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boxofbonesfic · 1 year

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omg i would love a dark!Peter or a Ransom prompt 👀 it can just be an idea, or a specific scene or scenario, whatever strikes your fancy 💖

Ok! Ransom x plus size reader: college au, fwb. Ransom doesn't want to be seen with her cause she's fat and she's cool with it cause she's literally just here for the d while she gets her degree right? Ransom's an ass but that dick is bomb and no feelings are involved so perfect. But then Ransom gets addicted to the p and wants her all to himself, still on the dl tho. His changing feelings don't come out till she meets someone and breaks it off with Ransom. Reader doesn't think anything of it but Ransom COMPLETELY loses his mind and starts stalking her, blowing up her phone, etc. Not caring if everyone knows now. Reader is CONFUSED and MIFFED!

Title: Breaking

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Plus Size!Reader

Word Count: 5,374

Summary: Ransom wasn’t eager to stake any sort of claim on you—until someone else does it first.

Warnings: College AU, Stalking, Kidnapping, Darkfic, Plus Size Reader, Manipulation, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, MINORS DNI!

A/N: thank you so much for this lovely prompt! i really hope you enjoy this little ficlet. ❤️ divider by @firefly-graphics

Ransom had found it kind of funny at first, when you’d stopped responding to his rather crassly worded “U up?” texts. It wasn’t until the third text in half as many weeks had gone completely unanswered that he’d tried calling instead—and found you had blocked him completely.

What?

That wasn’t like you. Not like Ransom had taken time to really know you, but ghosting just didn’t seem like it belonged in your playbook.

“The number you have dialed cannot be reached at this time. Please contact your service provider if you believe you have reached this message in error.”

It had taken a little finesse, Ransom laying the charm rather thickly on your friend in his business management class, the one whose name he could never remember.

“She has a boyfriend,” she’d said, twisting a lock of her hair around her finger with a nervous giggle. “But I’m, um, single.”

Which brings him to now.

You weren’t the sort of girl he usually took out on dates, and, looking back on it, you’d picked it up rather quickly. Your requests to meet at parties or the bars his frat brothers regularly visited were answered with vague no’s. Or, more often than not, ignored outright until you stopped sending them. It wasn’t your fault—he had a reputation to think about. Though tonight, ironically, his reputation is the furthest thing from his mind.

What is on his mind, is you.

Ransom’s lip curls as he watches Isaac drape an arm across your shoulders, squeeing affectionately. He doesn’t know him well—they haven’t spoken much beyond the idle chit-chat around the keg. It turns his stomach, the thought that he’d finally realized just how much you meant to him, only to have this—this boy-scout steal you from right under his nose. Out from his fucking bed.

Ransom isn’t used to coming in second place. It’s never happened before, losing something he actually wants. Isaac seems happy to be next to you, not embarrassed or hiding behind baseball caps and wide sunglasses. Not like Ransom. He’s angry—at you, a little, but mostly at himself. It’s not hard to recall how you felt underneath him, all soft skin, soft curves, and fuck. He hates himself for not savoring that last time more, for not knowing it was going to be the last time.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. Ransom Drysdale didn’t get dumped—he was the one who did the dumping. And, he, thinks with no small amount of derision as he watches you from across the bar, I didn’t get dumped. We were never together. You can’t break up if you’re not together. The thought rings hollow even in his own head as he nurses his fifth beer of the night. It feels stupid-no, superficial, now; the way he’d only drop by your dorm-room after midnight, showing up without calling or texting and knowing full well that you would let him in.

But not anymore.

You’re too far away for him to hear it, but when you laugh, you tilt your head back, attempting to cover your wide grin with one hand. Pretty, he thins to himself, taking another long swallow from the bottle. Fuck how had he not noticed how pretty you are when you laugh, before? Had he just never seen it? Now that it occurs to him, Ransom’s hard pressed to find a memory that isn’t just sweaty skin, and hungry words growled into the curls at the nape of your neck.

Fuck.

Those were his favorite nights, the ones he spent digging his fingers into the softness of your hips while he sank in to the hilt—Ransom shudders. Even through the condoms you insisted he wear, the memory of your slick, tight heat is enough to send a hot, jealous pulse through his veins.

“We’re not together,” you’d said, crossing your arms stoutly as you stared up at him. “Condom or nothing.”

Probably doesn’t make Isaac wear a fucking condom. He takes another bitter swallow. He doesn’t know what’s worse, the thought of you fucking that Leave it To Beaver reject, or you fucking him raw. Both make him see red.

“Right, Ransom?” Someone claps him on the shoulder, and Ransom nods wordlessly. He isn’t paying attention, not to them, not with you here. You lean over to say something to your friend, the same mousy one who’d volunteered herself in your place. Ransom scoffs into his beer.

“Three fucking weeks.” He mumbles, draining the bottle before placing it down almost too hard on the bar-top. “How’s it get serious in three fucking weeks?” He waves at the bartender, signaling for another.

“Ran, we’re heading out.” Theo jerks his head towards the door. “There’s a party at Jude’s place. Hella girls.” He waggles his eyebrows. “Drunk ones.”

Ransom shrugs bad-naturedly, grimacing. “I’m going to stay here,” he says evasively, casting another sour look at you as his lip curls. “I don’t feel like pulling your head out of the toilet tonight.”

“Whatever, man.” Theo rolls his eyes, squaring his shoulders. He follows Ransom’s eye across the bar, and smirks. “Just because you’re not getting your dick wet with your porky little sidepiece anymore doesn’t mean the rest of us have to stay here and mope with you all weekend.”

Maybe it’s the alcohol warming his gut, but Ransom’s up before he’s really got a chance to think about it, his hands on Theo’s shoulders as he shoves him backwards, hard. The other man stumbles backward, and Ransom squares his shoulders.

“Don’t fucking talk about her like that.”

“What, now you care, all of a sudden?” Theo scoffs. “Dude you wouldn’t even let her come in through the front door—”

Ransom doesn’t know when exactly he grabbed a handful of Theo’s thin hair, holding his head still while he drives a frenzied fist into his former friend’s face as everyone watches. He comes to as he rears his fist back again, the sound of his name distant in his ears, like it was spoken through glass.

“Ransom!” Your confused face in the crowd is all he can see—which is why Theo’s sucker punch catches him off guard. It makes his ears ring as stars explode in his right eye. The world tilts as Ransom stumbles, and the television static in his ears is replaced by yelling. The warm wet trickle from his nose is blood, staining the tips of his fingers red as he holds his face. Theo’s not doing much better, blood pouring from his nose, and an ugly, swollen bruise coming to bear on the right side of his face.

“Fuck you,” Theo mumbles, drawing the back of his sleeve across his bloody lip. “Fucking asshole.” He storms out, a few of their frat brothers trailing behind him as he goes.

“Are you fucking serious?” The bartender throws down the towel in his hands, before smacking them against the bar-top. “I’ve fucking told you guys about bringing that bullshit in here—”

“I was just leaving,” Ransom snaps, shoving his hands into his pockets. He hates that he can feel your eyes on him too; watchful, judging. Theo’s gone by the time Ransom makes his way outside. It’s almost winter break, and the icy night air feels good against the hot, painful throbbing in his cheek.

“Ransom.” He turns, scowling at you over his shoulder. “What the fuck was that?” He shrugs miserably.

“Nothing.”

“It didn’t look like nothing.”

“What do you fucking care?” The venom on his tongue flows easily, likely aided by the liquid courage currently sloshing around in his gut. “You blocked me. You have a boyfriend.” He doesn’t know what he’s expecting from this confrontation, but your distinct lack of a reaction feels like more of a slap in the face than anything else. You blink at him, one eyebrow quirked as if in question.

“Yeah, I did.” Why does it hurt? Ransom’s rejected hundreds of girls—some as he was fucking pulling out of them, so why does this feel like a fucking knife in his back? “I figured you wouldn’t care much, Ransom, considering.” He hates this, hates how he’s the angry one and you’re calm—the roles should be reversed. They would be, if not for that niggling, irritating feeling that you should be his, just his. He doesn’t want to admit that you’re right, that you’ve got him pegged dead to fucking rights.

“How would you know?”

“You don’t sneak girls you like in through the basement entrance.” You retort smoothly. You’ve had a lifetime of this, of learning to live in your body, of learning to weather other people’s reactions to it—it’s Ransom that’s unfamiliar with rejection, unsure of how to handle the fact that the “r-train” isn’t enough to keep you coming back for more despite his treatment.

“But I do. I do like you.” He says, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t do this. It doesn’t have to be a thing. We can just, we can go back to how it was before.” This time, you do react, your face screwing up as you regard him first with disbelief and then anger.

“Why would I give up being in a relationship with someone who actually likes me, who is willing to be seen with me in public places and with his friends— you know what? I don’t need this.” You mutter, pinching the bridge of your nose. “This is what I fucking get for trying to make sure you’re okay. Silly me. I thought we were mature, here.” You gesture between the two of you before another dry laugh bubbles out from between your lips.

“Have a good night, Ransom.”

No, no, don’t leave! The desperate thought makes his throat tight. You can’t leave me. He stumbles exaggeratedly as you watch, falling against the bus stop with a groan. The plan lays itself out before him neatly like lines on a map.

“God fucking dammit—Ransom!” You huff irritatedly. He leans against the pole, counting the seconds until you come over to check on him. You do, and he moans pitifully. “Can you walk?”

“No,” he hiccoughs, swaying cartoonishly as you try to help him stand. “Ju-hic-just go. I’ll be fine.” You blow an exasperated breath out as you straighten him up. She doesn’t talk to her parents. He licks his lips as you pull out your phone, holding it up to your ear as you wait for someone to answer on the other end. She told me that when we were smoking, that one time.

“I obviously can’t. How did you get here?” You say, holding your hand over the mouthpiece as you scowl up at him.

“Theo d-drove.” The house is only a ten minute drive from here. Fifteen, tops.

“Yeah, I’m just going to head back to campus. No, I’m gonna take an uber. Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow, Isaac.” The little smile that curls at the corners of your lips makes him sick. “Yeah, you too.” Ransom leans on you heavily, and you don’t seem to notice when he presses his face into your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo with relish. Fucking Isaac.

“I’ll get the uber,” he says, slurring the words deliberately as he fumbles with his own phone. “M’sorry, Princess.” He taps the screen clumsily, selecting Home instead of Dorm, before hastily stowing it back in his pocket.

“Don’t call me that.” You snap sharply. You try—and fail—to stand Ransom on his own two feet. Instead he hangs over you, draped over your shoulders with his chin resting on the top of your head.

“Why?” The question comes out petulantly. “You used to like it.”

“Stop.”

The familiar feel of your body pressed against his is sweet in a way Ransom hadn’t anticipated. The attic’s secure. Quiet.

When the car pulls up, Ransom allows you to wrangle him into the back seat, where he sprawls across your lap when you sit down beside him. You don’t say anything to the driver beyond a mumbled hello, which suits him just fine. Ransom plays up the drunk act, asking the driver a nonsensical question that makes you whisper at him to be quite.

“Sorry. Just trying to get him home.” You reply, pushing uselessly at his head as he settles into your lap. Soft. He can’t help but run a reverent hand across your jean clad thigh. Love how soft she is.

You’re so distracted trying to keep him from getting comfortable that you don’t notice the cab is heading away from the dorm until the driver turns down the private road.

“Wait—wait, I think you made a wrong turn somewhere,” you say, leaning forward to talk to the driver. He shakes his head enthusiastically, and points at his phone’s GPS.

“No, I followed the directions,” he protests, and Ransom hides his snicker in a groan. “This is the address.”

You lean back with a dissatisfied sigh, and look down at Ransom.

“Let me see your phone.” He unlocks it and hands it over, his face a mask of innocence. You notice the mistake immediately, leaning forward again. “Could you turn around and take us back to Harvard campus, please—”

“This trip was already way out of my route,” the driver grouses, frowning at the two of you in the mirror. “And I don’t think he’ll make another trip. Looks like he’s about to puke any second.”

“He’s fine.”

Ransom retches, and watches as the cabby’s face twists angrily.

“He’s not! I’m sorry, I’m done for the night. Maybe someone else will be able to pick you up.”

The finality in his voice makes Ransom giddy, and he clutches his stomach, gagging. He’s never thrown up—he’s not a fucking freshman lightweight, he’s a fucking Sigma for chrissakes—but he’s willing to let the two of you believe he might. You bite your lip, teeth sinking into its pillow softness as you try to undo what Ransom’s done.

“M’sorry. Didn’ mean to put in the wrong hic place.”

You nod stiffly. “I know. I guess… Well, this place has plenty of couches, right?” There’s little humor in your joke, but Ransom makes sure to laugh a little anyway, nodding.

“My grandfather won’t mind if you sleep in one of the guest rooms. Promise, Princess.”

“Ransom, don’t—”

“We’re here.” The driver cuts in as the car pulls to a stop in front of the house. “Sounds like you guys have it all figured out.”

—

As expected, the only people home are his grandfather, along with a few odd members of the staff. They’re easy enough to convince, Fran and Marta ferrying him upstairs to his room while he mumbles incoherently. You help too, tugging the blanket up over him after pulling off his shoes with a grunt. It feels nice, having you care for him like this, your soft hands on his face.

It feels right.

“I’ll get the guest room set up for you upstairs,” Fran says on her way out. “I’ve got a t-shirt around here somewhere.” Ransom doesn’t catch your answer, but that doesn’t matter much, not when he knows where you’ll be. It’s strange, how he’s impatient now, here at the home stretch, but he is. The smell of you, the taste, the feel, it’s all he can think about now that he’s so close.

It won’t be easy keeping you, he knows that, but nothing good comes without a challenge, right? And with the right motivation, Ransom knows he can make you fall in line. The house quiets around him, and distantly, he hears the sound of first Fran’s car, and then Marta’s. He forces himself to wait a few minutes more, and when he emerges out into the still air of the hallway, he smiles.

The door to the guest room is ever so slightly ajar, and Ransom slides inside. You sit up sharply, and for a moment only sound between you is the quiet settling of the house.

“What are you doing?”

“I came to check on you.” He can’t see your face in the dark, but he can see the shape of you, silhouetted in the pale beam of light streaming in from the tiny window above the bed.

“I’m fine.” The words are stiff. “You should go to bed.”

He doesn’t. Instead, Ransom turns and closes the door securely behind him, slipping the key into his pocket. The sound is deafening in the quiet, and he knows you hear it too.

“Have you texted Isaac, yet?” He asks, cocking his head. The room is small, shaped oddly by the sloping roof, and Ransom himself takes up the bulk of it standing in front of the door. You seem to shrink a little in response, and your hesitation answers the question truthfully, before you’ve even spoken.

“Y-yes. You should go to—” The way your hand strays under the pillow to feel for your phone tells him the opposite. Ransom licks his lips.

“Have you fucked him yet, Princess?”

Your gasp is audible.

“Don’t—don’t call me that. Ransom go to bed. You’re drunk.”

“Have you fucked him?” He repeats it, dropping to his knees on the bed.

“Get out!” You make for the door too late, and Ransom grabs you, wrapping an arm securely around your waist as he breathes a relieved sigh into your bare shoulder. Your frustrated struggle turns panicked at the sound of metal clacking against metal. “No, Ransom no—” The handcuffs he produces from his pocket aren’t the padded ones he’s used with you before—these are the real deal, and he clamps them tightly around your left wrist, looping it around the bed-frame before capturing your right. You’re writhing and fighting, but it’s easy to ignore the pain as he locks his arms tight, waiting for you to tire yourself out.

You’re wearing just a t-shirt, and Ransom palms the heavy weight of your tits through the soft cotton with a soft groan.

“So you haven’t fucked him.”

You open your mouth to scream, and Ransom laughs.

“Nearest person is two floors down, Princess,” he breathes, a low, satisfied hum rumbling in his chest as he draws his fingers through your messy hair, before tangling his fingers in it to tug your head back. His teeth scrape at your throat. “You can scream if you want to,” he mumbles against your pulse. “You know I like it when you’re loud.”

“Ransom, stop. You’re—”

“Drunk?” He answers smartly, before shaking his head. He cups your face with one sure hand, stroking your lip with the pad of his thumb. “I know you feel bad, Princess. You let me fuck that juicy cunt so quick, you thought you needed to make him work for it.” This close he can see your face, can see the guilt you quickly try to bury because he’s right. The answer is there, written in the way you turn your head away from him, trying to hide your face in shadow. Ransom doesn’t let you, squeezing your cheeks between his fingers as he forces you to stay still, to look him in the eye.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You spit hoarsely, and Ransom laughs. “You’re fucking drunk and-and—get off me!” You shrill, bucking against him uselessly. If he’s drunk, that’s what he’s drunk on; the heady sensation of knowing the truth with absolute certainty.

“I know exactly what I’m talking about.” He sneers, pressing you down into the mattress. The smell of your skin is intoxicating, like orange blossoms and fucking sunshine. “Fuck, Princess, I missed this.” It’s almost reverent, the way he slides his hands down over your hips, slowly working a knee between your stubborn thighs. Your borrowed t-shirt rolls up as Ransom spreads your legs, grinning at the sight of white lace between them.

He draws a finger over the curve of your cunt before cupping it.

“Why’d you block me, Sweetheart?” He asks, tracing the shape of your puffy lips through the cotton.

“You didn’t want me!” You hiss through clenched teeth. Ransom clucks his tongue at you, shaking his head, before delivering a stinging slap to your cunt. You feel it through the cotton, of course, whining and writhing underneath him as you cry out. “You’re fucking crazy—” The palm of his hand cracks sharply against you again, and it cuts your complaint short as the words disappear in a pained gasp.

“Be honest with me, Princess.” He says, grinning as you try to wriggle away from him.

“You wouldn’t even be seen with me!” Your voice cracks. “It’s not fair, Ransom!”

“You want me to stake a claim, Sweetheart? I can do that,” Ransom breathes, pushing the shirt up over your breasts, groaning at the sight of your puffy nipples. He draws his thumb across one, watching, enraptured, as the flesh pebbles underneath his touch. He trails sloppy, heated kisses up the side of your throat, nipping at the skin until you whimper. He mouths at your skin, sucking at the purpling bruise until he pulls away, satisfied.

“We can think of a more permanent solution later.” He leans back with a satisfied sigh. It feels good to mark you, to watch the bruises spread like ink on your pretty skin.

“Please, Ransom, just go!” You sob, the chain rattling against the bed-frame as you try unsuccessfully to loose yourself from your restraints. “We-we’ll just pretend it never happened!” You nod at him, like you’re trying to encourage him to do the same, your wide eyes fever bright. “It’ll be just like before—”

“Why would I want that?” He asks, reaching down to tug your panties tight, pulling the fabric tautly through the lips of your pussy like dental floss. “I don’t think you’re really grasping the situation, Princess, so let me spell it out for you.” Ransom spreads your legs wider as you stare up at him with fearful eyes.

“I don’t want things how they were before.” He snarls. “Things are different now, Sweetheart. You made them different.�� Ransom slips his fingers underneath the elastic of your panties, and begins tugging them own your thighs, ignoring your whimpered pleas to wait and stop. You kick at him, a frenzied wail working its way out of your throat. True to his word, he ignores it, sliding down your body until he’s faced with the slick patch between your thighs.

“Ransom—” His name is a hoarse wail as he attaches his lips to your cunt, his tongue seeking out your traitorously swelling clit. He grins against you, dragging his tongue noisily through your folds, moaning. This is perfection, he muses dimly, lapping at you as you whine. You can’t deny how good it feels, not when he can see the evidence glistening on your quaking thighs, taste it on his tongue. You’re gasping, those precious little choking noises filling his ears as you try to swallow down the sound of your pleasure.

