#Somebody get a flashlight

[bluehexagone]

@yellydany’s oc, Danzil!

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

What about the Doors/Pressure shopkeepers trying to pretend they aren't giving their crush special treatment when in groups. Like, special inventory, discreet discounts, all that jazz

Jeff (Doors)

"Oye, I see what you're doin', Jeff. Thought you weren't one for giving out freebies."

*shrug*

"Don't play dumb! I saw you sneak the skeleton key into their bag! Even Bob's a witness!"

No matter what El Goblino says, Jeff will just wave off any accusations of him giving you "special treatment" whenever you stopped by the shop with your group.

While none of them donated to the tip jar, you were the only one who ever did...and even when you came back again and again, it was always you who showed him charity.

The rest of your group would just argue over what to spend their money on, try to rush ahead, mess with his radio, etc. etc.

But you trust Jeff, and he trusts you <3

So you get small discounts on his wares, and despite him not being able to speak, you could tell he's only looking after you.

The goblin jokes about Jeff's little "crush" on you...then he sees the entity's eyes widen and realizes "wait amigo,,I wasn't being serious do you actually like them?????"

He just shoos him away and will deny it to kingdom come, but it is true.

The moment you realized his feelings for you was when Rush attacked the shop once, and you thought you were done for-

When Jeff instinctively pulled you behind the counter and slammed the shutter down, keeping you uncomfortably close (yet somehow you've never felt safer).

When it's all over, he blushes and lets you go free.

You thank him with a small kiss on the forehead(?) and promise to see him again soon.

The next time you get duped by Dupe, or attacked by Eyes, Timothy, Screech, or a snare and need to heal...you discover a few bandaids in your pocket that weren't there previously...

Huh.

Wonder who gave you those?

Sebastian (Pressure)

Normally, Sebastian doesn't care to make personal connections with any of the expendables.

He's just there as their supplier before seeing them off on their journey, hoping they're putting his resources to good use.

But recently he's been seeing you more often, coming by with a new group or by yourself, trying your best to survive long enough to reach him.

Ofc, you've died to stupid things before (or maybe you're just trying to get all the monster documents..in which he's convinced you're some masochist), but you did have the most common sense out of your group and didn't try to annoy him.

The others just waste flash beacon charges on trying to blind the poor guy and stick the keycard in a medkit they couldn't afford...and for what?

Why do your "friends" do that? Are they stupid or something?

You tell them to stop, and it's...actually kinda nice to hear somebody willing to defend him.

People usually don't give a shit about the giant scary fish's feelings, yet for some reason you do.

Of course, Sebastian was reasonably suspicious about it.

"Are you acting this way just to get a freebie?" He assumes. "Because if you are, then you're definitely as stupid as-"

"No, I'd never do that to you." You shake your head. "You're here, helping us survive out there, risking a lot to get us those supplies...is it wrong for me to appreciate that?"

"......"

He goes quiet for a minute, but after the rest of your group leaves, he asks you to stay for a moment.

"You were looking at this Necrobloxicon for a while...you must reeeeally want it, huh?" He grins, flicking his tail where the book was strapped. "It's a rarity."

"I...can't afford that. I'm fine with this dingy flashlight-"

"It's yours for 70% off. Take it or leave it."

You do a double take. "Wait, wha-"

"70% off. Take it. Or leave it." He says through gritted teeth, impatient, only to smile when you accept the deal without further question. "Good. Now don't go telling anyone I'm offering discounts. That's your only one unless I feel generous. Capiche?"

"Gotcha. Thank you, Seb. This means a lot. I hope to see you again soon." You smile back, holding the spooky book tightly, and leave him alone with his thoughts.

And a warm and fuzzy feeling in his chest-

Wait.

"Oh no....what the fuck am I doing????? That's it! NO more discounts for anyone, Sebastian!" He scolds himself.

Little does he know, he's gonna keep giving them out, but only for you.

[luveline]

Hi, I’ve never actually sent a request before so hopefully this is okay, but maybe Hotch’s adult daughter calling him dad for the first time when she’s in trouble or hurt which could also open up an opportunity for Hotch to see her mother for the first time since he found out about her

You’re gonna throw your pants in the trash when you get home. The blouse is a loss —getting blood out of champagne material is a pipe dream. But the pants were unscathed until now. 

“Can you look at me?” 

You lift your pounding head. The EMT cups your cheek, her lips quirked into a deep frown as she raises a small flashlight to your eyes. “Just gonna check your pupils again,” she murmurs, shining the light in your eye. 

Each flash has a heated knife of pain slamming into your brain. You moan in pain and tip your head forward, wanting more than anything to lay down. 

“What can I do to make you more comfortable?” the EMT asks. 

“I want to go to the hospital,” you say. Surely they can fix the carving agony behind your face. 

“I know. As soon as the ruckus upstairs is clear, we’re going to take you there.” 

“I don’t want to sit here.” You grimace at the clammy stone under your legs. The subway is not a good place to touch things. 

“It’ll be over soon. There’s a heavy police presence. You’ll be okay.” 

“Got blood on my shirt,” you mumble. 

“I’m sure someone will wash it for you.” 

“My dad,” you say without thinking. 

If you asked, Aaron would wash the blood from your shirt. He could buy you a whole new wardrobe and he would if you let him, but he would just as happily stand at the sink scrubbing away your stains. 

“Ah, Mr. Hotchner,” the EMT says. “I’ve heard about him, I think we all have. He’s a very important man.” 

“He’s just my dad,” you whisper. 

You’re not really talking to her anymore, the thumping pain behind your eyes a wave you can’t get past. It hurts with every breath. When you hold out your hand, the EMT knows without asking that you’re going to throw up. 

She’s more alarmed after that. “Okay, I’m gonna take you upstairs now, okay? I’m sorry there’s no gurney, but we just have to get to the top of the stairs.” 

Each step sucks. You taste blood and vomit alike on your tongue, the daylight is too bright as you ascend the steps, and the EMT isn’t taking enough of your weight. You moan something incomprehensible even to yourself on the second to last step and cover your eyes, aware of the sirens, the roaring crowds, glass shattering at your feet. 

“Shit,” the EMT says. 

You search for your phone blindly, your hand lost in a pocket full of gum wrappers and tissue. “I don’t have my bag... I want my phone. Need to call my dad.” 

“It’s okay,” she says, giving you an encouraging jostle to look out at the clearing sidewalk. “I can see him.” 

Aaron is speed-walking through the crowd. He’s surrounded by people in Kevlar vests, but he himself wears nothing more than his usual suit and tie. His face changes when he sees you from glaring to a strange flitting panic. 

“Are you all right?” he asks, jogging those last few metres to take you by the elbows. “Sweetheart, are you all right?” 

Your eyes are tired. “Somebody hit me,” you say. 

“I know.” His sympathy is warm, his hand smoothing up your arm as he turns on the spot. “Morgan, can we get better access down this street?” 

One of the Kevlar vests doubles back the way they came. You’re trying to make sense of who you’re seeing, and what’s happening, but the confusion since you got hurt is enthusiastic. You can’t make sense of anything but the splitting pain in your head. 

Aaron’s talking five miles a second and ushering you up those last few steps, a gentleness to his touch that’s absent in his barked commands. 

You’ve never heard him shout like that. You can’t help staring at him. 

“This is an attempted insurrection. The aggression is only going to get worse. JJ, see if you can coordinate with metro PD, make sure there aren’t any other injured civilians in the subway. Dave, I need you to run the operation while I go with her.” 

“Aaron,” you say, watching his frown deepen. 

“Reid, you’re with JJ. Prentiss, I want you to find who laid hands on her–”

“Aaron,” you say again, shocked. 

He gives your arm a placating squeeze. 

“They could still be here.” Everything he says is unarguable. He’s suddenly a monolith, and he’s freaking you out, and you’re no closer to being in the back of the ambulance than you had been ten minutes ago. “Have Garcia pull the security footage–”

“Dad,” you say in a short breath, your hand grasping weakly at his arm. 

He falls silent for a moment. The agent you’re unfamiliar with becomes the man who brings you teddy bears at dinner and sends encouraging missives in the morning. 

“What, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” he asks. Not gentle, but hushed.

“I think I’m gonna be sick again.” 

The EMT passes you a paper bag. 

—

You could hear a pin drop in your hospital room. Your broken nose has its own heartbeat, but that’s a feeling, rather than a sound. Aaron hasn’t spoken in a long time, he just sits there with his hand on your arm, waiting for a cue you don’t give. You’re so embarrassed about calling him dad you’ve decided to never speak to him again. 

His hand occasionally comes to life, giving your arm a soft up and down. 

It’s strange to suddenly have a father, but not bad. His paternal caring is a comfort with all the pain, and it doesn’t feel stilted. With Aaron it never has, he found out you were his and he immediately began to act like it, though you suppose you’ll never know how he would’ve loved you as an adult if he’d known you as a child. This feels genuine. Careful, but genuine. 

“Time to take it off,” he says. 

You meet his eyes. 

“The ice pack,” he explains. 

You drop it onto your leg, and he takes it and sets it on the rollover table instead. 

“You can come and stay with me for a few days,” he suggests quietly.

“I’ll be okay.” 

“Your mom’s working. I can take the time off.”

You give him a dubious look. “And then you’ll get called away and it’ll be just me and Haley in the house. That won’t be awkward at all.” 

He shakes his head. “You’re hurt. You’re gonna feel dizzy for at least another day, and that’s not thinking about how hard it’s gonna be to breathe for a while. I’ll stay home, and you can get familiar with my guest room.” 

“You don’t have to look after me.” 

“But I want to.” He holds your wrist. “I know we aren’t a conventional father and daughter…” His brow furrows, and he looks at your hand just below his rather than your face. “I want the chance to look after you. How many times were you sick as a kid? Hundreds of times. Mostly colds, a runny nose. Maybe you– maybe you broke your arm, I don’t know. But I wish I did. I owe it to you to take care of you now.” 

You give him a small smile as he raises his head. 

“Just think about it,” he says, “we’ll be here all night anyways.” 

“You can go home.” 

“Don’t be difficult,” he says, his sincerity swapped for teasing as he stand. “I have to go find you something to eat.”

He stoops to give you a warm hug across your shoulders. You should want it to be over quickly, you smell like blood and sick and sweat, your clothes are ruined, and you’re not used to him seeing you like this, but let the feeling of his hand on your back persuade you into closing your sore eyes. 

“Okay?” he asks. 

“I’m okay.” 

“Okay. I need to do a lap before your mother gets here anyhow. I might… be more unkind than I plan on being, otherwise.” 

You laugh at his half-joke and hurt your face. He is very sorry. 

[ckret2]

So y'all know the Gravity Falls production bible that leaked three weeks ago. Someone in one of my discord servers pointed this out:

And, naturally, that spawned an entire AU.

AU Concept: Ford was kicked out instead of Stan and takes a job as a trucker to makes ends meet since he couldn't go to college, while still studying the weird and anomalous however he can.

Ford driving around from quirky small town to quirky small town, drifting through the liminal spaces of truck stops, meeting odd people in isolated diners, seeing strange things out on the road—a deer with too many eyes bounding across a two-lane highway, a flirty woman at a rest stop who doesn't blink or breathe, mysterious lights in the sky at night, inhuman growls on the CB or 50-year-old broadcasts on the radio—and taking notes when he stops for gas or food.

Aside from having gotten kicked out before graduating high school, Ford's the same person he is in canon.

He's still an ambitious guy, and here "ambitious" means working hard and saving as much money as he can—so, a long haul owner-operator who spends weeks at a time on the road. (He goes through a LOT of educational audiobooks.) Plus, this is the easiest way for him to get to travel the country; and since it looks like his "travel the world" dreams with Stan are dead, he'll take what he can get.

Since he's never in the same spot long and carries his life in a truck, almost all of Ford's research is in his journal. His bag of investigation supplies has an instant camera, a portable tape recorder, a thermometer, a flashlight, rubber gloves, and a few zip lock bags—and that's about it. It has to share space with all his clothes, toiletries, and nonperishable food when he's on the road. He doesn't have much opportunity to closely examine anything odd he finds, unless he's lucky enough to run into something when he can stop for the night. He has to cram his paranormal research around the side of his full-time job.

He doesn't live in Gravity Falls, but he knows it exists. Every time he moves—to Chicago, to Nebraska, to California—he seems to inch closer. He currently lives in Portland and usually hauls loads between the Pacific Northwest and Chicago or New York. He stops at the truck stop outside Gravity Falls when he can and has gone fishing in town a few times. He doesn't have the benefit of extensive research to know that this is the weirdest town in the world; but it seems pretty weird to him, there are local rumors about the town, and he's had some weird experiences in the area.

Plus, he can't explain it, but it's like the town's calling to him. He wants to move there, but it'd put him over an hour outside of Portland where the nearest jobs are. Maybe if somebody chucked him like $100k to build a cabin in the woods; but what are the odds of that?

He does know Fiddleford. Truck broke down somewhere and Fiddleford kindly pulled over to fix it on the fly. They looked at each other, had mutual knee-jerk "dumb trucker/hillbilly" reactions, and within ten minutes both went "oh wait you're the most brilliant genius i've ever met." Fiddleford's living the same life he was in canon before Ford called him to Gravity Falls—with his family in California, trying to start a computer company out of his garage—but they make friends and keep in contact.

One time Ford stops at a kitschy roadside knickknack store that also sells new agey magic things—crystals, tarot cards, incense, etc. He bought a "lucky" rearview mirror ornament that looks like an Eye of Providence in a top hat and hung it from his cab fan, and ever since then he's had weird dreams whenever he sleeps in his truck.

