hi!! i really love your writing and i would love if you could feed me with a request (only if you're comfortable with it, ofc) 👉🏼👈🏼 what about a leon x reader where reader is passing through a very tough depressive crisis and is really not fine mentally speaking — and leon just try to help and comfort them through this? 👉🏼👈🏼
anyway, thank you for your fics, they really helped me these days 😭💗
Anchor
Pairing: Leon Kennedy x GNPartner!Reader
Summary: It is 1 am when Leon Kennedy knocks on your door. He shouldn't be there and you shouldn't have opened it.
Warning tags: hurt/comfort, angst, leon almost died, reader is suffering with anxiety due to past events, can be read as platonic or romantic (you choose)
Writer's Notes: hello! first of all, im sorry i took so long to write this request for you. i changed some stuff and i hope you don't mind (reader is still depressed). thank you so much your kind words and i hope this fic serves as comfort for you!! <333 stay safe anon!
for more painful leon's fics, check my masterlist. i have some happy ones too :)
It is 1 am when Leon Kennedy knocks on your door. It is the third time that week only, the fifth of the month.
It starts when you don’t appear at work after two weeks since his return, and no one knows where you are. HR informs you are sick, which means you are still alive somewhere in the world, just sick. Okay, but sick with what? Sick how? Are you in the hospital? Do you need any help? Leon knows you don’t have family around, like him, and you are pretty much alone - like him.
So, as any regular worried friend would, he calls and texts. He wants to hear your voice and guarantee that you don’t need help and have everything you need. That you truly are okay. No answer. HR has guaranteed him you are not dead, but what if you—no, he shouldn’t think about that.
The next step is going to your house. He knows where your address is and wouldn’t be a complete weird appearing there in the afternoon. No answer. Leon won’t be a creep as far as looking at your windows, at least not yet. He won’t go as far as busting your door and checking how you are feeling because he needs to confirm you are okay. You might just not be home.
On the second visit, Leon got awfully close to kicking your door. Before he could do that or even knock, he saw a shadow pass over the window. Though Leon told himself he wouldn’t, he looked inside just in time to see you disappear to the second floor. So, at least you are really alive, Leon’s body filling with relief. It could have been a bad case of flu, and you don’t want to contaminate anyone.
One more week passes, and he visits your house two more times. Those times you didn’t even bother to hide yourself, lazily lying down on the sofa in a way Leon couldn’t see your face (oh yeah, now he is definitely peeking out your windows). So you are genuinely ignoring him or truly sick with some contagious disease. Maybe Covid?
The fifth time he knocks on your door, it is 1 am and Leon is deeply not only worried but bitter. He was sitting in his apartment alone, wondering what you had and why you didn’t open the door for him. You two are colleagues, and Leon would dare to go as far as to call you his friend if anyone asked. How many times have you brought him soup while he was sick? Brought him meds, kept him company? Checked on him until he was finally all better?
It would be only fair if he did the same.
Leon grabs his keys without even thinking: You will open the door for him tonight. And if you don’t, well, he will kick it open. To hell with the civil approach.
-x-
All the courage slips away from his body when he notices the kitchen’s light on. Leon can’t see anything inside since you decided to make his life harder and close the curtains. So, instead of kicking that door until it’s down, Leon goes back to the gentle approach (like the idiot he is): he knocks.
The door opens not even ten seconds later, and Leon blinks, surprised. You are there. You, not a trick of his eyes: a fluffy and long blanket covering your body, only your face peeking with a familiar expression Leon recognizes immediately - he had seen in his own mirror before.
“You won. What the fuck do you want?” Those are the first words to him in weeks.
“May I come in?”
You ponder for a moment, your eyes red, and Leon wonders when you last slept. You walk away, leaving the door open, and Leon follows inside, locking the door behind him.
Your house isn’t in the best state. He had been here before and thought you weren’t the most organized person (“I can find myself in my own mess, Leon.”). The mess had grown too much from normal. There were tons of take-out boxes on the kitchen counter, pizza boxes, and fast food bags. At least you had been eating—not the best food ever, but feeding. He could work with that.
And the bottles—oh, those Leon would identify anywhere. You weren’t a heavy drinker, and you mentioned plenty of times you didn’t know how he liked whiskey. Now, there were countless empty bottles of whiskey, beer, and vodka, so much so that the place looked like a bunch of frat boys had a party just the night before and didn’t bother to clean.
Leon follows you to the living room as you fall onto the couch. An old Simpsons episode plays on the TV screen. There are still some bags and bottles on the floor, but fewer. Your eyes focus on the TV, not really watching or paying attention to him. Leon stands there, keeping a safe distance from you and gathering what to say.
“I came to check on you.” Leon starts, his eyes glued on you. “You haven’t called or texted me back. The HR said-”
“I am sick. I wanted to be left alone.”
“I know, but-”
“I could complain about this to HR, you know? It could be considered an invasion of privacy, and you could lose your job. “
“I was worried about you.”
“You saw me in the window that day, didn’t you? I’m alive and breathing. Now get out.”
You hide your face in the sofa, conversation clearly done on your side. It feels like an impossible battle to win. Leon then tries again, “Do you need anything?”
“No. Get out.”
He sighs, turning on his heels. Leon wants to say you can call if you need him, any time, but Leon knows you wouldn't. This is an impossible battle to win, Leon realizes as he starts to leave. But then he freezes, a memory piercing his thoughts. Leon comes back to the living room, your face still hidden.
“No.”
“What?”
“I am not leaving. Not before I know what is wrong.”
“I am sick.”
“Yes. So I have heard.”
You don’t turn to look at him, and that’s fine. If you want to be stubborn, so could he. Leon can wait. The episode on the TV finally ends, and as the familiar opening plays in the background, you slowly turn in his direction, one eye appearing first, then the other, as if expecting Leon would be gone by now. Unlucky for you, Leon S. Kennedy didn’t give up that easily, especially for his friends.
“I don’t know what you are feeling, but I know that face.” His voice manages to sound neutral.
Of course, he does. Of course, your partner, the legendary D.S.O veteran, would know. You, just a newbie, would have no idea what he went through, but Leon didn’t seem the kind of person to crumble for anything. Leon would probably be fine if you were the one to get shot, not him. He wouldn’t have panicked, he wouldn’t have started crying, screaming for someone to help them, losing themselves in a sea of despair and pain.