“Can’t fucking get over how good you taste, Princess,” he mumbles, reveling in your yelp as he sucks harshly on your swollen bud, spreading you wide with his fingers. You shake, your body jackknifing as you murmur nonsensically. He’s always loved that flavor—like fresh peaches, why do you taste like fucking peaches—

“F-Fuck you!” He doesn’t let you cum, though, pulling away to flick softly at your clit with his thumb. He draws the back of his hand across his mouth, wiping away the evidence of your body’s betrayal with a sly smile. A hoarse little whimper escapes you, and Ransom clucks his tongue, before reaching down to palm himself through his sweats. His cock his hard, so hard it almost hurts, thick drops of precum gathering at the reddened tip. He reaches for his phone with the other hand, the shutter noise clicking as he snaps a few pictures of your tear-stained face.

“N-no, no—!” You voice your displeasure with a whine as Ransom pans the camera down your body, like he’s trying to map it out for posterity’s sake. “No pictures, please, please!” Your wild, watery eyes are frantic as you plead with him. “Please don’t, Ran, please don’t send those—” A hot pulse shoots through his body at your desperation, and his cock throbs.

“A minute ago you were just telling me to go fuck myself.” He quirks an eyebrow at you over the top of the phone. “So which is it?”

“Please don’t send those.” You swallow thickly, the sound audible. “Please.”

He has no intention of sending them anywhere—except maybe to Isaac with your face cropped out, of course. But he smiles lasciviously anyway, blue eyes narrowing. Ransom runs his tongue across his lips, still tasting you on them.

“Let’s make a little deal, then.” He tugs his sweats down, and the fat, veiny length of his cock springs out. Ransom hisses softly as he spreads a sticky drop of precum across his tip with his thumb. “You’re going to end it with Isaac.” You open your mouth to complain, but Ransom forges ahead, ignoring you. “We’ll be exclusive, you and me, Princess.” He forces your thighs open a little wider. “Just like you want.” Ransom’s practically giddy with the thrill of it as your full lips begin to tremble and fresh tears track down your cheeks.

“I—I don’t want you!” You gasp, your attempts to buck him off only succeeding in wedging him further between your frantically kicking legs. Ransom clucks his tongue at you.

“I don’t know about that, Princess,” he says, slapping a hand against your swollen cunt, cupping it roughly. You squeal as he draws a finger through your slick, still throbbing folds.

“Not sure if you’ve ever been wetter.” Ransom presses your thighs to your chest. He asks, licking his lips. “It’s all up to you, of course.” Ransom lies so easily it doesn’t even really occur to him that he’s doing it.

“You tell me to go, I’ll go. But I can’t say what’ll happen to that footage.” He shrugs. He’s got no intention of leaving this room, not really, but he doesn’t mind pretending. “But if you were my girl, I might be able to swing deleting it. After all, what would I need it for? Got the real thing all to myself.” He dips the tip of a thick finger into your entrance. “Get it, Princess? No more scholarship. No more shitty dorm-room. I’ll take care of you.”

You’re so easy to read like this, your guard down and your desperation front and center. He can see you weighing the options, trying to parse out the best win for yourself in this devil’s bargain. He can see you testing the weight of your future against the events of this evening, and coming up far short. Ransom’s not stupid—and neither are you. You know what happens to girls like you when these things make their way into campus chatrooms and local reddit pages.

“You’ll really delete them?” You ask meekly, your mouth trembling. “You won’t… you won’t show these to anyone?” Ransom grins wider, drawing an X across his heart with the tip of his index finger.

“Cross my heart.” Ransom steadies one hand against your hip, his fingers sinking into the soft curve of it as he aligns himself with your entrance. His eyes roll as the head of his cock meets your cunt with a lewd, wet squelch. He’s getting impatient—after all, it’s been more than two weeks since the last time he’s been inside you, and his cock twitches hard against you at the thought.

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry Princess, you’ll need to speak up.” Ransom leans down over you, his hard eyes locked on yours. “Again.”

“I said fine!” Your quiet voice is strained. “Fine. I’ll—I’ll break up with Isaac—” Ransom kisses you, swallowing the rest of your words eagerly. He gorges himself on your mouth, sucking your tongue fiercely before pulling away to worry at your lower lip with his teeth until it’s swollen and red.

“Oh Princess.” He breathes. “You don’t know how happy I am to hear that.” He watches with dark glee when your eyes go wide as he begins to press into you, the head of his cock forcing you open. “No condom this time, but that’s alright, isn’t it?”

“Ransom!”

“M’right here,” he breathes, his hips jerking as your slick, puffy cunt sucks at his tip. “Fuck.” Ransom watches your eyes roll as you sink your teeth into your lower lip. “I know you missed it too, Sweetheart,” Ransom grits the words out through his teeth as he sinks in, his toes curling as your wet heat envelops him inch by precious inch. “You can admit it.”

The warm euphoria that spreads down his spine as he bottoms out draws another curse from his lips. You feel like fucking slick velvet inside, your walls clamping down on the girth of his cock like a wet fist. It’s hypnotic, pulling out only to thrust home again, his ears barely registering the groan of the bed-frame beneath you. The space between his temples is buzzing—your compliance, the feel of you around him, the knowledge that he’d won—Ransom’s delirious with it.

What’s even better is he can see it, plain on your face how much you’re enjoying it—how much you hate yourself for it. It makes every mumbled curse, every moan he wrenches from your unwilling throat all the sweeter. Ransom clucks his tongue at you as he leans down to capture your lips again. They’re pillow soft and swollen from his teeth.

“It’s my fault.” Ransom drives his cock into you, groaning. “I was stupid, Princess, I know. But I know what I need, now,” he says, hooking an arm beneath your thigh, lifting it so he can sink in even deeper. “Just you.” The shameful little wail that escapes your throat as you clamp down around him is almost enough to make him cum with you, cursing and crying as you do. He hangs on by the last fraying thread of his self control.

“Shit, shit, shit—”

“See?” He laughs, rolling his hips into yours with heavy strokes. “You need me, too.”

God, he loves seeing you like this, loves being the one to break you apart—loves knowing he’ll be the only one. It’s that thought that does it, aided by the miserable way you mewl his name as you cum again. His hands are tight on your hips, sinking into the heavy curve of them as he growls your name roughly in your ear. For a moment he’s lost in it; his forehead resting against yours as you milk him.

He stays inside you for a few luxurious minutes, basking in the feel of your cunt before pulling out. Ransom slaps his still hard cock against your oversensitive clit and you whine, your hips jerking. He can’t help but admire the mess he’s made, dragging his tip through your slick, sticky folds.

You watch him with red-rimmed eyes, your brows furrowing as he rises from the bed, pulling his sweats back up over his hips. He doesn’t reach for the keys, but instead slides his hand underneath your pillow to remove your phone.

“Ransom let me out, now.” Your voice is high, panicked. “You promised—”

“To delete the pictures.” He finishes, nodding. As you sputter, he removes his own phone from his pocket, and faces the screen towards you as he selects the pictures and videos from the photo album, and there’s a swooshing sound from the phone’s speakers as they disappear. “And I’ve deleted them.” Frantically, you rattle the handcuff chains against the bed-frame, trying desperately to dislodge them as Ransom sighs.

“You’re just going to hurt yourself.” You keep trying anyway, ignoring him your terrified sobs grow louder.

“Let me go! You fucking promised, Ransom, don’t leave me here—”

He cocks his head at you.

“Why would I leave you?” He asks, slipping both your phones into his pocket as he stands, stretching. “Winter break’s just starting,” Ransom says with a smile. “And I can’t think of a better way to spend it.”

the end

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koqabear · 1 year

Text

Wanna Play A Game?

⊹ playlist ⊹

“You’ve always been a bit skeptical of Beomgyu’s friend group. But for him, you pushed it aside, opting to give in to his pleas as you find yourself in Soobin’s vacation home during spring break. Only, it seems that things are only going downhill.”

??? x fem! reader

Also featuring: Soobin, Ryujin and Yeji from Itzy, Wooyoung from Ateez

Genre: slasher, thriller, mystery, angst, smut, mystery member(s) oooh

Word count: 13K

Warnings: Use of substances (weed and alcohol), everyone’s kinda an asshole, arguing, vomiting, blood, wounds, biting, weapons, death and murder (duh), kidnapping, blindfolding, handcuffing, pet names (angel, cutie, good girl, etc.), manipulation, threats, gaslighting, please don’t question how everything works. (Or do, I might’ve made a timeline already.) let me know if I missed anything!

Smut warnings: dubcon. Mean Dom(s)! ???, sub!mc manhandling, praise, degrading, mind breaking(?), sensory deprivation, handcuffing, biting, marking, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, crying, unprotected sex, choking, creampie

Notes: fanfic author watches scream vi and gets inspired by a single scene (shocking) (also the playlist is a bit weird and messy so watch out for that)

Three characters, your only hint. Who could it be? One, two… maybe three?

[Dark themes ahead, read at your own discretion. I am not responsible for the content you choose to consume, nor do I condone any themes discussed. This story does not reflect the idol’s true character or morals, and are merely used as characters in fiction.]

“Guys, come on, don’t be fucking stupid.”

The fire is warm against your hands as you swat away the mischievous ones of your friends, the group laughing and poking fun at you as they lean in; dangerously close, playing with fire as though to taunt you.

The lights in the kitchen turn on as the shadow of another of your friends roams around inside, a few of you turning to look in curiosity before you’re back to chatting in your circle. The puffer jacket that's been zipped all the way up seems to be doing nothing for you as you find yourself sinking into your seat even more, hands deep in your pockets as you nuzzle your numb nose into your jacket.

“You sure you don’t want some?” Yeonjun is close and quiet as he speaks to you, his voice no louder than a murmur as he nods to the blunt that’s been passed back to him. Shaking your head, you shiver as a particularly harsh wind passes through the group.

“No thanks. Too cold for this shit,” you say, gesturing to the way you’re practically ready to curl into your seat. Yeonjun simply huffs out a laugh at your antics, nodding his head softly before he brings the blunt to his lips.

“Could always shotgun it,” he teases, ignoring the way you scoff as he takes in a deep breath; his hands are red and stiff, and he looks back at you as he sends you a wink— smoke blows in your face as you sputter, shoving him away as the two of you burst out laughing.

“Asshole,” you mutter, scrunching your nose as Yeonjun passes the blunt to the other person beside you; Ryujin takes it happily, slumping back into her chair as she shakes her head in amusement at your antics.

“Think I’m gonna go inside, it’s freezing out here,” you say, groaning softly as you go to stand up— your legs feel stiff, a strong shiver coursing through you as you shrug off everyone’s pleas for you to stay out for a bit more. Shaking your head, you bid them goodbye as you go back inside; the glow of the fire slowly disappears as you’re left in the dark for a second, trudging through the grass and making your way tiredly to the back porch.

It takes you longer than you’d like to admit to get up the stairs— but it’s so damn cold that you feel as though your legs might snap off, and the hot tub that greets you as you finally make your way to the back entrance is quite the funny sight; maybe if the weather would’ve been nicer, you would’ve found yourself in there instead.

There’s a whole week to let the weather get better, you think, finally letting your hand out of your pocket as you open the glass door. The heat that greets you is instant, and you let out a sigh of relief as you stumble inside, stepping onto the kitchen tiles as you lock eyes with Taehyun, Beomgyu looking up curiously from his seat at the counter.

“Are they coming back in?” Taehyun asks, leaning back against the counter as he takes another sip of his drink— soda, you note surprisingly, despite the grandiose liquor cabinet that Soobin showed everyone earlier being just a few steps away from him.

“No, I was just the first one to cave in,” you say, going around to take a seat next to Beomgyu, “what’re you guys doing in here all alone?”

“Same reason as you,” Beomgyu says, tilting his head as he drums his fingers against the counter, “it’s too cold out there.”

You hum softly at his response; checking your phone, you sigh, placing it face down as you lean into the palm of your hand dejectedly.

“What, can’t handle not being able to use your phone for a day?” Beomgyu laughs, taking in your expression as you pout softly, “the cell towers should be back up tomorrow, don’t worry.”

“This area always has some of the most unpredictable weather,” Taehyun grumbles, speaking for the first time in a while as your eyes jump up to meet his, “I dunno why they picked this place for spring break.”

“Cause it’s perfect, that’s why,” Beomgyu answers before you can get a word in, nodding your head in agreement as he begins to recite Soobin’s words, “no neighbors, no cops to crash the party, just us here.”

“Half of them are at risk for alcohol poisoning every time they get access to it,” Taehyun says, jutting his head at the group that rambunctiously moves about, seemingly laughing at something funny as they fail to settle down for even a second, “It’s a bad idea to be doing all this while not having any way to contact emergencies.”

“Come on dude, loosen up for once,” Beomgyu tuts, rolling his eyes at the younger’s behavior as he turns to you with a sly look on his face, “Don’t know why I even invited him.”

“Shut up,” Taehyun barks, clenching his jaw as he goes to take another sip of his soda; his eyes lock with yours, and you can’t help but gulp as you take in how annoyed they are.

Beomgyu seems to ignore any signs of irritation from the man before him, turning to you eagerly instead as he sends you a bright smile, long hair falling in his eyes as he doesn’t bother to push it out of the way.

“Hey, wanna go watch a movie or something? I hear Soobin’s got a sick collection of slasher movies,” Beomgyu offers, completely disregarding Taehyun, who simply watches the way he takes your hand, leading you out to the living room before you can say so much as a goodbye.

You’re a bit confused at Beomgyu’s behavior, but you decide against pointing it out as he lightheartedly pushes you onto the couch; you fall with a small grunt unceremoniously, leaning back into the cushions as you turn to watch Beomgyu scan through the shelf of movies; your fingers go to play with the zipper of your jacket, absentmindedly tugging at it before you finally take it off.

“Have you watched Scream?” Beomgyu calls out to you, glancing back at you briefly as you huff a small laugh at his question.

“Duh, who hasn’t?” You reply, turning away from him as the screen door in the backyard is opened roughly; Soobin is stumbling in, Ryujin and the others following behind as they all complain about how it suddenly began to rain.

“What’re we watching?” Soobin asks, taking a seat next to you as the rest crowd around; Yeji and Ryujin settle down next to you, Yeonjun sitting beside them as he quietly mutters something along the lines of “this is a big ass couch.” He’s quick to signal Wooyoung to sit next to him, leaning back into the corner of the deep U-shaped couch as he puts his feet up on the coffee table, despite Soobin’s protests.

“Scream,” Taehyun says, settling on the floor as he rests his head back on the cushions. Everyone’s chatters and comments about the movie are drowned in your ears as you watch him sigh softly, eyes fluttering shut as a yawn rips through him; Beomgyu is trotting over before you can dwell on his condition any further, fumbling with the old DVD player on Soobin’s console station as he diligently tries to follow Soobin’s irritated commands.

“Holy fuck, lemme do it,” Soobin stands, pushing Beomgyu out of the way as he sets the movie up himself; the younger male looks like a kicked puppy as he saunters back to the couch, taking Soobin’s seat as he rests a head on your shoulder.

“He’s so mean,” he pouts, crossing his arms as you shake your head in amusement.

“There there, don’t cry,” you mumble half-heartedly, patting his head as Soobin’s giant flat screen tv finally lights up— everyone haphazardly cheers at the sight, and you watch as Yeonjun quickly sneaks off towards the liquor cabinet, grabbing as many bottles as he can before they’re clinking down on the table roughly.

“I’ve seen this movie too many times and the weed is already wearing off,” Yeonjun says, not bothering to grab any shot cups as he opens a bottle of vodka; there’s a mixed reaction in your group as you watch him waterfall it as though it were water, clearly putting on a show as Wooyoung shoves him playfully; he’s choking and spluttering from the action, slamming the bottle back down hurriedly as everyone laughs as though they were entertained.

Sitting up, you go to help Yeonjun who seems to be struggling to regain his composure, only to get pulled back by Beomgyu as he sends you a small smile.

“Don’t. He’ll be fine,” Beomgyu grins, watching as Wooyoung takes a turn to down a good couple of gulps— Yeonjun’s coughs have seized to nothing but an occasional clear of his throat, the back of his hand wiping at his chin as he stares down at his shirt in dismay; he reeks of alcohol, clearly annoyed as he sends Wooyoung a glare. Beomgyu only tugs you back down into the couch, ignoring the way you shift restlessly at the sight of Yeji and Ryujin recording the whole thing.

“Plus, you wouldn’t wanna ruin their shot, right?” He whispers, laughing softly as Yeonjun pushes Wooyoung in return— the vodka spills directly down his shirt, yelling in surprise as the liquid runs down his skin uncomfortably— you feel yourself tensing at the way they seem to be getting worked up, sitting up as they begin to argue loudly.

“Jesus, cut it out! Quit acting like fucking children! Go get some towels, they’re in the kitchen,” Soobin is quick to separate the two, pushing Wooyoung off the couch and signaling to the kitchen as he takes his spot, “and turn the light off on your way back.”

Yeji and Ryujin only laugh amongst themselves as Yeji puts her phone away, the sound of Ryujin whispering a soft “send that to me,” Barely reaching your ears before everyone’s settling back down, the tension simmering away as the lights in the kitchen finally turn off; Wooyoung is making his way back with a couple of paper towels for Yeonjun, taking a seat on the floor as the house is shrouded in complete darkness— the only thing giving off light now being the giant television before you.

You’ve seen this movie hundreds of times before; you know all the tropes, remembering every scene as you quickly find your mind wandering off— before you know it, you find yourself reaching for the bottle of vodka, too.

Maybe Yeonjun was onto something; you all seem much more relaxed and giggly as you yell at the screen, making comments and cracking jokes even in the face of countless scenes of gore. It’s a lot more fun this way, and before you know it, you find yourself much more interested in the movie than you were before.

“Holy shit, Soobin, where’s your bathroom,” Yeji groans, and you all tear your eyes away from the screen to find her doubled over, eyes shut as she clearly seems to be getting sick; Ryujin is quick to pull her up, pushing her along the way to the nearest bathroom in the maze of hallways— you’re surprised to find everyone unbothered as the sounds of Yeji’s pain filter over the noise.

It’s strange— you don’t typically find yourself around this group of people; you weren’t as close to them as one might think, your only strong connection with them all being Taehyun and the man who currently rested his head on your shoulder— he had countlessly reassured you that it would be fun, that staying at Soobin’s place would be a good way to spend a bit of your spring break; at first, you found yourself agreeing, but now you can’t help but seem unnerved at the way these people act around each other.

“Jesus, turn the volume up,” Yeonjun says, the boys around you laughing amongst themselves as a particularly loud sound from Yeji breaches through the movie; you find yourself antsy and clammy, meeting eyes with Taehyun, who seems as equally bothered as you are.

“I’m gonna go check on them,” you mutter quietly, pulling Beomgyu off you despite his reassurances that they’re completely fine; you can’t help but be unnerved at how calm they are about the situation, watching as your friend sinks back into the couch immediately, sending you a petulant pout that has you frowning.

Soobin’s house is hard to navigate without any source of light— pressing your lips together, you jump at the loud crack of thunder that manages to boom over the movie; the only thing you’re able to see is a small sliver of light that leaks through the bathroom door, the sinking feeling in your stomach only getting worse as the sound of crying reaches your ears.

“Yeji— Yeji, come on, sit up,” Ryujin says hurriedly, her voice stern yet shaky as you hear incoherent mumbling— it’s Yeji, you realize.

Hesitantly, you knock on the door; when you get no response, you turn the knob, peeking inside as you find Yeji leaning over the toilet bowl, her shoulders shaking as you find the source of the crying— yet Ryujin doesn’t seem to be doing any better, her breaths shaky as she stands over her friend, unsure of what to do as her head quickly snaps up at the sight of the door opening.

“Oh my god, is she okay?”

“I don’t— no, obviously not,” Ryujin snaps, stressed out as she runs a hand through her hair. Looking past you, you watch her expression quickly sour, the heightened sounds of screams from the movie reaching her as she scoffs in disbelief.

