairs, you heard pointed voices echoing in condescending tones.
“You’re not in any trouble,” one of them said kindly, ‘the good cop,’ Aemond thought distastefully, though he didn’t for one second let his face reflect his true thoughts. “Right now we’re just following some lines of inquiry and your name has come up a lot.”
Another, more stern voice chimed in quickly after. “Seems enough people were concerned about your disappearing acts on the night in question that they thought it worthwhile mentioning.”
“Am I under arrest, officers?” he sighed, almost bored at their probing line of questioning. You cringed at his blatant display of ego, you knew that this alter Aemond was different, somewhat maniacal but you never thought what would happen when he was confronted with true authority. Even still, you made your way over to them and stood by his side, giving a polite nod to the officers.
“Well that depends son, you have anyone else that can account for your whereabouts on the night, anybody who can solidly swear they were with you the entire time?”
Silence. He looked to the side, throwing his eyes in your direction, slightly confused, but also betrayed by your hesitance.
Aemond deflated, he thought of the fear in your eyes when you'd discovered the true depths of his depravity last night, the look of betrayal when he’d pressed the metal of his blade to your skin and watched the trickle of blood there. Somehow he expected obedience.
“I will make sure you never forget who you belong to,” he’d said at the time and he’d hoped his actions last night were enough to enforce upon you that no matter what happened now: no cuffs, bars or barbed-wired fences would ever change the fact that he had killed and would kill again to remind you of this fact.
“That’s what I thought..” the tougher cop smirked after a few moments of uneasy, weighted silence, “Aemond Targaryen you are under-”
Realising the opportunity before you, seeing your chance at escape from this dire situation of your own making, you kept your mouth firmly shut. You never anticipated just how viscerally your body would react to the jingling of handcuffs though, the cold metal struck a chord within you, pulling something along the lines of guilt and sending a feeling akin to pity bubbling to the surface. Your resolution to stay silent broke in a matter of seconds, your steel will crumbling before you could stop yourself.
Just as he was about to be placed in cuffs, his eyes locked with yours once more and disappointment turned to rage in an instant. There was no pleading to be found there, just a look, a look that made your stomach clench and the words were wrenched from you before you even had time to think. One glance from dazzlingly blue eyes was all it took for the words to come tumbling from your lips. "He was with me all night” you blurted and the cop stopped mid arrest-speech. You regretted it as soon as you heard the words form in the air before you, but it was too late. He cocked an eyebrow and smirked at you in a way that made you feel small and far too bare. You had given Aemond a way out, an escape from a fate he truly deserved.
“All night you say?” he asked, tone mocking and you were nodding wide-eyed and heart racing.
“And you would be willing to swear that before a judge now would you sweetheart?”
Something about his mocking tone, or his condescending use of the word sweetheart had you bridling and you stuck your chin out stubbornly.
“I’ll swear it to anyone you want me to, he never left my sight all night. I can even go into the details of what exactly we were doing when we ‘disappeared’ each time if you’d like.”
‘That’s my girl’, Aemond thought as the police officer was forced to unclasp the bracelets from his narrow wrists and he grinned knowing that he had you exactly where he wanted you. You’d had your chance to escape him, and now he knew resolutely that you were lovestruck, even in the face of everything you’d seen and he had you undeniably stuck, under his thumb.
With an alibi now firmly in place they had no choice but to take your statements and be on their way, any hope they had of pinning it on Aemond dissipated with your sworn statement and their demeanour toward him completely changed.
Aemond himself had switched into charming mode, you’d seen it a thousand times before, you had yourself been victim to it, but it still scared you how easily he slipped into it and how capable he was of making people believe him and bend to his will.
“Whoever the killer’s after, I'm glad they have you guys to protect them” Aemond uttered to the retreating police, flashing a fake smile their way before turning his back.
“City’s finest…” he whispered under his breath, as they walked in the opposite direction, leaving you to a fate of your own making. As he pushed past you, once more entering the cosy apartment, Aemond whispered a final sentence that made your blood run cold at the utterance.
“You can't run from who you are baby ..none of us can”
Taglist: (no pressure) @volklana @thenameswinter99 @suntizme @zaldritzosrose @dreamilypurplepillar
Okay, so I've watched the Passenger movie and this is the result, because who wouldn't want to be haunted while on a roadtrip?
Warnings: Johnny x plus size!fem!Reader, dubcon, dead dove do not eat, haunting, Horror, stranger danger, Past Sexual Abuse, all alone on the side of the road handsome?, the chance of picking up a dead man walking is low but never zero, Trauma, no good deed goes unpunished, your local forest life would like to know your location, cryptids, something is looking for you don't let it find you, mild gore, mild violence, objects in the mirror are closer than they appear, Biting, Fingerfucking, Strangulation, Undead, Sloppy Makeouts
Truth to be told you did not want to go on the trip this late and you didn't want to drive all the way across the country and you didn't feel like passing through the night on an empty road in the middle of the woods. You really didn't.
Yet here you are anyway, because the booked airbnb required you to check at an obsecene hour if you wanted to keep your booking. Which you really did.
First vacation in a long time in a secluded quiet space with nothing but pine trees and steel-grey storm sky. Just a couple weeks for you to decompress and think about what to do with yourself and how to move forward with your life.
The night is silent, not a single lamp post litting your way, the only source of your visibility coming from the white blaze of your headlights. This deep in the woods no radio's really working, which you have found out fifteen minutes ago.
Only sound filling the air is the low hum of car's engine and occasional jingle of the protective amulet hanging from your rearview mirror.
Saint Christopher, patron of the travelers.
"Remind me again, why we got him specifically? Shouldn't it have been saint Nicholas?" You sigh heavily, eyes burning and strained. You have been driving all day and it is not getting any easier if you are being completely honest.
A bed would be nice right about now, but you can't just…stop in the middle of the woods and conk out in your car given that there isn't another driver to pick up the slack.
It's bad luck anyway, you think grimly, fingers drumming on the steering wheel, stopping in the middle of the night on an empty road is stupid. And you are not stupid.