“Hey…”
Blood. So much blood in your hands. You are useless, you can’t help him as Leon’s face loses color-
“Hey.”
He deserved someone better—someone much better as a partner—not you, a weak agent who thought you were strong enough to stand by his side. Oh, how wrong you were.
Leon calls your name, more urgent this time, and your line of sight is filled with the face of the man you considered your friend right at your path—concerned blue eyes, his hair tickling against your face. His forehead is in concentration, the faint ghost of a beard, as he speaks soothingly. “Hey, look at me. You are safe. Deep breaths, come on.”
The visions mix as you blink: Leon losing blood in your arms, unconscious, back to being safe, his worried eyes staring at you.
Your rapid breathing noise fills the room, your heart wanting to burst as the pain spreads over your body, the pain worse than being stabbed or punched. You keep your eyes on Leon - he is fine, he is safe, he is well, he is worried sick about you- as he continues to nod and tell you to breathe.
It takes a while, Leon’s hands on your shoulder as you finally calm down, the tears rolling freely from your eyes.
“I am sorry.” You manage to whisper. “I am so sorry.”
“You are safe. We both are safe.” Leon declares, and you take that in. Right now, yes. But what about tomorrow? What about-? “Hey, eyes open at me.” When had you even closed them? “Come on. There is no one else, just you and me. And we are safe.”
You nod, not arguing back. Finally, you sit down, and Leon takes two steps back. “Water?”
“I think there are some in the fridge,” you reply, cleaning your tears. Leon leaves and quickly comes back with two bottles, unbottling them for you. You shake your head, but Leon insists, and you drink in small sips, the cold liquid refreshing your dry throat. When was the last time you had any water? Or took a shower? Or slept?
Finally, you give him space on the couch to sit. Leon doesn’t, and you point your head to your side, and he sits, keeping a safe distance from you. You two say nothing for a while, simply looking at the TV to watch Bart Simpsons on his shenanigans.
“I am sorry.”
“Would you stop that?” Leon sighs back, frustrated.
“No. I am sorry.”
“Fine. I forgive you. Are we good now?”
“No.”
“I knew it wouldn’t be,” Leon replies with a sad smile.
“You could have died, and I didn’t-” Leon says your name, but you continue “-let me finish. I didn’t help. I didn’t move. I did nothing.”
Leon didn’t want to talk about this, knowing it was inevitable. The day he took a bullet for you: not one, but two. Leon noticed before you, his reflexes quicker than yours. It was his responsibility anyway.
You only watched, shocked, as the bullet pierced his leg, then his chest. You didn’t move or flinch; you just froze, your hands closing and opening nervously as Leon fell right in front of you. You had been fortunate that the backup team had arrived on the other second, finding in the middle of the swarm of bullets a screaming you protecting Leon with his own body, all training thrown out of the window. You two should have been dead. Life had given you and him another chance, since no other vital organ or vein of Leon had been damaged.
You don’t remember much after except asking for your resignation that same day and getting a “No” as an answer. So you decided to get on sick leave until some higher-up got tired and fired you.
“I did nothing.” Leon tries to interrupt you again, but you continue, “You could have died, and I did nothing.”
“It wouldn’t be your fault.”
“What? Of course, it would!”
“No, it would not.”
“Can you fucking stop trying to make me feel better?” Your tone is so angry, so vile, that Leon almost flinches.
Death is always in the back of his mind. Every time he is out there, he could die. He is expandable; they all are, but he couldn���t just let you die. You a much smarter version of what he once was during Raccoon City. The same bravery, but not foolish as his. Much sharper. Leon knew why he got paired up with you in the first place, the irony not completely lost in him.
It would have been fine if Leon died that day he protected you, but not okay if you did. Not on his watch. Not now, not ever.
“I can’t help it,” Leon replies, a sad smile on his lips. “I can’t help it, especially when a friend needs my help.”
A friend?
Do not grow attachments. Wasn’t that your first lesson? It had been hard to be paired up with a man who hated it at first, then to learn how to laugh at his silly jokes or admire how far Leon would go for anyone. For anyone, except himself, stupid brave man.
You open your mouth and close it, simply lying against the sofa with your eyes closed.
“So, let me help you?” His voice is warm and inviting.
It would be best if you said no. You should kick this man out of your living room, out of your life, and never go back to that stupid job fighting an endless battle that would end with you dead or someone you cherished dead. You don’t know how Leon does it, but as you open your eyes, his blue eyes look straight at you awaits in hope. Waiting to comfort you, support you to the best of his abilities, and be your friend.
The pain is still there, vivid in your soul and mind, but there is hope. Right there, in that tiny spot you gave Leon S. Kennedy. That’s why you shouldn’t have opened that damn door, you realize, but it is too late. You limit on nodding.
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you are my sunshine !!!
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which she's their sunshine and it's sunshine's birthday.
or
for when you find the people you can call home. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚
social media au // lando norris x fem!reader
warnings - language
author's note - hello!!! i really hope u like this one!!! also, i have more than 20+ requests in my inbox at the moment so if you've requested something, it may take some time for me to post them, so sorry about that ://// thank u so much for reading, i love you <3
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yourusername the kind of radiance u only have at (23) 17
6,528 comments
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landonorris happiest birthday to my person, my love, my y/n. you're easily the most sunshine-y person i have ever met and i love you so much, even if you love lily more than me. i remember telling you about my favourite flower and the very next day, you showed up with a bouquet full of white roses and a cheesy card and that was when i knew that i wanted to spend all of my lifetimes with you. here's to growing old but never growing up. have the happiest day ahead, darling ❤️
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lilymhe to my soul sister, my best friend, my partner in crime, my 3am call since forever, happy happy happy birthday, my love. there's good in this world and i found a LOT of it in you, thank you so much for being my sunshine on days where everything got too hard. i love you so much, to the moon and to saturn. ( landonorris, suck on the caption)
tagged yourusername
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alex_albon happy birthday to the only person i'd want to sit beside me in prison. thank you so much for years of memories, laughing till we cried, going on stupid adventures together that got us yelled at by lily and here's to a lot more. i love you, i guess, even though you made my girlfriend love you more. have a good one, you stupid. time to start buying anti-wrinkle cream.
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username HELP OMG
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-> lilymhe still disappointed in all of you
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scream your heart out (m)
🔪pairing: fem!reader x seventeen (???)