“Did those assholes turn the fucking volume up?” She’s standing up as Yeji begins to vomit once more, and you’re unable to control the way you wince as Ryujin holds her hair back. She’s trying her best to comfort her friend as she rubs her back soothingly, but the sudden boom from the movie makes her stand up hurriedly, pushing past you as she quickly mumbles for you to look after her— you’re scrambling to get to Yeji’s side, surprised to find her shaky and crying as you pull her hair away from her face, flushing the toilet as you pull her back for a moment.

“Are you guys seriously gonna act like this when we clearly need help?” Ryujin’s voice easily booms over the movie as she yells at the boys that still lounge on the couch, the incoherent sounds of arguing mixing together with the movie as you let out a shaky sigh.

“Don’t be such a bitch, she probably just greened out,” Soobin’s voice travels down the hall, and the heavy sounds of footsteps reach your ears as you hesitantly look up.

“You know she can barely handle her stuff, why’d you let her drink?” Soobin scoffs, his hair a mess as he runs his hand through his hair in annoyance— Wooyoung peeks over Soobin’s shoulder, making eye contact with you as he lets out a low whistle at the sight.

“Now’s not the time to be pointing fingers, she’s clearly sick dickhead!” Ryujin yells, overprotective of her friend as she shoves Soobin back— you flinch at the sight, unsure of what to do as the tensions in the room seem to rise.

“What’re we supposed to do? It’s storming outside, the roads aren’t safe to drive on,” Soobin’s reasoning falls on deaf ears as Ryujin retorts with an angry I don’t give a fuck, clearly worried over her friend who looks concerningly pale.

“So what? You wanna go out and crash the fucking car? Kill both of you at this point?” Soobin is flushed as the alcohol seems to be impairing his reasoning, Wooyoung and Yeonjun beginning to intervene as they pull the two away from each other.

“Guys, we won’t get anywhere if we keep arguing like this,” Yeonjun reasons, a bit tipsy as he places a firm hand on Soobin’s chest, “go look to see if you have any medicine or something, there might be something that can help her out in the meantime.”

“Don’t know why the fuck you’re blaming us when you let her get like that,” Soobin scoffs as he turns around, rolling his eyes at the way Ryujin bristles at his comment, face flushed and angry as she attempts to push past Wooyoung.

“What the fuck did you say?! Get back here you prick!” Your mouth feels dry as Ryujin seems to have been set off, Wooyoung beginning to push her back into another room in an attempt to calm her down— beside you, Yeji lets out a shaky breath.

“I don’t— we’re not always like this,” Yeonjun says, drawing your attention as he takes in the way you seem to be like a frightened rabbit. He lets out a deep sigh, leaning against the wall as he crosses his arms, still a bit drunk as he looks at Yeji diligently, “I don’t know what the hell is happening right now. I guess things are still tense between us.”

Shakily, you nod your head, choosing not to question things as the word still lingers in your head. You’re stuck staring at the floor as you attempt to rub Yeji’s back soothingly, mimicking Ryujin’s movements as she coughs softly— in the distance, you’re able to hear her shouts, clearly in a drunken fit as Wooyoung remains in the room, attempting to de-escalate the situation; you flinch at the sound of things smashing and shattering. Eventually, she settles down.

The house has gone silent, save for the movie that still drones on in the background, the volume significantly lowered— it’s a bit eerie as Yeonjun continues to watch over you like a hawk, your thoughts begin to run wildly; biting at your lip, you finally break, clearing your throat as you gather the courage to meet Yeonjun’s eyes.

“You said things are still tense between you,” you start, watching the way he seems unprepared for your question, “what do you mean by that?”

He says nothing; it leaves you wondering if he’ll actually respond, shuffling uncomfortably in place as he refuses to meet your eyes. An unnerving pause ensues as you begin to wonder why Soobin is taking so long.

“It’s just,” his eyes dart to the floor, dejected as his brows scrunch together in a frown, “we recently lost a friend.”

“Oh. I’m sorry,” you feel awkward as you find yourself only being able to respond like that, casting your gaze away from him as you notice the way Yeji has been looking wearily at you this whole time— you feel like you’ve done something wrong, suddenly scrutinized under their eyes as you brush back a strand of Yeji’s hair that has fallen over her shoulder.

“Here, this is all I could find,” Soobin suddenly appears, shaking a bottle of pills as his eyes land on Yeji— she’s shaking now, another wave of nausea taking over as she bows her head in defeat, letting out a soft groan as nothing comes out— Soobin slowly approaches her, kneeling before the two of you as he looks her condition over.

“Holy shit Yeji, what the fuck did you do?” He clearly doesn’t expect an answer as he slowly helps her up; it doesn’t seem like she’s able to expel anything from her stomach anymore, clearly dehydrated as she slumps against Soobin like a rag doll.

“Here, I’ll take you to Ryujin, even though she’s probably still pissed at me—“ the thunder that interrupts him mid-sentence booms throughout the house, startling all of you as the sound is a lot closer than you’d like. The lights over you flicker, the three of you staring at the ceiling in confusion before the room becomes pitch black.

“What the…” Yeonjun seems to have sobered up a bit as he stands up straight, the house going completely silent as everything powers off— you’re all tense, even Yeji beginning to worry as she stirs against Soobin.

“Taehyun!”

The sound is enough to have you acting without a second thought; you’re pushing past the two men carelessly at the sound of your friend’s distressed scream, the sound making you sick to the core as you run back to the living room where they were last at.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” you say, hands trembling uncontrollably as you stare at the scene before you, running to Taehyun’s side as your knees knock into the kitchen tiles roughly.

“Holy shit, who did this? What happened?” Taehyun grunts in pain as he holds his bicep, fingers clenched tightly around the muscle as he grits his teeth together; the screen door is wide open, and both Taehyun and Beomgyu are drenched their clothes drip a puddle around them, your pants beginning to get wet as well as you stay at their side.

But that’s the least of your worries right now— instead, you focus on your friend, who’s leaning against Beomgyu and groaning in pain as blood seeps through the cracks of his fingers.

“Fuck, I go to sleep for a few fucking minutes and this shit happens—“ Beomgyu’s rambling is incoherent as Taehyun lets out a low groan, his eyes fluttering shut as he lets out a shaky sigh. Hurriedly, you cup his face, tapping his cheek gently as you urge him to look at you.

“Taehyun, what happened?” You ask, unsure of what to do as you stand in a foreign home, searching for something to help him with— in the end, you simply opt to call Soobin’s name out desperately, turning back to Taehyun as you look around the house wearily.

“I don’t know,” he laughs weakly, an exasperated sigh leaving him as he rests his head on Beomgyu’s shoulder, “I thought I saw an animal or something on the porch, so I went to check it out— next thing I know, the door is forced open and I get fucking stabbed.”

You and Beomgyu freeze. Immediately, you look up at each other, your lips parting in shock as Soobin suddenly appears behind you.

“What the hell? What the fuck happened—“

“Soobin, we need to leave,” you say, standing up as you ignore all of Soobin’s questions, “We need to leave! Do you have something to patch Taehyun up with? We need to take it with us.”

“What? What are you talking about, what the hell is going on—?” Soobin is quick to shut up with another stern look from you, the moonlight the only thing that highlights your features as Soobin gives you a shaky nod, deciding to trust your judgment as he takes a quick look around the kitchen, scanning the cabinets before he lets out a shaky breath.

“It’s all in my bathroom upstairs,” he says, glancing back at the three of you as he gulps, “I’ll be quick, stay here,” he gives you all a pointed look before he’s going upstairs, the sound of the rain coming down hard onto the roof the only thing that fills the silence.

“Go with him,” Beomgyu says shakily, ignoring the way you look at him in disbelief, “It doesn’t feel right to let him go by himself. Go, he’ll be safe.”

“Beomgyu, I don’t even know where the fuck the front door is,” you admit, your adrenaline high as you wrap an arm around Taehyun’s shoulders before you’re pulling him onto you, “if anything, it’ll be better if you go.”

Beomgyu hesitates— he stares at you, taking in your determined state before he glances at Taehyun, lightheaded as the blood soaks his thin shirt— and nods, giving your arm a reassuring squeeze before he’s spriting up to where Soobin is.

“Let’s get you away from the kitchen,” you mumble, helping Taehyun stand up as the wind and rain that sneaks into the kitchen makes you two shiver violently. He nods softly, stumbling to his feet as he follows you to the couch; you’re making a mess of it, but that should be the least of your worries as Taehyun slumps against you wearily.

Closing your eyes, you let out a shaky sigh; you’re scared, the thought of there being an intruder somewhere around the area, dangerous and armed making chills run through your skin as you hold on tighter to Taehyun, attempting to calm your racing heartbeat; the man only lets out a shaky breath, head tucked into your chest safely as he attempts to steady his breathing.

This is insane, you think, taking a deep breath through your nose as you take in the situation— to think that the man you’ve longed for is finally leaning on you, tucked into you so safely— if you weren’t scared half to death right now due to the possibility of there being a killer on the loose, you almost would’ve found yourself becoming flustered.

Behind you, you hear the quiet voice of Yeonjun; he’s still taking care of Yeji who, judging by the fact that she hasn’t emerged from the bathroom at all, must still be feeling sick.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” you find yourself saying, surprising the two of you as you feel a tear slip down your cheek— you’re quick to wipe it away, attempting to regain your composure before Taehyun can realize what’s going on.

“Here, this is all I could find in my bathroom,” Soobin yells, loud footsteps drawing your attention as Beomgyu follows close behind. You’re quick to sit up as Beomgyu runs over to you with alcohol and gauze, an apologetic look in his eyes as he takes in Taehyun’s state.

“I’ll go turn on the car, get the others and we’ll leave right now,” Soobin yells, running to the coat holder as he fishes into his jacket pockets; he doesn’t bother putting on the item, running out into the rain instead as the door is left wide open, the three of you able to keep an eye on him as he runs down the long driveway.

“I’ll get the others, stay here,” you’re quick to say, noticing the way Beomgyu was already beginning to tend to your friend. Behind you, you hear loud protests, the sounds of him telling you to wait falling on deaf ears as you’re fumbling for your phone, turning the flashlight on as you peek into the bathroom.

“I don’t know if you were able to hear everything, but we’re leaving. Get Yeji and go to the car, now,” you say, giving Yeonjun a firm look before you’re making your next stop. You can hear Yeonjun attempting to call after you before he gives up, talking to Yeji softly as he’s hoisting her up on his back; meanwhile, you’re searching through every door you come across in hopes of finding the room Ryujin and Wooyoung are currently in.

Empty. Empty. Empty. You find yourself becoming frustrated by Soobin’s insane mansion— uselessly, you looked through every room in the hallway before being left at the very last one.

“Guys, we need to leave, come on—“ the noise you make is strange and strangled as your phone’s flashlight pans across the room, an intense chill racking through your entire body as you find yourself choking back on bile.

Ryujin and Wooyoung are dead.

The phone in your hands almost slips out from how shaky you are, a broken sob leaving you before you find yourself screaming in horror— you’re not sure what’s happening after that, but you feel a firm pair of hands on your shoulders yanking you out of the door and shutting the door firmly before your face.

But, oh god, you can’t get the image out of your head; no matter how tightly Beomgyu holds you against him, it won’t erase the way your eyes met Ryujin’s blank ones, her face filled with horror and her throat slit as blood dripped down her shirt like a necklace— beside her, the sight of Wooyoung thrown across the bed with multiple wounds to the chest haunted you, unable to ignore the furniture strung across the floor and the bruises all over their bodies.

That hadn’t been a drunken fit earlier.

“Shit, oh shit,” Beomgyu mumbles against the crown of your head, having gotten a peek of the sight as he urges you to stand; but your legs are nothing more than jello as you attempt to stumble along, trying your best to get your shit together as you meet the others in the living room.

“What? What’s wrong? Where’s Ryujin and Wooyoung?” Yeonjun asks, panicked eyes searching behind the two of you in hopes of seeing his friends again; instead, he’s greeted with the sight of you, sputtering apologies as you choke on sobs.

“They’re— fuck I’m so sorry—“

That’s all it takes for Yeonjun’s eyes to widen, leaving Yeji on the couch before he’s running back to the room where they lie; only for Beomgyu to grab him roughly, stumbling back as you’re left to grab onto the couch in an attempt to regain your composure.

“We need to go, we need to get to safety,” Beomgyu says, attempting to calm Yeonjun down as the man before him begins to break down into rough sobs, Yeji doing no better than him as she puts her head in her hands.

“No, no! We’re not fucking leaving them! I’m not fucking leaving them behind, I can’t,” Yeonjun’s sobs become unintelligible as Beomgyu holds him close, a sudden wind blowing through the door and making a shiver run through your body as you turn to look outside.

You almost collapse at the sight of a man quickly making his way towards you; but it’s just Soobin, hair soaked and flattened as he finally returns— you feel relief flooding your system, ready to collect everyone before your eyes land on an item that makes your stomach sink.

“Your keys.”

It seems that everyone else heard you, turning to look at Soobin who only stares at you all silently, a dreadful silence falling through all of you as you wait for him to speak.

“They slashed the tires. All of them.” Every last car was now dismantled; even the bicycles were left in pieces as Soobin was left to stare at the vehicles in despair, unsure of how he could return to the house with such horrible news. Yet, as he scans the room, he feels a sinking feeling form in his stomach, his headcount not coming out right as he takes in everyone’s face; his eyes meet yours, taking in the way you seem frail and shaken.

“Where’s…?” He’s unable to finish his sentence as Beomgyu solemnly shakes his head, a soft sniffle drawing your attention as you take in the way Taehyun has bowed his head in the darkness, eyes shut tight as he avoids watching Soobin’s reaction.

“So then we’re stuck here?” You ask, changing the subject as you try to push out the memory of the scene you stumbled upon; it’s horrid, knowing that they still lie there, just a few rooms away from you.

“We can’t stay here, this house is too big for us to feel safe,” Yeonjun says, sniffing as he roughly wipes away tears that stray from his eyes; he’s trembling, you notice, the strong timbre of his voice betrayed by his body as his facade is melted away.

Soobin sighs, eyes darting around the dark home as he bites his lips nervously, mind rapidly searching for anything that could help.

“I don’t— I don’t know, maybe my dad might have left some of his hunting gear—”

“Someone’s coming,” Taehyun hisses, standing up as his eyes lock on the large expanse of woods in the backyard. You’re all tense at his comment, your eyes desperately locking with Soobin’s as you urge him to help.

“The basement, there might be something we can use to defend ourselves down there,” he breathes out, the front door swinging open as it slams into the wall and a harsh gust of wind seeps inside, the rain pouring down hard as a clap of thunder booms throughout the house. You’re all scrambling to follow Soobin at the sound, rushing to help Yeonjun who seems to be struggling to walk with Yeji. It’s dark in the hall as you try to make the least amount of noise possible, much too afraid to look back as you strain your eyes to keep Soobin’s dim figure in your sight, your hand steadily gliding on the wall to stabilize yourself.

There’s an odd feeling settling in your stomach; even though you’re barely able to make out the shape of your own limbs in this dark maze of rooms and hallways, you can’t help but look around in hopes of being able to make a headcount; though you fail, you’re unable to stop the shaky exhale that escapes you as you look back.

A loud crash rings far back, where the kitchen must be.

You can hear sounds of struggle— it feels as though someone has knocked the air out of your lungs, their voices and cries of pain sounding too familiar as you let Yeji’s arm around your shoulder drop.

Taehyun and Beomgyu.

When the fuck did they get separated from you? Did the killer sneak up on them? You’re ready to run after them before Yeonjun is pulling you back roughly, your back colliding with his chest as he places a hand firmly on your mouth; his fingers dig into your cheeks, your cries muffled as he urges Soobin to continue.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I’m just trying to keep you safe,” Yeonjun repeats against you, allowing Soobin to carry Yeji as he attempts to calm your struggling form; you wouldn’t even know how to get back to them, but it’s torture as you hear the indistinguishable sounds of struggle— your adrenaline is high and your vision seems blurry as you bite down on Yeonjun’s hand, pushing him away the moment he lets go of you.

You don’t care if it’s stupid, you can’t leave your friends to die while you selfishly continue.

You don’t know how, but you’re able to find your way back after a dreadfully long time, your frantic sprint slowing down to nothing more than a slow walk as you crouch down, your breaths shaky as you slowly peek out the hallway— you’re trembling horribly as you lean against the wall, attempting to ignore the way it’s all become eerily silent.

Slowly, your eyes adjust to the minimum moonlight that floods in; the glass door has been shattered, a pool of glass and rain left on the kitchen tiles as your eyes scan the open area slowly; furniture has been knocked over, Soobin’s pristine bookshelf nothing more than a pile of wood and collectibles and your eyes run over the area in terror— then again, again and again in confusion, unable to find the one thing you dreaded seeing.

Taehyun and Beomgyu are nowhere in sight.

“Hey!” Yeonjun’s voice has you jumping out of your skin as you spin around, slapping a hand to your mouth as he immediately grabs ahold of your other, tugging you along brutally as you’re forced to stumble to your feet, forced to follow around him as he immediately wraps an arm tightly around your frame.

“We need to get to safety, now’s not the time to worry about the others,” he hisses, and you’re only able to take one last glance behind you as your eyes land on something that makes your stomach drop and twist with dread.

A thick, bold path of blood is strung across the floor, leading clean out into the kitchen and out onto the porch.

Your mind goes back to your friends— and you find yourself biting back a cry, burying your head in Yeonjun’s chest as he swiftly leads you back the way you came— his touch is firm and comforting as he whispers soft apologies, able to empathize with you as his mind runs back to his own friends that he was forced to abandon tonight.

The stairwell he takes you down is extremely unnerving; you’re fumbling for your phone’s flashlight as you stumble down, the stairwell seemingly never-ending as you try to not let your paranoia and fear allow you to turn back.

Annoyingly, the basement feels like another home of its own— your flashlight shines on the lounge area, a minibar and a pool table left perfectly untouched as you scan over the couches next— you spot another door, the two of you carefully approaching it after having found the rest of the area empty.

Softly, you knock; the sound is barely audible, but as you press your ear to the door, you hear the distinctive sound of someone crying— your heart speeds as you recognize the voice that mumbles softly.

“Yeji,” you whisper, turning to Yeonjun with wide eyes. He’s signaling for you to turn the brightness of your flashlight down, your teeth sinking on your lip as you try to gauge what might be happening inside.

“It’s okay, I’m okay, don’t worry…” Soobin’s soft reassurances that echo through have the two of you perking up; before you can stop him, Yeonjun is swinging the door open, relief flooding his features as he softly tugs at you to follow along; he keeps you close to his back as your hands steady themselves on his body, peeking behind him as he guides you to where they are.

It’s a laundry room; you’re briefly peeking around before Yeonjun takes you deeper into the room, towards a small area where a makeshift wall has been made out of shelves. On the other side, you find the exact people you were looking for; only, the scenario seems to be less than ideal.

“Oh fuck,” Yeonjun hisses, crouching at your friends’ side in a haste. You’re shaking, a horrified sound leaving you as your knees knock roughly into the floor— your trembling hands hover over Soobin’s in terror, unsure of what to do as you press deeply into the wound of his stomach in an attempt to relieve the bleeding, your hands pressing his deeper as you feel the blood gushing onto you.

“Soobin,” you whimper, biting back tears as you examine the rest of him, attempting to ignore how open the wound of his stomach is, “Soobin, what happened?”

You don’t actually expect a response; you’re talking to yourself at most, your friend so light-headed that you watch his head tilt back, hitting the wall behind him with a soft bang as he lets out a shaky sigh. Your eyes are scanning the space around you frantically— there’s nothing that can really help him, but you try your best as your eyes land on a thin tee that’s been thrown into a laundry basket, your bloodied hands ripping it apart as you attempt to use it as makeshift bandages.