Your friend on the phone laughs, connection cracking.
"Saint Nicholas is patron of travel at sea. Not on the road." They huff out, as the person responsible for the amulet in the first place. "And I got you real silver, stop complaining. If there's a werewolf, just toss it at him and run."
"Because running from a big dog is very smart, yeah." You mumble under your breath, rolling your stiff shoulders. Should have taken a flight instead of trying to save more money, but here you are now.
No way but through, right?
The phone call cracks, sound distorting as you get deeper in the woods — bars on your screen disappearing one by one. This is just great.
"I'll text you when I make a stop, okay?" You say before the connection disappears entirely and wish them a good night, hanging up.
It's two more hours of nothing but the woods if you can believe your GPS to lead you out of it in the safe haven of another small town you can pass on your way to your vacation.
The silence is nice for a little while, would do you some good to just sit with your thoughts and work through whatever made you say no to the marriage proposal from a bloke who wasn't superb, but was…well, he was decent and you still said no.
And ran across the country for some bloody views by the pines.
Escapism, quite literal at that.
"Maybe I just need a sign." You sigh, not even knowing what kind of sign would work.
Other than a large 'stop it, get some help' banner with the therapist's number at the bottom of it.
Maybe you do need a sign, something in you agrees, leaves rusting all around you, like something big has just passed by.
A bear, maybe?
Or a wolf of some sort.
You aren't really willing to slow down and see for yourself, not when it is still so dark and you are this tired.
Stopping on an empty road is stupid, stopping on an empty road in the middle of the night can be deadly which is why you aren't doing it today. No, thank you.
Only the bright orange of hazard lights is the first thing you see rounding the next turn. Still somehow working to alert you to danger, flash of them pulsing like a live thing in the dead of the night.
The next thing you see is the car — slammed into a thick tree, the front of it compressed, glass of the windshield smashed open.
Bloody hell, did someone get sent flying through it during the crash?
It's a bad luck stopping at night on an empty road. But someone apparently had even worse luck today.
The least you can do is check to make sure if anyone needs help. With no service in this neck of the woods, you can either leave them here or take them to get help if they are in any shape to move around.
You sigh, pulling in a park a few feet away from the wreckage. No good deed goes unpunished, but it's not something you can just ignore. Even if you really really want to get to your next stop and sleep finally.
Woods are quiet around you, not rustling with a single leaf when you roll down the window — coward's substitue of gettting out of the car. You really don't want to die with someone in this place, even though worrying about folk legends now seems a bit like a reach.
Cool evening air kisses your cheeks, strokes your head when you peek out, trying to gauge your chances here.
Anxiety sizzles under your skin, slow uneven spread of it through your chest sinking around your heart and pulling it down in a quicksand of fear.
The totalled white Hyundai Sonata flickers at you, mudded and scratched all over the place.
The driver's seat is empty.
Fucking spectacular.
You sit in silence for a few more minutes, tapping on your phone to find it suddenly dead and unresponsive.
Okay. Alright.
So the question now is, how badly do you want to help someone?
You swallow, mouth dry and tight because no one is watching. You could just leave.
You could drive away and contact the sherriff's department when you are passing through whatever small settlement you'll see next. Smart thing to do.
Your fingers flex around the steering wheel, when you groan, softly hitting your forehead against it. Lord, grant some protection to your lost sheep with the set of ethics that might kill her today.
"Evening." Someone's voice suddenly chirps on your left and you jolt, scream dying in your throat when you see the man standing there.
Bloody and torn up all over, his tshirt tight over his chest, eyebags dark under his blue eyes.
He smiles at you, braces his forearms on the rolled down window and tilts his head.
Big dog trying to squeeze himself in through the opening.
You don't like dogs.
You aren't sure you like the bloke either.
As if hearing your thoughts, his eyes crinkle, teeth — moist and white flashing when his lips can no longer hide them with a grin this wide. You can feel someone's eyes on the back of your neck, even though the only person on this road is looking right at you.
He's got blood caked above his brow, splash of it darkening his buzeed hair right above the temple. Whatever has happened to him, it must have hurt like hell. Only the stranger doesn't even winces when he absentmindedly scratches at the dried up blood.
"John MacTavish." He introduces himself after another minute of staring, his eyes warm and excited about something. What is he so happy about? "Apologies for the sorry state of me, bonnie. I didnae expect to have a meet cute."
That's probably adrenaline and relief clashing, you think to yourself. He has just gotten in a car crash, seeing a friendly face surely is a reason to be happy.
There is still an insistent feeling at the back of your neck that something is moving closer to you, only you can't turn around and look.
That would mean you have to leave John behind your back.
You stare at the flxing muscle of his forearms and don't want to find out whether his arms are long enough to reach for your throat from where he is standing.
"You've had…a hell of a night." You finally muster up, hand twitching to lock the doors of the car and Johnny hums, nodding, his too wide smile starting to get on your nerves. "Do you need help? A lift, maybe?" You offer before you think it through and his eyes crinkle in the corners.
He is handsome.
Rugged and bloody and weirdly happy, he is handsome in the same way big dog breeds are. Not quite wolf, but something close adjacent. Close enough to hunt and get hunted.
Wonder what hunted him down today, passes through your mind as you stare at the bleeding gash on his temple. A little more and the injury would have taken a chunk out of his skull.
He got really lucky today.
"I'd appreciate it." He nods slowly, his neck either stiff or injured, his eyes blinking every once in a while. Like he is not completely here in this moment, like his head hurts enough to give him a migraine.
You unlock the car doors, nodding at him to sit in your passenger's seat and try not to flinch when he practically drops into it with a grunt, his shoulder clicking when Johnny reaches for the seatbelt.
The drive to the police station is uneventful safe for the unnerving tension of him sitting right beside you, too big for your car, his shoulders hunching when you offer to move his seat to give him some legroom.
"I also have Ibuprofen." You say, before you can think of it and he turns his head to you even slower. Blinks, like he isn't sure he heard you right.
