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The Ghost of New Burrows

F!Reader x Masked Yandere OC

Part 5~

His Info📂☕️

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

!!!MINORS DNI!!!

CW: FEM READER, Reader has a vagina, reader smokes and drinks, unprotected sex, p in v, rough sex, breath play, pet names (good girl, ), public sex (kinda. in a separate room), Creampie, exhibition for a sec,

Note from Cookie: I was listening to this for this part,

06:38, The Mesosphere, South Elegance District, New Burrows

“Detective,” His feathery breath against your lips, and his hand wrapped dangerously tight around your throat.

Good Gods how did you get here…

“Detective,” Fiorentino gets your attention.

05:04, Outside The Mesosphere, South Elegance District, New Burrows

Even in the daytime, even without the rain, New Burrows is shrouded in hazel grey darkness from the smog that blurs the horizon, and blots out the sun.

Crime and seduction doesn’t wait for the night to happen here. It doesn’t have to.

He offers his arm to you, His suit jacket exposing his loosely worn watch, a dare to all to just try and steal it, see what happens.

“And where were you just now, Detective?” A soft smile adorns his lips, an unusual sight to you, since you’ve only ever known this man as evil.

You take the offered arm, “I don’t even know to be honest.” You cant recall what you were thinking about. Probably absinthe, and your next cigarettes and one night stand. You chuckle.

“I was going to accept your answer, but now you must tell me,” He leans down to reach just above your eye level.

Your face warms, “Get away, hah,” you playfully push him, you are his date tonight, and he’s not exactly making you uncomfortable.

This whole thing is just…

Weird.

But,

Maybe you’re not too good for the Underworld…

“alright,” he relents, “by the way, The dress looks amazing on you. Thank you for obliging an old man like me,” He takes his turn laughing.

He bought you probably the most expensive article of clothing you’ve ever seen. Of course you’d wear it. You didn’t want to look out of place, but with this dress you might look too expensive for even this event. Whatever it is.

oh well, better to look more, than less.

“I’d of been a fool not to, and i don’t even know how you got my measurements correct, it must have been some work,” You tell him.

“I’m good at more than a few things, Detective.” His head remains high on his broad shoulders as he escorts you inside.

05:49, The Mesosphere, South Elegance District, New Burrows

You were light headed as soon as you stepped foot inside the establishment. Never have you breathed air so fresh, even with most of the patrons smoking something in here.

They can afford to cycle fresh oxygen in a place this large!?

And is that… The sky?! You’ve never seen a blue so pure… The floor to ceiling windows all around you display the real sky! the sun, the white fluffy clouds you read about as a girl, the whole shebang.

He walks you over to them, hand on the small of your back, it’s truly breathtaking.

You remained constantly flabbergasted as the servers practically roll out the red carpet for this man. Attending to his every need, no matter how ridiculous it sounds to you.

A feathered cushion for you, whole bottles of expensive (and real) wines, crystal ashtray, you name it this man just made this place a second home. or third… “How many do you have?” you ask absently before thinking to stop yourself.

“How many what?” His smile is playful.

“Homes… do you have?” You make a somewhat shy gesture, for some reason you feel nervous around him.

“I only have one, but i do have a few offices” He takes a long drag of a real cigar.

You think of how unfair this world is, and all the innocent people you can’t even protect, living in poverty. You almost blurt something about it out before the lights dim.

Some people with masks eerily similar to The Ghost’s enter the stage, wheeling out something large under a thick cover.

“What’s—”

“Auctions” He answers simply. Smoke spills from his nostrils, like he’s a large, greedy dragon. You take note of his red jeweled rings, set in gold bands. One silver with an emblem that looks like it could have been a wax seal. You don’t recognize the symbols, but you try to memorize it to sketch later, and research.

Your attention is drawn back to the stage when they start to remove the thick black velvet cloth.

In a dramatic motion a cage is revealed, and inside…

Your eyes widen, as your heart pounds.

“What’s going on!?” You whisper loudly to Giovanni, “Why is there a person in a cage!?”

“You’re the detective,” suddenly his smile is much colder now.