Slowly, you lift his shirt; you wince at the sight, your eyes forced to take in the deep and opened wound directly on his stomach, your hands dropping the bandages a few times due to how horribly you tremble— soft apologies spill from you, blinking away tears as you try your best to tie the bandages as tightly as you can.

“Yeji, what—?” Your words die on your tongue as you take in her state; she’s no better than Soobin, Yeonjun’s flashlight pointing right at her feet— specifically, her ankles that have been smashed, the skin mangled and bruised as they point at an awkward angle. Your eyes flit back up to her face, only to find that she’s swimming in and out of consciousness, eyes fluttering softly as a steady stream of tears leaves her eyes.

“Hunting gear,” Soobin pants softly, your head snapping back to him as you softly tell him not to speak. He shakes his head, the movement so minimal you almost missed it, and gulps, his brows knitting together as he takes a deep, shuddering breath.

“Behind… mini bar. A shotgun—“ your eyes are wide as saucers as you watch him cough weakly, blood spewing past his lips as he goes silent; the only thing that lets you know he’s still alive is the subtle rise and fall of his stomach.

“Yeonjun,” you say softly, his panicked eyes meeting yours, “The shotgun— I’ll go get it, stay here and look after them.”

His eyes widen more, if that’s even possible at this point, head shaking reverently as he takes a step away from Yeji’s side. Before you can leave, he grabs onto your wrist tightly, yanking you back as he frantically tells you that he’ll stay by your side. Attempting to dissuade him, you tell him that Soobin and Yeji need assistance— he only shakes his head once more, dark eyes not straying from yours for a second as he speaks.

“Think about it,” he mutters softly, leaning in so that the two on the floor can’t hear, “who do you think they’re gonna target next? Everyone else is gone. We’re the only ones left untouched. To go out there on your own is suicide.”

Briefly, his eyes flick to the floor; he’s contemplating what to say, biting at his cheek before he lets out a soft sigh.

“I care about you too much for you to be next.”

You feel winded as you stare at him— sincere, his hand refusing to let go as he looks at you tentatively— and nod softly, your free hand reaching up to gently pry his grip off you; you both try to ignore the way they’re soaked with Soobin’s blood.

“Yeah. Okay. Let’s go,” you say, knowing now is the worst time for such a confession to be sprung on you; you turn to go back to where the main area of the basement is, Yeonjun following behind you diligently before you’re stopping at the sound of Yeji’s voice.

“Please don’t leave,” she whines softly, eyes fluttering open slightly before they’re closing again, “please don’t… I don’t wanna die…”

You’re quick to spring back to her side; she’s fading to and from consciousness, her eyelids twitching as she rolls her head against the cool surface behind her. You know it’s a stretch, but you try your best to give her a reassuring smile as you go to hold her hands— only to stop, the drying blood on them making you wince as you place them back down on your lap instead.

“We’ll be quick, I promise,” you say softly, watching the way her eyes lock on yours; your stomach sinks, and the fear and panic you feel is reflected in her gaze as she weakly reaches out for you, her hand falling numbly on your lap as she lets out a soft sigh; she nods, closing her eyes as she goes back to unconsciousness, the weak rise and fall of her chest the only thing that’s able to get you to stand back up.

Yeonjun turns off his flashlight as you turn down the brightness of yours; your phone is pointed straight to the floor as you slowly make your way back out, Yeonjun taking a protective stance close to you as you scan every inch and corner around you, beyond paranoid as you jump at any slight sound.

Carefully, you look out the door; it’s barely cracked open an inch, your eyes carefully scanning the room as you finally deem it safe— your eyes quickly spot the bar, perfectly untouched as you remain hunched down, signaling Yeonjun to follow after you as you make a break for it.

You’re crouched down behind the counter when you finally see it; a shotgun, nestled comfortably under hooks that were placed on the wooden counter— wearily, you smile, placing your phone down as you reach for the gun.

It’s completely dark, and your hands run along the smooth expanse of the weapon as you fumble to get it out; behind you, Yeonjun fidgets nervously, his breaths deep and shaky as he watches you silently.

Finally, you manage to unhook it; your hands feel foreign along the expanse of the gun, unable to get a comfortable grip on it as you turn around to hand it to Yeonjun— your smile falters, your hands suddenly a lot more slippery as your eyes meet his in the dark.

In his hands, he holds what looks to be a rag; your eyes narrow, squinting at it before they flicker back up to him with dread.

“I’m sorry.”

That’s all he says before he’s launching at you, the gun knocked out of your hands and skidding across the floor as the rag is pressed firmly to your nose.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

It’s warm.

The heavy blanket is comforting as you shift for a second, trying to find a comfortable position before you’re frowning, finding yourself unable to move freely at all— suddenly, it all comes back to you.

Your hands are bound. You’ve been blindfolded.

You’ve been kidnapped.

Yeonjun. You want to scream, but your throat is way too dry for you to even speak. Something’s odd, though; your hands are bound, pressing tightly against the small of your back, but your legs are free. Tentatively, you sit up, unsure of what to do as you listen for any strange sounds.

You don’t know where you are, or what Yeonjun’s intentions are, but you do know that you need to get out. But god, how is that even possible? Biting at your lip, you feel your blindfold becoming wet with tears as the frustration builds up inside you.

“Hello, angel. Happy to see that you’re up.”

Your head snaps up at the sound, attempting to find the general location of the voice as your head turns frantically; he chuckles, the sound odd as you find yourself recognizing it as the voice modulator from the Scream movies. Frowning, you feel a surge of rage course through you.

“Yeonjun, you asshole, let me go!” You attempt to shout, your voice raspy and weak as you thrash around in the bed. Pausing, you listen to his mocking laughs, shaking with rage as you kneel on the mattress, wondering if you should just get up and try to charge at him— if you’re going to die, you might as well make an effort to escape before you do so.

“Now, don't be so haste,” He says, his voice laced with amusement; stiffening, your ears perk at the sounds of footsteps, slow and calculated before they stop right before you— you’re unable to hide the way you flinch as his hand tilts your chin up, a gloved leather hand holding you so gently despite all he’s done.

“Don’t you wanna have some fun before you die? Come on, I’ll make it painless,” he whispers softly, the voice raspy against your ears as you feel him lean in— instinctively, you lean back, unsure of what to do with this sudden turn of events.

“If you really make it fun, I’ll spare you,” He says teasingly; it seems as though your face has lit up at the idea, because another of his teasing chuckles reaches you, amused by your antics as you wait for him to continue hesitantly.

“We could make it a little game. If you win, I spare you; I call the police, let them deal with the aftermath while I run— then another game would begin. If you lose,” your breath hitches as you feel something cool against the underside of your chin— a knife, you realize, the point digging in as a threat as he slowly pulls it back, the blade brushing against your skin as he keeps your head tilted up.

“I get to keep you.”

You can practically feel your blood become cold; keep you? What kind of sick and twisted fate was that? You think you’d rather just be killed instead.

“What,” you stutter, thinking back to his options as you remain skeptical about it, “Why would you do that? What could you possibly gain from sparing me and calling the police on yourself? I know who you are.”

“Do you?”

The words die on your tongue— your face must be easy to read, because his laughter is nothing but a heavy weight on you as you feel your mind racing with dread— what kind of game was he trying to play with you?

“Obviously I do,” your words may be confident, but your voice trembles, brows knitting together as you scoot forwards slightly; your legs dangle at the end of the bed, your feet hesitantly touching the floor; your shoes are gone, you realize, your sock-clad feet coming in contact with the smooth floor beneath you.

“How about we play a game then?” He’s backing up, his footsteps receding as you strain your ears in anticipation; you’re jumping at the sound of something scraping along the floor, the sound slow and heavy as you force yourself to stand, unsure of where he might be as you prepare yourself for anything that might come unexpectedly— you freeze, the room going quiet as you hear him sigh; rustling ensues, and a creak of a chair is enough to make you realize that he’s sat down.

“Three chairs,” he says, an evident smile to his voice as the soft click of a button is heard every time he speaks, “three people sit here. I’ll even let you guess who’s who. If you guess who the killer is, you win.”

Three people? Who could he possibly be talking about? You gulp, your mind racing back to Yeji and Soobin— your heart flutters, hopeful and uncontrollable, the thought of them surviving making your eyes sting. You want to call out to them— to make sure they’re okay— but before you can, the dreaded click of a button is heard, a static filling the room as he pauses before speaking.

“Come here, cutie.” You can only back away at his words, your legs hitting the back of the bed as you shake your head softly. He tuts at you like you’re a scolded child, sighing impatiently as he pauses; you hear nothing except the bored click of the modulator’s button, the chair creaking as your eyelids flicker underneath your blindfold.

Nothing happens— he hasn’t lost his patience yet, all movements ceasing as you’re left with an eerie silence— so with a heavy gulp, you find yourself standing once more, shaky legs taking a step forward hesitantly.

“Good girl. Come on, closer,” his whispers are soft alluring, like a siren as he directs you where to go, “yes, this way. You’re almost to the first chair; I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

At his comment, you stop immediately; all you get in return is a harsh laugh from him, unable to pinpoint what direction the sound comes from as you almost feel like he’s connected to a speaker of sorts. Again, his fingers fiddle with the button, the sound of clicks haunting you as you let out a shaky breath.

“I’m kidding. Or am I?” He seems to be having much more fun with this than you, but you’re forced to walk forwards again as his next comment sets you on edge.

“Come on, I’m losing my patience here,” He sighs, his voice gruff as you stumble forward once more. He chuckles, watching you struggle as he finally tells you to slow down. “You’re here. Come on doll, touch me.”

Your next step is curious; your foot touches the chair leg as you try to see where he might be, jumping softly as your foot knocks against a pair of shoes— he’s laughing again, and you’re frowning as his words register in your mind.

“How am I supposed to…?” Your hands are bound; you can’t see left standing stupidly in front of him as you try to decipher what he could possibly want you to do.

“Get closer to me, touch me. See if you can recognize me.”

You have no idea what to do; you feel ridiculous as you plant an unsure knee at the side of the chair, almost digging into his thigh as you try to position yourself; they’re unresponsive, oddly relaxed as you lean into them.

Hesitantly, you do the first thing you can think of; you’re leaning in close, your head resting against their chest as you concentrate. You don’t smell any perfume, and your lips drag along the expanse of their shoulders curiously— they’re broad and sturdy, not flinching even as you make your way back towards their neck— so clearly, it’s not Yeji, her petit form a contrast to the person beneath you.

Everything this man says could be a trick; this could be him, or it could be another of your friends, but the plain tee they wear isn’t reminiscent of what anyone was wearing, your frown deepening as your lips ghost up his neck— then up to his cheek, hesitant with all your movements until you stop your lips, ghosting eerily close to his.

There’s duct tape on his mouth.

You don’t need to linger any longer to guess that this isn’t the killer, and your suspicions are only confirmed as the voice begins to laugh mockingly at you again; the person beneath you doesn’t move an inch.

“I see you noticed something,” he comments, enjoying the way you scoff at his words, “but can you figure out who it is? I’ll give you a point if you do.”

You can’t help but get angry at this man’s idiocy, biting back your tongue as you hold back the urge to insult him; instead, you sigh, knowing that despite his light tone, there wasn’t room for you to say no.

Your lips ghost up to his cheekbones; your arms are turning awkwardly as you opt to lean back, attempting to feel his arm before you’re coming in contact with his wrist; they’ve been bound to the armchair, a tight hand around it as you attempt to feel his hand— but you choose not to, biting your lip as you almost lose your balance.

Hesitantly, you try to nose your way into recognizing his features; it feels intimate and wrong, terror seeping into your veins as you try to decipher who it might be. It isn’t until you feel the way his hair parts that you get a clue, your nose brushed with hair that clings to his nape as you go for one last feature you might recognize; hesitantly, your lips brush down his nose, feeling the way it’s smooth and rounds out perfectly at the bottom.

“Beomgyu,” you cry softly, your face burying itself in his neck as you allow a soft sob to slip out of you; the action is so familiar, but it’s nowhere near comforting as you wonder if he’ll make it out of here alive with you.

“How cute. I see you got along with him quite well,” his words are nothing more than an insult as you stand back up, wobbling to your feet as you sniffle weakly; bringing your shoulder up, you wipe at your uncomfortably wet cheeks, the blindfold tight on your face as it catches all your tears.

“How ‘bout I make it more interesting,” he muses, and you can already feel that he’s up to no good as he pauses dramatically, “I’ll let you guess these next too, but I won’t move at all. If you get all three right, you get a prize.”

You say nothing, your heart pounding with rage as you look down at the floor; he merely chuckles, fueling your anger as the dreaded click of the button infiltrates your ears once more.

“We’re here, to your right. Come to me.”

Slowly, you do what he says; your feet are hesitant as the wood floor creaks under you, only stopping the moment your foot collides with someone else’s. Hesitantly, you lean in.

It’s the same as before; broad shoulders, the body limp beneath you as you attempt to figure out who it might be. They’re lax, way too much if you think about it, your own body tense in contrast as you wonder if this might be it— if the killer might be here, under you.

Just as you did before, your lips brush closer to his, looking for the familiar duct tape you found on Beomgyu— only, nothing is found. Shaking, you’re leaning awkwardly as your hands quickly try to find his wrist— finding it, you grab onto it, your grip tight as you realize something angrily.

He’s not bound.

Carelessly, you lean in; sure enough, your lips ghost around his features, his sharp jaw and pointed nose giving it away as you lean in towards his ear— his piercings are still on, too.

“Yeonjun, I know it’s you, you bastard,” you seethe, waiting for him to spring into action; yet, he remains still, your chest heaving as you try to figure out if he’s stirred at all.

A moment passes. Then another, and another, and soon you’re frowning as you wonder what he might be up to. It’s only then that you remember his little game for you, scoffing as you sit up straight.

For a moment, you think of harming him; biting him, kicking at him, anything that could injure him while you’re still towering over him. But at the same time, you’re not strong enough— you still feel dizzy from the chloroform that was used on you, and the fatigue has only elevated from everything that’s happened today. Even worse, you’re bound and blinded— he’s free and is probably armed, and not to mention, is holding your friends hostage.

Begrudgingly, you find yourself standing up, hoping to get on his good side as you move to the next person; you have an idea of who it is, but your heart still thunders against your chest with worry as you lean in.

Everything is so familiar; he still has the bandages on his arm, his body warm and weak as you find yourself emotional again, slowly leaning in until you find your forehead resting on his shoulder.

“Taehyun,” you cry softly, your heart yearning to save the man you’d hopelessly been in love with for a while now; maybe, if you appeal to Yeonjun enough, he’ll spare your friends as well.

“Taehyun, I’m so glad you’re okay,” you cry, your body shaking as you feel him stir beneath you; he’s waking up, you realize, your heart pounding with dread as the thought of Yeonjun getting annoyed by him and possibly killing him floods through you.

Softly, he groans. He’s in pain as he shifts, his breath fanning on your cheek as you look up in his direction. It’s so quiet, and if you weren’t already straining your ears for the dreadful sound of the click of a button, you would’ve missed the way he weakly called out to you.

“You’re…” he sounds so confused, taking in your distressed state as you shake your head softly, urging him to not say a word.

“You’re… so sweet.”

His hands are on your waist before you can react; you’re planted firmly in his lap as you begin to tremble, the sound of the button clicks ringing so close to your ear making your head shake as you try to deny it all.

“Honestly, you’re precious,” he says, still mocking you before the sound of something being discarded on the floor sways your attention; you’re then being picked up and moved as you attempt to thrash in his grip, only for it all to fail as you’re tossed on the bed like a ragdoll.

“Just when I thought you couldn’t get any better, you prove me wrong.”

Sitting up, you’re quick to scoot back on the bed; your back is pressed firmly to the wall as you attempt to process everything, noticing that he hasn’t tried to chase after you. Instead, you hear his footsteps receding once more, the foreign sound of rustling making your ears perk before he’s walking back to you.

“But, Yeonjun,” you say, shaking like a leaf as you huddle against the wall, “he… wasn’t bound, and back in the basement—”

“You’d be surprised at the things people would do to save their own life.” He says, sighing at the way Yeonjun was quick to give everything up; he was never gonna chase after you after you had bitten him, and it was only when Taehyun managed to corner him while you tried to find your way back and threatened his life that he agreed to do his bidding— it only took a knife to get him scared straight.

“Bring her to me, and I’ll spare you.” He whispered to him, his knife ready to breach skin as it pressed to Yeonjun’s throat, “you have my word.”

Yeonjun’s only mistake was believing him.

So now here he stands, at the foot of the bed as he watches the way you begin to cry; his heart drops, crawling onto the bed as he quickly tosses the device aside, grabbing onto your legs and pulling you onto his lap; he disregards the way you jump at his touch.

“Oh no, don’t cry my angel,” he says, lips ghosting along your jaw as you mutter incoherent things, any will to fight drained as you process this betrayal— from Yeonjun, from him, “it’s not like they weren’t deserving of it.”

Taehyun is eerily observant; he smiles, kisses littering your jaw as his hands rub up and down your waist, a touch that would have you curling up shyly completely disregarded as you try to understand what he could possibly be talking about.

“You’ve seen it too, right?” He whispers, eager to prove a point as he’s leaning forward, more and more until he towers over you, your back hitting the mattress gently, “They don’t care about anyone but themselves. They don’t feel guilty for their actions, even when they’ve killed someone long before I did.”

Frowning, you find yourself speechless, your mouth opening and closing as you try to decipher what he could possibly be talking about. He’s close, so close, chest against yours as the bed dips next to each side of his head, his lips brushing against yours as he speaks.

“Do you remember Hueningkai? Poor kid, everyone said it was an accident— a careless overdose, they said,” your thoughts go back to Yeonjun, commenting on the high tensions as he told you of the loss of their friend, “but I knew better— they all thought it was just a joke until it was too late. They always fucking threatened me to keep my mouth shut or I’d be next.”

“What else could I do? They kept close tabs on me, and I only wanted to defend myself,” he whined, your body stiffening as you feel tears fall down your neck— he’s crying, burying his head in the crook of your neck as he presses his hips flush against yours, pressing you down the mattress as he lays his body weight on you.

“I was so scared,” he cries, shaking his head as his right arm goes down to find purchase on your waist, “they threatened me every day. Kept track of all my movements, made sure I never told anyone else. I was so scared when they started inviting you more.”

“I didn’t know how to get rid of them, but I wanted to keep you safe, I—” his hips roll against yours, a broken whimper falling from his lips as your mouth parts in surprise, “I’m so sorry. Will you forgive me?”

Please? Please will you forgive me? His words are a mantra as you find your heart pounding, a myriad of emotions swimming within you as you feel the way he breaks down against you. He’s a mess, the pleas so close to your ear as you feel the way he hardens against you.

You’re terrified. You’re worried, and you’re unsure of what to do because what the fuck have you gotten yourself into? It’s impossible to push past the way he’s adamant in his movements, his hips slow and calculated as you feel the way he presses right against your slit; desperate, broken, ready to show you how remorseful he is.

“I promise I never meant for it to go this far. I didn’t know how else to get rid of them, I was so scared that they might’ve had their eyes on you next, I don’t know what I’d do without you—“

“Please, will you forgive me?”

It’s too much. You don’t know where he ends and you begin, your mind swimming with questions and fears as you simply nod your head yes. Your throat feels dry as you do so, swallowing heavily as you shift underneath Taehyun.

“Yes. Yes, I forgive you,” you say, unsure of what else there is to say as Taehyun sniffles softly against you, hovering over you as his weight is lifted off your chest.