God, he must be really out of it after a crash like that.
"For your head, I mean. It must hurt." You gesture at the blood on his temple and Johnny blinks at you again, before the corners of his lips twitch and slide into a smile so wide you quickly look away.
"Ye're very nice. But I've had it worse." He smiles, instead of thanking you properly, not moves an inch as you reach over him to pull the lever and shove his seat back.
You can feel his eyes on the top of your neck with every tiny hair that goes up, when he suddenly huffs out air. Dry and amused.
Like you are doing something funny.
When you glance up at him, the look in Johnny's eyes is almost enough for you to crawl out of the car and walk on your own legs to the nearest town. You don't do that only because he seems very much in need of urgent medical attention.
You don't do that, because your still dead phone doesn't turn on and the radio is all static too, no way to contact anyone. As much as he makes you uncomfortable, Johnny is probably just high on adrenaline.
Probably nothing weird, you reason and swear that he chuckles again. Only when you look back at him, Johnny tilts his head to the side, eyes curious.
Probably just your imagination. Probably nothing.
"A shame we can't call 999 and get you asessed properly." You mumble under your breath, pressing on the gas to speed up down the road. If police stops you, then maybe you can pawn off Johnny onto them or just gesture at him silently. People ought to cut some slack to a car crash victim on his way to his other possible car crash.
"That's okay." Johnny murmurs, shoulder slumped against the door, eyes soft when you look back at him. He did not say a word about the speed of your driving, didn't complain about occasional hole in the beat up road that shook him a couple times already.
Anxiety pounds on the inside of your chest when he closes his eyes, probably trying to rest. But if there is something you know about bleeding people is that you are not supposed to let them sleep till you get them to the hospital.
"Johnny, look at me." You meant to pat his knee, but probably forget to take into account the length of his legs and how close he is, instead smacking his thigh.
Johnny visibly flinches, eyes flying open — startled and wide, he looks at you like he doesn't know how to react.
"Don't fall asleep till we get you some help, okay?" You try to sound stern, only your voice shakes a little when he just stares at you. God, you really don't want someone to die in your car tonight, you have a reservation at hot springs in fifteen hours. "Just…keep your eyes on me. Please."
Silence stretches between you — thick and tense, his shoulders suddenly sinking down, tension you didn't know was there evaporating.
"F'course, bonnie." Johnny's voice is softer than you expected, warm in a way that makes your cheeks burn because damn him and his handsome face. "I'll keep 'em on you."
You roll up to the urgent care, ready to get out of the car and help him in. Only he stops you, shaking his head slowly.
Smiles at you like it's not a 'goodbye' but a 'see you' and you don't know what to do with the urge to turn back and check your backseat for him without looking like a raging lunatic because the bloke is clearly right there in front of you.
Still, you did all you could to take care of him. Now you should take care of your suddenly dead phone.
Probably just need a new charger, given how quickly your old ones die one by one, capitalism be damned for the lack of warranty and shitty quality.
Luckily there is a place a couple blocks away from the hospital, god bless gas stations and all they do for the travelers and multitude of things that can go wrong during the bloody road trip.
Doesn't take you long to get a new cable from a caffeine-energised cashier, quickly checking it to see your phone powering back to life. Surprisingly with no battery wasted.
The screen shines bright white and absolutely no bars of reception, somehow not able to get any connection even here.
But free wifi gives you a chance to quickly text your friend that you are still alive and had a wild encounter just now.
That's when your car alarm suddenly goes off, making both you and the cashier flinch as you fumble for keys, turning it off.
Weird.
But not looking to push your luck and see if there is anyone who'd like to pick the locks on your car tonight, you say your thanks and wish the cashier good night before the warmth of their space closes behind you with the chime of their doorbell.
Night is cool and quiet, your headphones muffling everything as you turn on the downloaded playlist. No need to stay in one place for too long when you still have a long way to go.
You glance back at the gas station, and shrug off the prickling sensation of eyes on your nape, not finding anyone staring.
You really really need to sleep, you think, starting to walk to your car, your shadow flickering on the pavement under your feet as you walk by the first lamp post, shivers running down your nape to your back.
Unease swallowing your cool head and making you shiver again. You'd love to say that the night is just colder than usually.
That you are just really tired.
Only you can't.
There are steps behind, you suddenly realise.
Music dying in your headphones, the ringing silence coating your nerves till they are sharp and buzzing under your skin.
Someone is there, you think, finding the handle of the flip knife in your pocket. A tiny fucking thing, but better to have a small knife than none at all.
The car is barely a dozen feet away, dark and dead, not a flicker of light or a movement inside. Safe and quiet, it stands alone in the midnight parking lot.
You speed up, killing the music in your headphones, ears straining because the steps, they are right there. Right behind you and they are faster than you are — closing in quickly, your heart pounding in your ears when you turn back, knife gripped.
No one is there.
The tears burn your eyes, throat tight, because this is worse.
Someone was there, you know that someone was there, you could hear them!
You turn back to your car and suck in the breath, head white-clean with panic.
Your car is at the end of the parking lot, your car is a dozen feet away from you.
Your car was a dozen feet away from you.
Not anymore, it isn't. Sitting in the exact same place, but you are just not close to it anymore. Back at the other end of it. Empty and quiet parking lot, no one in sight — not a place to hide.
Unless you count the one under your car, voice in your head chimes in, reminding you about the horror stories and podcasts about abducted people and—
Fuck, this is so unhelpful.
The parking lot is empty, you repeat to yourself. Nothing is there, you checked yourself and you do need to find motel soon to have some fucking sleep before more hallucinations follow.
Only the car feels so far away now. You'll need to cross the entire place before you reach it and it is completely deserted. Light of a lamp post flickers above your head and you take a breath in.
Can't stay in one place for the rest of the night, you need to stop thinking this much and get in the bloody car. Maybe call someone who's not asleep this late in the night to talk to while you drive.