🔪genre: horror, slasher, smut
🔪tags: DISCLAIMIER!!! MAY NOT SUIT MOST AUDIENCES, Graphic sexual and violent imagery color coded in pink, abrupt changes in text color, features/mentions members (Chan, Seungkwan, Wonwoo, Minghao, Seungcheol, Seokmin, Junhui, Soonyoung, Joshua), established relationships, scream au!seventeen, Hybristophilia, erotophonophilia, homicidophilia, graphic images, mention panic attacks, smoking, mentions disfigurement of faces, severed body parts, knives, guns, threatening phone calls, face masks (horror), knife wielding, blood, gore, death/murder, knife play, bloody handjobs, cum mixing with blood, consensual sex but nonconsensual murder, HONESTLY SOME REALLY FUCKED UP SHIT AND IM SORRY BUT YALL SHOULD BE READING THE WARNINGS, sexual innuendos, kitchen sex, daddy kink, unprotected sex, cream pies, cuck! (??) member, voyeurism, exhibitionism, breeding kink, PLS LET ME KNOW IF IM MISSING ANYTHING PLS
🔪word count: 6.8k
🔪summary: you and your friends get caught up in a classic horror slasher movie, only it's in real life. Now you're off to fend for yourselves in Seungcheol's million dollar home. The question is, did you keep them out, or did you just lock them in?
🔪author note: thank you @multi-kpop-fanfics and @wonwussy for beta reading for me <3. here's some of their notes “I’m scratching my face to not fucking scream” “WELL SHIT BRO WHAT THE FUCK” -Zeta “It definitely does capture that slasher essence” -SJ this was so fun yet mind numbing to write but this is way more extreme than anything I’ve ever written like I lost a lot of sanity writing this. FR one of the most fucked up things I’ve ever written. I hope it was worth it. ENJOY EVERYONE and even tho it came out late HAPPY HALLOWEEN
Ever since the murders over a week ago, everyone in town has been on edge. All including the individuals most closely involved.
You had lost three core members of your eight.
Joshua, someone you’ve known since grade school who was sliced open from the back before being stabbed 8 times to the point of excessive bleeding. He had just gone out to walk his dog, the poor creature being the only reason they found his body at all. If not for the dog’s bloody paws, and the trail of blood they left behind finding help, Joshua’s cadaver would’ve lost deep in the woods.
And then Chan, your long-time boyfriend, was stabbed fifteen times in the chest. His face was so disfigured from obvious violence and what looked to be burn scars, that he was practically unrecognizable if not for the fact he died in his own home. Police are still looking for his severed arms and legs to this day with no luck.
And finally, Seungkwan, who hadn’t died but lost to the paranoia festering in his blood like a disease. That caused him to take the train to the furthest destination possible to attempt to escape death if at all possible, leaving the rest of you with only the reassuring texts he left in his wake.
All that was left was you, Seokmin, Seungcheol, Minghao, and Wonwoo; the core five.
“Okay, absolutely no one is leaving this house for the time being. Until the psycho is caught behind bars, dead, or whatever the fuck! We’re safe here.”
Seungcheol, the eldest, did just as expected: contacted the rest of you into a personal prison. Luckily, he was loaded. The prison happened to be six thousand square feet of space with countless rooms, amenities, and a housekeeper to boot. From the looks of it, it’s paradise, but it’s definitely a prison.
“Holy shit, you have an indoor basketball court?”
A prison with an indoor basketball court. And a pool apparently.
Seokmin wasted no time to enjoy these features, breaking out of his clothes and cannonballing in his underwear. If you knew any better, Seokmin didn’t even look like he went through any trauma at all. It looked like every other day for him.
“There's a murderer and you’re doing butterfly strokes?” You asked, baffled.
The golden man scoffed, reaching the edge of the pool and resting against it with his forearms. “What am I gonna do? Wallow, crying to my mom, worrying about dying, and not taking advantage of this gorgeous mansion we’re staying in?”
“Thank you, Seokmin,” Seungcheol grinned.
Seokmin winked back at him, “Of course, daddy.”
“How are you both so unserious about all this?”
Wonwoo left a kind hand against your shoulder, looking back at you with warm eyes and a small smile. “They’re grieving. Just in their own way.”
You sighed, crossing your arms. “They’re being ridiculous. We shouldn’t be here. We need to be at the police station or something.”
“You were there when I got the call. The creepy voice said no police or you all die. Remember?”
You shuddered, hands over your sides to relieve your chilled skin. “Of course I do, but we’re sitting ducks here. This isn’t any better. We need protection.”
It was Seungcheol’s turn to scoff then. He strutted in front of you, flaunting his wing span before flexing his arms and then crossing them over his chest. “Well, you have me.”
“And me,” Seokmin joined. “Pure muscle right here.”
“Maybe pure laughing gas, not sure about muscle. We’re actually living in a horror movie right now and you’re all making jokes.”
“Hey,” Wonwoo stroked your head as his soothingly deep voice serenaded you, “Don’t say that. We’ll make it out of here.”
His arms come around you, forearms pressed against your collarbones, and his chin crooked over your shoulder. “You have me too. I would run through that knife before it could get to you.”
You genuinely smile for the first time being there, your hand stroking over his embrace. Wonwoo delicately kissed the temple of your forehead, reminding you what it was like to be constantly adored.
You were grateful for what he had become in your life. Wonwoo had kept you company in your time of need. In the absence of Chan. He had come to your house with whatever he thought you might need, lent you his shoulder that you could cry on, lent his ears so that he could listen, lent his body that you could heal. In more ways than one.
“You’re right. You are.” You turned to face him, wrapping your arms around his body and meeting his eyes framed in specs of hard plastic. “You’re the first person I can sacrifice if we face them head to head.”
He mused at you. “Ooh, now look who’s pulling jokes.”
“Who said I was joking?”
“You two are disgustingly cute,” Minghao commented coming through the back door. “Horror movie rules: they get killed while having sex.”
You punched the new face right in the arm, watching him scurry away to your other friends laughing.
“Not funny, Hao.”
Minghao sneers at you, a jester smile still on his face. “Ease up, princess. Wonwoo, watch your girl.”
“Only because she’s so pretty to look at,” he briefly grinned down at you before directing his attention to Minghao sternly, “but come on. We’re all a little psyched right now. Cool it with the murder talk. Alright?”
