Touch Me Not || Chūya × Fem!Reader

-11

Chūya held her with the most delicate of his own tendencies, but the idea of safety within his embraces never occured to her after allowing her ears to bear witness to the avid threats he had instated upon her deviant responses.

But at least there were the minimal instances of safety whenever he would go out for work on the mafia. Donned in the new nightgown he had bought for her on the day prior, (y/n) made umpteenth attempts to recapitulate the totality of her situation that had led her to being a captive of the executive. Although lacking the appropriate devices for an official investigation (initially, it wasn't even considered an official investigation), boasting the title detective beside her name would be rendered a fraud if she hadn't at least once in her lifetime made use of the basics of becoming one.

Anyway, polygraphs were practically useless when she was the investigator of a crime.

Standing in front of the entrance door, she watched in reluctance as Chūya slipped in his shoes and prepared for his work on the mafia. When he finished, he turned to her and brought her into a farewell kiss.

"I'll see you later," he said in quick intervals, "don't miss me too much."

Perhaps he should practice what he had preached, because he found it exceedingly impossible to let go of her as he began to kiss her jaw, down to her jugular and to her shoulder, where he slid the loose collar band of her hanging nightgown and nipped at the skin.

She quivered in response, eliciting his rather arrogant constitution. "C-Chūya... you'll be late."

"...you're right." In spite of his reply, his arms slid beside her waist and maintained her in a hug. "I love you."

Her frame became utterly stagnant at yet another proclamation of his love. He had said it countless of time throughout her confinement, but at this instance was he expecting a reply from her. What was she supposed to say to a man whom she had received undying affection from in exchange of her freedom?

With immense hesitation, she closed her eyes, bringing her own world in a make-pretend that this was a time before the occurrence inside the bar - when she had always been so fond of him, and had never been pulled down by the fear of his affiliation with the mafia.

"I-I love you," she whispered breathlessly.

The formation of his grin was felt on the flesh of her shoulder. He pulled away from her, giving her one last peck in the lips, before heading out of the apartment - locking the door as he did so.

For a moment, she stared at the surface of the door with eyes holding an inextricable disarray of emotions that she had nearly failed to separate from her determination to escape from his captivity and obligation to resolve her innocence in the case that was possibly linked to her abduction.

The longer she stared motionless on the door, the more she came to recognize all of its aspects, which included one that had her trained eyes evaluate in heavy suspicion: a small, dark, unruly spot close to the doorknob - a mixture of the hues burgundy and brown. She lifted her hand to run across its surface, and the substance crusted and fell in fragments akin to rusting metal.

Her heart halted for a fraction of a second as her brain managed to process what it actually was.

And not even a moment after, she found herself rushing farther inside of Chūya's penthouse and opening every cabinet - starting from inside his bathroom.

"Luminol, luminol..." Her hands shook profusely as they skimmed through the items within the drawer. There had to be luminol, she thought, basing her presumption from the fact that he was a mafia executive, and his job expectantly had something in relations with murder, therefore if he had to wash his bloodstained fabric thoroughly (his coat, for instance), he should at least have luminol in order to see the unseen spots of it.

"Yes!" She exclaimed, pulling out a medium-sized bottle of luminol, and smiling in victory once finding a blacklight thereafter. Through sheer luck, she had found out the technology of his penthouse's window wall and managed to bring down the covers as to prevent any unnecessary sunlight from coming in. All she needed was to hope that he hadn't cleaned the floor in depth yet.

She returned to the entrance door at length, figuring out where to spray first before eventually opting to do so on the doorknob. After which, she turned the blacklight on and faced it on the specific site.

A hand imprint of where the bloodstain had been.

The certain positioning and tiny yet crucial bits of blood splatter were what led her to the conclusion that there was an imprint on the knob because someone had closed the door with a bloodied glove - that someone whom she guessed was Chūya.

Next, she sprayed luminol on the floor a couple feet from the door; there she saw a footprint under the luminescence of the blacklight. She then continued to spritz a couple feet on the direction proceeding the footprints prior, remaining cautious on each consumption of the spray bottle so its decrease wouldn't become too prominent should he decide to use it the next time.

They appeared to have made a beeline to the living room, then taken a swift turn to the glass stairs, where she bothered not to add luminol since it only led one particular direction. Upon reaching upstairs did she resume spraying the chemical, which in due course led to a door to a room she had scarcely taken notice of before.

The remnants of the blood ceased just at the door's boundary, and with another hand imprint on the doorknob taken to account, it was obvious that he had entered the room in unsettling hurry. With deliberate effort, she raised her hand to the doorknob and gyrated it in anticipation.

Of course, it was locked. But that just meant that there was something he was hiding from her.