Your shoulders slowly drop down as you take another few breaths. Could have been imagination and good acustics of this place. Nothing really is there, you know there isn't.
If anyone wanted to attack they'd do so while you were calming yourself down, trying not to cry.
Okay, one final stretch and then a short stop to get a treat — something to keep you going till morning or the cheap motel with decent bed.
Whichever comes first, you reason and will your heart to stop sinking in the rippling waters of your mind like a bloody fishing float.
You take the first few steps, checking over the shoulder which feels silly, but something in you still waits for a mysterious person to follow you again. Nothing, just like you checked.
It's okay, you breath in and out, we are just really really tired, right?
After a few more moments of breathing in and out, you squeeze your phone and start walking across the parking lot, keeping your eyes on the car. There is only one pair of footsteps that you can hear.
Crisp, a little heavy, the rubber heel of the boots hitting the pavement, as you walk, trying to distract yourself with the list of things you can get at the nearest gas station. A Red Bull, that's for sure, you think and huff our air.
It comes out with a whoosh, your ankle twisting when you place your foot on the slippery part of the pavement, almost twisting it with a hiss. Pain blooms — sharp and sudden, nearly enough to deafen you when the parking lot falls silent again.
Nearly, you regret immediately, your heart cold and heavy when you pretend to check on your ankle, massaging the aching part. Fingers trembling.
The sound of footsteps stoppped a second after you did.
You don't want to turn back, you try to calm down, blinking quickly, eyes watering which is a luxury you cannot afford right now. Not like this.
When you start walking again, your ears catch the moment, when the foosteps start again. This time falling out of rhythm with yours on purpose.
Whoever they are, they noticed.
You try to swallow the knot, not wanting to run because everyone knows that as soon as you run from the dog — it will chase you and it will bite you and it will get you, because you are never going to be faster than it.
It's not a fucking dog, that much you know for sure, but you squeeze the keys in your pocket, finding the one from your car and do the only thing left.
You start walking fastering, hearing the footsteps behind you hurrying up immediately. Moving quicker than yours, because now they know that you know it too. Now there isn't really a reason to hide.
Forgetting all previous reasoning, you hiss out air and bolt, dashing across the remaining dozen feet, heart pounding, because they follow immediately. Someone's feet hitting the ground faster than it should be possible, closing in on you, phantom presense heating your back when you turn the car alarm off and wrench the doors open.
Fail inside more than anything, slamming the doors shut, right when the steps should have hit the back of your ankles, kicking you down. The car locks click on immediately.
The devastation isn't something you expect when you dare to glance at your window.
The parking lot is empty. No one is standing there next to your car.
You heave in the darkness of your car, heart pounding against your temples, your hands shaking. Someone was there.
Someone was following you and you couldn't see them.
Your brain plays back to the sound of someone running after you, heavy-footed and unnervingly quick, approaching rapidly to force you to either turn back or get caught.
Like a big dog, you think, rubbing your biceps in attempt to soothe the goosebumps rising all over your skin, like a big dog if it walked on two legs and wore some heavy fucking boots.
You take another deep breath, locks still shut on your doors. There is no one there. The parking lot is empty with no places to hide. No one is really there.
But you have heard someone, you think, choking down the strong urge to whimper, because you cannot go mad like that, it can't happen to you.
It had to be your lack of sleep, your imagination, the trick your brain played on you to double the set of footsteps. No one could be there.
"No one was there. It's fine, it's okay, we are fine." You mutter to yourself breathing in and out, fingers trembling when you fish out your phone out of the cup holder, the white-blue light of your skin litting up the space. "I need to fucking sleep before I lose my mind." You continue talking to yourself, because your voice filling the air is better than silence again.
Better than imagining someone crawling their ways up to your car, limbs deformed and too long.
Moving faster than any real being should.
"I just-" You take a deep breath in and adjust the silver amulet swaying on your rearview mirror. Some knick knack you got gifted for 'safe journey', not that it can be of any use, you'd think if your mind didn't go quiet immediately, words dying halfway up to your mouth.
There are eyes in your rearview mirror — crinkling with excitement you left down at the precinct, unblinking and dead in the sharp light of your phone.
You know these eyes, you think, scream bubbling in your throat when you blink and he doesn't disappear.
Sits right behind your driver's seat, leaning a little too close so you'd definitely notice him there.
He is not breathing, something in you cries, you did not hear him, because Johnny hasn't been breathing all this time.
Tears make you half blind and terrified, because you cannot stop looking at him, because if you look away something might happen like that time in the forest.
Because you are locked with him in your car and you don't know how he got in.
"Never left, bonnie." Johnny shares, finally blinking, like he has remembered he needs to do that. "You promised me a lift."
Panic wails in your head like an air raid alert, moans with ambulance sirens, rings with church bells.
"I- I gave you a lift." You choke out, voice cracking in half when he shakes his head slowly. Moving like his body is too stiff for it, like it takes some effort to turn his head freely. "The police station. I gave you a lift there." You try to explain, swallowing a sob because you don't want to die, not like this, you don't want a big man with too dead eyes to make you hurt.
You don't want it to hurt if he does it, but it will, you can see it in his eyes that it will.
Can sense the phantom feeling of a blowtorch brough to the ribs, of dogs biting at the heels and ripping into the meat of the calves, of hands pinching you in all soft places — mean and rough, so you don't black out before it is actually time.
"I didnae want a lift there." He says simply, leather of your seats creaking when he leans closer, props his chin on your seat — right above your shoulder and keeps looking you in the eyes through the rearview mirror.
"Where do you want a lift to?" You ask, gripping the suddenly dead phone in hand, his eyes not blinking at you. He probably forgot to do it. Again.
"I'll tell ye." Johnny responds, tone casual when he turns his head, no longer looking you in the eyes and instead talking right in your ear. His voice feeling the same way pine branches do when they graze your face. "Donnae worry, bonnie. I'm a good passenger."
