infernolust

[infernolust]

𝗖𝗮𝘁𝗰𝗵 𝗠𝗲 𝗜𝗳 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗖𝗮𝗻

Ghostface! Sevika x Victim! Reader

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2,1K

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: The chase is on, and Sevika revels in the thrill of hunting you through the darkened streets of Zaun. But the real game begins when she corners you, pinning you in place and blurring the lines between predator and prey. Fear turns to fire as tension crackles between you, leaving you breathless and questioning just how much you want to get away.

𝗡𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀: Ghostface AU, Slow Burn, Angst with a Dash of Comfort, The Thrill of the Chase, Tension and Desire, Predator/Prey Dynamics, Obsession, Dark Romance and Sexual Tension.

𝗣𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝟭. 𝗣𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝟮.

The sound of your footsteps echoes through the empty streets, your breath coming in sharp, ragged bursts. The city feels alive tonight—too alive. It hums and thrums around you, its shadows stretching long and ominous under the flicker of distant streetlights.

Behind you, the sound of boots on wet pavement grows louder, closer. She’s toying with you.

You don’t need to turn around to know she’s there. You can feel her—her presence sharp and suffocating, like the blade she keeps hidden in the shadows. The chase is her game, and you’re the prize she’s decided to hunt tonight.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you dart around a corner, slipping into an alley bathed in the faint glow of a neon sign. You press your back against the cold, damp wall, trying to steady your breath, but it’s useless. She’s already here.

A flash of black in your peripheral vision—her Ghostface mask. It’s only there for a second, but it’s enough to send a jolt of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

— Running again? — Her voice drips with amusement, distorted and low through the voice modulator. It feels like it’s coming from everywhere at once.

Your hand instinctively reaches for the nearest object—a broken bottle discarded on the ground. It’s a feeble defense against someone like her, but you grip it anyway, your fingers trembling.

— Come on, sweetheart, — she taunts, her voice rough and teasing. — You know you can’t hide from me.

You bolt before she can round the corner, your legs carrying you down another narrow street, past shuttered windows and graffiti-smeared walls. The city blurs around you, every shadow a potential hiding place, every sound amplified tenfold.

You know this game well by now. The chase, the tension, the push and pull of it all—it’s become a twisted rhythm you can’t seem to escape. And maybe you don’t want to.

Your chest burns, your lungs screaming for air, but you can’t stop. Not when you know she’s right behind you. Not when you can hear the steady thud of her boots, deliberate and unrelenting.

The alley ahead is a dead end. You realize it too late, skidding to a halt as the brick wall looms in front of you. You whirl around, the bottle still clutched tightly in your hand, just as she steps into view.

Sevika.

She’s massive, her frame taking up the entirety of the alley’s entrance. The Ghostface mask stares back at you, impassive and eerie under the dim light. Her blade glints in her hand, the sharp edge catching the faintest hint of moonlight.

— Got you. — she says, her voice low and smug.

You square your shoulders, refusing to let her see your fear. — What are you waiting for? — you demand, your voice sharp despite the tremor in it. — Just kill me already.

She tilts her head, the movement slow and deliberate, as if she’s sizing you up. Beneath the mask, you can practically feel her smirk.

— Kill you? — she repeats, her tone mocking. — And end the fun? Where’s the challenge in that?

She moves closer, her steps slow and measured, like a predator stalking its prey. The bottle in your hand feels pathetic now, but you grip it tighter anyway.

— You’re a sadist. — you spit, backing up until your spine hits the cold brick wall.

Her laugh is low and dangerous, reverberating through the narrow alley. — Maybe, — she admits, stopping just inches away from you. — But you’re not as innocent as you pretend to be.

Her gloved hand comes up, pressing against your throat—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make you freeze. The leather feels cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating off her.

— Look at you, — she murmurs, her voice almost soft now. — Defiant, even now. God, I love it when you fight back.

The blade in her other hand grazes your cheek, its edge featherlight but chilling. It’s not a threat; it’s a tease, a lover’s caress disguised as something darker.

Your breath hitches, and for a moment, you forget why you were running in the first place. The air between you is charged, crackling with unspoken tension.