“Really?” He says quietly, his fingers dancing at the hem of your shirt as he waits for you to speak. You hesitate with your answer— there’s something else that he’s asking you, his fingers breaching past your shirt and softly caressing the warm skin of your stomach. He’s waiting, his eyes burning into your face as he only seems to be leaning in closer, closer and closer until his breath is fanning across your face once more.

“Yes. I forgive you.”

You don’t mean the words as much as you want to, as much as you wish that you did, even if your body and heart still yearn for him— but the adrenaline and fear within you have yet to disappear. It seems to be enough for him though, a fond laugh escaping him before he’s fiddling with the buttons of your pants, eager to take them off as he’s pushing your shirt up.

“I’m so sorry I scared you,” he whispers, remorseful and weak as his curious hands wander across the expanse of your hips, gliding around the hem of your panties, hooking a finger at each side before he’s slowly dragging them off.

“I just wanted to protect you.”

Slowly, his hand cups your pussy— you can’t help the way your face heats up, your mouth falling open at the sudden stimulation. Slowly, his middle finger strokes up and down your slit, his palm pressing down at your clit as he presses kisses gingerly on your chest.

You hold back a yelp at the way he bites you suddenly; he’s marking you, sucking and licking your breasts as he doesn’t bother to unhook your bra— opting to push it out of the way instead. He’s teasing you, working you up as you feel goosebumps rise on your skin. A soft sigh leaves you the moment he begins to tease your entrance, your legs shaking as you try to ignore the way you’re dripping wet for him.

“I’d do anything to keep you safe,” he mutters against your skin, lips making a trail up the column of your neck as he finally inserts two fingers inside you. The stretch has a weak whimper leaving you, your lips pressed tightly as you shiver at the way he pumps his fingers, slow and agonizing as he takes in the way your body becomes responsive to him, your walls squeezing and sucking him in.

“The last thing I’d do is harm you.”

His pace quickens; you hate how reactive and easy to read you are, because all it gets you in return is the amused comments from Taehyun that sound smug in your ears.

He’s far too good at this, you find yourself thinking, his pace quickening and turning much rougher than you anticipated. He’s got a single goal in mind, and it’s to make you fall apart before him, until you can’t remember anything but him. His change in attitude is unexpected, your brows furrowing as you bite at your lip, desperate to keep quiet despite the way your hips buck and roll against his hand.

Your body feels so hot, the coil that winds at your stomach only worsening as your legs squeeze around Taehyun’s hips, his lips planting a gentle kiss under your ear before he’s whispering his praises to you, stretching you open as his other hand finds itself at your waist, holding you down and pressing you to the mattress as he takes control over you effortlessly.

“Come on angel, you’ve been so good for me so far— cum for me, pretty girl,” his lips press a soft kiss to your cheek, his palm pressing itself back on your clit before he’s slowing down his pace, focusing on finding a rhythm that drives you crazy while he hits your sweet spot.

“I’ll make you feel so good, I’ll make you forget. Don’t you want that? Hmm?” You’re not sure if you’re able to register his words at this point, your fingers grasping at the bed sheets beneath you as you squirm and whine at his ministrations.

“Come on angel, show me how cute you look when you cum.”

Your body shudders as if it were under his control, drawing out your orgasm like it’s effortless as his fingers curl inside you, his lips stretching into a smile as he nips at your neck, continuing to stimulate you even after you begin to cry from the stimulation.

It isn’t long before he’s bringing you back up again, the sensation surprising you as he begins to rub at your clit cruelly, enjoying the way you thrash and cry at his actions. Even when you arch your back, your hands desperate to be freed, he refuses to give in, your soft pleas falling on deaf ears as your legs begin to tremble.

Before you know it, your hips are bucking again, distraught cries escaping you as you chant for him to keep going, your brain emptied as you forget where you are, why you’re even there. It’s endearing for him as you sniffle and whine, your hips stilling as you finally reach your high— it’s only when you go quiet that he stops, pressing tender kisses to your shoulders as his hands slide soothingly up and down your hips.

It takes a while before you’re grounded again; the rush of emotions is too much for you, and before you’re able to process anything, Taehyun is pressing against you, his tip warm and leaking against your entrance as he watches the way you flutter around him hopelessly,

“My pretty angel,” he sighs, pushing the tip in before he’s pulling back out. This goes on for a while, the feeling of him barely fucking into you frustrating as you attempt to push your hips towards him— he stops you, his grip bruising on your hipbones as he presses you down firmly.

“So perfect. So good, all for me,” his words are possessive as he finally pushes into you, a broken moan escaping him as he leans in to kiss you; you’re dazed, unable to do anything else but reciprocate as you take in the way he stretches you so well, filling you perfectly as his hips press flush against yours.

His pace is slow at first; uncertain, unabashed sounds leaving him as he takes in the way you feel so warm around him, the feeling of you squirming beneath him making his eyes roll back, your pretty mouth perfect and pouty as he resists the urge to fuck you stupid.

He only lets go the minute you begin to become reckless; the moment you try to meet his thrusts, he picks up the pace, a soft yelp escaping you as he takes in the sight before him; you look perfect, your body bouncing with every thrust as he finds himself straightening up, knees digging into the mattress as he drags you towards him— he’s fucking you senseless, and his head is spinning at the way you’re beginning to call out his name pathetically.

His hand quickly finds your clit; it sends you reeling, the feeling enough to have your mouth open in a silent scream before a broken moan escapes you.

“That’s it pretty, take it,” he sighs, hips snapping roughly into yours as he brings you back to another orgasm; you’re left defenseless to his insatiable needs, your body going limp as he continues to fuck you despite the way your walls hug him so tightly.

Your mind has gone blank— you don’t know what else to do but call out to Taehyun, his grip on you like a vice as he doesn’t falter for a second; but you feel so sensitive, as if you’ll fall apart if he continues like this.

“Taehyun…” you whine, your eyes squeezed shut behind the blindfold as you whine. Please. Please, please, slow, you chant, incoherent and a mess as he disregards you, using you to chase his high that is desperately within reach.

“My perfect girl,” he says, a grin on his face as you feel yourself clenching around him again, the sensitivity used against you as you feel yourself becoming winded up again, your body pliant in his grasp and eager to meet his commands.

“So sweet, so stupid,” he mocks, reaching up to rip the blindfold from your face; your eyes sting as you close them immediately, not used to the sudden amount of light as you slowly take your time to adjust.

“You have no idea how much I love you. Watching you take pity on me like that, fuck,” he groans, throwing his head back as he continues to fuck you at a ruthless pace, “shit, you’d believe anything I’d tell you, huh?”

Slowly, your mind registers what he’s saying. But the pleasure is fogging up your mind as your eyes finally adjust, fluttering open and meeting his own, pleased ones. His eyes are blown open, filled with lust and adrenaline as he slows down his thrusts to nothing but a roll of his hips. His bandage is still there, his wound still not healed as a fresh wave of blood paints the untouched fabric— he must’ve changed it at some point.

But what scares you the most are his clothes, covered with splatters of blood as his eyes narrow down at you carefully, his smile never leaving as he tilts his head curiously.

“So, it was all…” your words die on your tongue with a particularly harsh thrust, your body sliding against the mattress as he lets out an amused huff of laughter.

“Not really. The story about Hueningkai is real. They’re wicked people, and I was just doing what was right,” he says, pointy fangs revealing themselves in a wicked smile as he looks down at you, “but they didn’t know that I knew.”

Tears well in your eyes as you turn your head, wanting to look at your friend to make sure he was okay— but your face is quickly tugged back as Taehyun leans in, a frown on his face as he squeezes your cheeks together roughly.

“Don’t look at them. Look at me. I’m not done with you.” He’s ruthless as he works to wind you back up, his hips snapping against yours at a brutal pace as his eyes never leave yours, and vice-versa. His hand that was holding your waist down slides across your skin to circle your clit, an involuntary whine leaving you as you clench around his cock hungrily.

“There we go. Keep your eyes on me,” his voice is nothing but a sultry murmur as his eyes become lidded, leaning in close as his eyes savor the look on your face. “Look at me when you cum.”

His hand travels down from your cheeks to your throat, keeping your gaze steady as he begins to tighten his grip; you feel yourself becoming lightheaded, the overwhelming amount of stimulation breaking you as you feel tears sting at your eyes.

The sound you let out is broken and pathetic; your orgasm is strong as Taehyun lets go of you, the blood rushing back to you as your eyes never leave his, lidded and filled with lust as he groans at the way you clench around him.

He lets you ride out your orgasm; it isn’t until moments later that he’s reaching his own, your body too weak to fight the overstimulation as he cums inside you, warm and unending as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, sucking and biting at the skin within his reach.

It’s quiet, and you’re left staring at the ceiling as the aftermath of it all begins to settle; your shoulders shake and hot tears stream down your face, the reminder of your situation a shattering realization as you try to pretend that the situation is not what it seems, that Taehyun is a good person.

Hesitantly, you glance back at the three chairs; they’re both still out, probably drugged as Yeonjun is now bound to his seat. They’re still alive, you think, a small relief as you wonder what it would take to escape from this awful home.

At this point, you’ll do whatever it takes to leave alive, or you’ll die trying.

Slowly, Taehyun sits up. His eyes are crazed as he stares at you, caressing your cheek tenderly as he then moves on to rub your thighs soothingly. He still hasn’t pulled out, his cum nestled deeply within you and beginning to leak out as he lets out a thoughtful hum,

“How many times did you cum,” he mutters to himself, tracing shapes on your thigh with his thumb as he becomes lost in thought, “let’s see…”

“I spare you, I spare you not,” twice when he fingered you.

“I spare you…” once on his cock. Then, another time while he was reaching his high.

“I spare you not.”

His eyes finally meet yours. He frowns, a pout on his face as he tilts his head.

“That’s a shame, I was getting quite fond of you,” he says, leaning in as he presses butterfly kisses along your shoulders, up the column of your neck before he places a tender kiss on your cheek.

“Unless you want to even it out?”

You suppose this is where you begin.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

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alessiamalfoyzabini · 3 months

Text

Dark Moon | Chapter Two

Pairing | yandere!Jimin x Reader

Word Count | 3,7k

Warnings | +18, explicit language, kidnapping, yandere, mentions of prostitution, Jimin is really a bastard, harassments, threats with a gun, forced vaginal inspection, humiliation and teasing, light blood consumption, virgin girls are sold, forced separation

This fanfiction is yandere, if you don't like the genre, don't read and if you are not of age, don't read.

I don't want to hear any complaints in the comments, thank you.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | She just wanted to escape her past, take charge of her life and break out of her steel cage, praying in God for a miracle that could change her life for good.

And her prayers were heard, but it was not the Divine that answered her.

That was certainly the devil in the guise of an angel, she thought as those corrupted and empty eyes searched her soul with extreme voracity.

He turned a sweet, false smile on her, before pushing her into the abyss.

➢ Author's Note | Hi, guys! The second chapter of Dark Moon has arrived, thank you for all the compliments and support ❤

Taglist: @katherine-kookie, @dragons-flare, @m00njinnie, @seokjins-luigi, @pjmsneverland, @jimincrystal

Taglist is open!

Chapter List - Previous - Next

When Y/N regained consciousness she felt her head spin and something go up her stomach, she was nauseous as well as very cold, even her leg did not seem to be in optimal condition. A white light filtered past her eyelashes, forcing her to squeeze her eyes shut before groaning, trying, in vain, to move. She turned wearily on her side, realizing only then that she was lying on an icy floor. "The mare has awakened," said a voice with a deep cadence. The girl tried wearily to at least get on her knees, but failed to do so; her head was assailed by memories of a few hours ago, they were confused, but one thing she distinctly remembered. A face. A male face full of piercings, of cruel extraordinary beauty. "You better not move a step, you have a gun pointed at your head, baby doll," said another voice, higher and smoother. As her eyes adjusted to the light she focused on the gun in question, clutched in the gloved hand of the same man she remembered. His face was as beautiful as a god's, he had piercings on his lower lip, as well as on his eyebrow and all along the side line of his neck, stretching all the way under his leather coat. His dark hair, on the other hand, was combed so that his forehead was left uncovered, his amphibians also stood tall and menacing, just like the rest of him.

He held that gun with monstrous ease, his stoic expression telling her that he would not think twice about shooting her if he had to. She licked her lips, finding them dry and cracked, before she began to speak. "What do you want from me? I have nothing to interest you," she said in a scratchy voice, hugging her legs in a vain attempt to shield herself from his eyes. "You are quite wrong, dear," the other stepped forward, he was taller than the man with the piercings and his hair was silver, yet the hardness of his eyes was the same, "You have made a request and we are here to fulfill it." The young woman frowned, before the realization finally came. "Now you remember, right? You asked to work for us, in fact ... you both asked." The young woman widened her eyes and immediately remembered her younger sister, looked around in panic noticing the smaller body far away from her. She tried to get up to reach her, but the sound of a trigger froze her. "I told you not to take a step, I might blow your leg off, but that would not please my boss, so let's avoid giving each other trouble," huffed the dark-haired man, he was ruthless. She began to tremble, realizing the trouble she and her sister had gotten themselves into.

They had applied to work everywhere from small bars to supermarkets, not leaving out discos and more domestic jobs. But there was no work, or the pay was starvation. Finally she had made the leap, finding herself applying for jobs in a variety of red-light clubs, and before she could say or do anything, her sister had also followed suit, but she didn't think it would end like that for them. "We never received any recruitment letters or emails, so what are you talking about?" she hissed through clenched teeth. The taller one looked at her sideways, "The Dark Moon is not used to hiring the way you imagine, sweetheart...to fit into its standards you have to possess certain qualities and you two have all of them." If possible that answer left her even more confused, the dark-haired man with the piercings huffed, "Boobs and three holes to fill are not enough, once you enter the Dark Moon you never leave, those who "win" our attention do so because they live far away from their family and with a low lifestyle," he explained vulgarly, heedless of the increasingly evident pallor on the young woman's face. Everything was clear now, one of the brothels to which she had sent her application was much more than that, there was a highly illegal prostitution ring behind it, involving the total disappearance of girls from the rest of the world. The menacing appearance of the two men spoke volumes.

What had they gotten themselves into? "Wait a minute, ours was a request made without thinking" she tried to negotiate, but the grin on the pierced boy's face grew. Jimin was amused, did the poor deluded woman really believe that there was any way back? He shook his head, "Without thinking? You ran away from home because of an abusive family, dropping out of school and cleaning here and there to earn enough to afford a low Motel in the lowest neighborhood in town...it doesn't seem to me that you applied without thinking, in fact, it was desperation that convinced you and you even got bingo," he chuckled nastily. The girl cashed the blow, bending over herself; there was no remedy. She had been kidnapped and a madman was pointing a gun at her with impressive ease, the other man would probably hurt her sister if she decided to challenge them. She felt like crying, but she pushed back her tears; she would not let them see her whimpering like a child. After a few seconds a choked sigh was heard, Y/N opened her eyes again with fear. She turned toward her sister, who terrified looked at her with a lost and confused look. "What...? Y/N, what's going on?" she asked with some difficulty due to the drug used on her.

"Blair, stay there!" she exclaimed, but her sister tried to get up anyway, and the taller guy had to intervene, pushing the younger one against the concrete wall without any kindness, pulled the gun out of his jacket, and Y/N felt herself dying, yelled at him to leave her alone, pushing herself toward them, but a heavy kick to the leg stopped her actions. She groaned in pain, staring at the piercing guy's boot pressing right against her thigh, there where a purplish bruise had already taken shape from the violent sting. "Ha-ha! You're such a naughty little girl, you know? Lucky for you that wasn't a step, because otherwise I would have had to use this," he said in a childish tone, teasing her by moving the barrel of his gun left and right. Y/N swallowed hard, chewing between her teeth the pain she so badly wanted to vent, that boy was scary to her, there was a veil of madness behind his dark eyes. She did not want to find out how far she could push him, that madness. Namjoon, on the other hand, went no further with her sister, just put her back in her place. She resumed breathing as the man moved away from her, but a knock on the door made her stomach flip over. The two men exchanged a brief glance; it was Jimin who opened it without lowering his gun.

Y/N saw three other men enter the building, one of whom towered prominently over the others. He wore a gorgeous fur coat over his smoking, and his incredibly handsome face was obscured by an apathetic expression. The other two, on the other hand, were dressed quite similarly to those who had taken her hostage; they, too, were beautiful and surreally dangerous. "Are there only two of them?" the man in the fur coat asked, pointing at her and her sister. "They are the only ones who passed all the requirements, they are also quite pretty, Jin," shrugged the man the girl had labeled "The Tall One." The Jin in question squared them carefully, Y/N felt naked under his gaze and wished she could hug her sister to protect her from them, but she could not. She would be of no use to her dead. "What are their names?" "Byeon Y/N and Byeon Blair, they are sisters, they used this surname in the application, definitely not the right one...as you can see, they are not Korean." "Good job, Namjoon... As for their status?"

The girl didn't know how they could know all that, because it was true, they had changed their last name so that they didn't have to be related to their father and his family, but what made her cringe was the word "status," underlined in a strange way. The one she seemed to understand was called Namjoon remained silent a few seconds, then shook his head, "We haven't checked." "No problem, we'll do it now," he moved a finger toward the other two, "Taehyung, Hoseok," he said, but the pierced boy got in the way. "Leave this one to me," he said, intriguing Seokjin. "Why, Jimin? You usually avoid by saying it's too hard to handle them." Now she knew the name of that devil, but still not understanding what they intended to check, something told her she would not like to find out, she exchanged a glance with her sister. She saw her as frightened as she had ever been in her life, and it certainly should not have helped to see her, her older sister, in the same condition, so she tried to calm her expression, though with little result. "I have a score to settle with her," she said earnestly, it was then that Y/N remembered the kick thrown at the man's face in her fury to escape him, but she couldn't see any bruises so it must not have hurt him that much, right? The other nodded, "All right."

Next she saw the man named Hoseok heading toward her sister, who pushed herself against the wall trying to escape, but she was surrounded by men with guns and could do nothing. Y/N sprinted toward her, but Jimin was quick to grab her by the collar of her shirt. "Be still and quiet, behave yourself and it will only last a few seconds." But she did not understand, what would last only a few seconds? She blanched at the younger one's shocked screams, turned quickly toward her, and what she saw left her bewildered. The red-haired man, Hoseok, was holding Blair's body crushed to the ground while he did something with his hand under the fabric of her shorts, the insight made her shudder and she threw herself at her once more, heedless of Jimin's firm grip, who gritted his teeth at such stupidity. "What the fuck are you doing to her, you bastard! Let her go immediately, before I kill you!" she snarled bright-eyed, aware that as her sister kicked trying to get the man off her, she could only watch with no chance to react. A laugh behind her back made her skin crawl. "He's doing just that to her," she heard him say, before she was pinned to the wall hard, missing her breath for a few moments, time for Jimin to imprison her wrists in one of his hands, reaching with the other to the fabric of her underpants, which he went over, ending right under her panties.

In horror the girl felt the fingers still wrapped in the leather glove tracing her folds and without any care penetrating her tight slit, she cried out in pain and shock, the fingers went all the way, finding nothing to stop them, but Jimin wanted to provoke her a little. "You're so dry that if I continued you would bleed, wouldn't you? Like a virgin, too bad you're not," he whispered in her ear. The young woman, red with shame, overcame her shock and tried to kick him in the groin where an obvious bulge was taking shape, but Jimin ducked in time, stared at her with icy eyes before stepping firmly out of her intimacy, causing her another painful twinge. He let her fall back to the ground observing his fingers, only a few drops glistened on their surface, nothing striking. "She's tight as hell, but she's not a virgin," he communicated to the others in an impassive voice. Hoseok turned away from the youngest, who cowered in shock. "With this one I stopped pretty much right away, she's a virgin," he showed everyone a few drops of blood present on his fingers before licking them.