Wonwoo pulled you aside into the dining area, ignoring the careless laughter outside. His thumb stroked against your knuckles, lips pressing sweetly against your cheeks. His grin sunk deeper in his cheeks the further he made it past your jaw and then down your neck. He felt your throat vibrate against his lips. “Wonwoo…”
“I can’t have all these guys get you heated like this. That’s my job,” he teased with a rasp.
You slightly pushed him off, your arms swung over his shoulders. “You’re so ridiculous right now.”
“Anything to put that smile on your face.”
His lips reconnected with your neck, nipping at your skin. His humming sent tingles down your spine, and he took your body to press you against the side of the counter. Your hands grasped his baggy shirt, lip close to his ear, fanning your breath against his face. You smiled like a girl in love. Obsessed. “Daddy…”
“I love it when you call me that,” he mumbled, just as love-struck, if not more. Your giggles brought out the pink on Wonwoo’s ears and cheeks while tightening the groin of his pants. You noticed immediately, cupping it in your palm, and running your finger along the seam. Your eyes skimmed over his taken expression, leaning your full weight into him. “I know there’s something else you really love.”
“Do you now?”
You nodded, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. “But do you really want to do it here? Risk getting caught?”
He leaned into your touch, allowing your fingers to take apart his pants. “Try new things right? Like you always say. Plus you’re scared. Gonna turn that fear into pleasure. Make you feel good, just what my baby deserves.”
“You're so good to me, Daddy,” you moaned.
His hand finds the hem of your shorts, pulling them down to expose yourself to the cold air. He fingered through your panties and slid two digits through your folds. He felt your breath hitch as he squeezed your clit, eliciting your soft whines. “You’re so wet down there, baby.”
“Just waiting for daddy to fuck me where anyone can find us and watch.”
Wonwoo eagerly pulled down his pants, kicking them and yours aside, but not without pocketing your underwear. He lifted you up slightly from the ground, his exposed cock hitting at your hip. “Look what you do to me.”
Your throat went dry at the sight of him, hand aching to wrap your hand around his girth and have him shoved inside you.
He didn’t let you wait a second long, and pushed in slowly inch by inch, burying himself in your pussy until he was nearly balls deep. You grasped his shoulder in a gasp, savoring the fire burning in your stomach. The girth of his cock stretched your molten walls, allowing them to melt all around his cock as he spread your legs. You writhe in his embrace, your limbs closing around his lean and toned build, already blissful from the few seconds of him being inside you.
Wonwoo’s words kissed your lips, flushed your skin, and left a permanent smile on your face. It swelled pride in his chest, better than any physical trophy would have. His hips slowly rolled against yours, letting you adjust to his size. He massaged the flesh of your side through his fingers, mentally reassuring himself you were his and his alone, but his names on your lips became more than proof.
Your hips buckled towards him in heat, matching his pace before the carnal side of him decided to fuck you like an animal. His cock then plunged sharply inside you, and then again, a whimper coming out of your lips. Your hips stuttered the harder he pounded, arching your back, you felt his hand above your ass, pushing you against him.
“Daddy…”
He lost control when it came to you, addicted—religious—the second your body came in contact with his. He loved how your fingers ran through his hair, not caring how his glasses fell off his face in the process. With drool out of the corner of his lips, he could feel the blood rush up to the surface of your skin, making him feel warm at home inside you. Throbbing, he only got harder feeling how perfectly snug you were, pricking his clammy skin with goosebumps as he bottomed out.
“You’re sopping, precious,” he murmured with a sly grin.
He had you begging, flustered, and beautiful. Your hand clasped his face as your other arm looped around his neck, swallowing his lips, anxious and thirsty for his breath. You craved every part of him viscerally. “Cum in me, daddy. Please…”
He scoffed, lips ghosting over yours. “Will you take every bit of daddy’s cum, hmm? Hold my cum inside you.”
You nodded gingerly. “Yes, yes. I promise, daddy. Give it to me please, I want you to spill your cum inside me and make me yours…”
“Hold on to me.”
You obliged, met with the hot stream of his climax, yours quick to follow. He embraced your sides, devouring your lips and muffling your whines. His loads pumped into you in erratic thrusts, fucking his cum back into you and making sure you drained him of every ounce. His fingers dug into your flesh, feeling you just come apart for him, undoing the tension that festered earlier.
But that tension was needed. It was necessary to survive. Everyone let themselves forget the current predicament, basking in the glow of the sunset until dinner time arrived. Despite the housekeeper that supposedly exists, she hadn’t been around since all of you stepped foot in the house, like a ghost presence. Seungcheol scrambled to find her—reminding you of his peculiar obsession with the woman—as he wondered when dinner would be ready since a rise in temperature or a savory scent couldn’t be found in the kitchen.
“That’s strange. She’d be finished with a whole chicken by now,” the homeowner commented, noticeably picking his nails.
“Aww,” Seokmin groaned, “Well, is there anything else to eat?”
“I mean…you can look around.”
You narrowed your eyes at him in disbelief. “This is your house. You don’t know what you have in your own house?”
“You try navigating a five-story home with countless cabinets!”
“Buy a smaller house, you prick!”
“Guys!” Minghao chimed in. “Breathe in…and out. We’ll just find food. Seungcheol, your maid, your house, your search. She’s probably fine.”
Your hands slammed against those pristine marble counters. “We are NOT splitting up right now. This is what the killer wants. She’s probably already dead and we’re fucked.”
Wonwoo came to your side, laying a cool calm over your shoulder, and rubbed your sides. You let yourself melt in his touch, his sweet voice soothing you effectively.
Seokmin sat up from his stool, “Okay, okay. I will help Seungcheol and you guys stick together.”
“That’s still splitting up!”
“Better than alone.” Seungcheol rebutted. “You guys stay.”
Despite your protests, they went on their search. Your head banged against Wonwoo’s chest, muttering in anguish about how everything was going wrong and that it’d only get worse. Meanwhile, Minghao seemed to regain some of that tension but masked the fear with the bright light of his phone, scrolling through TikTok. You didn’t know what was more annoying, sensation of imminent death possibly behind any door, or the same five songs replaying on Minghao’s feed.
After 15 minutes when they were nowhere to be seen, your patience had run thin. You picked yourself up from Wonwoo’s lap and dusted yourself off. “Fuck this. We’re finding them.”