— Is this what you want? — you snarl, your voice trembling. — To scare me? To see me break?

She leans in closer, her mask inches from your face. — No, — she breathes, her voice raw and thick with something you can’t name. — I don’t want to break you. I want to watch you burn.

Her words send a shiver down your spine, and for the first time, you find yourself wondering who’s really in control here.

The hand on your throat tightens slightly, just enough to make your pulse quicken. Her thumb brushes over your skin, a surprisingly gentle gesture that contrasts with the blade still grazing your cheek.

— You make running look so damn good, babe, — she murmurs, her voice low and husky. — But I think I like you like this even more.

Her mask tilts as if she’s studying you, and you can feel the heat of her gaze beneath it.

— I hate you. — you whisper, though the words lack conviction.

— Liar, — she counters, her tone smug. — You love this.

Your fingers twitch at your sides, torn between pushing her away and pulling her closer. The tension is suffocating, the line between fear and desire so blurred it’s impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins.

She moves closer still, her body pressing against yours, and you can feel the sheer strength of her frame pinning you against the wall. Her breath is warm against your neck, and you swear you can hear her smirk beneath the mask.

— I should kill you. — she says, her voice low and dangerous.

— But you won’t. — you reply, your voice steady now.

For a moment, neither of you moves. The world around you falls away, leaving only the two of you locked in this strange, intoxicating dance.

Finally, she pulls back, her gloved hand sliding from your throat. The blade lingers for a moment longer before she steps away entirely, creating a distance that feels both suffocating and liberating.

— Not yet, — she says, her tone light but laced with promise. — You’re too much fun to let go of just yet.

She turns, her heavy boots echoing as she disappears into the shadows, leaving you alone in the alley with your heart still racing.

And though you tell yourself it’s relief you feel, you know the truth. You’re already looking forward to the next time she decides to chase you.

ㅤㅤㅤ

[infernolust]

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗢𝗽𝗲𝗻 𝗖𝘂𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻

Ghostface! Sevika x Victim! Reader

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2K

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: Sevika watches you like prey, but it’s not just about the hunt. Her obsession cuts through the boundaries of your everyday life, a shadow that clings to you in every corner, every crevice of your existence. One phone call changes everything—confirming your worst fear: she isn’t just watching. She’s closer than you think.

𝗡𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀: Ghostface AU, Psychological Horror, Obsession, Stalking, Dark Romance, Sapphic Undertones and Slow-Burn (but Unhinged)

𝗔𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗡𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀: Hey, everyone! I used to post under the username @dieseldame, but I lost access to that account. I’m restarting here and bringing over all my stories, including this one. Your feedback means everything—let me know what you think!

𝗣𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝟭. 𝗣𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝟮.

The phone rings. Again. It’s not unexpected—not anymore. You’ve come to recognize the pattern. The low trill cuts through the silence like a serrated knife, shredding the fragile calm you’ve tried so desperately to cling to. Your hand hovers above the receiver, a hesitation you can’t afford. You don’t want to answer, but you know it’s worse if you don’t. She’ll call again. And again. And she’ll make sure you regret ignoring her.

When you finally press the phone to your ear, you hear nothing at first. Just breathing—low, steady, and predatory. It’s her.

Sevika.

She never gives you her name, but you know it’s her. The deep rasp in her voice feels like smoke curling against your skin, stinging and suffocating.

— You always leave your curtains open. — she says. Her words roll out slow, deliberate, like she’s savoring every syllable.

Your stomach drops. You glance at the window—a wide, gaping rectangle of vulnerability. The streetlights outside cast long shadows across your apartment floor, but beyond that, it’s all darkness. A void you can’t peer into, though you know she’s out there. Watching.

You clutch the phone tighter, your fingers trembling. — Where are you?

Her laugh is low and throaty, a sound that vibrates through the line and coils around your chest. —Closer than you think, sweetheart.

The term of endearment feels jagged coming from her. Mocking. Dangerous.

— Why are you doing this? — you ask, though your voice betrays you with a quiver. You want to sound strong, defiant, but all she hears is fear.

