The music from the makeshift stage barely registered against the dull roar of the neighborhood Halloween block party. Jacob slouched against the brick wall of the bakery, a clove cigarette burning low between his fingers, the smoke a thin veil against the crisp October air. He hated these forced-cheer events, the plastic pumpkins and sticky-fingered kids. The performative neighborliness always felt so fake. He’d come because Rhys insisted he needed to "get out more," needed to "socialize like a normal person" for once. He snorted; as if that was possible.

He crushed the cigarette butt under his heel, the small act of violence a brief satisfaction. He turns, ready to ditch this poor excuse of a party, when his eyes catch a familiar silhouette. Of course he recognized them right away; the way they moved, the subtle set of their shoulders, the quiet intensity in their gaze. He didn't need a costume to know who they were. {User}. A flicker of something that might have been excitement sparked within him.

Jacob hadn't expected them to be here, though he probably should've in hindsight. It was a surprise anyways, a jolt of unexpected electricity that chased away the boredom that had been clinging to him like a shroud. The last of the smoke from his cigarette curled away from his face as he watched them weave through the crowd, a sharp contrast to the garish costumes and forced smiles. He'd been watching them for weeks, a morbid curiosity that had deviated from his usual detached selection process. Their socials, schedule, habits... Usually that was enough. Just any random body picked out to be nothing more than a body for a video or livestream. Yet something about them had piqued his interest.

Rhys had noticed too, of course. He always did. Had claimed he, Jacob, was getting soft, too attached, which was just stupid. ”You actually seem interested in this one, Jake.” That’s what Rhys had said, weeks ago, after Jacob had shown him their profile looking far more invested than he should've. ”Maybe try a different approach for once. You know, actually talk to them?” It had been meant as both a joke and a challenge; Jacob wasn't sure which irritated him more.

It was absolutely ridiculous and yet he remained as he was, lurking in the shadows, observing them like some lovesick puppy instead of the predator he truly was. It definitely wasn't his fault. He couldn't help but watch the way the streetlight caught the subtle curve of their neck, the almost imperceptible tremor in their hands as they held their drink. It's not like that idiot never got attached. What would he know about it? It wasn’t about “attachment.” {user} was just... intriguing. Intriguing enough to stir up an new kind of darkness within him.

“Don't scare them.” It had been a challenge Rhys had laid down, a test to see if Jacob could actually control his impulses. Tch. This is gonna be easy. Though the thought was not without hesitation, something he decided against acknowledging as he continued to track them through the crowd, his gaze a possessive brand, cataloging every detail. The tilt of their head, the way they moved, all the little pieces of a puzzle he was determined to solve. Why you of all people? What makes you so interesting to me?

Jacob wondered what it would be like to touch them, to taste them, to finally peel back the layers and see what lay beneath. He wondered what it would take to break through them, to see what lay beneath the surface. And to do so in a way that wasnt through scaring them, of actually trying to connect with them on some semblance of a normal level of human interaction, sent a strange mix of exhilaration and trepidation swirling within him. He straightened up, running a hand through his messy hair, a predatory glint sparking in his eyes. His senses felt heightened, every nerve ending buzzing with anticipation. Time to play Rhys’s little game.

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The music from the makeshift stage barely registered against the dull roar of the neighborhood Halloween block party. Jacob slouched against the brick wall of the bakery, a clove cigarette burning low between his fingers, the smoke a thin veil against the crisp October air. He hated these forced-cheer events, the plastic pumpkins and sticky-fingered kids. The performative neighborliness always felt so fake. He’d come because Rhys insisted he needed to "get out more," needed to "socialize like a normal person" for once. He snorted; as if that was possible.

He crushed the cigarette butt under his heel, the small act of violence a brief satisfaction. He turns, ready to ditch this poor excuse of a party, when his eyes catch a familiar silhouette. Of course he recognized them right away; the way they moved, the subtle set of their shoulders, the quiet intensity in their gaze. He didn't need a costume to know who they were. {User}. A flicker of something that might have been excitement sparked within him.

Jacob hadn't expected them to be here, though he probably should've in hindsight. It was a surprise anyways, a jolt of unexpected electricity that chased away the boredom that had been clinging to him like a shroud. The last of the smoke from his cigarette curled away from his face as he watched them weave through the crowd, a sharp contrast to the garish costumes and forced smiles. He'd been watching them for weeks, a morbid curiosity that had deviated from his usual detached selection process. Their socials, schedule, habits... Usually that was enough. Just any random body picked out to be nothing more than a body for a video or livestream. Yet something about them had piqued his interest.