You don't want to think how you still cannot feel his breath when he is speaking, even with Johnny so close, even with his voice screwing into your ear. There is nothing, no tickle of air against your skin, no shiver induced by the hairs on your skin moving.
It's like having an audio recording talk back to you.
You swallow again and look in the rearview mirror, because the alternative is turning your head to look at him and then it's real. Then he is there, in the backseat of your car.
"Okay." You try to catch his eyes in the reflection and when he lets you, the blood drips off his brow onto his cheek. Slow and viscous, it should never move like that.
"I'll pay for gas." Johnny says, tone almost gentle, like this is your biggest concern right now. The money. "And for whatever else ye need. Like I said, I am a good passenger. Just need ye to be good to me back and that's all." He leans a little closer, resting his arms on the shoulder of your seat. Like a kid asking you to stop at McDonald's on the way home. "Can ye do that for me, bonnie?"
"Yeah." You breathe out, slowly nodding, your chest tight and pounding from inside out, pressure mounting and pressing on your frontal lobe. Will come back to you as a migraine and a halo, punishing for today's exertion. "Yeah, okay, I…I can do that."
You don't really have a choice there.
"Good." Johnny smiles finally and the relief that fills you brings red-hot feeling to your face, blood burning under your skin. Shame curdling your trembling spine into a spiral for you to use when you are going to slide all the way down into a full blown meltdown.
Fawn or die, right? No other way here with someone as big as him.
You slowly shift your eyes on the road, half expecting him to lean over and tear your bloody jagular with his teeth. Getting what he probably came for and leaving you to bleed out.
Probably the same thing happened to the last guy that picked him.
But Johnny doesn't want to kill you.
If he did, he would have done so back in the woods — would have sent your car into the underbrush and watched how you bleed out in a place with no cell reception.
Instead Johnny talks your ear off whenever radio doesn't work and ever since he got into your car it stopped working alltogether, same as your phone.
You stop minding at some point, lazily bickering with him on your way to your airnbnb, because better talk with someone that have the unending buzz above your ear for three hours.
"Do you ever wish to sometimes have a pass to just murder someone and get away with it?" You ask him, parked by the 24 hour gym because the police do not take kindly to people loitering in the middle of the night, even if it is purely to get a very late night ice-cream. But you heard that around this parking you should be okay.
Maybe. If you are lucky.
Johnny sits with his legs on your seats, back leaning on the passenger door on the side across from you so he can watch you eat.
"I donnae ken, bonnie, do I?" He chuckles, rolling his eyes. Steals a fry from your paper bag even though you aren't sure you ever saw him eat it.
'Can eat other things, bonnie', his voice announces inside of your head and you chew quicker. You are going mad and he is at fault. 'Donnae need ice cream when I could just eat the box, bonnie' It adds very unhelpfully as you push another spoonful in your mouth.
God damn his big mouth and honesty bordering on vulgar.
Johnny is ex-military, he tells you, very vague about what it is he used to do there. Although on the very next day he steals the lighter from your glove box and plays with it whenever you fall silent. He either gets bored easily or really likes the flame, you think and when you glance back at him — his eyes are laughing.
Probably both.
"So you never wished you could just kill someone with no consequences?" You press on and he gives you a half hearted shrug. "Not a person you'd come back to haunt out of the goodness of your big heart, Johnny?"
The taunt usually helps to get him to talk, only this time, when you stretch out the vowels of his name, Johnny hums, watching you through the lashes, his fingers interlocked, resting on his lap.
Something in his eyes is not the usual amusement or warning. Something there makes you pretend you are suddenly very hungry and not at all nervous to look at him.
The hoarse chuckle he lets out makes your ears burn.
Bloody hell, he is insufferable.
"And yet ye suffer and persevere." He huffs out, laughing out loud when you stare up at him, looking a lot like a deer in the middle of the path of incoming truck. "Gets written all over yer face when you sulk, bonnie, don't have to be a mind-reader."
"You might as well be one." You grumble under your breath, pretending not to notice his arched brow. Not opening this can of worms either. "Why do you even talk with me if you don't want to answer my questions?"
Your question would be weird for anyone but him, because, Lord, does your passenger like to talk.
And not just to himself, you quickly realised. Johnny loves having debates, says the wrong thing on purpose and watches how you speed through fear of his retaliation to polite attempt to correct him to genuine annoyance you push down to telling him that he doesn't know what the fuck he is even saying.
Doesn't like being called dumb, though, which is something you also very quickly found out. Made a mistake of throwing it his way in a heat of the moment and Johnny's entire face went blank, muscle jumping in his jaw.
"Don't call me that, bonnie. That's not nice." He said, knees suddenly pressing into the back of your driver's seat, pushing you chest first into the steering wheel. Not yet enough to send the two of you into the ditch, but close enough.
"Okay. Got it. Sorry, mate. I'm sorry, won't do that again." You quickly breathed out, grip tightening because if you crash the car in the middle of the night in some dead-dark woods, it's an entirely new can of worms to open.
And you don't want to get stuck with Johnny in this place. Frankly, you wouldn't want to get stuck here even if you were on a tourist bus of 52 people, but no one really is asking you.
"Johnny." He correct you a minute after, pressure of his knees finally getting off of your lower back. Oh, thank you Jesus, for the man has surprising sharp kneecaps. His eyes are unblinking in the rearview window when you glance at him through it, but he is no longer frowning.
Stuck between wanting to talk to you again and driving the point across.
"I'm sorry, Johnny." You repeat, glancing him in the eyes, slowing down as you do. Both your speech and your car in case he actually changes his mind and decides to kill you for being a little mean to him.
"It's okay, bonnie. Ye didnae mean it, right?" He apparently chooses mercy because he slings his arm around the headrest of your seat, his fingers grazing your sweater. "Just got carried away. Happens to me all the time."
You nod quickly, confirming that no, of course, you didn't mean it. You don't want to die gruesomely in the place with nothing around after all.
"I like yer reactions." he shrugs after another moment, snapping you out of it. Tilts his head to his other shoulder, eyes narrowing. "Thinking about something?"