You felt his hand on your shoulder, a concerned glow in his gaze. “Babe, hey. They’ve got it. Trust them.”
“Wonwoo, you know I can’t do that. Let’s just find them, hmm? Together?”
“Not a bad idea,” Minghao agreed. “Better in groups right? We go together, eliminate us as any potential suspects.”
Your boyfriend sighed, collected your hand, and laced his fingers through yours. “Fine.”
You were all joined together by the hip, making sure you were each other's sights. Through the wider than wingspan hallways, past the ridiculously expensive sculptures, you kept your eyes out for your estranged friends. Silence couldn’t have been more loud in these cavernous spaces, only hearing the gut feelings in your stomachs that’s churned in trepidation. Every step taken was the group closing in on the killer.
Fortitude meant nothing if the danger was already inside.
Before turning around the corner, Minghao—reluctant to lead the group—crashed into a human-sized obstacle, causing the stumble of your entire party. You all faced a wide-eyed Seungcheol with the missing young housekeeper walking hand in hand with him. Suspicious, but besides the point.
“Holy shit, we said we’d come back!”
“It’s been 20 minutes, Cheol! You guys could’ve been dead for all we know.” You retorted.
“Wait, where’s Seokmin?” Wonwoo asked, noticing he didn’t see him nearby.
“He went ahead. He needed to piss or something and meet up later.”
“You idiot.” Your eyes burned a frustrated rage. “I said don't split up. DON’T SPLIT UP! That’s the number one rule of horror movies. You’re going get us fucking killed. He could be the murderer for all we know.”
Seungcheol scoffed, shaking his head. “Seokmin? No way. He’s the last person to even think to do that.”
“Well, do you see him? No! Probably he’s off someone being Ghostface reject with his stupid little voice modulator and cheap party city costume.”
“I told you—“ Before he could finish, his phone went off in the nick of time. When he pulled it out to saw Seokmin’s caller ID on display and the owner of the device wouldn’t help but smile. “See the bastard is even calling.”
He picked up and put him on speaker, eyeing you cheekily, amped to prove you wrong. “Seok, you little shit. How long does it take to piss, huh? Just say you wanted to take a dump.”
“Oh yeah, I took the shittiest, stinkiest, fattest dump. You could probably smell all the way from the other end of the hall.”
Instead of Seokmin on the other line, all of you were met with the eerie voice that had called you multiple times before. The voice that felt like spiders crawling up your legs. The voice that had you second guess whether you locked the front and the back door. The voice whose owner had killed countless people already.
Seungcheol held the phone in a vice grip swallowing, fear stilling in his unsteady eyes. “You—Where the fuck is Seokmin, you son of a bitch?”
The morphed voice on the other end laughed, sounding bone chilling as nails against a blackboard. “What’s to say? Why don’t we play a little game to find out?”
“Mother fu—“You grabbed the phone from Seungcheol to answer in his place, cutting the older man off. “Why go through with this?”
“Why, I just want to help you find your beloved friend. All out of the kindness of my heart.”
“If it was all kindness, you could tell us where he is.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
“Psycho,” Minghao muttered under his breath, eyes wide in shock and fear, as if registering the idea of death for the first time.
“And if we refuse?” Wonwoo interjected.
“Seokmin dies, rock for brains,” Seungcheol gritted.
“Ding, ding, ding. Or should I say, chop, chop, chop, since that’s what'll happen if you get any of my questions wrong.”
You scoffed, coming down the stairs with your friends to follow. “Have at it then, you freak.”
“Hey, hey, play nice. Maybe I’ll get too excited and decide to cut him up early.”
Seungcheol glared at you briefly before taking back the phone, storming down the stairs, and reaching the ground floor. “Ask away, as long as Seokmin is safe.”
“First an easy one. What’s your favorite scary movie, Seungcheol?”
His feet stopped at the end of the couch in his living room, stammering to answer. “What kind of fucking question—uh, The Ring?”
“Don’t lie to your friends, Seungcheol. You know that’s not the answer, that’s just what you say to anyone that asks. Say the real answer.”
“That’s the movie though!” he started to shout, visibly shaking.
“Just say it, Cheol!” Minghao pushed.
“Stop playing around Choi Seungcheol! Just say it,” You joined.
“Fine!” He faced the friends, evidently swallowing his pride as he choked up on his answer. “I never watched a goddamn scary movie! Is that what you want to hear? I get panic attacks every time I hear one in the background, why do you I’m always going off smoking when you guys put one on,” he confessed through his tears.
“Congratulations. Your first right answer. Now was that so hard? Pussy boy?”
“Fuck you,” Seungcheol sputtered, tossing the phone back to you.
“Next question. ‘The Texas Chainsaw Massacre,’ Leatherface is known for wearing a mask when it was in fact several. How many and what were they in the original movie?”
“Who the fuck would know an answer like that?” Minghao croaked in disbelief.
“Three. A ‘Killing Mask’, an ‘Old Lady Mask’ and a ‘Pretty Woman Mask.’” Wonwoo calmly answers, garnering horrified looks all around. “I wanted to be a filmmaker, remember?”
“Correct. Next question. What Was Freddy Krueger's serial killer nickname before he died?”
“It’s on the tip of my tongue,” you said slightly panicked, “Wonwoo?”
“The Springwood slasher.”
“Wow, Another amazingly correct answer. Hold on to that one, Y/n. He’s a keeper. He’s smart and fucks your brains out to the point of you screaming bloody murder? What a catch.”
You didn’t respond, impatience seething on the tip of your tongue, “Just tell us where this is all going.”
“Patience, sweetheart. Last question. What exact kind of knife does Ghostface use in the Stab movies? Here’s a hint: it’s the same one I’m holding in my hand against Seokmin’s throat. (Help me please...)”
“S-Seok.” Seungcheol gasped.
Seokmin’s voice could barely be heard on the other end, weak and afraid, only staggering breaths audible.
“Wonwoo, please,” Seungcheol begged, tears falling past his neck. “He’s our best friend.”
Wonwoo swallowed, gears visibly creaking in his head, “I know he uses a hunting knife, b-but—“
“Oh…” the voice cooed, “Well, that’s just not enough, is it? Seokminnie, say goodbye to your friends (Please, no…).”
“Seokmin!”