No one commented on that gesture, as if it was normal for them, Y/N just felt like throwing up, she clenched her legs trying to calm the burning that the bastard had intentionally caused her, god... if they were on equal terms she would have destroyed him. Seokjin nodded, "We'll make a lot of money with that one, I already have an interested customer." Y/N widened her eyes, rising up sharply. "At least let my sister go! She is young and unfit for such a life!" she exclaimed, staring into the eyes of what appeared to be the boss. Taehyung laughed, "Then why did she apply for such a job? Besides, what would she be different from you, is she a princess or something? Come on, we are fair and consistent people we, it wouldn't be fair to you," he teased her, ignoring Blair's sobs, still hunched over herself because of the pain she was feeling. Hoseok did not seem to have gone easy on her, as he had said. "Miss Byeon, the Dark Moon is a place that lives in anonymity, our clients are important people who want to spend moments of pleasure in complete relaxation, I can't afford outside witnesses other than my men, that's exactly why we only pick up girls like you," he began to explain calmly, "Beautiful, but desperate, I offer them protection and comfort, as long as they abide by my rules." Simply put, 'You know too much, and since you've been brought in, you will do as I say'.

Y/N felt lost, there was no turning back, she would be a whore without freedom until the end of her days, and her sister would follow her freewheeling. At that point, with another needle stuck in her flesh, tears flowed copiously without her being able to do anything to stop them.

Y/N regained consciousness in what was no longer a dingy warehouse, but lying on a soft bed with silk and velvet blankets. Smelling of essential oils and wearing a satin blouse, she widened her eyes, turning around. Next to her a girl was arranging some things in the sliding door closet. She was not paying attention to her. "I-where am I?" she asked in a low voice, the girl blocked her actions, then turned to her, glowering at her. "You should know, shouldn't you? You asked to work here yourself," she arrowed, Y/N looked at her shocked. Why had the woman answered her in that rude way? "I don't think I did anything to you to deserve such an attitude," she said in fact, the other rolled her eyes. "You newcomers are all like that, all naive holier-than-thou. You're at the Dark Moon, girl! Place of pleasure and sin, where you will open your legs without a single complaint and I recommend it for your own good," she blurted out, made to leave without adding more, but Y/N stopped her. "My sister! Have you seen my sister?" she ignored the scurvy attitude of that girl as beautiful as she was rude to ask about the younger one, the other looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Ah, yes...when you arrived they just asked me to get you ready for the room, but I heard about the other one.... She was a virgin, virgins are always sold and never stay at the Dark Moon.... so it was your sister, huh? I'm sorry," she sneered, before leaving the room. The world came crashing down on her, her sister was not there with her, she had been sold without ifs and buts, they had not even given her a chance to see her one last time. She clutched her chest, trapped in a painful grip, and let herself fall on the bed without energy, she merely sobbed for what seemed like hours. She had definitely lost her entire family and there was absolutely nothing she could do to change that. She was gone, Blair was no longer with her, and she would spend the rest of her life spreading her legs for any man with a sizeable bank account. With tears still clinging between her eyelashes she saw the door open once more, revealing the slender figure of another girl, wrapped in a pattern similar to her blouse, but much darker. "Hey. You're the newcomer, aren't you? Nice to meet you, my name is Hanon," she said jovially, waving her hand, Y/N remained impassive, too exhausted and bitter to be in the same mood as her.

"Y/N..." she mumbled back, shutting herself up. The woman was not impressed by that closed attitude; on the contrary, she found herself smiling more. That girl reminded her of herself at first. Almost no one wanted to end up trapped at the Dark Moon, but getting used to it wasn't so bad. They had food and beautiful clothes, as well as a roof over their heads. "Well, hello Y/N! Welcome to the Dark Moon, I was asked to show you around a bit," Hanon said cheerfully, Y/N instantly glowered at her. She didn't want to take the prostitute prison tour, she wanted to go back to the horrid old Motel with her sister, better poor than divided and slutty. "I don't care for that, thank you," she replied through gritted teeth. If possible Hanon's smile grew bigger, a strange light shone in her eyes. "Oh, believe me ... it's in your best interests to listen to me, Seokjin here is the boss and his word is law, if you don't do as he says you'll end up bathing in the icy waters of the Han River, with no chance of rising" from the satisfied voice Y/N guessed that it had already happened and that Hanon was probably someone quite important among the girls, he believed she had power over all of them, that's why she smiled like that. Without uttering another word, Y/N got out of bed, found some bedroom shoes placed neatly on the polished wooden floor, and putting them on followed the other woman.

Hanon showed her several rooms, numbered and with a key inside each shiny, well-oiled lock; almost all the rooms were the same, except for a few cases of far more luxurious suites suitable for clients quite important to the boss of the "shack." Hanon explained to her that the one where she was a few moments earlier was her personal room, no one had the right to enter there, and that every client had one of those other rooms rented for a set amount of time that varied from the fee paid for each type of service requested. Y/N felt disgust and nausea with each piece of information she learned, the customer paid and they automatically had to obey him. Hanon finally showed her their relaxation room; it was a large greenhouse where one could play freely and grow flowers and plants of all kinds. That was perhaps the only area Y/N would appreciate, she told herself. "From this corridor instead you get to the kitchens and the dining room, instead to ask for any kind of information you can ask me, if I will not be available go ahead to Namjoon's office, I will show you where it is" at that name the young woman felt sick. She remembered the silver-haired man, she had no idea he personally worked at the Dark Moon. "Namjoon?" she swallowed, Hanon stared at her for a moment confused by her sudden pallor, then understood. "So this time it was his turn, I guess it went well for you then, he is very kind to girls and-"

"Namjoon kidnapped my sister," she said harshly, "He was not kind to do such a thing, much less his friend with piercings all over his face, who was simply an animal with me," she growled. Hanon winced, he could tell she was talking about Jimin from the description-he was the only one of the men in Seokjin who had piercings all over his face, not to mention his neck. Those seven were divided into distinct and separate personalities, and Hanon knew for sure that the worst were Jimin and Hoseok themselves. "All right, for any doubts ask me, then," then she remembered something important, "Oh, I almost forgot the most essential thing! In case you need help during a session with your client, on the bedside table next to the bed there is a white phone, it has a unique number and communicates with the bodyguards, if you will be in trouble don't hesitate for a moment to call" she explained seriously. A shiver ran down the young woman's spine, she had not yet thought of such a possibility, she believed that with clients of a certain caliber something dangerous could not happen, evidently she was mistaken. When she was escorted back to her room, Y/N stopped Hanon. "Um... Hanon?" "Yes?"

"Before you came, there was a girl in the room with me, she was very rude and I would like to know why, I'm new and didn't give any trouble...I wish I could at least live peacefully here, though I doubt it." Hanon weighed the words well, but decided to be honest. "I told you we have personal rooms, but not as much as they are..." Y/N widened her eyes, "Your room belonged to Ester, the girl you met." "What... Why did you give me her room?" she asked wordlessly, Hanon shrugged her shoulders. "Well, only five other girls have the room like yours, these girls are selected by Seokjin's most trusted men because they are their favorites, and you are now one of them, indeed, of us." If possible, Y/N found herself more confused than before-what was Hanon getting at? The latter sighed, "Ester was Jimin's favorite, but I don't know how...now you're the one who will share a bed with him if he decides to stay here from time to time, when he arrived he didn't think twice about sending her away to give way to you, I think you intrigued him and quite a bit too." Y/N found herself staggering back, everything simply had to be an absurd and horrible joke, should she have shared a bed with such a beast? The disgust did not leave her for a moment longer.

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genovianxprince · 1 month

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OK I think I understand some of why some people in the fandom choose to make Mystra some kind of a terrible, grooming abuser to Gale. It's because every one of the companions has like a specific person you can point to and say, that is the abuser. That right there is the person who has caused the companion grievous harm. Gale and Mystra are a little more complex than that.

Shadowheart and Lae'zel technically have a whole cult/culture backing up the abuse, but you can still pretty directly point to Viconia and Shar for Shadowheart, and ultimately Vlaakith for Lae'zel as well as just... every Githyanki she ever met, except for Kith'rak Voss.

Wyll has Mizora, Karlach had Zariel and Gortash, Astarion has Cazador, all very obvious and self explanatory in the game. They were innocent, kidnapped, coerced, sold, played like a damn fiddle. But Gale?

Gale has Mystra, a goddess he loves, who also loves him, and the things they did to each other were both fucked up, and a lot of the fault totally lies with Gale! The other companions all had external forces affecting them. Gale's was mostly internal. He refused to believe he was good enough. "As inconceivable as it seems to me now, I shared a bed with a goddess and I still wasn't satisfied." A literal goddess, the one he favored, the one he was in love with, who favored and loved him back, consistently told him he was perfect as he was and he straight up did not believe her. He placed himself on a higher and higher pedestal he could never reach the top of because if he wasn't constantly climbing to some nebulous goal of perfection, then could he be good enough for Mystra?

Y'know, instead of just believing the woman he was in love with. And I get it! Insecurities suck! Especially when you've been the gifted child your entire life, perfectly talented at something that all the adults in your life go nuts over. But also, it is extremely arrogant to assume you know better than your literal goddess and be like "yo, there's a missing piece of the Weave and I can go get it" like... Mystra is the Weave, she would have known and probably sent someone on a quest if it were actually Her Weave and not Karsus' Weave.

Gale is INCREDIBLY hubristic and he keeps falling for that trap. He's overconfident. Hell, even after his year in isolation where he comes out humbled, a small group of people believing in him for a short amount of time gets him to go "omg, crown of karsus = godhood, I can totally do that and tell the gods they SUCK and overthrow Ao's rules!"

Like, babyboy, no.

Of course, Mystra is not without some fault. After Gale's initial... Folly-up, she just ignores him for a year. Damn, girl, what the hell! Well. You see. The Netherese orb is a fragment of the magic that Karsus used to try to ascend and steal her throne with. The magic that she realized was going to kill everything if she didn't sacrifice herself. For a moment, all magic ceased to exist, including Mystryl herself, and Karsus died. Then Mystra came into being. Gale tells you a short version of this story himself! So it kind of makes sense that Mystra would see this shard of magic and just... kinda have a trauma reaction! And to gods, time flows differently. It wouldn't shock me to learn she didn't realize it had been a year by the time Gale left his Tower due to mind flayer shenanigans. Naturally, she does not want to discuss the thing she's so terrified of, and just tries to have it destroyed without her having to touch it—the plan to have Gale blow himself up on the Absolute itself, and she would save his soul. And even after he disobeys her instruction, she still allows the orb to feed on the true Weave! She still lets him live without fear of blowing up randomly, even though it greatly distresses her to let this magic that killed her once feed on her own life force.

Then he reaches the city, and reads The Annals of Karsus, and realizes she's going to have to explain, despite not wanting to. And she summons him. Tells him exactly what's in his chest. Asks him to turn over the Crown and she will destroy the orb and face her own trauma, because Gale... doesn't want to die. She understands that. And she still loves him and his big beautiful brain despite how stupid he's been, and she wants to have him as her Chosen again.

Things will never be the same, of course. They both fucked up. Gave each other a bad time. But in the end, they forgive each other and move past it. Not as a couple, because things broke too much for that. But they can have a healthy relationship as Goddess and Chosen once more.

And that is what sets Gale and his trauma apart from the companions. He doesn't have a direct abuser or live in a horrific abusive society. He almost killed the goddess of all magic a second time and she had an understandably harsh reaction to that, even if it was still too harsh. I just don't believe it's only Mystra who fucked up here. Not by a long shot. Much of it lies squarely with Gale.

And, as for the grooming allegations [as far as people trying to say it is canon], literally just no. She's a True Neutral goddess. Gale literally tells you that you are not his first mortal lover, he had a few before he ever fell into Mystra's bed, and you're just the first since the breakup about a year ago. The game doesn't shy away from sex and sexual abuse in the least. Why on Earth would this be something hidden behind several layers of nonexistent subtext? It's definitely fun for AU's, but by Ahghairon's lost nose, no, it's not canon!

#my posts #bg3 #gale dekarios #mystra

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aris-ink · 11 months

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can you do a drabble for yandere!jungkook x female reader where the reader has rape fantasy and asks jungkook to act the fantasy one day? (they're in an established relationship) and a touch of breeding kink✨ will be great. btw if you aren't comfortable writing the first kink then you can completely ignore this.♡

this is literally just cnc, a theme I've dealt with before and something that does require consent in the first place. so, yes ofc baby, thank you for asking though, ily <3 also, this... is a bit longer than a regular drabble

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: romance

warnings: con noncon, dom/sub dynamics, mentions of safe words, role play, hints of fear kink (threats, allusions to kidnapping), some knife play, manhandling, degradation, impact play (face slapping), hair pulling, implied sadism & masochism, choking, outdoor sex, rough sex (including oral), breeding kink, creampie, love love love, aftercare <3

It was a fact well known, truth be told; angels shouldn't wander around on their own in the dark, where twisted things tended to lurk. Yet somehow, here you were.

"Hi."

The greeting was murmured right into your ear, and you knew you were screwed.

It was past midnight and your shift ended over an hour ago. Too cold and tired to keep waiting for Jungkook, you gave up and started making your way home on foot. He'd lose it if he found out. He'd never let you go anywhere alone at this hour; but for the first time, he didn't pick you up right after work or answer any of your calls. And now, you were stuck in a dimly lit lot, devastatingly silent and empty save for the few cars parked there, with a muscular arm snaked around your waist and the sharp edge of a knife grazing your throat.

You could barely swallow, frozen in spot as the man's nose brushed your cheek, his chest firm against your back.

"Out for a walk?"

Caught off guard by the cold steel against your quickening pulse, you didn't really register the question. There was a possibility he could cut you up if you moved just an inch, and it was almost like he was teasing you with the threat. He gave your waist a squeeze, then nudged the back of your knee to coax you to move forward.

"Don't feel like talking, huh?" He sounded amused, though his voice was low, prompting a shiver as his words vibrated through your ear - and then through your core. "That's okay, I wasn't interested in talking either. I'm sure we can find some other good uses for that cute little mouth."

Left with no choice, you let him lead the way. It was naive of you to think that things couldn't get any worse. As you forced your legs to keep going, you were hit with a realization that made all the blood drain from your face. He wasn't steering you towards some dirty alley; or even towards the door of his car. He was steering you towards the trunk.

Your skin seemed to be crawling with static when you stopped before it, initial shock fading and alarms blaring through all your systems. He clicked it open with ease, inching the knife away from your throat. As if he needed it in the first place. You were all alone out here, and he was so much stronger than you. That much was obvious.

Your nails dug into his arm with unexpected harshness. You threw your head back in an attempt to slam it into his. He managed to dodge the blow, though - quite effortlessly, too - and your attack ended just as quickly as it began. It only earned you a surprised grunt, and a punishing yank at your hair that made your mouth fall open with a cry.

"Don't fucking test me," he hissed. His arm tightened around you roughly. "You'll be the prettiest good girl for me-" he whispered against your ear, "or you'll be the prettiest missing girl in the news. Your choice, baby. Yeah?"

The ground felt like it dropped from under your feet, liquid fire pooling in your tummy, making it sway along with the scenery around you. It was impossible not to notice how hard he was already, like he's been waiting for an occasion to pounce on you for much too long. His heavy pants warmed your nape, proving the gentler demeanor from earlier to be an act that was quickly unraveling the more you resisted him.

He pushed you inside, and your hands started to tremble, knees feeling weak. You didn't even get to turn your head back to glance at him in time before he shut the boot, plunging the cramped up space into darkness.

There was a few bumps in the road; you felt each one, exploring the smooth leather all around you. Mostly to familiarize yourself with your surroundings; but also to try grounding yourself and soothing your racing heart. The ride didn't seem long. It was hard to judge, though, when you were so pumped up on adrenaline and the air around you felt way too hot.

After all this, you had been right to expect to arrive somewhere deserted and unknown. As the trunk began to lift up, you were greeted with the bite of cold, night air and a masculine silhouette set against the moonlit sky.

He wasn't even bothered waiting until the damn car opened fully, giving you zero chance to take him by surprise again. He buried a tattooed hand in your hair, slapping the other over your mouth, both pushing you down with powerful force. In a knee jerk reaction, your own hands flew upwards to push him away, smacking against whatever they could reach; his arms, his shoulders, his chest. However, the strikes just seemed to bounce off of the thick muscles, doing little damage. It was pathetic how easy it was for him to overpower you, climb onto your chest, even with how you trashed under him. His fingers trapped your wrists, his crotch too close to your face, eclipsing the view of the woods behind him.

And yet despite all that, it was no easy task to unzip his jeans. Both of his hands were unsteady, partly from the arousal twisting through him, partly from your stubborn attempts at ripping your own hands out of his grasp.

Clenching his jaw, your assailant momentarily gave up on his pesky zipper. A loud crack pulsed through your entire skull, leaving your cheek sore and stars dancing around your eyes. He slapped you so hard the impact whipped your head to the side, then did it again. It was just enough to make him groan; just enough to give him the split second he needed to free his hard, aching cock and push his hips forward.

"Open," he snapped shakily, gritting his teeth when you started shaking your head, refusing him access to your mouth.

Taking advantage of his size, he shifted abruptly, imprisoning your arms beneath the weight of his muscular thighs.

And just like that it was game over.

One hand wrapped around his cock so he could aim better, one wrapped around your precious, little neck. He could feel a pulse beating from both sides, precum weeping from his flushed tip, dripping down your collarbones, your eyes dilating from the sudden lack of air.

It was the first time your gazes locked since he grabbed you in the parking lot. You looked so beautiful under him. Unable to help it, his hips kept thrusting forward in desperate need of friction, the wet head of his cock rubbing into your lips. A series of shallow, shaky breaths followed the motions, and he paid no mind to the mess he was making of you. In fact, the image only spurred him on. So did how impossible it was for you to get away from his raging hard on, no matter where your head turned.

At last, you gasped for air; and the moment you did, he groaned so loudly. Your throat was released and instead stuffed with his cock, fat and throbbing and way too long. It made your muscles constrict, instantly prompting you to choke. To him, though, it was the perfect fit, and he could have sobbed from the relief. The hooting and rustling of small, nocturnal creatures stirring in the bushes and the twisted branches of trees was utterly drowned out, replaced by the obscene, sloppy sounds of him rutting into your face, and the guttural moans fleeing him.

"Agh, fuck-" mindlessly, his fingers searched your skin, the rough pads pressing into your cheeks, squeezing, before burying in your hair again to tug at it.

He barely allowed you to catch a breath. Your lungs burned, thighs clenching and cheeks stained from tears. It was not mercy, but the tightening in his gut that made him stop abruptly, pulling out of your abused mouth. He left your throat and cunt aching and your head spinning, goosebumps breaking all over your arms.

"Fuck," he trembled as you coughed, leaning an arm above you. His cock twitched in front of your face, and even though you were the one being deprived of air until now, his chest heaved just as hard as yours. "I almost came."

He puffed out a laugh, looking down at you. His eyes were so dark, flashing with a dangerous desire that your cute, panic stricken expression had sadistically prompted to be voiced.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," he cooed, squishing your cheeks. "I won't leave you empty."

The words turned your knees to cotton. You whimpered, shaking your head from side to side more vigorously, but he was already climbing off you and grabbing you by the arms to flip you onto your stomach. Heels on the ground and your upper half still stuck in the trunk of his car, you felt like a ragdoll, weak and quivering under his control.

You gasped when his hand sneaked in between your legs, two long digits stroking you through your underwear. He gasped too.

"What a good, little bitch. Fucking soaked. I'm going to ruin you forever, baby."

Your tummy twisted up so hotly you whined, terrified you were going to come. And he barely touched you. The mortification of it was enough for you to try squirming away, but it was futile. He didn't care about your inner dilemmas or how many times you'd come. All he cared about was getting his cock into your sopping cunt.