You sip your wine, and look away, nerves becoming too much to bare. Your cloth napkin falls over and you notice something’s written on it.

It’s facing away from Fiorentino thankfully, so you take the advantage of his next distracted moment to subtly read it without moving it around too much.

“green door at 6” it’s written in a script that looks classy enough to be anyone here. They’re left handed, or at least ambidextrous, judging by a small smudge in the fabric.

“I have to use the restroom…” It’s already 05:58 now, if you want to find that door you need to, now.

His huge, thick hand pulls you back down, landing you in his lap. “Do you now?”

“Yesss, sir,” You squirm and give your best pout trying to endear yourself and really sell it. “I reaally have to go!”

He relents, but, “The bathroom is that way, Degective. Don’t go wandering now.”

Damn.

“Thank you!” You try and sound relieved and think it works. He’s back to his cigars, and auctions.

Thankfully, you spot the green door, it’s right next to the bathrooms!

You look at your watch, 06:12.

He’s in a mask, but his mouth is exposed.

It’s him.

Your ghost.

You almost want to… Hug him?

“You were supposed to be here at 6” His lips move hypnotically.

You don’t know what comes over you in that moment, but you are undoubtedly drawn into him.

Your mouths almost collide, when you feel that familiar slender hand in your hair, yanking you back. He closes in around you with his body, bringing his mouth to your now exposed throat.

“Y/N, you think you can cheat on your date with me?” He tuts, grazing his teeth against your exposed skin.

“I… Can’t stop thinking about you…” You admit.

“What a good girl, admitting that to me,” His voice takes on a cutesy kinda lilt.

“Please…” Your body is burning, had you been expecting it to be him in here waiting for you?

You certainly hoped so.

You don’t even think about the human on stage right now, you can’t fathom it. Not right now.

In the city you tried so hard to protect… What horrendous things happen just behind the hideous guises of pretty faces and classy dresses. They’re animals.

You’re a star, he makes you burn like one, he orbits you like another. Right now the rest of the people outside are just the debris of planets, and moons, and asteroids revolving around you both.

Their gravity isn’t oppressive while you’re a binary star with him.

His hand wraps so tightly around your throat, that you see spots immediately, and your gasp is cut short before he loosens, and tightens again.

his mouth trails bites down your front, he’s moving the slit of your V neck dress off your shoulders and exposing you. Teeth graze your rib cage and you’re already drawing blood from your bottom lip. Eyes squeezed shut tight, as if you’re shy, and head turned to face away.

How does he make you feel like this?

You can’t even bring yourself to ask him any of the questions on your mind. Some detective you are, and right now you don’t even have a smidgen of remorse for it.

“Detective,” His feathery breath against your lips, and his hand wrapped dangerously tight around your throat. “I want you here with me right now.” He growls. “You’re always somewhere far away. Stay with me.” His hand tightens, and your mouth hangs agape for air you cannot get.

His lips take yours, tongue dancing with yours, making you so dizzy, you’d fall if he wasn’t holding you up with his knee between your legs.

Traveling down now, his fingers find the slit in your dress and tickle you on their way to your sex. They press down on you over your panties, rubbing hard between your already wet slit.

“You weren’t this wet last time,” He smiles into your kiss. Suddenly he picks you up and your dress is hiked around your waist, you’re on top of his erection and you grind down letting out pleasured moans, not even caring how loud you are.

The ghost chokes you again, this time as he bucks up into your core, a squeak is all that comes out of you, and he lets out an airy chuckle, at how cute that was.

“Last time…” You say, as he’s moving your panties out of the way and rubbing his thick head against you, prepping you for his entrance.

His breath chills your bones as he steals yours, staring into your eyes, his amber spheres through the mask hold you as if wrapping around you and squeezing like his hand on your throat, his eyes constrict something in you as well. You can’t help but keep staring back, as he slides up into you, and sighs into your open mouth, giving you the only air you can get. it tastes like him.

Dangerous, and intoxicating.

You wish this moment could last forever, have you ever felt this good? while the world around you crumbles, you’ve found something at least with this man.

He pulls out fast and thrusts up faster, you bounce onto him. He is leaning against the wall for more leverage as he fucks up into you with an increasing pace.