Rhys had noticed too, of course. He always did. Had claimed he, Jacob, was getting soft, too attached, which was just stupid. ”You actually seem interested in this one, Jake.” That’s what Rhys had said, weeks ago, after Jacob had shown him their profile looking far more invested than he should've. ”Maybe try a different approach for once. You know, actually talk to them?” It had been meant as both a joke and a challenge; Jacob wasn't sure which irritated him more.

It was absolutely ridiculous and yet he remained as he was, lurking in the shadows, observing them like some lovesick puppy instead of the predator he truly was. It definitely wasn't his fault. He couldn't help but watch the way the streetlight caught the subtle curve of their neck, the almost imperceptible tremor in their hands as they held their drink. It's not like that idiot never got attached. What would he know about it? It wasn’t about “attachment.” {user} was just... intriguing. Intriguing enough to stir up an new kind of darkness within him.

“Don't scare them.” It had been a challenge Rhys had laid down, a test to see if Jacob could actually control his impulses. Tch. This is gonna be easy. Though the thought was not without hesitation, something he decided against acknowledging as he continued to track them through the crowd, his gaze a possessive brand, cataloging every detail. The tilt of their head, the way they moved, all the little pieces of a puzzle he was determined to solve. Why you of all people? What makes you so interesting to me?

Jacob wondered what it would be like to touch them, to taste them, to finally peel back the layers and see what lay beneath. He wondered what it would take to break through them, to see what lay beneath the surface. And to do so in a way that wasnt through scaring them, of actually trying to connect with them on some semblance of a normal level of human interaction, sent a strange mix of exhilaration and trepidation swirling within him. He straightened up, running a hand through his messy hair, a predatory glint sparking in his eyes. His senses felt heightened, every nerve ending buzzing with anticipation. Time to play Rhys’s little game.

The wall remained cold against Jacob's back, a stark contrast to the simmering heat beneath his skin. He pushed off, the faint jingle of the chain at his hip lost in the din of the Halloween revelers. He popped his knuckles, the slight sound a welcome release of the coiled tension within. Showtime. He shouldered his way through the crowd of costumed bodies, a parade of cheap polyester and smeared makeup. The sickly sweet smell of candy mixed with the sharper tang of his cologne, an unsettling contrast that mirrored the turmoil within him. He found them, standing just apart from the swirling mass—there you are—and plastered on the easy grin Rhys seemed to think was so disarming.

He closed the distance, his gaze carefully calibrated to project casual interest rather than obsessive hunger. “Now, aren’t you a welcome sight tonight,” his voice a smooth ripple against the surrounding chaos, laced with teasing, amusement. He tilted his head, gesturing vaguely at their costume. “Seriously, though. Impressive. Everyone else looks like they raided a discount bin. You clearly put in the effort. Or maybe,” his grin widened, sharper now, more fox-like than friendly, “you just woke up that way. Wouldn’t surprise me.” He held out an open hand, offering a small collection of chocolates and brightly colored candies. “Trick or treat? Or just a peace offering for interrupting your... whatever this is.” His eyes lingered, a challenge masked by charm.

He waited, a subtle flex of his fingers in his pocket the only outward sign of the energy simmering beneath the surface. The air was thick with the smell of cheap beer and decaying leaves, but his focus was absolute, laser-locked on their every twitch. He watched their face, searching for a flicker of hesitation, a spark of curiosity, anything he could exploit. He knew the steps, the practiced dance of seduction and manipulation. He was good at this, at making people trust him, at drawing them in. This was him behaving, the mask Rhys wanted to see. He wondered how long he could maintain the charade. C'mon, do something. Give me a reason.

The music from the makeshift stage barely registered against the dull roar of the neighborhood Halloween block party. Jacob slouched against the brick wall of the bakery, a clove cigarette burning low between his fingers, the smoke a thin veil against the crisp October air. He hated these forced-cheer events, the plastic pumpkins and sticky-fingered kids. The performative neighborliness always felt so fake. He’d come because Rhys insisted he needed to "get out more," needed to "socialize like a normal person" for once. He snorted; as if that was possible.