“Wait!” You barged, clutching the phone to the point of it almost bending. “A modified Buck 120. I remember now. It’s coming back to me. Now, let Seokmin go!”
The line went dead and in turn, light cast in the evening darkness of the poolside. All your eyes shot back at the change of light, startled at the sight in front of them. Seokmin was seated in a chair, bruises against his sides, bleeding from the splices on his forearms, and duct tape over his mouth. Yet the most frightening part was his closed eyes.
“Seokmin!”
You all rushed towards him, swinging the porch door in a panic. Seungcheol tried slapping him awake, pleading he’d be alive. “Seokmin please, please, wake up…
The poor victim's eyes start to flicker open, mumbling through the adhesive over his lips.
“Buddy,” Seungcheol ripped the duct tape clean off him, his ear coming up to his friend’s lips. “Speak to me…”
Seokmin’s voice came out in croaks, hardly incoherently, all except, “Be…hind…”
Minghao spat up blood, doubled over as Ghostface was revealed right behind him, and fell right into the pool. You and the housekeeper both let out a blood-curdling scream. The masked intruder wiped off the blood using his black rope, anticipating a lunge towards their next victim.
“Run,” Wonwoo breathed out.
He took your hand and ran with it. Taking a second to look back, you see Seungcheol and the housekeeper try to escape similarly before she was tugged right back towards the killer and she was stabbed right in front of him five times, each one faster than the last, having the poor Seungcheol paralyzed and fallen on his knees. The sounds of suffering were loud enough to hear throughout the neighborhood.
Wonwoo dragged you back upstairs, his survival instinct telling him to seek haven high and far up the house.
“You left them there to die,” You proclaimed.
“He said he could manage it. You’re more important.”
“You actually believe that? Ghostface snuck up on Minghao with neither of us looking!”
“We’re going to have to. Secungcheol can handle himself.”
Finally, he finds the room, closing the door behind him and pushing heavy furniture in front of it for more time to stall. “We’ll be ok for a little bit here. Let’s look for weapons.”
He started rummaging through drawers, looking for anything strap, blunt, heavy, anything worth using. He was red in the face, sweat drenching his entire body. The only thing running through his mind was keeping you, the most important person in his life, safe.
“Wonwoo, I don’t know if we’re going to find anything. Fuck. I’m so scared right now.”
He recognized the panic in your eyes, the bounce in your step, and the quiver in your voice. “Hey, hey, baby. Look at me.” He grasped your face in his hands, wiping your tears away with his thumb.
“I’m here, hmm.” He kissed your closed eyes. “You’re alright.”
Then your tempered cheeks. “We’ll get through this.”
The tip of your nose. “I love you like hell.”
Finally your trembling lips. “I’ll keep you alive.”
“Promise?” You managed to breathe out.
“Scouts honor.”
The banging resonated from outside the locked door, only getting louder and closer every passing second as if teasing you to death. You shook in Wonwoo’s embrace, burying your face in his chest. “I don’t want to die here, baby.”
“You won’t. Not with me.” One arm wrapped around your body, and another had his fingers locked around the base of a lamp, tugging it from the outlet. Pitch darkness joined you, only having to rely on the dim-lit sky through the peek of the windows.
Whomever on the other side cracked through the wood of the door, breaking it piece by piece as it fell to the ground, knocking over the dresser that blocked
“Shit, shit, shit.” Wonwoo pushed you behind him.
Finally, your barrier came down with a final kick, rendering it useless. Wonwoo let out a battle cry, charging at them with the lamp above his head. He swung his weapon while Ghostface swung theirs, both missing simultaneously. Gritting his teeth, Wonwoo pulled forward, aiming for the head.
They crash against the wall in the process, but not without mutilating the midsection of Wonwoo’s stomach. The visually impaired man fell back to the ground, groaning in agony as he clutched his stomach, while blood trickled through his fingers. “Mother fucker...”
Wonwoo’s vision started to fight against him with the loss of his glasses, dimming images before him, and slowly processing the murderous figure trodding before him. Wonwoo’s determination picked him right back up slowly, picking up his lamp once again, trying to take another move toward the perpetrator. And by pure luck, the lamp crashed against the crown of their head.
Ghostface stumbled back, quick to recover but visibly agitated. Soon enough, they plunged the full length of the knife right into Wonwoo’s gut, sticking it deep and long before kicking him off of it. Wonwoo lands on the hardwood, blood gushing out of him like a public water fountain. “Fuck, fuck!”
“Wonwoo!” You come by his side, clutching at his wound desperately. “No, no, no.”
The sinister figure approached once more, hand creeping against the edge before he pulled it over and off his head. His eyes stared back at you both maniacally. His grin stretched from both ends freakishly before overtaking in deep chuckles. “Happy to see me?”
“…C-Chan?” Wonwoo managed to gasp.
“Hi, bestie.” His signature smile, once warm and inviting, reflected horrifyingly as if out of a film, one with too much bloodshed and betrayal to imagine. “Well, didn’t think you’d see me again, huh?”
“Chan, what the fuck?” You screeched.
“You’re supposed to be dead.” Wonwoo voiced panic-stricken. “What, how?”
One foot over the other, Chan carried himself with conviction, ease, and the confidence of a man who slaughtered countless amounts of people.
“You guys don't know how easy it is to fake my death. I was surprised by how incredibly stupid police officers are. Find a body that’s my height, my build, cut off their hands and arms to not get their fingerprints, singe their skin and face to the point of unrecognition, and plant them in your own home. I’m a fucking genius.”
“S-Seungkwan,” Wonwoo wept, his adam’s apple, “You actually—”
“It was beautiful. Masterful.”
“Why?” Wonwoo stammered. “Your best friend—“
“He was an imbecile. Weak. All bark and no bite. You will never understand how good it felt to stick the knife inside him and watch the blood burst off of him like a sprinkler. Like the knife going in and out of him surged power throughout my entire body. So, I kept doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. AND DOING IT.”
His smile. That violating smile.
You sobbed, covering Wonwoo’s wound with your hands. “Y-you monster.”
“This was all just fun for you?” Wonwoo bared his teeth. “You get your kicks from lying, deceiving, stabbing your friends? You think you’re some Billy Loomis?”
“Of course I have fun. I had lots of fun. We had so much fucking fun.”
“We?” Wonwoo repeated.