Things I don't know yet: what Stan's up to; or why Ford's the one who got kicked out. I tend to believe that in canon Stan wasn't just kicked out because he ruined Ford's college prospects, but rather because the family thought he deliberately sabotaged Ford; so in this AU, Ford would've been kicked out over a proportionate crime.

[tumble-tv]

There’s word (very strong and big word) that Donald Trump is going to start mass deportations on Tuesday, January 21, 2025.

He wants any immigrants, no matter how long they have been a citizen of the USA, to be deported either out of the country as a whole or into what are basically concentration camps. They’re starting in Chicago, Illinois. The US Immigrations and Customs Enforcement (ICE) has started raiding homes and families in California. Here’s some information.

When it comes to spotting an ICE agent, look for these:

Weirdly neat/well kept hair (shaved heads, side parts, military burs for men; low buns, high ponytails, close cropped bobs for women)

Oversized jacket (long and bulky outerwear makes it easier to hide tools/equipment without being suspicious)

Both hands in pockets

Many undercover agents/cops buy cheap plain clothes off the racks so they aren’t seen in their own clothes. This can make their outfit seem awkward

Sweatshirts with the hood up

Sports apparel (warm up jacket, sweats, etc) with non-sports clothes (jeans, cargo shorts)

Cargo pants/shorts (usually full of items like their badge, flashlight, taser, pepper spray, backup handcuffs, zip ties)

Military or hiking style boots, sometimes chunky sneakers (extra points if none of it matches anything in their outfit)

Outline of a gun in their pants/shirt (easy to see when bending, leaning, or raising arms) (NO NOT SAY ANYTHING)

Overly friendly

Overly inquisitive

“How old are you” and “what do you know about this happening” are both red flags, along with generally odd and personal questions

Don’t fit in

Mismatched pairs in public spaces (usually cops do these things in pairs. They don’t talk to each other or acknowledge each other much, if at all)

DO NOT SAY ANYTHING UNTIL YOU ARE 100% SURE

YOUR BEST BET IS NOT TO SAY ANYTHING UNTIL THE SUSPECT STARTS ACTING OFF AND GETTING PUSHY

COPS ARE NOT OBLIGATED TO TELL YOU THAT THEY ARE UNDERCOVER

COPS CAN AND WILL LIE TO YOU

SCREAM “LA MIGRA” AT THE TOP OF YOUR LUNGS

For protesting:

N95 masks

Respirator/gas mask if you have access to one

Water water water water water (I hate to say it, but disposable one use bottles are best here. If it comes to it, you need to be able to drop and run.)

Snacks

Eyedrops (teargas is a bitch)

Goggles (I bring my old snowboarding goggles)

If you are wearing a t-shirt or have exposed skin, put on fake tattoos. If you are brought into something and they say you were there, showing a picture of you with the tattoos, show them where that tattoo would be and how there’s nothing there. How would you get rid of a giant flower on your forearm in 2 days anyways?

Hide your hair. I tuck my hair into my beanie since it’s short. If you have longer hair, try to do the same or tuck it into your shirt.

Power bank

Chargers

Helmet. Any is fine, my personal choice is a skating helmet since they’re rounder and can take more damage

Hand sanitizer

Gloves (either to keep your hands warm or simple nitrile exam gloves, both work)

Bandanas. Somebody might need one for their face or hair, maybe you need to get dirt off somebody’s face, maybe somebody got injured. They’re great for anything and everything

Cash (try to stick to cash, your card can be tracked)

Medications if you take them. If you get arrested or happen to somehow be away for longer than expected after the protest, it’s always good to have emergency meds

FIRST AID ALL THE FIRST AID (Tourniquet, Quikclot, chest seal, trauma shears, gauze, bandages, duct tape, and all the usual stuff you’d have in there)

Good shoes

Spare socks. Trust me.

As much covering clothing as you can handle. Plain jeans, plain hoodie, plain t-shirt, keep yourself as anonymous as possible

Photocopy of your ID

Sunscreen

Make sure your clothes have pockets

Do not wear contact lenses. If tear gas is used, that will make everything so much worse. Wear your glasses or go blind.

If you use mobility aids, cover defining features. Logos, brand names, colors, stickers, all of it. Take some old plain t-shirt and tie it around your wheelchair’s backrest. Wrap your wheelchair frame in cling wrap, then duct tape, or plain black self adhering medical tape. Cover stickers on your cane or crutches the same way. Electric chair? You have a little more work, but you can do it. Same idea. Walker? Same thing. Cover. It. All.

If you are bringing a bag, make sure that bag is as plain as possible. No pins. No patches. No keychains.

Scarf if you have one

Write a reliable phone number (of someone who is not at the protest with you) on your body. On the off chance you get arrested, that is your emergency contact.

Pocket knife.

Pepper spray/mace

Anything you can throw. Soup for my family.

IF YOU CAN, LEAVE YOUR PHONE AT HOME

IF YOU HAVE TO TAKE IT WITH YOU FOR WHATEVER REASON, TURN OFF LOCATION SERVICES ON ALL APPS AND TURN OFF BIOMETRICS (FACE ID AND FINGERPRINT) SO YOU CAN ONLY UNLOCK YOUR PHONE WITH YOUR PASSWORD

MAKE SURE SOMEBODY KNOWS GENERALLY WHERE YOU ARE

I do not want to scare anybody, but this is what life is right now. That man does not care how long you have been a citizen of this country. If you are not white, cisgender, heterosexual, Christian, and male, you are seen as less than by men in power. You are not less than. You are a threat to them, and they are scared. Keep it that way.

Here's the link to my post on what to bring in terms of first aid.

If you cannot attend protests, that’s fine. Do what’s best for you. Simply reposting information helps.

[enderlovez]

Stay Happy

Spencer Reid x Female BAU Reader WORD COUNT: 5700+

Summary: In the midst of a case, thinking it's safe after they've caught the criminal, you go into the crime scene alone to inspect the place, only to be taken hostage by a second unsub nobody knew about.

Content Warning: kidnapping, blood, stabbing, gunshot wounds, reader being tied up, broadcasting torture, mentions of death, blood again because there's a lot of it, broken bones, sprains, dislocation, speeding, drug usage (reader is drugged by the kidnapper)

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

You're not even sure how it happened.

One moment, you were simply walking around the crime-scene, scribbling notes down as you stepped around shattered glass and pools of blood, and it was peaceful for the most part — except, of course, for the police sirens blaring in the distance.

Perhaps that's why you felt so safe navigating the abandoned house alone, taking one for the team so they could discuss outside. The criminal had already been caught, so surely there was no reason to worry about something bad happening, right?

Wrong.

You were so extremely wrong. The moment somebody reached out from the shadows of a seemingly empty room, wrapping a hand tightly around your arm and slapping a hand over your mouth, you wished more than anything that you could take your decision back.

Spencer had insisted on going in with you. Practically begged you to take him inside with you, but his words about the possible dangers lying inside fell on deaf ears. They'd caught the bad guy. There was no danger, and he was the brains of the team, so surely they would need him more than you would, right?

Wrong.

Nobody hears your scream for help as it's abruptly cut off by the stranger's hand, nor does anybody realize you've been gone longer than would be necessary as you're being tied up and gagged and thrown into the trunk of a car with no more care than you'd give a piece of scrap metal.

You can do no more than screw up your face and beg for mercy as they jab a needle into your arm, then another into your neck, injecting a kind of colorless liquid directly into your bloodstream.

Your mind runs into overdrive, quickly running through all the possibilities as you would usually do when working on cases — except this time, you're the victim, and you're trying to come up with something — anything — before you lose consciousness.

You don't get very far.

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

"Reid," Hotch says in a tired voice, not looking away from the paper in front of him, leaning it against the top of the car as he scrawls something down, "will you go in and see what's taking L/N so long? She's been gone almost fifteen minutes, we need her back here now."

Spencer doesn't have to be asked twice for him to make his way towards the crumbling house. Admittedly, he's been counting the seconds since you left, fighting the urge to run in there regardless of everyone's warnings of 'she's a big girl, she can handle herself' and 'she's good at her job, Reid, you need to relax a little'.

He knows you're beyond good at your job, which is why he trusted that you would be okay going in alone... But you typically only take, on average, ten minutes to do a quick search of the house and scratch down anything of importance.

While it might not seem like such a big deal to everyone else, Spencer knows you inside and out, better than anyone else in the world, and he knows that you taking even five minutes longer — especially in such a small house — is definitely a cause for concern.

Glass and debris crunches under his foot as he steps inside the house, flashlight pointed in front of him down the decaying hallway. It's quiet inside, unnervingly so, to the point where a chill runs down his spine. In a house of this size, with everything littering the floor, he should be able to hear your steps as you walk around, but there's nothing, just an ear-splitting silence that he can't seem to shake.

"Y/N?" he calls out hesitantly, pointing the light around in search of you. There isn't a response, not even a hum of acknowledgment from nearby, or a step indicating you've heard something close to you.

Just more of this silence.

He knows something has to be wrong now. Even looking past the fact that you would never ignore anybody, especially not Spencer, he has a horrible wriggling feeling in his gut, a sickening sensation that makes him want to curl into himself and hurl all over the floor.

"Y/N, are you in here?" he tries again, voice slightly louder and tinged with panic as he speeds up his search of the house, stopping dead in his tracks when he sees something sitting on the ground, too clean and white to have been there before, and covered in your delicate handwriting. Spencer's hands shake as he picks it up, eyes scanning over all the things you've written down.

And if he's not already in panic mode now, that changes entirely when he spots the smaller, fresher pool of blood, spreading out on the floor nearby, seeping into the cracks of the withering floorboards.

Without a second thought, he's running outside, notepad gripped in his hand so tightly that the paper crinkles. You're not in there. There's fresh blood on the floor in the same place he found your notepad, discarded.

Everyone turns to look at Spencer as he runs back to the car, lips turning down slightly when they see you're not following behind him.

"Where's Cupcake?" Morgan asks first, eyebrows furrowed as he peers behind the other man in search of you. "Thought you were going in to get her, is she not—"

"We need to get back," Spencer abruptly cuts Morgan off, already making to get in the car. "Y/N's gone. She's not in there, but I found her notes on the floor, next to her blood."

"That place was filled with blood," he tries to push, though the more time you spend in that house, considering you're usually so fast with this part, and without your notes, he's becoming less and less sure. "Maybe she just dropped it and hasn't realized yet?"

"All the blood in there is days old. This, most definitely was not." Something has happened to you — he knows something has happened to you, and every extra second that ticks by, he knows that you're likely slipping further and further away.

It seems that everyone else comes to the same conclusion, as they all immediately jump into action, splitting up and piling into the two cars. They're almost thirty minutes away from the Bureau, and by the time they even get there, who knows what state you could be in?

You could be dead.

You could be dead.

Spencer, of course, knows the dangers that come with this job. He himself has been shot and almost killed on multiple occasions, but it never really occurred to him, in all of his 187 IQ glory, that something similar could happen to you.

Emily is on the phone, speaking to someone — telling them to search the area, so it's likely the local police, who were already there before.

"I thought we caught the bad guy," Morgan comments tightly. "How's we even miss a second unsub?"

"Many reasons," Spencer replies instantly, force of habit. "Our primary unsub sits the profile so well that we've overlooked the possibility of a second offender. If they're working together, the second might deliberately mimic the first's MO or play a background role, making them harder to detect. "

"And what are the stats—"

"Twenty to twenty-five percent of homicides involve multiple offenders, and thirty percent of criminal partnerships have this dynamic. Cognitive bias affects nearly sixty percent of investigators."

"We don't know for sure if this is—"

Morgan is cut off by his phone ringing, so he picks it up without looking at the caller ID and puts it on speaker for everyone to hear. Before he can even greet the person on the other end, Garcia's voice, panicked and out of breath, comes through the speaker.

"Something pretty disturbing has come up here," she rushes out, the clicking of a keyboard vaguely there in the background. "You all need to get back here — now."

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

You realize three things when you finally come to.

The first, is that you are tied to a chair, ropes so tight that every slight movement has your skin raw and chafing. Your ankles feel cemented to the floor, held down by something heavy. Or maybe that's because the sedative hasn't fully worn off yet.

The second thing you realize, when you force your eyes to open against the drowsiness, is that you have absolutely no idea where you are right now. The plain yellow walls have no defining characteristics, and there are no windows to look outside — chances are, you're in a basement, or a room in a storage facility.

And the third and final thing that comes to your realization, is that there is a camera set up in front of you. One of those home-video cameras, propped up on a tripod, and pointing directly at you, little red light indicating that it's already recording.

Sick bastard.

You tentatively pull against the ropes binding you, face screwing up when they only dig into your already raw skin. Tears prick at your eyes as panic surges through you, realizing you're really stuck here, that you're too weak to even try to do anything about your situation.

I am going to die here.

I am going to die here.

I am going to—

A door opens somewhere around you, footsteps descending a set of stairs. Definitely in a basement, then, but knowing that doesn't really do much good — there are countless basements, after all.

"You're finally awake," a voice drawls from behind you, clapping a hand on your shoulder. "I was worried I'd already killed you back there, pretty girl."

Already.

He is planning to kill you regardless.

"Please, just... let me go," you beg weakly. Though you can't see him, you just know he's shaking his head, rubbing a hand on your shoulder. You try to turn your head so you can get a good look at him, but a shooting pain sparks down your spine at the movement.