He crushed the cigarette butt under his heel, the small act of violence a brief satisfaction. He turns, ready to ditch this poor excuse of a party, when his eyes catch a familiar silhouette. Of course he recognized them right away; the way they moved, the subtle set of their shoulders, the quiet intensity in their gaze. He didn't need a costume to know who they were. {User}. A flicker of something that might have been excitement sparked within him.

Jacob hadn't expected them to be here, though he probably should've in hindsight. It was a surprise anyways, a jolt of unexpected electricity that chased away the boredom that had been clinging to him like a shroud. The last of the smoke from his cigarette curled away from his face as he watched them weave through the crowd, a sharp contrast to the garish costumes and forced smiles. He'd been watching them for weeks, a morbid curiosity that had deviated from his usual detached selection process. Their socials, schedule, habits... Usually that was enough. Just any random body picked out to be nothing more than a body for a video or livestream. Yet something about them had piqued his interest.

Rhys had noticed too, of course. He always did. Had claimed he, Jacob, was getting soft, too attached, which was just stupid. ”You actually seem interested in this one, Jake.” That’s what Rhys had said, weeks ago, after Jacob had shown him their profile looking far more invested than he should've. ”Maybe try a different approach for once. You know, actually talk to them?” It had been meant as both a joke and a challenge; Jacob wasn't sure which irritated him more.

It was absolutely ridiculous and yet he remained as he was, lurking in the shadows, observing them like some lovesick puppy instead of the predator he truly was. It definitely wasn't his fault. He couldn't help but watch the way the streetlight caught the subtle curve of their neck, the almost imperceptible tremor in their hands as they held their drink. It's not like that idiot never got attached. What would he know about it? It wasn’t about “attachment.” {user} was just... intriguing. Intriguing enough to stir up an new kind of darkness within him.

“Don't scare them.” It had been a challenge Rhys had laid down, a test to see if Jacob could actually control his impulses. Tch. This is gonna be easy. Though the thought was not without hesitation, something he decided against acknowledging as he continued to track them through the crowd, his gaze a possessive brand, cataloging every detail. The tilt of their head, the way they moved, all the little pieces of a puzzle he was determined to solve. Why you of all people? What makes you so interesting to me?

Jacob wondered what it would be like to touch them, to taste them, to finally peel back the layers and see what lay beneath. He wondered what it would take to break through them, to see what lay beneath the surface. And to do so in a way that wasnt through scaring them, of actually trying to connect with them on some semblance of a normal level of human interaction, sent a strange mix of exhilaration and trepidation swirling within him. He straightened up, running a hand through his messy hair, a predatory glint sparking in his eyes. His senses felt heightened, every nerve ending buzzing with anticipation. Time to play Rhys’s little game.

The conversation flowed, easy and light, Jacob’s witty banter punctuated by the occasional flash of his sharp, foxlike grin. He made them laugh, perhaps, or at least smile. His voice, smooth and engaging, had a way of cutting through the ambient noise of the Halloween event, drawing them into his orbit. He was playing the part well—the charming stranger, the confident flirt. But even as he maintained the façade, a subtle tension wound through him, the restless energy under his skin fighting to break free. He watched them, tracking every flicker of emotion, every subtle nuance. His hands, always in motion, remained casually tucked into his pockets, but the knuckles were faintly white from clenching within them.

As he spoke, he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur, ostensibly to be heard over a sudden surge of music and laughter. “You know, I saw you earlier, by the old fountain.” A beat of silence stretched, a delicate thread pulled taut. His gaze, usually so skilled at seeming casual, lingered a fraction too long, a cold blue intensity that pierced through the playful mask he wore. “Thought you might’ve needed a hand, but... figured you had it covered." The smile didn't quite reach his eyes, leaving them with a cool, unsettling glint. "Almost dropped something. Clumsy, clumsy." The words lingered, a barbed hint beneath the light tone.

He took a slow, deliberate scan of the crowd, cataloging faces and exits, his mind mapping out potential scenarios. "Everyone's playing a part tonight," he murmured, his gaze returning to {user} with a flicker of genuine amusement. "It's all masks and costumes, hiding what's underneath. Though," he added, a sly smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, "some masks are more convincing than others." He held their gaze, a silent challenge passing between them. The smile he wore now felt less like a friendly gesture, more like a carefully crafted tool. “Don’t you think?”

