Deep Like Water (Yandere!BEN Drowned X GN!Reader)

Is This A Cutscene?

'God, this guy was pissed.' You gingerly hopped over the largest pool of blood you'd ever seen, gripping Frankie's hand to avoid accidentally slipping and falling into the wasted ichor that stained the cold kitchen tiles. 'Crime of passion? Or crime of being in the worst fucking mood ever?'

He shrugged. 'They were definitely in a bad mood.'

This particular murder was...gruesome. A kitchen knife to the head, a cake fork to the eye—it was something right out of a horror film. The poor lady's head had been hacked off and placed on the nearby worktop next to a cracked phone. At first, you had been overwhelmed by a sudden wave of nausea, but you swallowed it down, breathing in and out and pretending that the corpse in front of you wasn't actually a corpse, but a doll.

Frankie had tried to stop you from entering the crime scene, as had his superior. Once she had seen you hiding behind your guardian's back, the familiar scowl that she seemed to reserve just for you flitted across her face.

'(Y/N), don't you have anything better to do?' she questioned, arms folded. She was an intimidating woman: tall, waspish, and rowdy. She also towered over the majority of her coworkers—and you. 'Don't you go to school? It would certainly do you some good.'

Are you implying I'm dumb? 'Of course I go to school,' you said, a sickly sweet edge to your words. 'But I like helping Frankie. Consider it an unpaid, unofficial apprenticeship.'

'We aren't accept apprentices.'

You could feel a smug grin threatening to split your face open as you said, 'That's why it's unofficial, Sherry.' If you're going to be a bitch, then so am I.

A blood vessel in her eyes bulged in rage. 'If you mess with anything, and I mean anything, I'll do you for obstruction of justice.'

'Hey, hold on.' Frankie pushed you behind him, removing you from Sherry's line of sight. 'If it wasn't for (Y/N), we wouldn't have solved that robbery last year, and we don't even have enough people to properly investigate everything. Having them around is a godsend.'

'Franklin, you're implying that the rest of us are incompetent.'

Oh shit. It's the full name.

'No, I'm implying that maybe you should give us more freedom to do our jobs. Thank you, and good afternoon.' With that, Frankie had dragged you inside, giving you access to yet another crime scene.

The only important thing to you was the broken phone. You asked Frankie if pictures had been taken, and once he confirmed that they had, you scurried over to the device, tapping it. It (shockingly) lit up and revealed a picture of an unknown man that you immediately didn't like the look of.

'I don't trust this guy,' you announced.

'Why not?' Frankie peered over your shoulder. 'Looks fine to me.'

'He just seems creepy. I don't know how to explain it any better, but maybe you should find this guy and interview him.'

'You think he did it?'

'Nope. I just don't like the look of him. Who knows; he might have useful information.' Your heart sank in disappointment when you discovered that the deceased had a password on her phone. 'Rude. Do you think Face ID works on a severed head?'

'Try it. The face looks fine.'

As carefully as possible, you removed the phone from its case to keep the phone's position the same as it was when the lady died, and by doing that, you accidentally discovered the first lead: a handwritten note.