"You know I can't do that," he says simply, the smile evident in his voice as he steps around you to adjust something on the camera, clicking a few buttons and zooming in on you some — trying to get the perfect angle, you quickly realize, to do...

"Why are you recording me?" you ask quietly, squeezing your eyes shut against the pain of talking with such a dry throat. You work with the FBI, you know very well about cases where the suspect has recorded their killings for their own sick pleasure.

You just... never thought you'd be on the other end of it.

"I'm not recording," he says after a beat of silence, looking away from the camera to stand at his full height, his smile somehow widening to show all of his yellowed teeth. You take a moment to memorize his face, but with the drugs still clouding your mind, it's hard.

"Well what are you doing, then, if this recording camera isn't recording me?"

"It's a broadcast," he says simply, stepping back around you and squeezing your shoulder so tight you worry it might break, "to all your little agent friends."

Your blood runs cold, eyes snapping to the camera lens. They're probably watching you right this second, tied up and in immeasurable amounts of pain, yet still interrogating the suspect like you're on the job.

"What are you going to do to me?" The question you least want the answer to, but the most important one.

He doesn't say anything more, remaining behind me for a few more minutes before crouching at my side. "You and your friends got my brother in trouble," he begins, reaching up and caressing your face, so gently you begin to wonder if this is even the same person who threw you in the car. "So let's just stick with this: I'm going to put you in trouble."

That doesn't sound good.

And before you can say anything more, he's standing up again, reeling his hand back behind his head, and punching you in the face with enough force to make all thoughts flurry from your head.

Warm liquid fills your mouth instantly, spilling out through your parted lips. Your head is ringing with a sound that's not really there, vision blurring even though you're not crying — or maybe you are. Your world turns on its axis as your head flops to the side, neck unable to support you due to the shock.

Not broken, though.

Thank God, your neck isn't broken.

"Please," you whimper, but the single word sends a peircing pain straight to your temple, and even the single word is slurred. He has concussed you, it doesn't take a genius to figure that out.

"Sorry, Sweetheart," he murmurs, cupping your cheek with his palm, much like how a lover would — much like how Spencer does. Then, with an unnerving slowness that has you trembling, he pulls a tiny pocket knife out of his pocket, one of those little flower ones you'd get online for fifty cents, and brings it close to your face.

He presses the sharp point of it to the base of your cheekbone, and drags it alone your skin, opening a thin, shallow cut on your cheek, and stopping just before it reaches the corner of your mouth.

You cry out, struggling against your restraints. Shallow as the cut may be, and though you've been through so much worse throughout your career, it hurts like hell, and while you're already in so much pain, so vulnerable and exposed like an open nerve...

To say you're scared is an understatement.

Scared for your life that you're most definitely going to lose if your team can't find you. Scared for your future, and the things you so desperately want to do with it. And scared that you will never see the love of your life again — the very one who is likely watching you right now, through the camera.

"Please don't," you choke out through the tears that are now freely streaming down your face, stinging as they run along the length of the open wound on your face.

He smiles and walks over to a little table you didn't notice before, decorated with a variety of scary looking tools, and with the drowsiness still lingering from the drugs and the concussion you've been given, you can't stop your eyes from rolling back as your consciousness leaves you once again.

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

Everything hurts when you wake up again, your skin littered in a multitude of cuts and bruises and more injuries you think you've ever had at once. A gun sits on the other side of the room on a little table, loaded. It's your gun, the very one you had holstered to you when he grabbed you in that house. You don't want to know when he's planning to use that, but you're sure it's soon.

The man you've since dubbed 'Belial' is gone for now, leaving you alone in the room with half of a kitchen knife jammed into your right thigh and the camera still pointing right at your face. It's hard to tell exactly how long it's been, but if you have to take a guess, maybe a few days.

During that time he's been continually drugging you, this time not with sedatives, rather with things that'll leave you with lasting conditions. You're not sure what it is, but it doesn't necessarily cause you pain at the time. Only after, when the effects are wearing off, and you're left begging for more.

Right now it's all out of your system, and it hurts. Almost more than the deeper cut he left on your stomach, and the discus sized bruise on the back of your shoulder. Almost more than the knife stuck in your leg, and the busted lip and broken nose and—

You have too many injuries to count. You might just die of infection before he gets the chance to leave a bullet in your brain.

Though your hope isn't yet entirely gone — over the last while, you've been slowly but surely wiggling your wrists, stretching the rope and allowing yourself a little bit of leeway.

The indomitable human spirit, Spencer would have commented to calm you down, if he was with you right now, before spouting off some facts about why the human body stays fighting for so long. The thought of him brings a tiny smile to your face, but it's short-lived as something happens.

As you're twisting your wrists around, using your own blood as lubricant, a strange little sound from behind you, so quiet you wouldn't have heard it if you weren't so on-guard lately, followed by the sudden and immense release of pressure from your wrists as blood flow is restored.

Your hands are free from their restraints, you only fully realize when you bring them up in front of your face, eyes flicking between your own two hands and the camera. An exhausted laugh bubbled up in your chest, and luckily, you're able to keep it down as you lean around the knife sticking out of your leg and undo the knots around them.

Standing up on shaky legs, you take an even shakier breath, one hand wrapped around the hilt of the knife to keep it in place and the other pressing against your stomach.

Your gun is across the room.

You could probably grab it, if you can manage to get over there.

Smiling into the camera and making a vague gun symbol with your fingers, you shift out of frame, slowly limping across the room towards the little table where your glock 22 is sitting, along with the holster.

Almost there...

Your hand is reaching out towards the gun when a deafening sound echoes off the walls, and an excruciating pain shoots through the left side of your hip. You know that sound, and you know the feeling just as well — you've been shot once, but it was in your leg, and all of the doctors were able to repair the damage perfectly fine.

This time you're not so lucky.

In an instant you drop to the floor, the blade of the knife shoving itself the rest of the way into your leg as you hit the concrete. The tripod holding the camera topples over as the man rushes across the room towards you. It doesn't break, and just to your luck, the way it falls has it angled in a way where all of you is on show to anyone watching.

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

You're entirely correct in thinking Spencer is watching everything, chest tightening and nausea rolling in his gut with every little pain inflicted upon you. He's seen things during his time in this job — mutilated bodies and such, things many others would deem so much worse than what you're going through — but in his mind, this is most definitely the worst thing he's ever been forced to witness.

Still, he can't seem to make himself take his eyes off you for more than thirty seconds at a time.

Nobody has tried to make him leave Penelope's office, despite the fact that everybody has access to the video footage, nor has anybody reprimanded him for being so distracted.

"How long is it going to take you to track him down?" Spencer demands, his knee bobbing up and down and his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. Garcia glances at him before looking back to her work, typing furiously on her keyboard.

"I'm trying my best, Spencer," she says back, calmly despite the frustration and worry burning inside her. "He's using a masked signal, I think. There's no way for me to easily get their location."

The man nods. He understands that Penelope's trying her very best, especially with him sitting right there, but as he looks back at your bruised and bleeding body, he can't help being more irritable than usual. Not as the man — Avery Kane, they were able to identify him as — stuck another needle into your arm and injected you with God knows what.

"We have to go out and find her," Spencer decides after a beat of silence, his lip now bleeding from how hard he was biting it. "They can't be that far, realistically, if he was trying to avoid being pulled over. At most thirteen minutes away from the crime scene."

"Spencer, you of all people know that probably won't work," Garcia answers back, eyes never straying from the screen. "There's nothing to go off of in the video, and she definitely won't know where she is."

Spencer makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat as Kane drives the sharp end of a kitchen knife into your thigh, pushing it in an inch before pulling it back out. "You heard him, Garcia — he's going to kill her. She'll be dead by the time we find her at this point."

The thought has her grimacing. She knows that he isn't just saying things — these are surely real statistics. You will be dead by the time they find you.

Spencer stands up and starts pacing the room, arms crossed tightly over his chest, mind reeling like a fishing line. They have to be missing something, otherwise they would have found you by now.

Garcia's gasp draws his attention, and he finds her staring at the screen with you on it. He rushes back and practically falls back into the chair, watching as you manage to free your bloodied hands from their restraints, smiling and making a pistol symbol with your hands as you shuffle out of frame.

Your gun is in the room.

A sense of half-relief washes over Spencer, and Garcia's shoulders relax ever-so-slightly — at least, that's until they hear the painfully familiar bang of a gun going off. Not your gun, but the one belonging to the man now standing in frame.

Everything happens in a rush. Kane rushing forward and knocking over the camera. Said camera being focused on you on the floor, knife sticking fully into your leg, pool of blood spreading out around you. Avery huffs and drops the gun on the ground, too far for you to reach, and walks out of the room muttering to himself.

Within seconds Garcia is frantically speaking to who Spencer can only assume is Hotch, and he is pulling the video feed up on his phone before rushing out of the room. His heart is nearly beating out of his chest, stomach in his throat and tears pricking at his eyes.

You can't die — not yet. Not for a very long time, after you've lived a very happy life together, not until he's gone. You're the most wonderful thing that's ever happened to him, he can't possibly live without you by his side.

And then, as if his guardian angel was leaning over his shoulder, listening to his silent prayers, Penelope starts yelling out about how she's got the coordinates, and she's forwarding them to everyone.

Spencer looks down at the video feed again, watches as you roll onto your back and cry, pressing your trembling hand to the wound on your hip, murmuring pleas about how you don't want to die —you're not ready. Your body is already weak from being beaten and cut for three days straight, nobody is sure how you'll handle being shot.

The odds aren't looking good.

There's a less than ten percent chance you'll survive this, and that's if they can get there in the next two minutes, with the wounds you've acquired. Spencer tells the team as much, as they speed down the road at three times the speed limit, lights blaring on top of the car to signal an emergency.

You make a little sound, barely audible through the video, so Spencer turns up the volume as far as it'll go. "Sleep, my love, the stars are dim, the night is soft, and the world is thin," he hears you choke out.

"What's she doing," Morgan asks from beside Spencer, peering over his shoulder and cringing at your bloody form. "Is she... singing?"

"It's the song her mom wrote for her when she was a child," Spencer replies in a broken voice. "She was so scared of the dark, and her mother wanted to make the night seem a little less scary. She sang it to her when she was in the hospital."

"Rest your head, and close your eyes, where dreams are sweet, and time is kind," you continue in a hushed voice, voice shaking from the effort of staying alive. You have to keep living. "The winds may call, the shadows dance, but here you're safe, inside my hands. Though I must go, I'll stay with you, in every breath, in all you do."

"She's not dying, Reid," Morgan says softly. "We won't let her. She can't get away from us that easily."

It was his attempt to lighten the mood, but it only earned him a quiet scolding from Hotch.

"Sleep, my love, the night will weep, but I'll be with you, in your sleep," you continue quietly, voice getting softer and softer with each word as you slowly bleed out on the floor. "And when you wake, the world will shine, a piece of me will always be mine."

They come to a forceful stop outside the house, ambulance already there in preparation for whatever happens and three police cars stationed outside the house.

"This man is armed," Hotch comments matter-of-factly, glancing around at everyone. "Morgan, you go in with the police to detain the guy — Reid and Prentiss, you run in immediately after with the paramedics..."

You've stopped singing, the only indicator that you're still breathing, and your unmoving. Eerily still with your eyes closed and a the tiniest smile on your face. You must hear all the commotion outside. Spencer slips his phone into his pocket, though he doesn't want to take his eyes off you, and nods.

So does Avery Kane, it seems, as he runs out through the front door and attempts to make a run for it. Someone tackles him, and just as Hotch said, Emily and Spencer are immediately running into the house with the paramedics hot on their tails, searching desperately for the basement.

"Y/N!" Spencer yells out, opening every door until they finally find one that leads down a set of stairs — where they immediately find you attempting to crawl across the floor towards them, hand clutched to your gunshot wound, movements sloppy as you continue to bleed.

He doesn't get a chance to touch you, or talk to you, as you're placed onto a stretcher and rushed back outside, or as he sits with you in the ambulance while everyone works to suppress the bleeding and keep you alive. You're all that's on his mind as he and the team sit in the waiting room of the hospital while you're in surgery.

Survival rates for gunshot wounds to the hip vary based on a lot of factors, but generally speaking, if the bullet didn't hit anything vital, there's about an eighty to ninety percent chance you'll survive... but that isn't taking into account that it very much might've hit something important, and it's not taking into account your already sustained injuries.

Everyone else seems to realize this, too, but they don't comment on it. Nor do they say anything when a nurse comes out and tells them the surgery was a success, and Spencer actually cries from relief. They don't push it when he asks if they can stay behind while he goes in and sits with you, just until you wake up.

That's not to say they leave the waiting room, though, except for Hotch, who says he has a lot of work to do. Everyone knows he's always had a bit of a soft spot for you, so this upset him more than any regular kidnapping case.

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

The feeling of someone holding your hand is the first thing that comes to your attention, their thumb rubbing gentle circles onto the back of it. You already know who it is without opening your eyes, but you open them anyway, wincing at the bright white fluorescent lights shining down into my eyes.

Spencer's forehead leans against the edge of the bed, his breathing even as he sleeps.

He hates hospitals, is the first thing that comes to mind when you look at him, the way his mop of brown hair falls down either side of head, like a curtain hiding his lovely face.

You can barely remember what happened to you, why you're in the hospital — only that you were in more pain than the human body should be able to comprehend, and that you're still in pain now — but the sight of him sleeping so peacefully in a place he hates so much has every thought eddying from your head.