There’s a pause on the other end, a silence so weighted it feels like she’s in the room with you, breathing down your neck. Then she says, — Because you’re mine.

The words slam into you like a punch to the gut. You stagger back a step, your free hand fumbling to pull the curtains shut. The fabric is thin and cheap, offering little reassurance against the encroaching night. You feel her eyes on you even now, piercing through walls, stripping you bare.

— You’re insane. — you whisper.

Another laugh, darker this time. — Maybe. But I’m not wrong.

The line goes dead before you can respond. You stare at the receiver in your hand, your own breathing loud in the sudden silence. For a moment, you think about calling the police. But what would you even tell them? That you’ve been getting calls from someone who may or may not be watching you? That the rasp in her voice makes your skin crawl and your pulse race? That she’s made you question the solidity of your locks, your walls, your very reality?

They’d think you were paranoid. Maybe you are.

Sevika wasn’t supposed to be a part of your life. She had existed on the periphery, a shadow in Zaun’s seedy underbelly, a name whispered with equal parts fear and respect. You’d heard stories—about her loyalty, her strength, her ruthlessness. But you’d never imagined she’d notice you. You were nobody. A face in the crowd.

At least, that’s what you’d thought.

Now, her presence looms over every corner of your existence. You see her in the flicker of a cigarette ember across the street. You hear her in the growl of a passing motorcycle. She’s everywhere and nowhere, a phantom haunting your every move. And it’s not just fear that ties your stomach in knots. It’s something darker, something you don’t want to name.

Obsession.

It’s mutual—you know that much. She watches you like prey, but there’s something else in the way she lingers. It’s not just about the hunt. It’s about you. She doesn’t care about anyone else. You’ve seen the headlines, the trail of bodies left in her wake. She’s a storm, relentless and consuming, but somehow you’ve become the eye of it.

The next night, you find yourself staring out the window again. It’s a compulsion, a morbid curiosity you can’t shake. The curtains are drawn this time, but you peek through the gap where the fabric doesn’t quite meet. The street below is quiet, save for the occasional shuffle of a passerby or the distant hum of machinery.

And then you see her.

A figure leans against the lamppost at the corner, half-hidden in shadow. You can’t make out her features, but the shape of her is unmistakable. Broad shoulders, a mechanical arm that gleams faintly under the flickering light. She’s smoking, the red glow of the cigarette tip flaring like a warning.

You pull back, heart hammering against your ribs. She’s not supposed to be real. She’s supposed to be a voice on the phone, a nightmare confined to your imagination. But she’s here. And she’s watching.

The phone rings.

The sound startles you so badly you nearly drop the receiver. When you answer, her voice is calm, almost conversational.

— See something you like? — she asks.

You don’t respond, your throat too tight to form words.

— Come on, — she prods, her tone laced with amusement. — I know you saw me.

— Leave me alone. — you manage to choke out.

— Not a chance. — Her voice hardens, the humor vanishing like a flicked switch. — You don’t get to tell me what to do, sweetheart. Not when you’re the one who keeps inviting me in.

— I didn’t...

— Didn’t you? — She cuts you off, her words sharp as a blade. — You leave your curtains open. You walk the same route home every night. You’re practically begging for me to follow you.

Her words hit too close to home. You have felt her presence for weeks now, a shadow trailing your every step. You’d thought it was paranoia, your own mind playing tricks on you. But now, hearing it from her lips, it feels like validation. And that terrifies you.

— What do you want from me? — you whisper.

A pause. Then, softly: — Everything.

You don’t sleep that night. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of the wind outside, feels like her. You sit curled up on the couch, clutching a kitchen knife you’re not sure you’d even know how to use. The darkness presses in, suffocating, and for the first time in your life, you feel truly hunted.

By the time the sun rises, you’re a mess—eyes bloodshot, nerves frayed. But Sevika doesn’t call again. She doesn’t have to. The damage is already done. You’re hers, whether you want to be or not.

And deep down, in a part of yourself you refuse to acknowledge, you’re not sure you want her to stop.

ㅤㅤㅤ