Johnny likes having your eyes on him and doesn't like when your mind wanders somewhere he cannot follow, because to his great displeasure he cannot crawl into your head and cannot open you up without dealing some permanent damage.
"Nothing in particular." You lie and he nods slowly, before swinging his legs off the backseat, suddenly so much closer. Suddenly filling up the space of your car, his face close to you when his palm squeezes the back of your head and smashes your mouth against his.
Grins in your lips, when you yelp and try to pull back.
No way but through, is there, bonnie?
Johnny, licks into your lips — filthy and messy, squeezes your cheeks with his other hand to force your mouth open so he can push his tongue in your mouth. So he can growl into your teeth when you whine, palms pressing against his shoulders. Not distracted now, are you?
He is hungry and blood-hot, he doesn't kiss you like a normal person, instead practically climbing into the front seat to devour your mouth. Nips at your tongue, like a bastard he is when you finally relax.
"Gonna bite harder if ye lie to me again." Johnny murmurs and coos for you open your mouth back.
So he can kiss it better.
I hate him, you think, gripping the steering wheel and his grin in your rearview mirror stretches from ear to ear, when you lick your lips without realising it.
Do you now, bonnie?
Do you really hate him?
"Bonnie." Johnny whines two hours into the drive through the outskirts of a small town you don't even remember the name of. "Bonnie, c'mon, ye can hear me."
"Wish I couldn't." You reply without thinking, eyes dry and aching, your mouth tasting like wet toilet paper and not the fresh kind.
God, you do need that bloody stop and a nightful of sleep.
Johnny's silent for the remaining hour of your aimless wandering until you finally spot a place where you can get a room for the night. Where he is not going to hover over your shoulder every step of the way.
Does not help much, because when you come back in the morning, refreshed and mostly on your feet yet again, Johnny's cold fingers on your nape nearly give you a bloody heart attack.
Bastard laughs when you flinch, noses at your neck — his tongue following in a way that makes the hungry heat between your legs pulsate, some sick part of you itching for him to bite down, so you can finally get a proof of his teeth.
"Will you tell me where you want to go so I can drop you off?" You ask after a beat and he huffs out air, licks your nape to taste the shower gel he can smell and salt of your skin, practically purring with satisfaction.
"No." Johnny says, easy and gleeful, all too happy to make your life harder. "But ye can drive around the place and see if anything work for me, bonnie. Maybe ye'll get the spot right and I'll leave ye for good."
Wouldn't that be something?
You don't want to bring Johnny back to your apartment or even to your city, given his ability to follow you through your travels, completely disregarding whatever flimsy protection the silver amulet was supposed to give.
In any case, other than rest you didn't have much plans and since he does not plan to leave, you might as well take some time to explore the surrounding settlements, no matter how small or boring.
You came for the views, did you not?
Views, my ass, you think grimly, standing near your car in the middle of the night, gas station cheerfully-shiny behind your back.
Johnny is a nocturnal creature, you found out quickly and he does not fancy exploring the lakes or whatever else nature has to offer, instead egging you on to take him for a joyride as soon as the sun sets.
So here you are now. No one but you and that reefer that pulled up just a few minutes after you — it's driver watching you a little too intently.
You have been eyeing him for the last couple minutes, praying that it's just paranoia, that you are just tired or that the guy is just sleep deprived.
He is a big man with heavy eyes, when he passes you for the first time, glancing at your car.
He is smiling in a way that makes your heart drop somewhere down in your feet when he finally approaches, covers the exit with his frame and angles himself toward you.
"You are a sight for sore eyes. Passin' through or visitin' anyone? I could help with the routing if you're lost. God knows it's easy 'round these parts." He laughs, expecting your tension to ease, only it doesn't happen.
You don't like strangers and you don't like when the trap you against your car while you are just trying to load up on some bloody gas.
"I'm quite busy, sorry, we are leaving soon. Appreciate the offer, though."
It's a common bloody occurrence, because you travel alone, because you look like an easy catch, because you don't like making a fuss and maybe, this sort of men notice it from afar.
Only the man crowds you, smiles knowing that you have nowhere to run and no one to turn to. He has seen that you got out of the car alone, that you paid for gas all on your own, that your front passenger seat is empty.
It's a chance and probably there aren't that many of those around these parts, you think grimly, familiar terror of "freeze, just stay still, just keep smiling, just play dead" circles your brain like filthy water the drain.
"Don't see anyone with you, love. C'mon, you could give me a little help…" He makes a gesture with his fist and you have to swallow the scream that never comes out anyway. What's the reason to make a sound when there is not a person to hear your tree getting sawed down?
What's the point if it just makes them angry and makes them mean and makes you cry?
"Bird said she's busy, you daft cunt." Your saviour isn't a knight in shining armour, not even a human when he sneers his words out, somehow so much bigger than you remember.
Johnny is a dark monstrous thing when he drags the truck driver away from you, his grip breaking the guy's shoulder because the anguished wailing cuts through the midnight air, making you flinch.
You didn't know a human being could sound like that. You didn't want to know that they could.
But the uncomfortable sticky feeling is still inside of your chest, settles in your urge to pull the collar of your t-shirt higher, makes your skin itch with the vulnerable 'i need to cover up' that you squish immediately. You didn't do anything wrong.
You have nothing to be ashamed of.
But Johnny catches the look on your face, stares for a long moment before his face morphs into something horrifying — skin wax-stiff and eyes dead, he smiles like the creature of nightmares.
His hands too long, his legs unnaturally twisting when he smashes the man down on the wet asphalt.
Johnny is a monster that you don't know and never wanted to see, because anger presses him down on all fours, his human body twisting to move with terrifying speed when he is no longer bipedal.
He crawls to the wheezing terrified truck driver and you don't make a sound, because whatever he is, you don't want him to remember that you are still there.
Johnny smashes the man's skull against the pavement — once and hard, before he closes his maw of a mouth on his nape and drags the unconsious bloke under the truck parked nearby.