And that was what he did. Pulling the ruined cotton halfway down your thighs and plunging inside you, stretching out your warm, tight hole. Pounding into you so suddenly you shrieked, a reaction that thrilled him to no end. And unlike you he was not ashamed to show it, moaning into your ear. It felt like he's branded you from the inside, and you couldn't do anything about how much you clenched around him, the pleasure searing and so different from anything you've ever experienced before.

"So close," he breathed, "fuck, you gonna take it? Gonna take my cum like a good girl?"

You whined, still shaking your head, even though you were tightening more at his words, massaging him like a little toy, made just for him. He fucked you harder, as though he was determined to prove to you that you were going to do exactly as he said - and cream his cock while you were at it.

"Yeah, you are. You'll take everything I'll g-give you, fuck. Gonna take my cum every night until this pretty, little cunt is nice and bred. A-all mine, yeah."

You shivered, muscles tensing and mind numbed out, wiped clean of anything but the impending orgasm making you sweat and tingle all over.

"Oh, baby likes that?" The strained question came out as another moan. "Yeah, you do? You gonna be my little cumdump? Oh god - fuck! -"

You weren't sure if you heard more praises or insults, or both as he came, or if the ones from earlier were still simply floating around in your mind; turning it into a haunted house, a ruin, where the ghost of his presence would forever remain. Just like he promised.

Your vision swam and your cunt began to spasm around his cock, sucking him in greedily. He helped you ride out your high with hard, deep thrusts that made you cry. It felt so good, and even better when he started twitching inside you, pump after pump of hot seed filling you up.

Despite the uncomfortable position, he stayed inside you for a while, waiting for the tremors of your orgasms to pass. Mentally needing to feel you close just as much as you needed him while they did.

You squeezed his hand after a moment. He reacted immediately, giving it a tender squeeze back and lifting himself off you.

The ride back home was comfortably quiet. Despite having checked up on you already, he got you into bed and washed you with a warm cloth, taking the opportunity to examine your skin for any marks or cuts. You seemed fine, your eyes fluttering closed at the gentle touches appreciatively, a soft hum escaping your lips.

"Baby," he murmured, his free hand moving to cup your face. "Stay with me. I'm almost done."

You tried to open your eyes, finding Jungkook already looking at you. He kissed your forehead, then put the cloth away, somewhat vulnerable and careful in his approach towards you.

"Was it too much?" He asked quietly, almost like he felt guilty.

Frowning slightly, you reached out to touch his cheek.

"I know my safe word, Jungkook." That didn't seem very reassuring, so you quickly added, "And the taps, too."

He trusted you; of course he trusted you. He had no doubt you would have let him know had you wanted him to stop at any point, but he couldn't help himself.

Since meeting you, Jungkook had learned a lot about himself. He started into the shadows and dug through his insides, trying to find answers to questions that made him lose sleep. But no matter how hard he looked, he couldn't find any. Among the blood and the guts and the bones, he couldn't figure out why. Why did his love have to be all consuming, with teeth and claws that longed to tear into you just so he could feel your heart in his hands? Just to feel that he owned it; like some kind of wild, vicious beast. He always tried so hard not to let the intrusive thoughts win, to control his impulses when he touched you. Scared to death, he'd often slow down, the cold flood of questions in his head putting out the heat in his body. Did he go too rough? Did he take too much? Why did he always need so much?

It wasn't until you gathered up the courage to speak up one quiet night that everything clicked into place, and Jungkook found the disturbing noise in his soul settling down into serene warmth. Maybe he was some twisted, sad thing that didn't quite belong anywhere but in the shadows. But shadows couldn't exist without light, and you were his. A beautiful, lonely angel.

How discriminatory of heaven. There was just no place for you among the righteous if your halo happened to be broken. It didn't matter if you weren't the one that damaged it; god never did take responsibility for the cruelty of his creations.

But as long as Jungkook's own heart was beating, you never had to worry about anything - or anyone - ever again. All beasts protected what they owned.

He leaned his forehead on yours, searching your eyes for a moment.

"Do you think I'm-"

"No," you whispered, already knowing what he was going to ask. "Do you think I am?"

That was different, Jungkook thought, offended by the mere suggestion. No matter what the world thought of you, to Jungkook you were the only good he's ever known.

"No," he answered immediately. "You're perfect."

Not messed up. Perfect.

With his pyjamas on and teeth brushed, he slipped into the bed, arms locking around your waist. He was tired of overthinking. In the end, nothing outside of this room really mattered, as long as what you had worked for you both. And as far as Jungkook was concerned, looking down at your peaceful face right next to his; it worked.

Your leg slipped in between his thighs, head snuggling into his chest, even in your sleep.

Yeah. It worked.

#welp anyways #yandere bts #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts smut #bts reactions #bts yandere

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livingfast04 · 1 year

Text

You know, I read like a shit ton of fics (Mostly Steddie fics) about Steve being a complete pushover. Saying No, and then still going along with it? Being uncomfortable with something and still letting the kids get their way.

Or Steve attempting to set boundaries, and then The Party still blows through them and Steve just doesn't seem to mind? He gets upset about them pushing issues, asking about things he doesn't want to talk about, a huge theme is about him not flirting with girls and mostly it's from Dustin. Just an Example that I can think of. And then, they (mostly Dustin) trample through the boundary and in the end it's fine. And It's like Steve was never upset after the fact? Like in a "I love them so it's okay." or a "Well it ended up being fine, so I don't mind." I- hate this. I hate this so fuckin much??? Because it's not, and sure it's always in a "Steve and Eddie get together because of this" or a "Its well meaning and causes no harm" It doesn't matter it shouldn't?? Like yeah in the show Steve tends to say no, and then ends up doing it anyway. but Only ONCE, do we see Steve say No, and then change his mind. S3. And then some in S4, and it honestly seems more out of just annoyance of the possibilities of it happening again. Or because the children hijack his place of work. In season 2, Steve completely puts his foot down, and then in the end Has to be Full Fuckin Kidnapped to go along with it. And then with Dustin and D'Art. Which, is also maybe a form of kidnapping, but this kids got a monster on his hands and he never actually says no? (I can't remember, I need to go back and watch it, so don't quote me on that) And Erica, is just Erica, she's terrifying and Steve was also working a job where his employer would probably believe her over him- That's different. BUT. In Season one, Steve sets a boundary with Tommy and Carole. Calls them assholes, drops them. Now it's been a total year- And you know for a fact that wasn't the only interaction they had after that. It was November for fucks sake. Not Once, does Steve actually have Pushover tendencies when it wasn't a moment where he literally couldn't back out of it??

Out side of that, it doesn't matter. Why is there a huge like, thought throughout the entire thing, that Everyone just walks all over Steve and Steve lets them??? and I mean EVERYONE, people have Robin do that, Mostly I've seen it with Dustin. I get, good angst point. But never is it like. "He said no, stop asking." Never. And Sure time period, yeah. I guess? But Steve is never upset afterwards. Never. And if he blows up about it, it's always, "Way to be an asshole, Steve." Or "I was just trying to help." THATS LITERALLY GASLIGHTING. I, I just really don't. Like it. The lack of reaction, how it's just okay for them to do that because Steve loves them.

It doesn't make sense to me

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington whump #steve x eddie #dustin henderson #eddie munson #steve harrington #steveddie #stranger things textposts #its gross and i hate it #when my boundaries get stepped on or i say no and no one listens?#that's so upsetting?#Why does it just go away because “they have good intentions?”#that's not how that works

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sleepingdeath-light · 10 months

Text

escape artist darling hcs ; yandere clotted cream cookie

requested by ; 🇧🇷 anon (02/07/22)

fandom(s) ; cookie run

fandom masterlist(s) ; hub | specific

character(s) ; clotted cream cookie

outline ; “Hey!!! How are you?

Warning: I'll use female pronouns (she/her) for Reader/Darling (does this REALLY need a warning?)

Can I request yandere Clotted Cream Cookie with a Darling who is a master at escaping? Like... She's pretty smart and can all the time use those techniques to get rid of handcuffs/ropes/chains and open doors without needing a key

Sorry for any spelling mistakes or wrong use of expressions, I'm using Google Translate because my first language is Portuguese and I don't trust my English writing skills

And taking advantage of this ask... Can I be 🇧🇷 anon?”

warning(s) ; yandere!clotted cream, kidnapping, obsessive behaviours

clotted cream cookie had gone to extreme lengths in order to facilitate your observation, capture and containment as his partner — so to have you outsmart and evade his every technique was, to say the very least, something of a slap in the face

rope, chains, hand cuffs, doors locked in seven different ways, guarded rooms around the clock, bars on the windows — no matter what he does it’s all for nought as you always manage to escape him somehow

you outsmarted his coded locks, snuck tools past him to help you break through his equipment, outran the guards he assigned to your room, and managed to hide in plain sight for weeks at a time before he caught up to you again — it seemed the only thing you were unable to do was leave the republic, but even that was because he forced the council’s hand on tightening exports

he loves the chase, loves knowing that you’re able to match and undermine his efforts with your sharp wit and quick thinking, but it was starting to get old — really old, if he was being completely honest with himself

why couldn’t you understand that he just wanted what was best for you? he loves you, wants to protect you, and you running away from him and throwing all of his efforts back in his face wasn’t doing either of you any good

silly girl

his girl — even if you refused to acknowledge as much with all of your rebelliousness

because no matter how many times you escape, no matter how much you try to flee, you’ll always end up back at his home in the end — you’ll give up eventually, it’s just a matter of time

for now he bites his tongue and softens his blows as he punished you for each transgression, sating himself himself that it will all be worth it one day

it will be worth it when you’re his beautiful smiling wife waiting eagerly for him to return home

when you’re there to willingly smother him with affection whilst a small army of little one run about your ankles

when you call him ‘my love’ instead of ‘monster’

when he no longer has to cuff and smack and scold, when he gets to see you smile at him with all of the love he holds for you without any threat or intimidation

when you’re his — and you could have it all if you just stopped running away

don’t you want to be happy?

#sleepingdeath #female reader #yandere x reader #yandere hcs #yandere crk #yandere crk x reader #yandere cookie run #yandere cookie run x reader #yandere clotted cream cookie #yandere clotted cream cookie x reader #clotted cream cookie x reader #crk x reader #cookie run x reader #🇧🇷 anon

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everynicorobin · 9 months

Text

Favorite Robin panels, cont.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Sabaody (cont.)

Chapter 495

Look at her. What's she doing. What is that face. I love her.

Chapter 496

Top ten funniest panels in One Piece

Chapter 507

I really respect her decision. She could have taken the easy way out and saved herself and everyone a lot of trouble by skipping out on getting the Road Poneglyphs, but she has enough faith in herself and the crew to know that they'll make it on their own.

Chapter 510

I admire this quick thinking. Her Clutch move might have worked by redirecting the beam at the sky, but she might not have been able to generate enough hands to pull that off in time, especially considering (though they didn't know this at the time) that this Kuma is a robot duplicate. So she does the next best thing: Slam his jaw closed like an alligator's and blow him up from the inside.

Chapter 512

Although it was Usopp who grabbed her at the time, I appreciate the similarities between this panel and the ones where Robin is rescued from Aokiji and then abducted to safety on the sea train.

Tequila Wolf

Chapter 593

She loves them so much!! She's turning down the chance of a lifetime so she can go be with Luffy in his time of need! Just starts crying just starts crying

Chapter 596

auuguhughh she loves her friends

Sabaody (return)

Chapter 599

Look at her!! She's so happy to come back and meet up with everyone :')

Chapter 600

And she wants to see Luffy again so much!! Ms Robin I love you!!

Fishman Island

Chapter 605

This one is great because this is the first time Robin's drawing something unusual they've seen, but she acts like it's a habit for her. Plus, this is what the sketch ended up as:

Chapter 616

This is just a lovely shot of her. Look at her. Keep looking at her. Beautiful.

Chapter 628

This is a very nice moment - very peaceful and calm, yet her words hold some kind of weight. We've gotten more hints as to Joyboy's identity at this point, but back then he was just as big a mystery as the One Piece itself.

Chapter 629

God this is so funny. Why'd she do it like this. She could have stopped their fight any other way.

Chapter 643

A very cool Robin! Her pose is great here, especially with the sunglasses, and she very casually deflects their praise onto Jinbe, not taking any credit.

Chapter 648

Another adorable Robin and Chopper moment! She doesn't even ask if he needs help, she just supports him without a word.

Chapter 648

I love that she chose to hold his head like that instead of holding him under the arms like a normal person

Chapter 649

She knows how to do an epic reveal and puts that talent to good use. It's a serious subject, not only because they're talking about a potentially destructive power, but because that power belongs to a young girl who has no idea of her true ability.

Punk Hazard

Chapter 655

A super cute panel where she enjoys Usopp's misery while feeding Luffy :)

Chapter 659

An amazing panel for several reasons. Robin's inner thoughts are cute as always. Based on Luffy's lack of worry or "How will we get across?" attitude, it seems he has the same idea as Robin. Usopp knows them well enough to read their minds at this point. Absolutely incredible.

Chapter 661

A great scary Robin face and all she wants to do is steal the enemy's clothes

Chapter 665

Her cold fury for the fact that Franky is making weird faces in Chopper's body culminating in her commanding him to never speak again is just hilarious

Chapter 673

Always very funny to see how not seriously they take to being kidnapped and tied up, and the fact that they're reminiscing about when Robin was an enemy is doubly amusing

Chapter 696

HER HOODIE

Dressrosa

Chapter 700

Yet another peek into her vivid imagination

Chapter 705

The combination of the hat and sunglasses gives her a very classy look here

Chapter 711

This is Robin's first expression of comic shock and I love it so much

Chapter 711

Another great expression, coupled with the fact that this is the moment Usopp's habit of self-aggrandizing and lying finally breaks her

Chapter 728

Robin gives off the air of, and often is, sensible. It's moments like these that really stand out, when she's swayed by a sob story (even if she's not crying) or walking headfirst into danger.

Chapter 728

Her second expression of comic shock, even better than the first since she's participating in a group gag this time

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

#tree of knowledge #fujikos-gun

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hbyrde36 · 7 months

Text

Chapter 15!

Steve Harrington: Vampire Hunter

ao3 link

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12

Chapter 13 Chapter 14

Whoever was at Steve’s front door was persistent. They rang the bell over and over again as he rushed around, shoving his legs into a pair of sweatpants so he wouldn’t have to greet whoever it was in his underwear. He wasn’t expecting anyone this morning. Robin hadn’t texted and Wayne wasn’t due to pick him up for hours.

He padded barefoot to the door and was so annoyed by the constant buzzing that the second he reached it he threw it open wide. He couldn’t have been more surprised to find Jane, the scary young girl from Henry Creel's house standing on his doorstep.

“What, uh, can I, um, do for you, Jane?” Steve stuttered, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

She didn’t say a word in reply, just smiled and raised her hand palm-up in front of her face and made a little oh with her lips. Steve had a fraction of a second to notice the black powdery substance she was holding before she was suddenly blowing it right in his face.

Whatever that stuff was, whatever she had done to him, the effect was immediate. The world around Steve swam and he felt himself begin to fall. He waited for the pain to hit him but it never came, blackness overtook him before he ever hit the floor.

Steve came-to in a dark room with a dirt floor. It was cold enough to make him shiver and wish he had thought to throw on a t-shirt before answering his front door. In his defense he hadn’t expected to be abducted today. It smelled damp and musty and the word cellar came quickly to mind. He could feel that he wasn’t alone, that he was being watched, but he hadn’t turned his head yet to confirm who it was and so far had been careful to only open his eyes a crack. He kept his breath even as he took stock of himself.

He’d been knocked out plenty of times before, and in a few different ways, but the weird thing about this time was, he remembered everything and he felt…fine.

It was no different than waking up from a nap. Nothing hurt, and he wondered if he had ever even hit the ground or if Jane had floated him away once he passed out like she had done with the objects in Creel’s house. There was also no fuzziness to his thoughts like there usually was when he got hit too hard in the head. He had the hysterical thought that he wished more bad guys would use the stuff she had.

He finally opened his eyes and turned over. In the low light of a few candles he could see Jane sitting on top of a box no more than a few feet away.

No, not a box. A coffin.

Right, so it was still daylight outside. The question was, who was in the coffin? Henry didn’t seem to need to hide from the sun nor did Steve think a man like that would lower himself to rest in a place like this.

Only one way to find out.

Steve cleared his throat. “Who’s in the box?”

“Oh, so I see you’re done pretending to be asleep now.” Jane said.

Steve sat up, still a little amazed at how good he felt.

He decided to act dumb, though it was only partly an act because he really didn’t know what the hell was going on. “All this wasn’t necessary, I told Henry I would think about his offer and I meant it, but I haven’t decided yet. He promised me time, so what’s with the kidnapping routine?”

Jane grimaced at the mention of the ancient vampire’s name. “I am no longer on Henry’s side, although he does not know that yet. I don’t know if you’ve met my friend Angela.” She said, patting the box beneath her. “She’s promised to free me and my sister from him. We had a plan, but neither of us expected him to get his hands on a real live necromancer, so we had to improvise. When I met you yesterday at the house I knew I had to stop you from joining him.”

Okay. He didn’t really understand what she meant, or what made him so special, but he couldn't worry about that now. His top priority was to get the hell out of there before Angela woke. She was old and powerful and would likely rise before sunset. He didn’t know what time it was now, he didn’t know how long he’d been out of it, he just knew he needed to hurry.

He didn’t want to hurt Jane if he could avoid it. Maybe she could be reasoned with.

“I haven’t agreed to help him yet.” Steve repeated, glad that he was telling the truth and hoping the sincerity carried through in his voice. “What if I promise not to help him, will you let me go then?”

Jane sighed as if she suspected this conversation was coming, but wasn’t looking forward to it. “I’m sorry, but It’s more complicated than that now I'm afraid. We can’t have you helping your Master of the City either. Angela must kill him and rise to the position herself to have any hope of defeating Henry.”

Steve knew what was coming next. Jane would ask for his cooperation to put Angela in charge, which he was never going to do. He felt for Jane, in a way. If she really was doing all this to gain her and her sisters freedom, he could almost understand. Though, even the bad guys had families sometimes and he couldn’t afford to assume anything about this girl just because she loved her sister.

But, maybe he could try to convince her that Angela couldn’t be trusted.

“Jane, I know you don’t know me, and I don’t know much about your situation, but I have met Angela and I can assure she is not your friend. If Henry is bad, then she is worse. She…”

Jane cut him off. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. She is my friend! She promised!”

“Angela and her people have murdered innocents, Jane. Did you know that? Did she tell you what she did to them? Her and her friends attacked me and an older man, unprovoked. She almost killed us. And when we did manage to get the upper hand she was going to let us kill one of her friends. She didn’t care what happened to him.”

“You’re making that up. You're trying to trick me!” She shouted

"No honey, I swear I’m not. I also swear that if you let me go I will do everything in my power to help you and your sister. It’s part of my job, to help people who are in trouble with vampires. Please, just let me go before she wakes, we can both go. I’ll keep you safe.”

Jane threw her hands over her ears and screamed wordlessly, trying to drown out what he was saying. As she did, things began to explode all around them. Glass mason jars, tins of screws, and barrels full of liquid.

She hopped down off the coffin and stood glaring down at him with eyes simmering with fear and anger. “She warned me you would do this! She told me not to talk to you alone but you woke too early! She will be up soon and you will see. You will have to join us or die. There is no other choice. Anything else puts Kali at risk, so you better start preparing yourself for whatever fate you choose.”

Jane walked off to the other end of the space and sat down…on the bottom step. He hadn’t noticed it before but there were three short steps that led to a set of metal doors, only the barest hint of outdoor light visible around the edges. She had closed her eyes and seemed to be meditating.