You carefully reach your other hand across your body and run your injured fingers through his hair, gently scratching his scalp as he begins to stir from his slumber. You almost feel a little bad waking him up, but you just couldn't resist the opportunity.

He's just far too cute for you to not want to touch him.

When his hazel eyes meet yours, you're suddenly filled with a sense of worry. They're red-rimmed, like he's been crying — a lot, and there are heavy bags under his eyes, due to lack of sleep.

Jeez, am I really that terribly injured?

"You're awake," he murmurs quietly, bringing your hand to his mouth and pressing a gently kiss to the back of it.

"You know," you start off with a teasing tone in your voice, "your hands are dirtier than your mouth. You're more likely to get sick from touching my hand than you are if you were to kiss me on the lips."

He hums in agreement, a smile on his lips, though it doesn't quite meet his eyes, the way it normally does when you start talking nerdy to him. "How could I forget?" he whispers, leaning forward and leaving a delicate kiss on your lips. He doesn't let go of your hand, continuing his ministrations of rubbing circles.

"So, what's the damage?" you ask when he's fully seated again, both of his hands holding your one to his mouth. "What happened to end me up in the hospital?"

His eyebrows furrow. He looks puzzled, and silver lines his eyes, tears building up and begging to be dropped.

"You don't... remember?" he asks softly. You shake your head and look down at yourself — you've never been in worse shape, casts and bandages littering almost every inch of skin.

A sob builds up in his chest, and he can't stop it from escaping against your hand. You frown and use your free hand to wipe the tears from his cheek, caressing it as you run your thumb along the skin under his eye.

"Are you okay, Spence?" you ask quietly, worriedly, like him crying is the worst thing in the world. In your mind, it actually is.

He laughs bitterly, but nonetheless leans into your touch. "You almost died, Y/N, and you're still looking after me?" he asks, sniffing. "You're too soft for this world, my sweet girl. I'm alright, you don't need to worry about me. Just glad you're alive is all."

You smile and gently pinch his cheek. "So, are you going to tell me what happened? Or at least, the injuries I sustained?"

He nods dejectedly and leans further forward. "You had three fractured ribs, a cracked sternum and a cracked scapula. Three broken phalanges, a broken nose. Dislocated mandible, left shoulder and both your wrists. Sprained ankle," he stops for a moment, simply watching you absorb the information he's feeding you.

You don't seem too worried, but he can see the confusion and panic in your eyes.

"Is... that all?" you ask hesitantly, as if you don't really want to know, and Spencer has half the mind to not tell you. But it's your body, and you're the one in the hospital, so you deserve to know regardless.

"Those are only the breaks, you're all bruised and cut up, like a piece of meat," he says, at least bringing a slight smile to your face with his 'joke'. "You sustained a full-length stab wound from a kitchen knife, a grade two concussion, and a gunshot wound on your hip. It's a miracle you're even alive."

Your mouth hangs open with a goldfish. "No kidding," you breathe, squeezing his hand, your eyebrows furrowed. He can't help but remove one hand from yours to smooth out the little crease, lingering as you leaned your cheek against his hand.

"What are you thinking?" he asks, in a voice so quiet, you can barely even hear it.

You're silent for a second, nuzzling your face against him despite the ache in your neck. "I'm wondering how I possibly could have gotten all these injuries, and I'm thinking that I'm glad you're here with me. And that I love you so much, and I'm glad you love me enough to stay with me in a hospital, even though you're a germaphobe."

He leans forward and leaves a kiss on your taped-up nose. "I love you, too. Do you want me to tell you what happened?"

You think for a second, the crease between your brows making a reappearance, but you ultimately shake your head — slightly, because you have a raging headache and more movement will only make it worse. "This seems bad, so... I'm not so sure I wanna know."

Spencer nods and leans back, getting to his feet. "There are some people who wanna see you, if you're up for it?" he suggests gently, watching as a smile makes its way onto your lips.

"I think I'd like that very much."

Spencer knows you'll need to know at some point, but right now, while you seem relatively happy, he won't tell you about how you were kidnapped and drugged with ketamine and heroin, or how your torture was broadcasted to everyone at the BAU.

For now, he'll let you stay happy.

[electricgg]

Ancient Dreams In A Modern Land

Chapter 4: Don’t You Find It Strange? The Only Thing We Share Is One Last Name

Masterlist

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 (Here!) / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 /

Water is meant to be clean. Its main purpose is to sustain the human body, which cannot survive without it. People have also given water many meanings and symbols throughout the centuries.

Purification. Life. Transformation. Change. Fluidity. Nurishment.

Water is meant to be something that heals.

Which is why Jason Todd felt unsettled by the dark brown pool in front of him.

Oracle had sent him the coordinates she managed to find from the police report Chief Gordon had given her later that night. He had found her near Grant Park, walking out of an empty alley and without a phone or a schoolbag. Confused, out of it, uniform drenched and ruined, and wound on the head.

He kicked a crushed soda can out of his way, landing in the murky water and making ripples on the surface. 

The nauseating feeling of disgust clawed at his stomach the more he looked at the pool.

It brought back memories. Memories he would rather keep buried.

‘She crawled out,’ he analyzed, flashlight pointed at the dried footsteps, wandering from the huge water print and towards the hole in the wired fence.

The flashlight was moved around, viewed on the ground, and over the bushes.

A sparkly glint that clashed with the light between the unkept leaves caught his attention. Crouching in front of the bushes, he reached out. Grabbing and pulling out the item so he could see it up close.

A purple, drenched schoolbag with silver charms hanging from its zipper. By how heavy it was, Jason figured out that the books and contents inside it were drenched as well.

“The bag fell into the pool as well.” he stood up, bag in hand, and looked back at the pool.

“But she didn’t fall with it. It was thrown after.” 

His boots crunched over broken glass, making him look down. There were two head bottles laid near the mess. They were probably thrown or fell by accident. It was recent, too, by how clean the glass looked. 

“Somebody came back…” he muttered to himself, moving what was left of the bottles with the front of his boot.

He lifted the bag, noticing how it still dripped heavily with water. It was too wet to have been taken out around the time of the event.

The bag had been taken out later. Way later. Probably a few minutes before he reached the place, if his instincts were to be trusted. It made his blood spike up underneath his veins, a heavy grunt pushed out of his modulator.

Someone had waited hours to get rid of the evidence.

Someone tried to get rid of her.

Someone tried to kill-

A distant voice interrupted his dark musings. Then, the sounds of shoes slipping and footsteps running off.

Jason didn’t hesitate to drop the bag and take out his gun, sprinting and jumping over the fence. Taking off towards whoever was trying to escape from him. Pulse palpitating, a dark feeling invading his chest as the thoughts of what he was going to do once he caught the bastard that dared to even look at her way.

It didn’t take long for gunshots, a body slamming against a metal dumpster, accompanied by grunts of pain, to be heard on a dark, blocked alley.

The person, a boy not older than eighteen, tried to crawl back as he yelled and cried from the pain in his leg. His jeans were turning dark from the blood and other fluids as the tall, imposing figure of Red Hood walked calmly towards him.

“Ple-please,” the boy whimpered out, body trembling, and a high-pitched noise escaping from his mouth once the vigilante crouched right by his side.

“It was just a prank! We swear!” he tried to cover his face, but Red shoved the gun in his face, making him stop.

“We? So there’s more of you?”

The boy went pale. Lips shaking. His head moved from different sides as if he couldn’t say yes or no to the questions of the masked man.

The gun was then shoved in his mouth, making him choke out a scream.

“Better start talkin’, boy.”

“Because you just made my night a fuckin’ hell.”

• • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

From the moment she woke up that morning, she should have known fate had it out for her. 

And given that it was also her first day in a new family, she should have been prepared for the absolute madness that went down that morning.

She knows someone down in hell had it out for her and was laughing their ass off.

Let’s divide the events so it can be easier to understand.

✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼

Falling back to sleep turned out to be a chore.

She was exhausted; that was given. And the soup and tea had been more than enough to put her in a very sleepy state. And she was knocked out the moment her head hit the pillow!

But, for some bullshit reasoning, her body decided that five hours of sleep was enough for her to regain her strenght after the whole thing that happened.

And to top it all, she felt alright. Even energized, to her shock! 

Her skin was strumming with adrenaline underneath, making her walk around the bedroom in circles to burn off some of the restlessness inside her body. It felt like a need, even. Just to do something with her legs.

Walk. Jump around. Bounce them while sitting down. Even try to jog in the same spot.

She tried to run around, but the limited space and almost knocking down the bookshelf put a quick stop to that. It was becoming annoying to the point that even her fingers drummed against the hardwood floor as she lay all sprawled out while staring at the ceiling. Soaking in the coldness so the uncomfortable sensation would calm down.

And why lie on the floor instead of walking around the halls where there was more space, or exploring her bedroom more thoroughly? Simple answer. 

Number 1: Because ain’t no way she's walking in the dark in a very obvious haunted house. She ain’t that dumb.

And number 2: It didn’t feel right to search someone’s belongings without permission. Even when that someone was no longer among the living.

Inhaling deeply, her gaze moved towards the stained glass window. Its colors painted across the room as the rising sunlight shone through the glass. Small particles of dust, changing between the colors as they floated around the air.

‘For such a lively room, it feels so lonely here…’

Her mind mused, a sudden sense of calm coming over her, and taking off some of the intensity of the restless feeling. She could feel like breathing again, eyes sliding closed slowly. 

The sensation of hands caressing her hair made her slip under more quickly.

Sweet sleep, finally…

Then her stomach decided to growl as if a freaking bear was inside of it.

2. Walking on dark halls should count as a sport.

Remembering her way to the kitchen wasn’t hard. Alfred had given her different clues on how to tell apart the halls, but he told her that he would fetch her the next morning for breakfast, and he would continue to do so until her head healed.

‘Well, too bad, Alfred. My stomach ain’t waiting any longer.’

Her thoughts complained, eyes bouncing from portrait to portrait. Arms wrapped around herself to keep the cold out. Because somehow, even while still wearing the thick sweats from the police station (they were comfy and she wasn’t touching the wardrobe unless she got some divine permission), the manor still managed to chill her to the bone.

Going back to the warm room was very tempting. Truly. But her stomach was almost eating itself in hunger. It was almost painful.

Why was she so hungry? She ate a few hours ago, and it feels like ages to her stomach.

Grumbling under her breath as she took a turn to the left, her body froze on the spot once her stare landed on the end of the hallway. Her heart almost going between coming to a stop or dropping to her feet.

There, in the hall, a tall, hunched figure walked slowly with a thick cloth over them. They were holding something between their hands, close to their chest. Pale hands standing out amongst the dark hallway.

She took a slow step back, wincing too loudly when the floor creaked under her weight.

Their head snapped toward the noise. Cornflower blue eyes with heavy, dark bags underneath and a very exhausted stare.

They stared at each other, neither moving nor even breathing. Until a male, confused voice came from the cloaked figure.

“You are not supposed to be up yet.”

His words snapped her out of the sudden scare, cold sweat going down her neck as she let out a heavy sigh. The cold hand of last night gripped her shoulder as she calmed down her heart palpitations.

Empty words. Ignored questions. Double-handed comments. Sarcastic answers. So much doubt. Condescending tones. Feeling dumb and stupid, and it hurts so much. You must have thought so hard about that. And why would I care? God, leave the thinking to someone else. Are you even trying? Surely you aren’t that stupid? I don't have time for that. Maybe if you used your head every once in a while, you wouldn’t be such a pain for us. Stupid. Dumb. Slow. Stop taLKING-

Cold lips whispered in her ear.

“Timothy. Know-it-all. Cold. Sarcastic. Condescending. And a coffee addict.”

Don’t let down your gaze

The cold hand slipped off slowly from the shirt, and then she was back in the hall with the freaking guy that almost gave her a heart attack on the spot.

Something akin to anger invaded her body. Sinking right through her back.

She straightened up and just stomped down the hallway, shaking her head as she muttered angrily under her breath. Her hands curled into fists on her sides. Her stomach growled in agreement for the first time since she stepped out.

“Not supposed to be up. Looking in the fucking mirror for once and then you can talk,” she said between her teeth as she passed right by him and taking two stairs at a time and disappearing by taking the hall to the left.

Anger, hunger, and fear ran through her blood. Anger from somebody else. Hunger that was becoming starvation. And fear, well, she was angry from getting scared like that by a dude with eyebags for his eyebags.

‘Fuck this house. Can’t normal people live under this roof?!’

Meanwhile, Drake just stood there. Eyes wide and mouth forming words, but no sound coming out. He was pretty sure he was having a hallucination from his lack of sleep.

“...since when does she move so fast?”

3. And then, the kitchen, her only salvation. Now turned into a gathering point.

Not only did she not find Alfred in the kitchen, but the little gremlin was having breakfast already at the dinner table.

He was wearing a school uniform, very similar to her own. Or what she thought her uniform used to look like. His schoolbag sat on the chair next to him, all pristine and expensive-looking. His plate was almost empty, just some scrambled eggs and untouched bacon strips that were snatched up by the smiling man sitting in front of him as they talked.

A man who left a sinking feeling on her suddenly quiet stomach.

The man had black hair and sparkling blue eyes, bright with joy and fondness as he listened to Damian complain about something she couldn’t bother to tune in as her ears started to ring. He wore a thick black jacket, a bluish grey shirt, and jeans. 