He does not get off of all fours, his wrists turned in the opposite direction as his palms wetly plap on the pavement when he scurries in the dark with his…evidently, dinner.
You can't see him but still feel his eyes on you. The familiar prickle at the back of your neck, the tears burning your waterline because you cannot get in a car with that.
You won't, you'd rather just stay on the sidewalk on this empty gas station and sob your soul out into the instant ramen or whatever they have to offer.
Johnny re-emerges in twenty minutes, seemingly calm, even though one of his legs is still twisted at an angle that should not be possible.
You try your best not to look at his left arm, knuckles of which brush the pavement.
Nope, see no evil, perceive no evil, acknowledge no evil.
His eyes crinkle when he sees you anxiously loitering, obviously waiting for him to come back, and without thinking much — he sways forward — noses at your jaw and cheeks, huffs out air in your ear, smiling when you shiver, trying to shake off the tickling feeling.
"Could've left without me, bonnie." He says, smile widening when you blink at him, terror easing its clutches on you when he laughs, warm and hoarse. "Didnae think about it, did ye? I'm flattered. Come on, get in the car, I cleaned the trash up." Johnny adds conversationally and when he grins at you, his teeth are bloody.
You swallow the urge to retch, bile rolling up to your throat and nod quickly.
You know that he knows how much it unnerves you.
You know it amuses him.
But alongside revulsion there is a strange sort of relief. The comfort in knowledge that no one is coming back to leer at you. No one is going to be touching you tonight, you won't need to fight anyone.
Johnny took care of it, voice in your head echoes and you swallow, pulling the pump nozzle out and putting it back. Your hands trembling as you screw your gas cap back on, trying not to think too much about anything.
Johnny has saved you.
The rest…the rest doesn't matter.
He is happy and chatty the rest of the drive to your airnbnb, stretches out in the backseat talking to you about tours he did in various parts of the world.
When you risk another glance back at him — his limbs are back to normal. He looks like a person again.
He looks like Johnny again.
Chuckles when you breathe out a sigh of relief, sinking back into your driver's seat.
Squearmish much, are we, bonnie?
"What happens if we don't get to where you wanna be dropped off?" you ask him later, watching Johnny's legs stretched out on the backseat.
He is still sitting right behind you, back resting on the passenger door.
Your passenger is silent for an uncharacteristic minute, before you hear him move — stretching his stiff neck, vertebrae popping in the silence of your car.
"Then death will not part us, bonnie." He says after another minute, slowly, like it's a joke he thought about for a while now and finally got a chance to tell. You can hear the glee of anticipation coursing in his tone. Waiting for your reaction. "But there's no rush. None at all, I've got all the time in the world." Johnny adds, casually and peeks from behind of your driver's seat so you can see his excitement and not just hear it. "So ye take yer time."
You sigh, more shuddering out a breath than letting it out. You need to figure out where he wants you to drop off or he will stay forever and you don't think you need this big wolfhhound of a man in your backseat.
"What happens if the car's gone? Like, totalled in the crash or anything?" You ask him before you have the chance to really think whether you should and Johnny is silent for an uncomfortably long moment. You expected his smile to melt off his face or for his eyes to harden or something else to happen, that would indicate his displeasure.
Instead he just seems glad that you asked.
"Ye'll need to ride something, bonnie. A bus, a cab, hitching a ride from a friend or a stranger. Hell, even the elevator. I'm your passenger. I'll follow." He shares, bracing his forearms on the knees to lean forward so you can see his big head better. So the scent of wet soil and blood hits you in the stomach.
Bastard, he knows how much you dislike the smell. Does it on purpose anyway.
He can in fact follow you to the bus, you checked exactly one time, finding his hulking carcass of a body right next to you as soon as you took a ride. His paw of a hand squeezed your thigh in warning.
Riding up dangerously close to your crotch to give you a hint.
Johnny has no shame and Johnny knows that people won't look his way twice unless he wants them too — he has all the opportunities world has to offer to indulge in public sex or groping if he feels like it.
Gives you a chance to think if you really want to try out what is going to happen when he isn't just kissing you with the hunger of a starved stray dog, but unzips your jeans too, getting you into his lap.
Bus is gonna bounce a little, bonnie. It's a rough drive. Sure you are up for it?
You are decisively not up for it so you get off on the next stop, his coarse thumb rubbing the sweat at your nape.
See? Nice and easy. No need to make it any harder for yourself.
"Can you even drive?" You ask him suddenly days later, still not rid off your passenger, still driving around the region to see if he finally decides to leave.
No such luck so far, but Johnny pauses, tilting his head to you before his eyes even follow, still stuck to a dark underbush on the side of the road.
You can see the moment his brain catches up to your question, smile spreading on his face slowl and imminent. Too happy.
"Aye." Johnny nods, easy and ready, long fingers playing with the stray thread poking out of your ripped jeans, his touch dancing close to the naked skin of your thigh. "Would ye like to be my passenger, bonnie?"
You don't want to investigate the ripple that goes through your chest, anxiety rising its head, intoxicating urge to just give in without a thought curling around your temples and filling your mouth with saliva.
You could use a second driver. You could use some rest.
"What happens if I let you drive?" You ask, casting a sideways glance at him, feeling the motion of his fingers acutely.
"We'd be each other's passengers." He shares innocently. That sounds child-like, almost sweet, but something in the phrasing of it makes you pause.
"What does it mean, Johnny?" You try press on but he just huffs out air in your ear, his fingers suddenly working at your belt. "What are you even—", gets swallowed when he tucks his paw of a hand in your pants, pushes in — the fold your belly now pressed against his wrist — his palm cupping your mound shamelessly.
Makes sure you can't push your thighs back together and can't hit the breaks, not when his finger strokes the inseam of your pussy almost affectionately.
"Ye worry a lot, bonnie." He hums, his eyes staring at you through the rearview mirror when you glance up and swallow, throat working audibly in the quiet of the car. "I can take care of ye. I will if ye let me."
