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

Why Couldn't It Be Mini-Golf?

You wandered through the abandoned house, gazing around in awe. It wasn't an impressive house; it was only a two up two down terrace. What made it special to you was the dead body found in the office.

Using your spectacular persuasion skills, you coaxed the officer in charge of watching over the crime scene to let you do your own little investigation. It helped that that particular officer was a close friend of yours, so it was easy to persuade him.

The victim was a woman in her early thirties who had been strangled to death with a cable. The problem was that there weren't any cables in the house that matched the marks left on her neck. Plus, every window and door with a lock was locked, making it impossible for someone to get in.

With plastic coverings on your feet and gloves on your hands, you went into the woman's office. It was practically bare, with only the woman's desk, her desktop and a lamp present. The wallpaper was old, stained and peeling off in the corners, and there was a bright blue nail varnish stain on the worn and threadbare carpet. Barely any light snuck past the grime that covered the window panes, and you hoped that none of the officers were asthmatic.

Your fingers twitched as you got closer to the desktop. It was still on, but the screen was glitched out so badly you couldn't make out what was running.

The keyboard caught your attention. The majority of the keys looked like someone had stepped on them, and there was smudges on the desk.

'Hey, Frankie,' you called. 'Come here, my dear, supportive guardian!'

Frankie entered the room, and you didn't need to look at him to know he was frowning. He was always frowning—well, maybe 'always' was an overstatement, but it was accurate—and you had begun to worry that you were starting to frown like him.

'You better be wearing gloves,' was the first thing he said as soon as his foot made contact with the office floor.

'I am, now shush and let me tell you what I've found.' You beckoned him over, still staring at the keyboard. 'Did you notice this? It's been stood on, as though someone crawled out of the computer. And the windows are locked, meaning the killer was already in the house.'

Frankie pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling deeply. '(Y/N), I know what you're going to say, and no, it was not a paranormal being. It was a human.'

'It's too clever for a human,' you argued, standing up straight and turning to glare at Frankie with a frown that hopefully didn't look like his. (It was a real concern—you had already adopted his habit of muttering about 'kids these days' like you were an eighty year old.)

'People can be clever too, (Y/N).'

'Yeah, that's why I said "too clever" for a human. It's cleverer than us.' You pulled out your phone, tapping the icon for an app you had specially designed to assist you in your investigations. It could detect paranormal activity and, while you doubted it's accuracy, it was often correct in terms of where you assumed a paranormal entity would be or would have been.

'Put your phone away,' Frank said sharply. 'You know it's a fake.'

'Hey! I made this, so be nice,' you warned, waving your phone in an exaggerated motion just to spite him. The strongest reading came from the laptop. 'Hm, interesting.'

'What's interesting? Hey, (Y/N), what're you—'

'I'm concentrating.' You had fished a USB stick out of your pocket and plugged it into the desktop.

'Do you want to be arrested for tampering with evidence?'

'I'm not tampering with evidence. I'm copying the evidence and stealing the copy. No evidence was harmed in the process of this investigation.'