Before she took another step as quietly as possible (because she had convinced herself that if she moved as quietly and as fast as possible, she wouldn’t have to even interact with another random guy so early in the morning.), a youthful voice that felt like nails on a chalkboard to her called for her attention.

“Hey! You’re awake early!” The cheery tone made goosebumps break out on her skin, making her hiss under her breath.

Turning her head towards the man, she took notice of how he was already standing up and walking towards her. An easy smile on his face.

It irked her, for some reason. That smile.

“Here I thought you were sleeping in until late in the afternoon after what happened yesterday.”

With every step and word that came out of him, the more her shoulders moved up as an upsetting feeling churned inside of her.

Why is he smiling so much? And this early, too? It’s unsettling

Then, he put his hand on her shoulder. It felt so wrong and odd. And when her gaze found his, the only emotions she could find on his stare were pity and something similar to concern. But mainly pity. It made her feel cold and heavy.

“Did you rest? You need to-”

Sorry excuses. Soft avoidance. Pitiful glances. Forgotten recitals. Empty promises. So many empty chairs in recitals. Photos of her alone. Unanswered calls. Unseen messages. I can’t today, I’m too tired. Sorry, gotta go help with a case. Sure, I’ll see if I can go. Sorry, I’m going out with Damian. I promised Tim that I would help him with something. Can’t you ask Bruce? I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I can’T. I CAN’TIMSORRYICANTIMSORRYIMSORRYIMSORRY ARE YOU SORRY-

“Can you not?” she snapped, pulling her shoulder away from his grasp. Almost as if his touch burned her.

He recoiled, startled at the sudden action. Eyes widening in confusion and surprise. He put both of his hands up, trying to look defenseless.

“Oh, um, sorry. I didn’t think-” he tried to talk, but she just brushed him off and moved towards the fridge to look for something to take away the head-shattering migraine that was pounding between her ears.

Except the whispers were back. Again. 

‘Can you also not? Let me at least eat something, Jesus.’

She complained to herself, feeling a bit crazy while doing so. But the coldness settled for a moment. And the headache, too.

‘So maybe I am not going that crazy…’ She thought as she picked up a crystal jug filled with what she assumed was orange juice and some protein bars she found on the fridge door before closing it with her knee.

The man had not moved from his position, still staring at her as if she had grown a second head. His hands were even still up in the air, frozen.

Even the gremlin was staring at her with a calculating glare. But something was assuring her that it was just his face.

She didn’t say a single thing to them, sticking to serving some juice to drink. Finding a cup wasn’t so hard, just taking a clean one from the drying rack as she muttered under her breath. Maybe staying a few more hours holed up in a dead girl’s bedroom wasn’t such a bad idea if it meant she could have avoided meeting the ghost of the hallways and Mister touchy feelings over there.

“Richard Grayson,” The sudden cold lips at her ear made her almost choke on her juice, but she managed to hold it back.

‘What’s up with your fucking timing?!’

The ghost on her shoulder ignored her (because she was 100% sure it was a ghost, fight her on that).

“Liar. Pitiful. Avoidant. Fake. Liar. Liar. LiaR. LiAR. LIAR-”

“How hard did you hit your head to be acting like a savage animal?” the snobbish gremlin said with his nose turned up, glaring at the empty cup in her hand.

Looks like she downed it so fast that she didn’t even notice it. A small hiccup left her throat, making her flush a bit in embarrassment.

“Now, Dami, that’s not nice,” the man, Richard, said as he walked towards her. 

But she moved away from him with a grimace, avoiding his extended hand again. He probably intended to pat her back or something, but she wasn’t feeling like it. So she took a sharp curve to the left and put the cup in the dishwasher to wash it.

Richard looked almost offended at that, staring at her with a hurt look and looking down at his hand. Did he do something wrong? Are his hands dirty or something?

Why is she avoiding him? Why won’t she let him hold her? She used to even preen over a simple pat!

“So,” he clapped his hands awkwardly, trying to disguise a bit the tense situation. “How’s the wound? Heard it wasn’t pretty.”

Such a smooth move, Dick.

Both Damian and her turned to look at him in disbelief.

She scoffed, a sarcastic laugh as she slammed down the now clean cup in the drying rack. Her eyes gave a bit of a maniacal glint that made him click his mouth shut.

That was… new.

“Yeah, having my head cracked open on the pavement is not a pretty sight. Such an outstanding observation!”

Her tone made him wince, and even Damian looked a bit surprised at her biting answer. But he mostly seemed entertained by the drama unfolding in front of him.

Richard sighed deeply at that, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He was digging a deeper hole.

“I didn’t mean like that,” he uttered out before gesturing towards her. “You’re just so sensitive today, and I’m-”

“Excuse me, the fuck you mean by ‘I’m being sensitive’?”

Suddenly, Damian’s empty plate looked a lot more interesting to him.

Pure irritation and indignation were oozing from her body, making Richard lift his hands up and close and open his mouth like a gaping fish. He took a few steps forward, slowly.

“Wooh, I meant that you-’

But she was not having it.

“You just waltz back in here, acting all concerned, and tell me how I’m supposed to be acting like it’s something kind of play? Is that it?”

“No! Is just that you are not reacting-”

“Reacting like what? Like I should be sooo glad that you are cutting some of your time to show you care?” Her face was twisted in a snarl. So much indignation was bubbling from inside her chest and making her fists shake by her sides.

His expression was similar to as if he had gotten the air punched out of him. Those words hit a bit too close. 

“Hun, that’s not what I-” his hand went to grab her forearm. But it got slapped away.

Suddenly, he had a pointed finger up in his face and a fuming teenage girl glaring at him from hell and back.

“Don’t. Touch. Me.” She spat out. Turning around and picking her protein bars, she stomped towards the entrance of the kitchen and yelled over her shoulder before disappearing down the hall.

“ Ever Again! ”

The uncomfortable silence reigned over the kitchen for a long time. Neither of the two people there said a thing until the butler of the family made his way into the room, carrying some plastic bags from the grocery store trip he had made to make something more nutritious for the young lady, which would help her get some more energy. But the tense air made him raise an eyebrow, taking notice of the grieving expression on Master Dick’s face and the thoughtful expression on Master Damian’s.

“Everything alright with breakfast, Masters?” he asked while putting away the groceries.

Damian picked up his dishes and began to wash them in the sink, not paying any attention to Grayson’s obvious crisis.

“I think Embarrassment is going through her rebellious stage… or puberty.”

“...I see.”

Dick just started sobbing against the counter.

✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼

And that would summarize the hellish morning she just had.

Nobody had come to bother her, thank God. Alfred even brought her a complete breakfast to her room and didn’t ask any questions about why she lay on the floor while glaring at the ceiling as if it had offended her in the worst way possible. If only the people around were more like him, she wouldn’t have gone all berserk on the touchy guy.

She felt a bit bad over snapping that way, but he wouldn’t stop trying to touch her. And let’s say that the odd vibrating sensation under her skin was not helping with receiving touch.

It hurt. It honestly hurt. It felt like burning branding, and it hurt.

Even her clothes felt like needles against her skin. It was very uncomfortable, and it was driving her insane. The only thing that could soothe it was the coldness from the ghost that followed her everywhere.

Oh, right. The ghost.

She had a few impressions of who it could be, since she had made it pretty obvious with all the clues she had been getting from way back at the police station. And all those memories and feelings and outbursts (okay, the outbursts were all her own, but she certainly gave the push), it wasn’t that hard to put two and two together.

The real (Y/N) Wayne was haunting here in the most unconventional way possible.

Unlike the men of the family (except Alfred), the actual spirit wasn’t trying to scare the hell out of her. Which gained a thousand brownie points in her favor. As for why said ghost was still here and helping her out instead of throwing a fit for getting her literal body stolen from her, that was still a mystery.

“Can you only talk to me? Is that not boring to you?” she asked the empty air beside her on the bed, fidgeting mindlessly with the seams of an old lilac blanket. 

After getting quite harshly shoved into the bed and having throwed at the weighted blanket over her, she had gotten the message that the ghost didn’t mind her being in her space.

And she didn’t even know if ghost girl was actually beside her. It was just a random decision, so she didn’t feel she was going as crazy as she was.

Then a round of unanswered questions began to pass the time. There was no way she was gonna venture around the manor and run the chance of encountering another annoying guy related to her.

“I wonder, does your dad just have a hobby of picking up the most entitled guys as his son, or is it pure coincidence?” That got her a tickling sensation on her nose similar to a pinch.

It wasn’t exactly an answer, but she would take it as a yes.

She snorted and sighed deeply, letting her eyes slip close. That weighted blanket was doing wonders to calm her down.

She wondered if Billy was doing all right, wherever he was.

Is he too far away? (Of course, he is; she can’t feel him in her head. She always felt him there. No matter how far apart they were from one another.)

Is he going through the same thing? Adapting to a new body? (Some odd feeling told her he wasn’t going through it exactly like her. But she couldn’t figure out why.)

Is he eating? Is he alone? Does he also have a ghost companion like her? Where is he? God, where is he-

A sudden clattering and crashing sound startled her out of her trance thoughts. Sitting up on the bed and looking around the room for the source of the noise. As she slid to the edge of the bed, the creaking door of the wardrobe opened slowly.

…She gave a dead stare to the empty air.

“If you want me dead, just say so. No need for spooky shit.”

As if on sync, the door opened completely. It was filled to the brim with scarves, coats, dresses, and shirts in the same aesthetic and colors as the room. From deep purple to soft lilac, black, and dirty green. And scattered over the floor, a cardboard box open with what she could identify as cassettes.

The blanket slid off of her, and a small shove on her shoulder had her standing up and walking over to the mess on the floor. Grumbling as she crouched to clean up.

“Y’know, being your eternal maid is not exactly on my plans, so how about we keep your stuff cle-” her ranting stopped once the label on one of the cassettes caught her eye.

‘Diary Entry: Year 6’

She sat down on the floor, noticing how all the other cassettes had different numbers written on their labels as she picked them up. There were a total of ten cassettes, the number one being in such a deplorable state that indicated someone had thrown it around and pulled out the tape on purpose.

A dragging sound behind her made her look away and over her shoulder. 

A cassette player, very well taken care of, stood out by the edge beneath the bed. She looked back at the old box and the destroyed cassette in her hands, her fingers gently running along the sticky recording tape.

Well, time to listen to a ghost’s podcast.

She preferred that over getting out of the room. 

A win is a win.

• • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

Author's Note: I Keep on saying I won't make long chapters, better stop believing me fr. So, a small update about what's gonna happen in the next two-three weeks. Next week, I'll be entering the last weeks of the semester and I'm locking in completely. I'm also going on a weekend trip by the end of this week, so next chapter will be published after that trip and then focus on finals. I'll try my best to publish weekly, could early or late but always expect towards sundays. That would be all for now! Let me know your thoughts on this chapter and give it some love! Lots of hugs,

GG✨

Tag List:

@bat1212 @kneelforloki @1abi @galaxypurplerose @yhin-gg @cxcilla @momentomoribitch @stargirl404 @initial-ari @welpthisisboring @icefox8155 @bunniotomia @alittlelostmoonchild @devotedlyshamelessdetective @shycreatorreview @nirvanaxx1942 @soulsire @ryuushou @rinkydinkythinky @lithiumval @ithoughtthinks @reeyy0-2 @cssammyyarts @lordbugs

Bonus Memes:

[donutz]

sebastian with a reader who gives him a ton of resources and asks if they can buy a kiss from him O-O

Buying a kiss from Sebastian

You aren't that delusional right?

— A big ol smooch. Mwah. Delicious fishy skin oh so yummy.

Warning: Shy reader, but not the stereotypical 'Y/N'; Stutters, I'm sorry I'll try to make it realistic; THIS IS NOT A BIG DADDY AND SHY Y/N TROPE.; Sorry I just wanted to warn you; I don't use Y/N anyways, I use Reader as if there's a difference😎; There's no kiss on the lips☹️; Buttt there's a teasing Sebastian; 'Bad' words; Non-human reader, they just have the ear fins; They have green-like skin with four yellow eyes! Two fakes ones underneath their original ones; They also can disguise as a human

After dying over and over again, you became acquainted with Sebastian. You saw him in the shop and even saw him when you were dead. You’re not sure on how the dying thing works but…

It doesn’t really matter as long as you get to see Sebastian.

You’ve gained feelings for him, even though he isn’t very.. Human. His little insults can be annoying but I guess it’s um. Reasonable? Yeah that’s something you don’t enjoy all that much.

But his voice and his tone is something that you like. You may have a strange taste but who doesn’t like a 10 ft tall man that has aquatic features?

… Probably every other normal person…

But some mermen can be attractive! You feel like a little kid crushing on cartoons.

Sebastian seems very closed off and distant from humans. Maybe because humans are the reason he’s this way?

That’s understandable.

I don’t think I would like humans at all if I looked like that either. It’s not like he’s ugly it’s just… It seems like he was human before being that way.

Anyways

Maybe since he doesn’t seem okay with other forms of affection— You could get him a gift! It’s unexpected, can be taken as platonic, and a way to get closer to somebody! Perfect!

Though what should you get him?

Hmm…

You don’t know any of his likes, favorites, nothing really.

Oh!

But he has a shop!

You could uhh. Give him some items for his shop!

And then…

Ask for a kiss!

… Is that too forward? Well he might like you back!

He might… Like you back..

He doesn’t really give many hints on his feelings towards love. Especially towards you, minus the lessened amounts of insults he throws at you.