Before you know it you’re coming onto his cock, and he immediately slows down to an almost painful pace, picking you up and sliding you back down.

“How’s my good girl feelin’?”

“‘m not yours” You mumble as your head lols backwards, and sways to his rhythm.

He lets out an airy chuckle that has you clamping around him.

“If you stay this tight I won’t be able to move”

You clench just to spite him.

He smacks your hip hard.

In a split second he’s moving again, spearing you so deeply, you want to cry. His hot tip kisses your cervix with every upward thrust, and without even realizing it fully you’re coming again.

The way your spongey walls contract and pulse around him has him groaning into your ear now.

“‘Wanna stay inside you forever,”

“Then do…” You just say it, “please take me there… The Island” You gasp and moan but get the words out the same, and he slows down again this time seeming to contemplate.

“you mean it.” He seems to tell himself that.

His thrusts get jagged and swift, pelting your guts in just the way you always wanted, he has you screaming now.

“Gabriel.” He grunts.

“What?”

“My name. Say it.” his voice is a gruff snarl. Your brows peak with pleasure and your toes curl so hard you may cramp. “Say it.”

“Gabriel! Gabriel!! Gabriel!!! Fffuck!!!” You scream to the Mesosphere. The sunlight outside, not filtered through smog, the blue sky through the windows as you came in.

He comes loads into you, hot, thick ropes of his seamen paint your walls a beautiful new shade.

He’s still pummeling you, with splashes of your mixed juices hitting the floor, when that green door opens, and it’s your date standing in the way, napkin in hand, and eyes ablaze.

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howtofightwrite · 2 years

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Hi! My MCs are two teen siblings who live in a fictional town in New Jersey. I want them to be like amateur private investigators who get evidence and compile files and send them to the police or something? (Everything they do to get info about crimes would be legal even though they don't have a licence.)

That's not how this works. So, I'm going to point something out first, this is a fundamental defect for most of the Armchair Detective Mystery sub-genre. So, nearly every PI story, and the vast majority of mystery lit runs afoul of these issues. It also leads into the the humorous Murder She Wrote Serial Killer Theory, which, if you're unfamiliar, is a brilliant bit of shitposting.

Mucking around in a criminal investigation is (generally speaking) illegal. This may not, technically, be obstruction of justice, though, that's the most likely charge. In New Jersey, you're guilty of obstruction of justice if you “obstruct, impair, or pervert the administration of law... ...by means of any independently unlawful act.” In your specific example, that's the theft of evidence (probably, technically, “theft of movable property.”) It doesn't matter (as much) that they handed it over to the police after the fact, it's that they took it in the first place. Additionally, breaking and entering (formally identified as burglary under NJ law) is another, “unlawful act,” if your characters gain access to the crime scene via stealth. (Also, a conviction burglary is one of the crimes that will permanently bar someone from getting a PI license in New Jersey.)

The reason this matters is a little more complicated. It comes down to the chain of custody, so, I'm going to step back and explain the fundamental discrepancy between the mystery genre and reality.

In a mystery novel, the job of the investigator is to unravel the puzzle of events that lead to the original crime, and then use that information to identify the perpetrator.

In the real world, the job of a criminal investigator is to collect irrefutable proof of what happened (somewhat obviously this isn't always the case), and hand that over to the prosecutor. Fictional examples of this are the police procedural, which is a distinct genre from mysteries.

This is where that cliché tension you'll find a lot of police/detective thrillers kicks in. It really isn't enough to, “catch someone,” you need to have the evidence to prove the perpetrator was responsible, and that evidence needs to be admissible in court. (Meaning, it can be used.)

The chain of custody is a log of everyone who interacted with a piece of evidence from the time it was first discovered until the trial. This is very important for establishing that a piece of evidence was not tampered with. If the prosecutor is unable to prove that the evidence is in an unaltered state, then it's very possible the defense will be able to exclude it. At that point, if the evidence was critical to a thread of the investigation, that entire thread may be excluded. For instance, if a murder weapon is excluded, and that weapon lead to the search of the defendant's home, anything recovered in that search may be excluded as well.