“What the fuck do you mean we?” You asked horrified.
Chan started to chuckle to himself, chest heaving exuberantly before he stood completely still. Dreadfully still.
“Well, I'm not the one that killed Joshua, am I?”
A million guesses ran through Wonwoo’s brain. None made sense the more he thought about it. “Your Stu Macher? Seokmin…Seungcheol…?”
Your eyes turned to him fearful, before it melted into something else, something familiar. Something terrifying. “No…” your lips drew close to his ear. “Me…”
Your hands squeezed around his wound, gripping, earning his moans of anguish, screaming at you to stop, before you retrieved the knife hidden behind your boot and drove it into his shoulder. Wonwoo let out the loudest scream he could ever muster, feeling the blade sharply cut his nerve whilst pain shot into his chest. He tapped his heel incessantly on the ground, tears streaming from his eyes, looking at you in disbelief, overcome with hurt.
“And he was a good fuck too until the knife I put through his back made him scream like a little bitch.”
You pulled out the knife from him, seeing how the pain he felt in his body only complimented the suffering pooling in his heart, his mind, his soul. His lips quivered in your direction, sucking in his breath. “Y/n…Why?”
You simply shrugged. “Why does anyone kill these days? They’re bored, daddy. Same reason why things can change in the bedroom, to spice things up. The flavor of life is murder now, darling.”
“You’re killing people.”
You drove the knife one more time into his thigh, savoring his scream of agony. “And we’re more alive than we ever have been,” you said, twisting the knife before pulling it out.
You walked toward Chan, helping him pull off his robe. “And so is our sex life.”
“So, Junhui, Soonyoung…Joshua, and even Seungkwan.” Wonwoo asked, catching his breath.
“Every. single. one,” You chuckled. “Draining their cum out of like having a second puberty until life is literally drained out of their bodies. What a bunch of pussy boys. So obsessed with sex, they didn’t see the knife coming their way.”
Your hand reached for the ottoman and pushed Chan there to be seated, underdressed in the black tank top and black jeans he hid underneath with his momentarily abandoned bloody knife at his side. You unbuckled his pants single-handedly, your knife still in your other hand. “And Chan just gets so fucking hard with all the bloodshed. Like a bloodthirsty animal.”
“You just look so fucking sexy with blood on your hands,” Chan moaned, “Touch me how I like it, baby.”
“Mmh, my pleasure.” Your hand used the blood covering it as a morbid form of lube, closing around the girth of his cock to squeeze and lightly stroking it from base to tip, softly thumbing over the small slit on top.
His stomach flexed, bucking his hips in your direction as he bit down on his bottom lip, beaming like a child on Christmas. Horny for your touch, Chan couldn’t help but squirm in his seat, warning up to your touch. He was absolutely growing at a rapid pace. “Like that baby, like that.”
“That feel good, daddy? You like how the blood is covering your entire cock? Seokmin’s blood, Minghao’s blood, Seungcheol’s blood? Wonwoo’s blood?”
“Fuck. Yes.”
“You two,” Wonwoo’s shock couldn’t stagger from the scene in front of him, unable to process all this information at once.
“You’re massaging our friends into my cock so good, baby.”
“Yeah?” You traced your fingers over the details of his shaft, your nails prodding at the veins as your hand slowly picked up pace. You rolled him in your fist, letting him rut in your defiled hand as he moaned your name like an animal in heat. “I’m getting so wet watching fuck in my hand covered in blood. You’re just a sick lunatic obsessed with killing your friends and fucking my sweet pussy. I love that about you, Daddy.”
“Fuck,” he screamed, hands gripping the ottoman in restraint, brimming with passion, “Wanna mix Wonwoo’s cum you kept inside you with the blood. Sit that sweet pussy on my cock for me, lover.”
You nodded invitingly, not missing a beat. You never did replace the underwear from before, making it easy to remove your shorts and sliding him inside your warm walls, massaging his length as you rolled your hips against his. You held the knife you still had in a death grip, stabling against the reliability of Chan’s shoulders. You mumble his name pleased, arching your back as you grinded down on his lap. “Your cock feels so good covered in blood, daddy.”
“Your pussy feels even better knowing how much fun you had stabbing Wonwoo for me.”
“Of course, daddy.” You turned to the body mutilated and defenseless on the ground, grinning as Wonwoo was forced to watch. “That look good, Daddy Wonwoo?” Your ass bounced purposely in Chan’s lap, the jiggle showing off the splatter of blood left from the handjob.
Everything in Wonwoo told him to look away but he couldn’t, like a train wreck or a car crash, he couldn’t part with the mess of a situation he was witnessing. He wasn't sure what this meant for him, mentally nor physically.
“You like watching Chan fuck me, Daddy? His bloody dirty cock fucking me like you did a hour ago, fucking me like a nasty little whore.”
He hissed through his teeth, right the strange feeling surging in his pain-stricken body, “Shut…the fuck up.”
You laughed obnoxiously. “You love it. You love being a little cuck, watching other guys fuck my pussy. As if you hadn’t peeped on me and Chan fucking when he wasn’t ‘dead’.”
“It’s not true, you bitch.” The twitch in his trousers told him otherwise.
“You’re such a liar a dirty, dirty liar like I’m a dirty, dirty fucking whore.” You groaned loudly taking Chan’s cock, bouncing against his lap as you felt him pulse around your walls.
“That’s right baby take my cock.” Chan’s hand came over your bare cheeks, striking them with his full palms while his hips jerked up your body. “Taking the murder fueled, hard fucking cock.”
“Daddy, your cock is making me so fucking wet, stretching my pussy the way you sliced open our friends,” You growled.
“Fuck you’re such a little succubus, baby. Bouncing on my cock, coating yourself in blood. And I’ll kill more and more for you. I’ll do anything for you.”
“Yeah,” You began slowing your pace, drinking in his every word. “You’d do anything for me?”
“I’d kill the entire human population for you.”
That left you smiling from ear to ear, the tension coiling in your stomach. Your chest pressed against his, pushing against his thrusts. “Yeah? Would you cum in me, Daddy? Mix our dirty mess inside me. Let me take your cum, daddy.”
“I’ll let you drain me of every drop, my little psychopath.”
“Cum daddy cum, make me full and breed me with our homicidal baby daddy. Make you a real daddy.”