Oh that could be a hint! He stutters sometimes too! But he did that before he truly knew you… 

Ugh, too many ellipses.

Oh sorry I didn’t mean to break the 4th wall.

Agh hem.

As the loop starts again, you decided that the gift could be items. Items to give so he can hold it for his shop. Then a smooch!

A smooch?

Yeah a kiss. Totally. He’ll definitely give you a kiss with those… Rubber… Lips…

Okay maybe a kiss on the hand can suffice.

Exiting the submarine you prepare to give Sebastian a ton of items in return for a kiss!

Are you really that delusional?

.

.

.

Yes!

You end up finding flash beacons, flashlights, medkits— Actually maybe you should keep that one.

Y’know, just incase a good pers—

… Mmm…

People?

Just in case good people pops up.

Hate that thing.

Oh wow a lantern.

When it comes to the monsters and just being in this place in general, it’s like your whole personality switches. 

When it comes to Sebastian you’ll be all shy. But when it comes to just Urbanshade, its creatures, and Hadal Blacksite… You’re more mad and irritated.

Sometimes you even say bad words at the creatures.

Oooo.

Saying bad words even though you’re a grown adult.

How, “NO YOU CAN’T SAY THAT”!!

Y’know? 

When people infantilize shy characters?

Y’know?

☹️

You get pretty close to door fifty, having many helpful sources to give to that— man…

You hear an expected voice..(Oh how spooky)

“Hey. Come here”.

You look at an invisible camera pulling off that— Roblox man face or something- I don’t– I don’t know.

Speed walking over there in excitement, you hold a smile on your face. Your beautiful smile lines showing.

Damn, you really like him huh?

You crawl through the vents waiting with anticipation. Possible praise? Or even a smile?

You can’t wait.

Reaching the end of the vent, you immediately look up, bumping your head. It’s a good thing you have that head gear. You might’ve gotten a traumatic brain injury and five dollars.

… What.

A- Anways, you rub your head looking down.

“Oh damn. Well based on that head bump I already know who it is. Hello my favorite prisoner”.

“Hey Sebastian, yeah you’re so funny. Making fun of my h- head bump. Die”.

“Hey buddy I was justt messing arounddd”.

“M-hm- Mhm.” You let out pained noises. Getting out from the vent, you stretch out your limbs. Hearing a few pops

“Eww… Yuck, I hate those sounds.” Sebastian commented.

“Yeah they’re kinda weird about humans”.

“They suree areee”…

After a few seconds of silence, Sebastian speaks up.

“Soo, you gonna buy anything”?

“W- Well maybe, I– shiver, I actually have some gi- gifts for you.” Clearing your throat you physically cringe at the stuttering. It makes you seem.. I don’t know.. Fanfic material or something.

“Gifts”?

“Yea! Gifts.. T- To show you my um… G- Gratitude for- sigh, for giving me those items”.

He chuckled, “It’s not like I give you them for free or anything”.

“Yeah but sometimes you give me discounts”.

“Oh yeah huh”?

“So I— I wanted to give these to you, S- Sebastian”..

“You’re very stuttery today aren’t you”?

You look up at him while getting the things out of your bag.

You let out a shivery laugh, “Y- Yeah, I’ve never really um.. Given someone gifts before a- and it’s.. Spooky– down here”.

Sebastian could tell that was an excuse.

I know that was an excuse, it’s obvious you’re this way because of your little crush or something.

You hand Sebastian the items, his two claws engulfing yours. You wish these stupidly thick gloves were off your hands so you could actually feel his claws.

“And shaky”.

“Oh! Um”..

“You sure you’re okay?” He asks with concern. Putting away the items, he’s not sure why he even asked.

“Yeah I’m okay! It’s just um. Th- Those aren’t f- free.” Even with the small amount of built confidence, you were still very nervous.

“Oh of course they’re not. What is it? Do I have to give you some data or something? If you’re asking for cash then–”

“N- No”!

He’s surprised by the sudden and yippy-like voice.

“I uh, I don’t want data or cash”.

“... So, what do you want”?

“A. A uhm. Uh”.

“C’mon spit it out already”!

“A kiss!! Yeah a small kiss or something”..

.

.

.

Oh yes I love awkward moments, what about you?

“A kiss?” Sebastian repeats.

You nod, not even being able to speak right now. You’re looking at the ground with hands together and thumbs rubbing against the hard leather. If you weren’t sweating you definitely would be now.

“Y’know it would’ve made more sense if you said that before giving me the items”?

“Sebastian I’m serious”!

“Okay okay, yes you can have your kiss”.

You look up quickly, a quiet crack in your neck from turning it so fast.

You may think that you’re blushy and flustered one right now. Well that’s correct, if you can even blush.

Buttt you’re not the only one with a rapidly beating heart.

Sebastian’s trying to hide it, to not seem all vulnerable in front of somebody. Not just a human. Showing that you’re vulnerable is a sign of, I guess.. Weakness.

“But how can you even kiss me with that diving helmet”?

Oh yeah you forgot about that.

“O- Oh, yeah uhm- let me take care of that”.

That sentence peaks his interest, if you were to take that off then he’s sure your head would pop.

“W- Wait I was just joking—!” He reaches out to you to stop you, putting his right claw over your head gear.

Even though you’d be just fine with the pressure, you were shocked he even stopped you.

“Oh uhm. Sebastian. I’m not fully human, I can handle the pressure with or without the gear”.

Whattt??

His face scrunches with confusion and shock, stunned. 

You take off the head gear, but don’t worry, you’ve managed to disable that explosion thing. Just temporarily, they haven’t noticed yet.

You hold your gear in your hand, looking up at Sebastian.

You smile, showing off your yellowish, blueish teeth. Your ear fins sway slightly, up and down.

“Yeah I’m not really uhh, human. Fully anyways.” You set your gear on the ground—

“A- And I’ve taken care of that blowing up device. S- So don’t worry”.

God he reallyyy hopes that nobody walks in right now.

“Th- They can’t hear me either so, I’ll be fine temporarily. I’ll soon have to turn it all back on so they don’t suspect anything”.

Wow.

He thought you were kinda dumb to add onto your shy personality.

Damn.

That’s um.

Surprising.

You can feel his stare on you. It’s not very uhh, it’s not a good feeling.

You look back up at him, putting a hand over your forehead as if it were a visor.

“Do I not look good or-”

“N- No! That’s not why I’m staring. It’s just.. Surprising. I couldn’t really get any hints on how you weren’t a human”.

“Ah, well that was on purpose actually. I- I’m not sure if you really do scents but– I gave myself a more human scent and covered up the dark green skin with a more human one”.

Woww, yes you’re sooo smart.

He keeps on staring at you.

“Anyways, what about that uhm.. That kiss..?” You mentally cheer at the least amount of stutters in the much bolder question.

“O- Oh yes”!

Oo! A stutter!

“Well I doubt you would kiss me on the lips”.

“O- Oh I don’t m- mind— Ughh, I don’t mind kissing you anywhere really. Just a kiss itself is fine”!

“Oh really?” He teased.

“Y- Yes.” You whisper.

“Well, how about a kiss to the palm, yeah? Not too forward and nearly just the right amount of romance”.

“Yeah that’s fine”!!

Your somewhat wobbly legs move over to Sebastian. He slightly moves his right claw to your face, casting a shadow over your head because of how big it is.

You grab both sides of his hand and lean over to his palm, giving it a quick—

Smooch!

To the palm. Even after the kiss you still stay there for a few seconds, before backing away with your hands behind your back.

You hurriedly put your head gear back on before quickly stuttering out—

“T- Thank you f- for the k- kiss! I enjoy- gulp, enjoyed it”!

Rushing out of the shop, you let out a huge breath.

As if this was some show, the camera would pan to Sebastian’s scrunched up face, his lip(?) quivering. He’s happy that he’s cold blooded, or else he’d be blushing very, very hard right now.

He holds up that same palm, and puts it to his lips(??).

Letting out a shaky breath.

Guys guess how much words..

1773!!! I'm so good at um. Long fanfics yeah😛😛

[ahsokaismyqueen]

Watergate Pairing - Steve Harrington x HendersonSister!Reader Summary - Dustin has a theory that there's a new gate, and Nancy has a suspicion of where it might be. The best swimmer needs to go to the bottom of Lover's Lake and check it out. Unfortunately, much to Steve's displeasure, that happens to be you. Word Count - 3.2k Warnings - Language and violence Steve Harrington x HendersonSister!Reader Masterlist

You could feel Dustin glaring at you from the shore as Steve settled in beside you at the last moment. “You said four!” He called after you. 

Steve let out a quiet, “Sorry,” while you just waved at him with a grin. 

“If he thought I was letting him that close to a possible gate, he’s out of his damn mind.” You said, glancing at the compass that he had tossed you. 

“Bedtime at nine kiddos!” Robin yelled to them. “Miss you already!” 

Dustin flipped you all off. 

While you had been one of the first ones on the boat, you couldn’t deny the way your heart was beating hammering in your chest. What the hell were you guys going to do if you actually found a gate? Would you have to go into it to destroy Vecna? You glanced over at Eddie who was rowing at the front with Robin, and then back at the shore where Dustin, Lucas and Max were now barely visible. You knew you would do it. Whatever it took to save both of them, you would do it, but it didn’t make you any less scared. 

“Hey, the compass.” Steve’s voice interrupted your thoughts as he shone his flashlight down at the instrument in your hands. 

Eddie and Robin stopped rowing, and you all bent your heads towards it, watching as it spun around wildly. All of the sudden you heard Dustin’s voice coming through the walkie. “Guys, what’s going on? Come on, talk to me.” 

Robin grabbed the walkie and replied, “Uh, Dustin, your compass has gone from wonky to wonky with a capital waahhh.” 

Steve reached out and started taking his shoes and socks off. “Steve . . . what do you think you’re doing?” You asked him. 

He didn’t meet your gaze. “Somebody’s gotta go down and check this thing out. Unless one of you can top -” He looked up at you then, realizing his mistake. 

“.3 seconds, Harrington.” You reminded him. 

“Woah, wait, you can’t go down there.” Eddie said, being the first to catch on. 

Steve looked like he wanted to agree with him. “Remember what happens when we separate?” He replied, and you did. The memories at Starcourt flashed in your mind as well as the ones from last night, watching that body snap while you had been in the lake completely helpless  with Eddie, thinking how that’s what would happen to Max . . . 

“We’re not separating.” You said as you started to pull off your own socks and shoes. “I will be a few feet below you. That’s it.” You stood up and took off your sweatshirt, handing it to Steve. “I’ll be right back.” 

“Are you sure that you want to do this?” Nancy asked you. 

You nodded, “Eddie hand me that flashlight. I won’t be able to see shit down there.” 

“Are you fucking shitting me right now? You’re going to let her go down there?” Eddie asked Steve. 

“Oh, let’s not pretend she needs Steve’s or any other man’s permission.” Robin told him, rolling her eyes. 

You knew that Steve would never stop you. He’d do his damn best to convince you, then protect you if necessary, but there must have been something in your eyes that told him it’d be futile. “I don’t like this.” He said, while Eddie cursed in the background, taking the flashlight  and wrapping it in a plastic bag. 

“Well that makes two of us.” You said, glancing at the water again. You took a step closer, getting ready to dive, but stopped when you felt Steve grab your hand. 

“Be careful.” He said, his eyes pleading, worried, and you wished you could reassure him. 

But you wouldn’t lie. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, and turned back to the water. Thinking about Max, thinking about Eddie, and saving both of them, you shoved your anxiety deep in your gut, and dove. 

The calmness and easing of your muscles that you normally felt when swimming never came. Lover’s Lake wasn’t super deep, but the blackness that surrounded you still made you feel uneasy. You used the flashlight to glance across the bottom, looking for anything out of the ordinary when something white caught your eye. You swam over, and found the skeletons of several fish which only served to confuse you. If the fish had died . . . Wouldn’t their bodies still remain? Or had they been down there that long? 

That was when the red light caught your eye. You tried to force yourself to remain calm, and swam over, stopping above it. You had seen a gate once, back deep in those Russian tunnels last summer, but it was a sight you'd never forget. This was much smaller, maybe three feet wide, but unmistakable. Nancy and your brother had been right. As you leaned down to get a closer look, a vine smacked against the other side of the gate. 

Your heart took off and so did your body, swimming away as fast as you could until you breached the surface. 

“Oh Christ!” You heard Eddie say as they all jumped at your sudden appearance. 

“It’s there.” You said, grabbing a hold of the edge of the boat. “It’s a gate.” You looked at Steve and Robin. “It looks like the one we saw in the tunnels, just smaller.” 

“Great, now you can get out.” Steve said, grabbing a hold of your arm to help pull you back in the boat, anxiety lacing his tone while Robin told Dustin the news over the walkie. 

That was when you felt the first tug. It dragged you under for the briefest moment before you kicked it off, and you didn’t even have another second to react. All you did was share a glance with Steve, who looked increasingly panicked, and then you were dragged under again. You felt Steve above the water still holding onto you, trying his best to pull you out, but your hand was wet, and slid right out of his grasp. 

It was like two years ago. You felt the vine wrapping around your ankle, dragging you down faster than you could ever hope to swim, and a scream left your throat as you tried to find anything to grab a hold of, but no matter how hard you tried the gate keep getting closer and closer until it spat you out on the other side, still dragging you along as you screamed and your fingers tried to find purchase on something, anything to stop you. 

A big huff of air left you as your back slammed into something and the vine had to let go. You kept your eyes closed, trying to catch your breath for a moment, when your brain caught up with the sounds surrounding you. 