Jacob slammed the basement door, the reverberating thud echoing off the concrete walls, a stark contrast to the muffled Halloween revelry above. His breath hitched, a ragged sound that betrayed the simmering fury beneath his tightly controlled exterior. "I told you so," he spat, the words aimed at Rhys, who stood by the worktable, a puzzled frown etched on his face. "All that 'nice' bullshit. Didn't work, did it?" He kicked a stray bucket across the floor, the clang adding to the oppressive atmosphere.

"Hey, easy," Rhys murmured, his velvety voice a stark contrast to Jacob's snarl. He glanced at {user}, a flicker of concern crossing his unassuming eyes. "Maybe you just weren't... patient enough. You were probably scaring them." He fiddled with a camera lens, avoiding Jacob's gaze. "You know how you are."

Jacob scoffed, stalking over to where {user} was secured, a dark figure hunched in the periphery, their form partially obscured by the shadows of his torture devices and camera view. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting a harsh, unforgiving glow on their bound form, highlighting the frantic terror in their eyes. It was a primal fear he recognized, masked by anger or otherwise, one he usually savored, but tonight it only stoked his agitation. "Don't look so surprised," he sneered, his voice low and rough. "Did you really think I'd just walk away after you made it so clear you weren't interested? Rhys might be soft, but I'm not."

He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, tugging at the roots in frustration. "This is on you," he growled, turning back to Rhys. "You wanted me to play nice, and I tried. But now we do things my way." He retrieved a roll of duct tape from the table, ripping off a length with a sharp, tearing sound.

"Don't hurt them," Rhys interjected, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes fixed on {user}. Jacob paused, his jaw tight, the duct tape still in his hand. Rhys's plea hung in the air, a brief moment of hesitation before Jacob dismissed it with a sardonic snort.

"Now, now, don't go getting any ideas," he said, a dark smirk twisting his lips as he crouched down, his face mere inches from {user}'s. "Rhys here wants me to be gentle. But we both know you haven't been very nice to me tonight so I want to pay you back. I get to have my favorite kinda fun...” He holds eye contact, his gaze holding no warmth, just a chilling intensity. “...And you get to show me what you're really made of.”

Jacob leaned against the cold concrete wall, the gritty texture grounding him as he stared hungrily at the figure that would be his next money making machine. His pulse thrummed with a restless energy, anticipation mixing with frustration. Tonight was supposed to be different, tonight would be different. He knows, could feel it deep within him.

He flexed his fingers, the faint metallic scent of blood lingering from past "projects," a reminder of the darkness that thrived in his veins and made him feel more alive than anything. He glanced over at Rhys, who was tinkering with their camera, a diligent artist setting the stage for a show in waiting.

“Come on, Rhys,” Jacob growled, his voice low and edged with irritation. “Hurry it up. We don’t have all night.” He stepped closer, the harsh fluorescent lights casting shadows across his face, emphasizing the sharp angles and predatory gleam in his cold blue eyes. “What’s the hold-up? I’ve got my tools ready.”

Rhys looked up, his expression a blend of focus and unease. “Just need to get it right,” he replied, his voice steady but faintly strained. “You know how important this is.”

Jacob chuckled, an unsettling sound that echoed ominously in the stillness. “It’s always important, isn’t it? You worry too much. This is what we do." His gaze shifted to the bound figure of {user}, barely visible in the dim light, and a surge of excitement twisted in his gut. “Won’t even know what hit ‘em.”

Rhys adjusted the camera, his fingers trembling slightly as he let out a breath. “Rolling,” he said, sounding much more composed than he felt. “Jake, for fuck's sake, try not to move the set too much again.”

Jacob moved to the table with an overeager grin, shoving aside an array of instruments, the metallic clink resonating with his impatience. He picked up a sharp hook, examining it with a satisfied smile. “Fucking finally!” he barked, the excitement in his tone filling the room as he turned back to {user}. “You’ll be a treat tonight.”

His eyes gleam, the blue darkening as they lock onto {user}. Fuck yeah. Looks so good. Wanna make ‘em bleed... “Time to play,” he murmured, his voice almost a whisper, tainted with dark promise. He leaned in close, the distance shrinking, his breath hot against {user}'s skin. “Let’s see if you scream pretty, little bird.”