Chan shuddered, overwhelmed with immense arousal. His hips found life of their own, hammering into you at top speed, and watching the pleasure morph on your face and the staccato rhythm of your breath leave your lips, all while the load threatened to burst out of his sack. “I’m cumming, baby, all for you, ah—“ then it exploded inside you. His cum launched out of his cock like a hose, he painted your wall in milky white, turning pink as it seeped out of you.
“I’m so close, daddy…”
Chan threw his head back to catch his breath, hands possessively finding purchases on your hips. “That’s it, baby. cum for daddy.”
“I’m cuming daddy, I’m—“ You gripped your knife, taking Chan’s abandoned one before plunging both in his head. His smile dropped, a small and weak, “baby” leaving his sweet lips before spitting up blood on your chest and he fell limp.
You didn’t stop, however, given the fact that your orgasm had just arrived the mere second Chan tasted metal in his mouth. Your moans could’ve been mistaken for anguish if not for the smile on your savage face. “I’m cumming all over your cock, Daddy, fuck! You’re so good to me, you do so much for me. I love you so much. Hitting my spot even in death.”
The wave of climax finally started to fade, unlike your smile, wretched and demonic. “Thank you for your sacrifice, Daddy. I’ll miss you so much.” You kissed deceased Chan’s lips, coming down from him, and fixing his pants before fixing his pants before pulling your shorts back on your body.
“Y/n…what the fuck?”
Watching you pull the knives out of Chan’s head, Wonwoo's expression was a mix of confusion and horror, struggling to back away as you approached him calmly, almost serenely.
“Chan has served his purpose,” You answered plainly as if obvious. “It was his time.”
“You did that, all that, with him, and you MURDER HIM? Your partner in sick, sick psychotic crime?”
“I told you spice was necessary, plus I’ve grown rather fond of you.” You bent down to his level, eyes noticeably just a deep pit of disparity. “I couldn’t let him kill you, so I beat him to it. Good thing too, because that was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”
Wonwoo whimpered under your touch—well, the knife’s touch—as the tip of it dragged over his jaw, drawing out a shudder. “Y-you’re letting me live?”
Your smile. That damned smile. You and Chan were mere reflections of each other. How had he not seen this sick image sooner?
“As long as it's with me, because you love me right? That’s what you said. You’ll always love me and keep me alive. You promised.”
You pressed the blade against his neck, “You’re cold-blooded. Fucking your dead friend’s girlfriend, leaving your other friends to die to save me, and taking on a mass murderer just for me.” Your other hand caressed over his face. “That’s hard fucking core, baby. I love that so much. You really love and want me. Well, I want you just as bad.”
“Like you wanted Chan?”
You scoffed, using the knife to point at the abandoned soulless body on the ground. “Chan was disposable. He was already fucked up in the brain. I can nurture you, let you prove you’re that you’re mine and only mine. Then I’d have no reason to kill you. Not at all…say you’ll be with me forever.”
“…yes, sweetie. O-of course I will.”
You sighed a breath of relief, your harmless hand coming over to stroke over the stray hairs on his head. “That’s my daddy. My one and only. We can be the finals. Together. Only us—”
“Hello! Wonwoo! Y/n!” Miraculously, Seungcheol found their way to you, barely alive it sounds like.
Rage filled your eyes. “Holy fuck how is he still alive,” you mumbled under your breath. “I’ll take care of him.”
You held the knife to your side, standing by the door and away from its open view. “Cheol! In here! We caught the killer!”
Seungcheol managed to find the defaced door, peeking through the rubble to see a disheveled Wonwoo, panting and close to death. “Wonwoo!”
“Cheol…” Wonwoo grunted.
“Hang in there, buddy. I’ve got you.”
“To…your…right.”
You glared at Wonwoo, betrayal in your eyes before launching yourself at the hero, who hardly had a scratch on their body. Seungcheol, taking his friend's warning in consideration, built up a wall of defense. His eyes caught you just in time and held up your arms, pinning you against a wall. His eyes finally registered on your face, and his grip on you only tightened. “Y/n, you evil little bitch.”
You chuckled tauntingly, struggling against his weight and strength. “Hi, Cheol. I know you always wanted to stick something in me, mind letting me do it first?”
“You—wow, you’re actually mentally deranged.”
“You don’t like that? Maybe my knife through your skull can change your mind.”
He kicked you in the groin, having you plummet to your knees, cusses streaming out of you like a river. “You pussy. Ass. Bitch.”
“Seungcheol,” Wonwoo groaned, painfully cheering him on.
You managed to kick Seungcheol down in your distress, crawling on top of him to gain leverage. “I know you liked to be topped.”
You held the knife, hands wrapped tightly around the handle before striking. Meanwhile, Seungcheol’s hands were wrapped around your wrists, the tip of the knife tickling his nose. Sweat beaded against his forehead, struggling harder than he thought he would as you smiled still.
“This would be a lot sexier if you let me run my knife inside you, baby.”
“Fuck you and your demented punk ass,” he grunted.
“I would if you’d just FUCKING DIE!”
A gunshot follows soon after and the blood gushed from your neck, pouring from both ends and falling lifelessly against Seungcheol, who let out a shrill scream.
“I found a gun,” Seokmin proclaimed weakly from the door before fainting to the ground.
Seungcheol rolled your body off of him, sick to his stomach. “Sick crazy bitch.”
He looked towards his friend who remained helpless his entire journey before his eyes got caught on the dead body he only realized now. “Is that…”
“Yeah,” Wonwoo whispered.
“And they…”
“Yeah.”
“Fuck, dude.”
Seungcheol went around to pick up Seokmin from the ground, grabbing the gun. Meanwhile, Wonwoo’s eyes lingered over your body, in disbelief it was alive a mere second ago, then he saw something strange, causing his eyes to fly open. “Cheol behind you!”
Another gunshot. Right between your eyes and your body that stood for hardly a second longer than it should’ve—of course with the knife still in your hand—fell right back on the ground.
“They always come back,” Wonwoo quoted.
Seungcheol let out a deep exhale, loosening his grip around the gun. “And aim for the head.”
“Sorry about your house.”
“…sorry about your girlfriend.”
“Me too.”
post reading a/n: always like me to insert chan into anything fr. i have no excuses
Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @homerunhansol @goblinvern @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @smileysuh (felt fucked up not to tag you bc you’re fucked it just like me 💕)
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