You had never been to the Upside Down. The closest you had ever gotten was senior year when you, Steve and the rest of the kids had set fire to that hub. Without opening your eyes, you knew this was worse. The sounds, the smells, all of it was so . . . wrong, and when you did open your eyes . . . The world was too. It was dark . . . desolate . . . You could almost feel the hopelessness that hung in the air. You stood up on shaky legs, thunder crackling and the sky flickering with clouds of red lightning. A screech of a creature behind you had you turning around, terrified of what you might find there, and you saw what looked to be some sort of bird or bat flying towards you. 

Then you heard the sound again, and again. Everywhere you turned those creatures were headed in your direction and all you could think was run. 

You didn’t get very far before a tail wrapped around your neck. You screamed again, clawing at it violently as the force of it tugged you to the ground. No matter how hard you tried, the creature's grip only became tighter and you began to choke, your eyes widening as you caught sight of more of the creatures surrounding your body. You yanked harder at the tail around your neck when pain exploded through your stomach. 

Looking down in horror you saw the bat-like creature stabbing into your skin and attempted to slap it away to have another one do the same to your opposite side. You kicked and thrashed every way possible trying to dislodge the creatures, but it was no use. As soon as you knocked one off, another would attack from the opposite side. You screamed, tears of pain streaming down your face as you tried to fight them off.

You couldn't die like this. You had to help save Max and Eddie . . . You had to lounge around your room with Robin and laugh at everything even when it wasn’t that funny . . . You had to play Dungeons and Dragons with Dustin again . . . You had to tell Steve you loved him every day for the rest of your life . . . 

Another choked scream of pain and terror left your throat as you looked down at the creatures eating your flesh, when suddenly, one was knocked away. 

You looked up to see all of them. Steve, Eddie, Robin and Nancy. They had all dived in after you. 

And the fighting began. 

Steve was vicious. You’d never seen him that violent before as he yelled at Robin to stand on the tail of the one that was holding you while he stabbed it over and over again with an oar. Nancy and Eddie tried to keep the bats from the three of you, but when one of them got Nancy in the back, Robin had to help. 

Tossing the oar he had been using to Nancy, Steve landed beside you, tugging at the tail again, and finally the two of you were able to make it release you. Taking deep gasps of breath you watched as he held the tail tight in his hands and used all his strength to throw the bat against the ground over and over, and the bastard still wasn’t dying. With shaky hands, you grabbed the broken top half of Eddie’s oar, and the next time Steve threw the bat down you stabbed it with all the strength you had, holding it in place while Steve literally ripped it in half. 

There was a beat of dead silence for a moment, and then you were wrapped up in his arms. You clung onto him with everything you had, sobs racking your tired throat as Steve held you, his hand cradling the back of your head while your face hid in his shoulder. God you had almost lost him. You’d almost lost everyone. “I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.” You cried, needing to get the words out. You weren’t sure if you’d told him today, or if he could even understand you with the way you were hysterically crying, but you vowed never to let there be a day when he didn’t hear those words again. 

His arms gripped you so close you could barely breathe, rocking you back and forth as he held you. “I know, I know. I love you too. So damn much.” 

You pulled back for the briefest moment so you could kiss him, desperate to feel his lips on yours and reassure yourself that you were still alive. He was here, you were here, and you were both breathing. Judging by the way he kissed you back, his need was as extreme as yours, his fingers digging into you so hard it was painful, but you didn’t dare want him to stop. 

The sound of the creatures made you flinch, pulling away from his lips and clinging to Steve’s chest as he helped you to your feet. There were more. At least six or seven, and they landed around the gate, blocking all of you from going back out. 

“All right. There’s not that many. We can take them.” Steve said, his arm wrapped protectively around you. 

Then you all caught sight of the swarm. “You were saying?” Robin said. 

Your shaking hand gripped the arm Steve had around you. “We’ve gotta get out of here.” You said, your eyes locked on the bats, panic rising in your throat once again. 

“The woods!” Nancy said, and you all turned around to see what she was referring to. “Come on!” She took off running.

Steve glanced at you, a question in his eyes, and you nodded. You could make it. The two of you took off running after her, Steve holding your hand in his grip as Eddie and Robin trailed behind you. 

You didn’t start to feel weird until the five of you were hiding under the Upside Down’s version of skull rock. The adrenaline had started to wear off on your body, and you could feel any ounce of energy that you had fading away as the swarm of bats flew overhead, all heading to the gate. Dizziness started to make the ground in front of you fuzzy, and you squeezed Steve’s hand, trying to focus on something else. 

“Okay, that was close.” 

“Yeah, too close.” 

It was Robin and Eddie talking, you could tell that much, but it sounded like they were underwater. Taking a deep breath, you let Steve pull you out from under the rock, and immediately the world went out of focus. You felt yourself start to stumble, but Steve grabbed you moments before you hit the ground. “Woah, I got you.” He said, and you grabbed a hold of his biceps, using them to steady yourself. 

“I’m losing too much blood,” You admitted, after you felt steady enough to look up at him. “I need to stop the bleeding or - or you guys are going to have to carry me around on your backs everywhere.” You said, able to muster the smallest grin as you slid down to the ground. 

“We’d do it for you, sweetheart.” Eddie said, giving you a grin as well, but you could see the worry in his eyes as he glanced down at all the blood on your shirt. 

Steve sat down on his knees in front of you, his hands gentle as they tugged on the bottom of your tank top. “I need to see -”

“How bad it is?” You interrupted with a hoarse chuckle. “I thought I was the future doctor here, Harrington?” 

“You really do have the worst timing for jokes, you know that?” He said, shaking his head at you as he started to ease your shirt away from your skin. 

Eddie turned away, attempting to give you some privacy, and your humor faded at the pain as the shirt tugged at your shredded skin. You let out a breath that sounded more like a hiss that made him stop, but you gestured for him to keep going. You needed to know how bad it was too. 

And it was bad. “Shit,” Steve said once he had gotten the bloody tank top over your head and onto the ground. 

You were going to need stitches. Several stitches actually, and while every building that existed in your Hawkins also existed in the Upside Down, there was no chance you were going to use any sort of medical equipment from here to try and heal you. 

Steve’s hands hovered over your wounds, and it was then that you noticed they were shaking. “What-what can I do?” He asked, looking at you. 

“I need to stop the bleeding.” You said, glancing around. “Do we have anything we can -”

“Here.” Nancy was already tearing at part of her shirt, and you spared her a smile. 

“So the good news is I’m pretty sure wooziness is not a symptom of rabies.” Robin spoke up, and she bent down beside Steve. “But if you start having hallucinations or muscle spasms, or you start feeling aggressive, like you wanna punch me, let me know.” 

You had to admit, the thought of rabies hadn’t occurred to you, but that was a worry you didn’t have time for right now. “Robin, if I had rabies, symptoms wouldn’t be setting in this quickly.” You told her. 

“What if I kinda want to punch you?” Steve said, clearly irritated  that she had brought up another thing for him to worry about. 

“I’ll chalk it up to stress.” She replied, but then turned her focus back to you. “You know - it’s - It’s not so bad when you look closer?” She said, giving you a lopsided smile that wasn’t even remotely convincing. 

You shook your head at her. “You’re a terrible liar.” 

By this time Nancy had finished tearing off the fabric and handed it to Steve. She gave Robin a look, and the two of them left to give you and Steve some privacy. 

“You’ve got to tie it around me tight, okay? It’s the only way to stop the bleeding.” You told him, placing your hands on his shoulders in anticipation of the pain this was going to cause. 

He frowned, but nodded, stretching the fabric out in his hands. “You ready?” 

“As I’ll ever be.” You replied, sitting up on your knees and biting your lip as he wrapped the fabric around you. It hurt like hell, but you allowed yourself a tiny whimper as he secured the fabric. 

Of course he noticed as soon as you did and stopped, leaning back to look at your face. “Is it too tight?” 

You shook your head. “The tighter the better.” 

At your words, he went back to work, tying off the fabric and leaning back to look at you once more. Once he seemed satisfied, he looked down next to you and your ripped shirt, and didn’t hesitate for a second to pull off his sweater, gently putting it over your head and tugging it down your body before you could even protest. The scent of him blocked out everything else and you let out a sigh as he pulled you close once again, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to your forehead that sent tension melting from your body. “I thought I was scared shitless this morning when I got to Reefer Rick’s and all the cop cars were there.” Steve said, his voice as gentle as his kiss. “That was nothing compared to just then.” He took a deep breath as you wrapped your arms around him, and his nose bumped against yours. “I thought I lost you.” 

“I thought I lost you.” You whispered back. “I thought I lost everyone.” God, you had never been more terrified in your life. “I fucking hate this place Steve.” You told him, tears filling up your eyes as you looked at him, thinking about how close you had come to never being able to look into his eyes again and see that deep love that he had for you there. 

Steve brushed away the tears that had started to fall down your face. “We’re going to get out of here baby.” He said with conviction, kissing you on the forehead once more. “If I have to take on every one of those damn bats by myself, I’m getting us home.” 

You held him tighter, hoping to God he was right.

[steviewashere]

Almost just started crying because I remembered that Eddie Munson knows how to hot wire a car because his dad taught him. Because his dad took him on those kinds of activities.

EDIT: I MADE A FULL FIC BASED ON THIS POST, READ IT HERE ON TUMBLR OR HERE ON AO3

Okay so I genuinely turned this into a half-fic. Remind me to format it better for archival purposes. CW: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death (Eddie's Mom and Steve's Grandpa)

And, listen, I still haven't read Eddie's book—no spoilers, please—so I'm not sure if it's said if he was an adult when taken, but still. He was this guy's child. Just a child. I imagine it worse, though. Of Eddie, small child Eddie, maybe...7 or 8? Maybe it's after his mom died, he's seeking comfort from his dad, and his dad doesn't know what to do with a grieving child. Doesn't know how to properly love Eddie in the ways that really matter. Doesn't know what he's fucking doing.

So he just takes Eddie with him. Takes him along. To the grocery store where he visibly pockets several items, buys only a candy bar, and then darts it out of the store with Eddie—giving him the candy bar as appeasement. Takes him out for the car hot wiring, Al's got Eddie holding the flashlight in his tiny, tiny hand (that hasn't been held in a while, sans when they're making a run from store employees), and he's whispering so low under his breath how to properly get the sparks to start—and he's doing it in this particular voice that he knows makes Eddie listen and retain, just so that every little detail he's muttering will be remembered, and remembered it is.

On one excursion, the final job, Eddie is taken out to hot wire a very, very nice car. One that's parked in the parking lot of this real big, real pretty restaurant. And they're doing the work—maybe Eddie's the one doing the wires this time; but I'm gonna not think it that way, because that's making me impossibly sadder, but do as you will—until a group of three comes barreling to the car. A man, a woman, and a child that appears Eddie's age.

The police is called. The parents of this family are complaining to the police, spitting mean words, giving Eddie dirty looks. He's standing off to the side, his dad is in the backseat of a patrol car. They told him to just stay put—that they were gonna call somebody to come get him. And then—

"Why did you try to steal my daddy's car?" the boy asks him. He's got an inch on Eddie, his hair had been meticulously styled—at least he thinks, it's drooping and flopping now, strands getting into his face. He's staring at Eddie with these big, also drooping, hazel eyes. There's a takeout container in his hands, one that he passes back and forth nervously. "My daddy paid lots and lots and lots of money for his car."

Eddie just swallows and wrings his hands together nervously. Shrugs. "My papa said I had to," he mutters, "so that we can have food. I didn't know it was wrong."

"It's very wrong."

"I know," Eddie murmurs, hanging his head. He used to have hair that would dangle down and cover his face, hair that he could hide in. Until his dad buzzed it near completely off, telling Eddie in that tone that long hair was only for pansies. He can see his dad, even when he looks down towards the parking lot, can see his impatient feet dangling over the edge of the open patrol car door—tapping away in that furious way he always does; it's saved for when he's really mad—and when Eddie can finally catch his dad's gaze, the anger is set on him, not the men in blue. "I shouldn't have done it, but my papa said I had to help"—he continues to hold his dad's angry stare—"I trust my papa."

"My daddy has lots of money," the boy tells him. "Do you not have money?"

Eddie gives him a sidelong glance. "I had a dollar from the tooth fairy."

"Had?"

He shrugs. "My papa needed it. Said we had to get a candy bar so he can keep all the ex-pensive stuff he put in his pockets." When he looks back at his dad, he's since looked away, still tapping his feet, though. He drags his stare to the boy again. "Why're you talkin' to me? Aren't your parents mad at me?"

"They're mad at your daddy," he says, "not you. But...I don't know, I can tell they don't like you anyway. Sometimes, when my daddy is really angry, he looks at me like that"—the boy points shyly to his dad, who just finished giving a smoldering stare to Eddie—"that's before he grabs the wooden spoon. It scares me a little."

"My papa does that, too," Eddie quietly admits, "but he says it's to teach me a lesson. He's good at teaching lessons."

"Daddy says that, too. I don't believe him sometimes. Sometimes it just hurts." The boy looks at him, those droopy eyes soft and curious. "What's your name? We've been talkin' and I don't know your name. Daddy says it's good to get somebody's name. For big connections. I don't know what that means. He talks and makes money, so I guess I don't need to know. He talks forever. Forever and ever. That's why we were here tonight, he's talkin' to his partners from"—the kid puffs out his chest, deepening his voice to bellow—"The Branch." And then he shoots Eddie a gap-toothed grin—his two front teeth are sitting apart from each other, just barely, and he's missing a fang on the left side. It's dorky. It's sweet.