It is painfully obvious what he means by that when his hand moves up and instead of leaving your cunt alone, he just slides his whole palm in your underwear. Nudges your lips open with his knuckles — the heat of you sending a shiver through Johnny, sweet ache unrolling in his stomach.
The fat of your pussy cushions his fingers, makes his vision swim with the urge to send the car in a nearest ditch and then take his time licking every scrap and wound clean. Licking you clean, head squeezed by your thighs.
Could fuck you nice and hard on the site of the car wreck, could make your head empty and your electronics dead, could keep you happy and his.
But that can wait. Maybe he'll do it later, when he knows you'll survive the collision.
"Eyes on the road." Johnny murmurs, words the coarse wool that makes you sweat, something in his tone choking down the resistance on the tip of your tongue.
Okay, whatever. He can do what he wants, like always.
"You are insane." You breath out, air coming out with a hiss when he chuckles, stroking you up and down. Dips the pad of his finger against your hole to retreat with a disappointed sigh.
He'll need to get you wetter for that.
"Ye like it." Johnny states, even if it sounds like a question, his attempt to fish for praise would have been cute if he didn't stroke your clit when he did. "And ye like me." He adds, dragging his middle finger around it, noses at the side of your neck. Curls himself around the back of your driver's seat like a hungry barnacle. "Do ye like me, bonnie?" Is breathed out in your skin, hot and humid, hot and needy — his voice creaking with want. "Tell me ye like me."
You don't respond immediately, too focused on not letting your eyes close when he strokes your clit again, making your knees twitch.
"Tell me, bonnie." Johnny insists, pressing down harder and you almost let go of the steering wheel. "C'mon, say it. Do ye like Johnny, hm? I want to hear it."
Your mouth is dry and numb, face burning because you just want to stop this bloody drive and you want to grind on his hand and you want him to shut up and never answer a single other question when he asks them in that voice.
"Yeah." Is more of a breath than an answer, but Johnny is close enough to feel your heartbeat — he catches it immediately and makes a low gleeful sound. Halfway to the giggle, his nose grazing the column of your throat. "I like you, Johnny." You add quickly, chest heaving because he is everywhere — touching and stroking, nuzzling into you like a big dog he is.
Johnny collects the slick from your hole, brings it back up to your clit so that the next time he strokes it, your mouth falls open. Breathing stopping somewhere up your throat.
"And ye're gonna let me drive, aye?" He purrs in your ear, his fingers holding you open so he can touch you exactly how he wants, pulling out the first whimper. "Ye'd be my passenger and ye'd let me drive, so I can take care of ye. Right, bonnie?" Johnny breathes out, drags his tongue up your neck and laughs when the car swivels on the road, because you were dangerously close to let go of the steering wheel. "Just say it, bonnie."
The heat drags through your body like a way, your thighs twitching to close when he finally sinks his fingers into you. Always so greedy with everything he wants to take from you.
Because you pick him up and the world isn't as dark anymore. You pick him up and he has company again. You pick him up and you give and give and give.
You run from the biggest dog in the world so it can chase you, because you like when he does that. You have to like it, bonnie, Johnny knows you must like it.
"I- okay." You breathe out when his fingers curl inside of you, his thumb rubbing your clit again. Faster this time, feeling the way you clamp down on him and soaking every bit of it in. "I'll let you drive, Johnny. Next time we stop, I'll let you drive."
"Thank ye, m'eudail." He breathes out, moving closer, his frame filling up all the space in your rearview mirror, his eyes adoring and slightly apologetic. "I promise I'll kiss it better, okay?"
You don't have the time to ask what did he mean by that, because Johnny works his fingers deeper into you and bites at your nape, Johnny wraps his other arm around you to keep you against the driver's seat.
You don't notice the intention until Johnny's forearm suddely presses against your throat, hard and immovable, his voice soothing when you thrash, fingers of his right hand sinking in your hole. Mean and greedy, eager to touch you all over while you are still burning hot and angry.
"You…arsehole-" You choke out, vision swimming, cold terror thumping in your head, diluting the heat of his touch when Johnny's teeth graze your cheek, shy of biting a chunk out of you.
He smooches you, happy and giddy, eyes crinkling in the same way they did on the late night gas stop when he killed a truck driver.
"Easy, m'eudail, easy." He coos, like you are a stubborn horse, like he is not being a fucking maniac when his thumb strokes your clit and the pressure on your throat gets heavier, constricting your airways. "Let me take care of ye. I promise I can be good." Johnny strokes your clit again, his grin widening when you spasm around his fingers, cumming.
Only his forearm tightens around your throat, sends your brain into a frenzied overdrive because you can't breath at all now, you can't talk and can't scream, your hips buckling against his hand, vision quickly darkening.
It's not nice to die like that, Johnny knows it. But the orgasm should have taken the edge off of your terror and the pain of crushed windpipe.
But you will be good as new when you come back.
You see, bonnie, being a passenger means that you will always need someone else to take you places. Someone else to take the lion's share of work and nowadays it gets harder and harder to get anyone to pick him up.
Much less like him the way you do.
But if you can take turns, then it changes everything. You can get as many vacations as you need and he can finally see the lads again.
You two can always stay together, Johnny thinks wistfully, one hand of the steering wheel — the road unrolling in front of the burning gaze of car's headlights. Good thing you hit the brakes when you were losing consciousness, instead of sending the car into a tree.
Would be a real hassle to find a new driver for two passengers instead of just one.
Johnny glances at your slumped body in the passenger seat, cheeks aching with the force of his smile. It has been such a long time since he had companions and you know, for what it's worth, he has always been romantic.
And even if he wasn't very lucky in life, ending up shot and tossed out of the moving car — he sure as hell scored with you, when you tried to make him ache less. When you gave a dead man Ibuprofen and took him to the hospital, lamenting about the blood and the pain and the shock.
Aye, I got really really lucky with this meet up on an empty road, Johnny thinks, palm warm on your cool nape, thumb smearing the sweat at the base of your hairline.