Steve wracked his brain for what to do. He was pretty sure he could overpower the girl physically, but Jane was a witch and he didn’t know the limits of what she could do. He had his own power he could try to tap into, but if he did that she would probably sense it and he would lose any element of surprise.

There was one thing he could do. The one bit of magic he could do better than anyone else, it was as easy as breathing and required only the smallest amount of his power. He dug his fingers into the dirt floor and could sense the bodies that lay beneath it. He didn’t know if they were more of Angela's victims or if the house that stood above them had once belonged to a serial killer, but there were several sets of bones under this ground and one of them lay right under Jane’s feet.

He pushed his fingers further into the earth and called to the bones, releasing only the barest hint of his power. The zombie didn’t need to look good, it just needed to rise and do his bidding. In his mind he whispered to the dead man what he wanted him to do, along with an apology for using his earthly body this way.

The zombie was ready, itching to burst towards the surface but Steve held him fast, told him to wait, wait for just one more minute.

Steve got to his feet and slowly approached the girl, better to be as close to the doors as possible before he gave away his advantage.

Her eyes shot open at his movement. “What are you doing?” She asked, and she sounded appalled as if stunned he would move from his spot without permission. If she had really expected him to stay put maybe she should have tied him down. She wasn't very good at this. Maybe it was her first kidnapping.

“You looked upset, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He lied.

She tilted her head staring at him with furrowed brows.

A few more steps and he’d be right in front of her, it was time. He let go of the metaphorical leash he was holding and instantly a bony hand broke through the packed dirt and grabbed on hard and fast to her ankle.

Jane cried out and tried to wrench her leg from its grip. Steve dodged around her, praying that the door wasn’t somehow locked from the outside. It wasn’t, but there was a chain wrapped around the pull handles secured with a padlock. It was old and rusted, Steve yanked on it but the links didn’t break. He scanned the room sure there would be something around to help him break through, and he was right. There was a shovel with a metal head leaning against the wall only a few feet away.

He lunged for it as he listened to Jane continue to struggle with his zombie. It had now completely escaped its shallow grave and had its arms locked around her waist. She was screaming in terror. He wondered why she wasn’t using her powers. Maybe all she had was telekinesis or maybe wrestling with an animated dead body that was nothing more than bones and bits of flesh was just frightening enough to make her forget about everything else.

He hit the chain with the head of the shovel as hard as he could. Three or four good whacks and the links snapped. He started to unwind the remaining length of chain from the door when the lid to Angelas coffin popped open with a crash. He’d hoped she would go for Jane first, to help free her from the zombie but of course she didn’t. She went right for Steve. He tossed the chain aside and quickly snapped the shovel handle in half over his leg. He may not have shoes or a shirt, but now he had two wooden stakes. It was better than nothing.

Angela grabbed Steve by the throat and slammed him into the steps, hissing in his face. His back hit the edge of one of the wooden planks and it hurt like a motherfucker but he managed to hold on to his only weapons. He jammed one of the bits of wood into her side, digging it in as deep as he could. It wasn’t a killing blow, but that wasn’t the goal here. He just needed to distract her long enough to get the doors open. The daylight would do the rest.

She reared back, shrieking in pain and yelling at Jane to help her. Steve scrambled backwards up the final step and rammed his shoulder into the center of the double doors pushing them open and sending sunlight cascading into his end of the cellar.

Angela shrieked again and threw herself further back into the shadows of the opposite end of the cellar.

Steve struggled to his feet, back aching and more than one splinter in the bottom of his foot, but he did it and ran out into the backyard of a small house. Autumn leaves crunched under his feet and the sound echoed behind him. He looked back over his shoulder to find Jane standing a few feet outside of the cellar watching his escape. He expected her to at least run after him, or worse, but she just stood there and shouted to him.

“The black powder is deadly.” It was enough to slow him down, to give him pause. He turned to face her from twenty feet away. “There is no antidote, but I know a spell that will heal you. Otherwise, you’ll die within hours. Stay, agree to bond with Angela and I’ll save your life.”

Steve wasn’t buying it, he felt fine. She was just trying to scare him into turning back. He was bathed in sunlight, Angela couldn’t get to him, and Jane seemed reluctant to leave her.

He wouldn’t fall for it. He turned his back on her and ran.

Steve had been walking on the side of the road for only about ten minutes when a car pulled up beside him. He’d started out running, and kept it up until he could no longer see the abandoned house and he was sure that Jane wasn’t going to give chase, but his feet were getting torn up in the process and eventually he’d been forced to slow down.

“You look like you could use a ride.” A familiar female voice called out to him through the open car window.

He stooped down to peer at the driver and sure enough, it was Nancy. He wasn’t in any position to refuse the help so he got in the car, albeit a little reluctantly.

What was she doing out here?

Wherever here was.

She looked him up and down before pulling the car back onto the road. “Are you okay? Do you need a doctor?” She asked.

Apart from the pain in his back and his scratched up feet he was fine. Well that, and there was a tightness to his chest that was new, but that was probably from the running. “How did you know I was out here, Nance?”

“How do you know I wasn't just out for a drive and got lucky?”

He stared at her in silence, unblinking.

She glanced between him and the road a few times and let out a long breath.

“Fine. I saw the girl take you from your house. I followed you here. I swear I was going to come to the rescue, I just wanted to see what…”

“What the fuck Nance you followed me here? How did you see her take me, were you staking out my fucking house?”

“Yes! Alright? Yes, I've been watching you. I’m sorry. Look, I took the contract and I know you were hesitant to help me outright so I thought…”

“Stop!” Steve shouted. The whole thing was giving him a throbbing headache. “Just…stop talking and take me home.”

“Are you sure it’s safe for you to go home right now?”

She had a point.

He wasn’t sure why that hadn’t occurred to him yet. He felt tired and a little foggy. It was probably the fading adrenaline. Oh well, whatever he decided to do would be none of her business after the stunt she’d just pulled.

“Just drive.” He said, turning to look out the window. They made the rest of the long drive in complete silence.

He slammed the passenger door of Nancy’s rent-a-car and stood in his front yard watching until she had driven out of sight. He knew he should get inside and pack and bag. Call Robin or Wayne to pick him up. He could easily stay with one of them for a few days until he figured out what to do. He was so tired though. He stumbled his way over to his front porch steps and sat down. He’d just rest for a minute, catch his breath, then he’d go inside and take care of things.

Distantly he heard the door to the house open behind him, and felt footsteps as someone walked across the porch. He tensed, not sure he was up to fighting anyone else off right now

“Steve?”

It was Robin. Relief flooded through him and he wanted so badly to turn and look at her, but his body wouldn’t cooperate and his head felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. He tried to say her name but something caught in his throat and he began to cough uncontrollably. Something hot and sticky dribbled down his chin.

Robin came bounding around the side of him so she could see his face. She gasped and fell to her knees next to him. His vision blurred and he saw only red as she took his head in her hands. She was screaming his name and he wanted to respond to her, he really did but he was so tired. He couldn’t even sit up anymore. He slid sideways and landed in her lap. He closed his eyes and realized how quiet it had gotten. He couldn’t hear Robin anymore, just the rush of blood in his ears until he drifted away, and then that was gone too.

Steve woke up and had no idea where he was. It was becoming the theme of his life at this point and one he was desperate to stop. He was lying on his back in an unfamiliar king sized bed made up with black silk sheets and far too many pillows.

He stared at the ceiling and tried to think. What was the last thing he remembered? He wasn’t sure, but something about the ceiling and what he could see of the walls was familiar. He shook the feeling off and tried to concentrate. He remembered the doorbell ringing, and Jane standing on his doorstep. It all came rushing back, the cellar, Angela, Nancy, her dropping him off at home. Robin.

“Robin.” He tried to sit up, gasping her name.

Suddenly someone was at his side, supporting his back and stroking his hair.

“Hey, hey, hush. Take it easy, sweetheart. Robin’s just fine, she’s in the other room resting, it’s been a long night.”

Steve looked up and met Eddie’s deep brown eyes with his own. He looked nervous, scared even. He ran the vampire's words over again in his head. A long night? The last Steve knew was the middle of the day. What the hell happened?

He pushed away from the other man and tried to sit up on his own, happy to find that he could. In fact, the longer he was awake the better he felt, which he had a feeling should not have been the case.

Eddie scooted away from him too, widening the distance between them. Steve was pretty sure that was a first.

He cleared his throat and wrapped his arms around himself to keep them from shaking.

“Why am I here, Eddie?”

“Robin brought you to me.”

Steve didn’t like the way he said her name like it was common to his tongue, like he knew her. He’d managed to shield Robin from this part of his life for so long, and now here she was in the thick of it. She knew of Eddie of course but Steve had never intended for them to meet. It was enough that he let her around Dustin. He was safe, but Eddie…

“Don’t look at me like that, Steve.”

“Like what?”

“As if I'd hurt her.”

Steve ignored the pain in the vampire’s voice and asked the next logical question.

“Why would she bring me…” He trailed off looking again at the familiar fixtures on the walls. He had been here before, but the room had looked a lot different then. Billy’s coffin room. Now it looked more like a very large master bedroom. There was even a bathroom built into one corner of the room now. ”Here?”

Eddie hesitated, eyes guarded. “You were dying, Steve. Do you not remember?”

He did then, it was all coming back to him in snippets. Sitting down on the front step because he’d gotten tired, coughing and watching blood droplets splatter the white concrete, Robin looking horrified as he collapsed into her, red seeping into his eyes as he passed out.

“I remember.” He muttered. He'd been so sure he was a goner but it had all happened so fast he hadn’t even had time to be afraid. Fear gripped him now though as he realized what may have been done to save his life.

“Eddie. How is it that I'm sitting here, now, alive?”

The vampire heaved a great sigh. Steve felt a prickling of pain in his wrist. He looked down and found it wrapped in gauze. He already knew the answer but he needed Eddie to say it.

To admit to what he’d done.

Again.

“I think you already know.” Eddie admitted, weakly.

“Say it.”

“The third mark.”

Steve shook his head, he almost couldn’t believe it though the evidence was right in front of him. “You bit me. You fucking fed from me.”

“I had to.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“I saved your life.”

“You drank my blood while I was unconscious.”

“Yes. I did. And I'd do it again.”

Steve sucked in a breath ready to tear into Eddie for what he'd done, but then the door sprang open and Robin came tumbling into the room. She jumped right up onto the bed and threw her arms around him.

“Oh my god, Steve! You’re alright! I really thought this was it, that I'd never see you again!” He hugged her back and settled for glaring at Eddie over her shoulder for now.

Robin sobbed into his chest as she began to ramble. “I’m sorry Steve, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what had happened to you, and I was going to take you to the hospital but I thought, what if they got it wrong, what if it wasn’t a medical thing at all. I didn’t know what to do but I knew Eddie had saved you before so I thought… I'm sorry, Steve, I was just so scared and I didn't want to lose you.” She sniffled and her body shook as she ran out of words. Steve rocked them back and forth as he rubbed her back.

He wasn’t happy that she’d brought him here but he couldn't be mad at her when he was the one who almost died in her lap.

“It’s okay, Rob, it’s okay. I’m not mad at you.” He pulled back, smiling at her as he wiped the tears from her face. “Can you wait for me outside? I need to talk to Eddie alone. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

Robin glanced nervously from him, to the vampire, and back again, looking like she wanted to say something but ultimately held her tongue. She nodded and left in a hurry, though he was sure she wouldn’t go too far.

Steve rounded on Eddie the second the door closed. “I can’t blame her for bringing me here, I know she couldn't stand to see me like that and would do anything to save me, but you KNEW how I felt about this! You knew I would have refused if I could have and still, you did it anyway!” He was shouting at the top of his lungs by the end of his speech, chest heaving.

Eddie remained calm in the face of his anger. It was infuriating.

“Is it not possible, Steve, for you to believe that maybe I also couldn’t stand to see you like that? That I couldn't stand the thought of losing you either?” The vampire said softly.

“Fuck you.” Steve spat. “Don't try to turn this into something it’s not. You want me because of what I can do for you, the power I can give you. You never gave a shit about me, if you did you would have respected my wishes.”

“Let you die, you mean? Steve, please listen to me, I..”

“No! Shut up, I don't want to hear any more. Just tell me what this means, what new fun surprises I have to look forward to and then I'm leaving.”

Eddie laid back against the sheets staring up at the ceiling as he answered. “More of the same. We’ll be able to speak to each other seamlessly mind-to-mind now when we’re close if we choose, and we’ll be able to share minds and bodies as we did with the snake with a greater ease as well. You are very hard to kill now. No poison, venom, or illness can touch you. You’ll still age, but much slower. You’ll be able to keep me out much more easily too, if you wish.”

“Well thank god for small blessings.” Steve hopped off the bed and walked straight for the door without looking back. He felt great, better than he had in days, physically at least.

“Wait,” Eddie said as he zipped to his side and tried to grab his arm.

Steve side-stepped him easily, moving quicker than he ever had in his life as he felt Eddie's presence move towards him as if in slow motion.

He opened the door and only then turned around to face the vampire one last time.

“Stay the fuck away from me, Eddie. I mean it.”

The ride home in Robin’s car was tense. He wasn’t mad at her, exactly, but he was mad, and she knew it. He was stoic as he told her about Jane and Angela. He then also had to tell her about his meeting with Henry Creel because her first question had been, who the fuck is Jane?

She didn’t say anything throughout, just listened, and when she did finally speak it wan’t about anything he had just told her.

“Steve, I know you're mad at Eddie, and that you hate him for what he did, what he’s done, but I think you should give him a break.”

“Rob, don’t.” He said, a note of warning in his voice.

“I think he’s in love with you.”

“Bullshit!” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. She was his friend! She was supposed to be on his side!

"Steve, you didn’t see what I saw. The way he looked at you, how scared he was.”

“He drank my blood, Robin. That’s not my idea of love.”

“No, but maybe it is his.”

“I’m done talking about this. I hate him, I’ll never forgive him for this. I told him no, in no uncertain terms. He betrayed the small amount of trust that lived between us. I’m done.”

They pulled up to his house and Steve got out of the car quickly. Robin made like she would follow but he put his hand out to stop her, speaking through the open door.

“Listen, I said I wasn’t mad at you, and I meant that. I love you, but I need a little time to wallow, okay? I promise I won’t stay here. I'll call Wayne to come pick me up. I can stay with him for a few days at least. We have work later tonight anyway, and…”

“Work?! Steve, you can’t be serious! I’m sure your Dad is pissed you missed last night but-”

“This isn’t about him, Robin, not this time. I need something that’s mine, just mine. Something that is the same now as it was before Eddie.”

“Okay, I guess I can understand that. Be careful, and at least text me every few days so I know you're still alive.” She said.

He shook his head at her and smiled despite himself. He leaned back into the car and smacked a kiss on her forehead. “I will text you every day, every hour if it makes you feel better.”

She snorted. “You know, it actually would, but I won't hold you to that. I love you, Dingus”

“I love you too, Robs.”

Steve’s stomach was in knots.

He’d been so sure he was doing the right thing when he made the call, but now, sitting in the truck next to Wayne on their way to the office he was filled with dread. A sinking feeling deep in his gut.

He felt sick.

He felt guilty, and he was pissed off because it was bullshit. Eddie had betrayed him first, and the more he’d thought about it the angrier he’d become until finally, he’d decided.

He’d decided this was his best chance at getting his life back. At getting back to normal.

Henry could do it. He was more than strong enough to get rid of Eddie, and Angela, and then Steve could put this whole thing behind him. He worried for Dustin, but Owens and Henry both assured him that they would keep an eye on the kid and that none of the other vampires would be hurt, even those who might stand against them in Eddie’s defense.

Not that it would come to that, anyway. Steve had truly given Eddie up. He’d told them his daytime resting place and described the underground of the theater in stark detail, even going so far as to tell them about the route through the sewer though it was likely closed off now.

He’d told them about the new vampires, and how Eddie could now call werewolves to his aid. He told them anything and everything he could think of to make it as easy as possible, including the fact that he now bore Eddie’s third mark, unsure of how much new power that had granted the vampire.

Henry had expressed concern at the news. “Mr. Harrington, I would be remiss if I didn't tell you. With the third mark…you do realize you may die with him, don’t you? Are you sure you wish to go through with this?”

“I’m sure.” He’d said quickly. He was just grateful that this was all they wanted from him, for now. He'd given Eddie up, but that didn’t mean he wanted to watch.

Reluctantly, he’d also told them about Jane and her alliance with Angela, and hoped Henry would be merciful.

Wayne seemed to know he was struggling with something, and remained quiet as Steve’s thoughts continued to swirl.

Doubts were suddenly creeping in, and he wondered why something as powerful as the oldest living vampire had needed his help for this. Surely he could have taken Eddie from one of his businesses, they were public enough. Though, Henry had seemed to have a great respect for human life, so perhaps he was waiting until dawn to limit the number of innocent bystanders.

In addition to all the information Steve had shared, Henry also asked Steve to support him and his platform once he rose to power. He figured he was in it now, for better or for worse, and there was nothing he could do but agree.

Steve’s phone began to ring loudly, pulling him from his thoughts. It was a blocked number and he almost didn’t answer it but in the end his curiosity, and Wayne’s glare at the noisy piece of technology, won out.

“Hello?”

“Necromancer?”

“Jane? What…”

“I’m sorry to call you like this.” She interrupted, speaking quickly before he could ask what she wanted. “I’m sorry about everything, Steve. You have no reason to trust me but I need you to listen to me now. It seems we have both made terrible mistakes and put out faith in the wrong people. I’m calling to see if you would be willing to help me fix the mess we’ve made?”

Steve sucked in a harsh breath as his heart sank. “What do you mean?”

“I overheard Henry and Owens talking. I know you gave your master up to them, and that you told them what I did.”

“Jane, I…”

“It’s okay, Steve. It’s not the first time I've been caught...misbehaving. I’ve been punished and managed to convince Henry that I'm remorseful. There’s more.” She paused and took a deep breath before continuing. “Henry and Angela are working together. They always have been. I didn’t know. I swear I didn't know. I thought Angela was my friend. I don’t know what has happened between you and your Eddie to make you hate him so, but you have to warn him. We have to find a way to stop this or a lot of innocent people are going to die.”

“What do you mean, what’s going to happen?

“He’s going to sneak in tomorrow morning to kill Eddie and take control of the city, which you already know. What he didn’t tell you is that when the sun sets he’s going to force every vampire in the city to attack humans, with orders for maximum bloodshed.”

Oh God.

How could he have gotten it so wrong?

“Tomorrow?” Steve gulped. “But that’s Halloween. The streets will be full of families, kids.”

“I think that’s the point.” She said softly.

Fuck.

“What do we do? What can we do?”

“Warn Eddie, move him, try and come up with a plan. Do whatever you can and I will do the same from this end of things. Henry thinks I'm on his side again for now which may give us the upper hand.”

“What about your sister?” Steve asked.

“I can’t condemn so many others to death to save the life of one.”

“My offer still stands Jane, if we survive this, I will help you get your sister back if I can.”

“I’m sorry I didn't trust you before, Necromancer.”

Steve’s breath caught in his throat. He knew exactly how she felt. “It’s okay, it can be hard to know who to trust sometimes. If anyone can understand that, I do. How do I reach you once I'm with Eddie?”

“I’ll find you when I can. Good luck.” She hung up before he could say the same.

Steve threw the phone to the floor and slammed his fist into the dashboard with a curse, tears stinging the corners of his eyes.

“What is it, son?” Wayne asked, his own face pinched with worry.

Steve dropped his head into his hands. “I fucked up, Wayne. I fucked up so bad and now people are going to die and it’s all my fault.”

Chapter 16

Thank you @penny00dreadful 😘

#Steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #vampire eddie munson #vampire hunter steve harrington #ao3 #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #steddie fic #fanfic #steve harrington: vampire hunter

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