Somewhat obviously, if a piece of evidence passes through the hands of an amateur teenage investigator, that's going to seriously undermine its credibility. “So you're telling me, that an entire investigation team couldn't find the murder weapon in the victim's apartment, but a couple highschoolers broke in and found it in five minutes?” This is also ignoring that it can be very easy for an amateur to accidentally destroy evidence. For example, when they found the murder weapon and picked it up, the exact position of the weapon was lost (which can be vitally important evidence), and it's very likely they will smudge or destroy prints on the weapon. Further, even if they hand it over to the police, any resulting search warrant, and evidence collected, would be vulnerable, because the piece of evidence that pointed the police in that direction would be in question. (Now, in reality, it wouldn't be quite this clear cut. And, there are concepts such as, “inevitable discovery,” that can potentially protect elements of the investigation.)

If you remember back to last week's post, I mentioned that the best way to frame yourself is to investigate the crime you're accused of, and ironically, this creates a similar situation. Your characters are breaking into crime scenes, and in the process leaving behind forensic evidence of their presences (something which is likely to be discovered.) In some cases, where they've been on the premises before, that may be excusable, but if it's someplace that they don't frequent, or if they accidentally alter the scene in a way that indicates they were there (such as getting blood spatter on their shoes), they can quickly become suspects. If they suddenly show up in the police station with the murder weapon, that would be pretty suspicious, and if they tried to be clever (such as by anonymously mailing the weapon to the police), that's going to cause the police to burn time and resources hunting them down. (Ironically, diverting police resources like this is a crime in its own right, though I'm not sure what the formal name is under New Jersey law.)

Ironically, simply the act of investigating a crime is a pretty good way to become a suspect, unless you have a good reason (such as being an insurance investigator, or a licensed PI hired by a lawyer after an indictment has been handed down), and even in those cases, they're going to be working with the police, and reviewing their work, rather than doing things like poking around crime scenes without supervision. (Worth knowing that a PI might actually poke around the crime scene in person, but, it wouldn't be via breaking in. Again, if convicted of burglary, it would permanently cost them their license.)

Also, worth noting that New Jersey uses the same license for both private detective agencies and security guard services, and the law is written from the perspective that a company may be doing both. Additionally, employees are licensed under their employer's license. In this specific case, if the investigator did something that would cost them their license, that would only apply to that employee, not their employer.

Another issue for the amateur investigator is, they (basically) never have access to a lot of the critical evidence. One of the most important pieces of evidence in a murder investigation is the corpse itself. Forensic evidence can establish critical information, such as time and method of death. However, your amateur investigator has neither the technical capability, nor the necessary access to the corpse to conduct an autopsy, and, as discussed above, wouldn't be able to provide credible evidence to the police (unless, of course, they were the coroner assigned to that dead body, in which case, they should have a pretty solid grasp of why you wouldn't want to get into an illegal investigation.)

So, is any of this a problem for a mystery novel? No, not really. Mysteries, as a genre, aren't particularly interested in the reality of criminal investigations. Crime thrillers tend to view these issues as minor annoyances. Well written procedurals tend to pay attention to these elements, and try to draw their drama from the intricacies of the system, while poorly researched procedurals tend to leak back over into using all the clichés from thrillers.

Mysteries are a formulaic genre. That's not a defect, but it is critically important to remember when you sit down to write one.

This leads back to that glorious shitpost. No, Murder She Wrote (1984-1996) was not about a serial killer who gaslights random people into in confessing that they murdered her victims. However, it is a hilariously credible explanation for how Jessica Fletcher (Angela Lansbury) proceeded to investigate over 250 murders in her spare time. However, this is a consistent issue with a lot of serial armchair detectives, where, over time, the intended premise becomes more absurd than the idea that they really are the common thread between the killings.

So, can your teenagers investigate crimes in New Jersey without breaking the law? No. But, if you're wanting to write mysteries investigated by a pair of New Jersey teens, that doesn't really matter. Reality is something that is only tangentially relevant to the genre.

-Starke

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#Starke answers #writing advice #writing reference #writing tips #how to fight write #Jessica Fletcher #private investigator #writing mysteries

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