"I'm Eddie," he says quietly, "what's your name?"

"Steve!" he exclaims. "Or, well, I'm s'posed to be Steven. But my friend, Tommy, gave me a nickname. And guess what?!" Eddie doesn't even get the chance to answer before, "Tommy is a nickname, too! His actual name is Thomas, but he doesn't like it. Says it makes him feel grown up. But we're only seven. We're not s'posed to be big yet. You should meet him sometime, I think maybe you guys could play trucks together—though, Tommy likes the big yellow truck. Says it's like his daddy's work. I dunno what Tommy's dad does. Buildin' stuff, maybe. I wonder what he builds. Maybe those big buildings in New York—I see 'em all the time when my daddy wants to take me—oh, sometimes my daddy says I gotta stay home when he leaves with Mommy because of big work stuff"—Steve stops to take a deep breath, chuckling at the tail end of it—"but that's okay. I get to be alone at home! It's quiet when they aren't there, no more yelling. And I get to eat my food in front of the TV, and I can have ice cream for breakfast and"—

"Eddie is a nickname, too. My mama named me Edward. Like my great-grandpa. Said he was a special man."

Steve grins big at him again. "That's cool," he says, "you seem cool. Your hair is different, though. Never seen little hair before. 'Cept from my teacher." He leans into Eddie's personal bubble, lowering his voice. "He's bald," Steve whispers.

"Yeah?"

"Oh yeah. Tommy says he has no hair from stress. I dunno what Mr....I dunno what his name is now. Somethin' long. Maybe that makes him freak out? Sayin' his name all the time." Steve tilts his head up towards the night sky, lips pursed, eyes squinted, tapping his chin in thought. Then, he shrugs and looks back to Eddie. "Doesn't matter. I think he has no hair because his cat licked it all off. My nana has a cat and it licks my hair sometimes, it's very funny. Like it's cleanin' me."

Eddie quirks a small smile, to which Steve returns tenfold. "I like cats," he whispers.

"You have to meet my nana's cat! He's grey with stripes. And he's loud. And he has six toes on his front right paw. And he's very fat. His name is Goose, which is so silly because he's a cat, and he likes to eat and sometimes I feed him cheese when Nana isn't looking because it makes him happy. I like cheese, too. I got mac and cheese tonight from the big boy menu, but it was too much food. Do you like cheese, Eddie?"

He nods his head. "Yeah," he says, "my mama used to let me have cheese from the bag." Eddie snorts. "But it was a secret, so don't tell anybody."

Steve clumsily draws an 'X' over his chest. "I won't tell anybody," he says, "you want some mac and cheese? It's got three different cheeses in it. I didn't even know there were that many!"

"Um..." Eddie scratches nervously at his arm, looking again at Steve's dad. Who is looking away. Talking angrily with the police. "Yeah, okay, sure."

With no warning, Steve plops down on the curb, popping the box open with his little hands. "We have to eat it with our fingers," he says, "Daddy wouldn't let me take the spoon. Said it's un-gentlemanly. I dunno what that means. I liked the spoon, though. It had a big end for soup, but they gave it to me with my food—What do you think that means?"

Eddie sits down with him. Tucking his knees up to his chest. He scoops up a handful of the macaroni when Steve draws his hand to the container to do so. "I dunno," he says.

"You're quiet which is nice. I like quiet. Tommy is loud. And my daddy. Sometimes my mommy. Is your mommy loud?"

"She...she's with God."

"Oh," Steve whispers. There's a handful of sticky macaroni in his hand, his fingers tense around it. His eyes get impossibly sad. "My Grandpa Otis is, too. I miss him. You miss your mommy a lot."

"How'd you know?"

"Assumin'," Steve says, "when my mommy leaves with Daddy, it always makes me sad. I like Mommy, she's nice to me. Was your mommy nice?"

"Nicest. She liked to give me hugs and hold my hands. Papa doesn't do that. Says it's stupid stuff for babies."

Again, with little warning, Steve is moving. He throws his non-macaroni arm around Eddie's shoulders. Bringing him in warm and fast. "I like hugs, too," Steve murmurs, "Mommy gives me hugs. Not all the time. Sometimes she's busy. Sometimes she's gone." He sighs through his nose. And then rests his head against Eddie's shoulder. "We should be best friends. So that we can hug all the time. Are you good at hugging?"

"I think."

"Good. We can hug all the time. And we can be happy." Steve nuzzles against Eddie's shoulder, his handful of food drooping back into the container. "If your daddy is in trouble and your mommy is...who will you go to?"

"Uncle Wayne," Eddie answers. "They said I'm staying with him for a while. I hope it's forever. I love him lots."

"I wish I had an uncle," Steve whispers. "You're so lucky."

"I don't think I'm very"—

"You have an uncle and a nice nickname and your hair is cool and you give good hugs and you like cheese and you're nice"—Steve sighs—"you're lucky because you're Eddie."

"You're lucky because you're Steve."

"I wanna be your best friend forever. We can see Goose and we can eat cheese from the bag and we can hug and we can talk and talk and talk. When you go to your uncle's, will you call me so that we can set up a hangout?"

"I don't have your"—

Steve pulls a pen from the inside of his jacket—Eddie didn't even realize he was wearing a mini suit, too busy being entranced by his eyes...Steve's face makes Eddie's tummy feel funny. "Daddy says to always have a pen. But I just use it to draw pictures on my arms. He doesn't like it when I do that. But I don't care. It's my pen and I like to draw kitties." He grabs at Eddie's arm, bare and exposed from only wearing a t-shirt, he clicks his pen and begins writing. "You're cold," Steve comments. "I wish I had my coat. I'd let you wear it. But I gotta wear my stupid suit. It's too tight. I'm gonna draw a kitty on your arm, too. What kinda kitty do you like?"

"I like black cats. They're pretty."

"Black cats are very pretty. You're pretty, too. But don't tell my daddy I said that. 'M s'posed to think only girls are pretty." The pen clicks. And then Steve is pulling away.

Eddie's arm reads a phone number. And, indeed, there's a black cat.

"My daddy is waving me over," Steve states, something sad around his words. "But we'll play together one of these days, okay? Here"—he shoves the, now closed, leftovers into Eddie's hands, forcing them into his lap—"keep the food. I probably won't finish it. I'm too full. Now you don't have to steal cars. But...maybe you should steal my daddy's car again, so that we can talk and talk. I have to go, but I'll see you later, okay?"

Once more, with no warning, Steve is encroaching Eddie's space. He hesitates for a moment, as if looking for his dad. His dad is turned away, though, when Eddie looks.

A kiss is then pressed to his forehead. It's sticky and warm and short.

"Bye, Eddie," Steve whispers. And then he gets up and leaves.

They won't see each other again until high school, but Eddie will cherish this day forever. The day he fell in love with a boy named Steve.

——— I've gotta reformat this, make it more cohesive. But Child Steve was too cute to not write.

[rhiannonsknife]

Who do you think would like Lego? And I mean like as soon as it's built, you're not allowed to touch it. Obsessed with cleaning it and keeping it together. Can't find a piece? They'll freak out. Gets a set they already have for Christmas? They freak out "but I already have this one... IT WON'T MATCH!"

okay okay anon, as a lego lover i have THOUGHTS!!!

JACKIE TAYLOR

— would it be controversial if i said jackie loves lego?? it’s all about control and perfection, two things she absolutely thrives on. i just KNOW jackie takes an insane amount of pride in her builds, especially anything that’s architectural or aesthetically pleasing, like a lego eiffel tower or a bouquet of flowers!

— she loves putting them up as decorations & if anyone so much as breathes too close to her display shelf, she’ll immediately swoop in, “watch it!” then, she’ll proudly add: “this took me hours!”

— also: jackie definitely keeps a small container of spare lego pieces under her bed, just in case any go missing. it’s labeled and organized by color and size. she’s secretly terrified of losing a piece forever, so she always has a backup plan.

VAN PALMER

— okay but van loves lego, without a doubt!! she adores lego sets, especially the ones tied to movies or pop culture (like star wars and stuff) & she definitely has a whole collection on display.

— she’s surprisingly meticulous, though, and her usual humor disappears the moment anyone messes with the completed sets. “seriously, shauna,” she’ll warn during the rare hangouts at her place. “put the stormtrooper back where it belongs!”

— when a piece goes missing, van becomes a whole ass detective: crawling on the floor, combing through the carpet with a flashlight, and muttering, “it was right here. i know it was here! this is sabotage!”

SHAUNA SHIPMAN

— she lowkey gets into lego as a calming, methodical hobby: the instructions don’t change, the pieces always fit together, and the end result is something beautiful and complete, something she can control. (i especially post-crash shauna!)

— she is extremely hesitant to let anyone help her build, because no one will ever do it right. if she really trusts you, she might let you put together a small section…if you promise to follow the instructions to the letter! the second you deviate, though, she’ll firmly take the pieces out of your hand and say: “here, i’ll do it!”

— when shauna gets into a build, she’s hyper-focused. you’ll come by hours later, and she’s still hunched over her desk, muttering some stuff like “where the hell is this 1x3 flat tile?” under her breath. her fingers will be all stiff and aching by the time she’s done, but it’s worth it, especially when you massage her hands afterward or kiss the little imprints on her fingertips better <3

NAT SCATORCCIO

— nat wouldn’t strike you as a lego person, but once she gets into it, after you get her a set for christmas, she’s hooked. it’s like therapy for her, something to focus on that’s productive and satisfying.

— she’s surprisingly protective of her builds, even snapping, “don’t touch that,” at people she usually wouldn’t bother with. “seriously, i’ll kill you if you break it!”

— surprisingly, getting a duplicate set doesn’t upset her as much. nat gets more emotional over receiving presents than she’d ever let on, and she appreciates it so much that somebody takes their time to get her something. “whatever,” she’ll shrug. “i’ll just build it again. maybe I’ll make it better this time!”

[hysterotic]

✩ 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑻𝑶𝑲𝒀𝑶 𝑹𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑵𝑮𝑬𝑹𝑺 𝑿 𝑭𝑬𝑴!𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹. 𝑨𝑪𝑻 𝑰𝑰

⚠︎ : vulgar language, shinichiro’s death mentioned, pregnancy and abortion mentioned once, another cute lil moment with kazutora except no coke is involved. temperature play, alcohol, usage of drugs, murder threats, violence, hanma has a dick piercing giggles mischievously and runs away, panty stealer!hanma and panty sniffer!kazutora, fingering, p in v, hanma calls you angel, forest sex, semi humiliation kink.

<3 𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑬𝑺𝑻 𝑰𝑵 𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑺 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 : kazutora hanemiya, baji keisuke, hanma shuji, rindou haitani.

vile’s note : keep in mind that the last part was very rushed and not proofread </3 i’ve got an exam in like 5 hours and i needed to finish this chapter before october so hopefully it's good enough. & thanks to @ljubimaya for helping me figure out a scene with keisuke, enjoy<3

𝑩𝑨𝑪𝑲 𝑻𝑶 𝑨𝑪𝑻 𝑰 | 𝑨𝑪𝑻 𝑰𝑰𝑰 | 𝑩𝑨𝑪𝑲 𝑻𝑶 𝑪𝑨𝑴𝑷 (𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻) | 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻

flashlights cast eerie shadows across the walls as rindou moves about, cracking glow sticks and laying them around the cabin. you were all wearing black ghostface cloaks, sitting in a circle on the floor after rearranging the living room to create more space. yet, as the dim flashlight flickers, the scene begins to resemble something more akin to a satanic ritual.

you sat in a side-sitting position, body angled towards mikey’s whose head rested comfortably on your lap. rindou finally sits in the circle and begins to explain the game, carefully tearing pieces of paper and marking circles on all but one, which gets an 'x'.

“If you draw the piece of paper that has the ‘x’ on it, you are the murderer.. and you have to keep it a secret,” he whispers the last part, his speech slightly slurred from the shots he had earlier. he places shot glasses directly in front of each person, except keisuke who waves off the shot glass before rindou places it, raising his beer bottle to hint that he’s good with the drink he already has.

“so, how do you play exactly?” you ask, twirling mikey’s hair with your finger.

“you have to hit the lights before playing the game, which..” rindou pauses, saying as if the power outage had done the job already. “we’ll be wearing the mask so no one will recognize one another or team up, and the killer won’t get real fuckin’ personal,” he mumbles the last part while quickly shooting somebody a glance, but you don’t really care to check who.

he pushes himself up to walk towards the counter, grabbing a bottle of vodka, lime, and salt for those who need it, and comes back, pouring it into each shot glass.

before Rindou could continue explaining, draken interrupts. “yo, mikey.. you wanna..?”

mikey nudges your hands off his hair to roll over on his stomach, facing draken and resting his chin on your thigh, his sharp chin pressing on your thigh making you hiss slightly at the pain, but he doesn't care. “hmm?”

draken stands up, jerking his head to the side while walking toward the front door, “Y’know.."

“oh, yeah. excuse me.. be right back.” mikey starts to crawl toward where draken is walking, standing up when he reaches the front door, you glance at emma expecting an explanation, which she only shrugs in response.

rindou clears his throat to continue, “whoever gets the paper marked ‘x’ has to find the knife’s location that’s written on the back, and sneak around to find someone to kill, alone, with nobody around to witness the murder. If you come across a body, you have to yell ‘bodies bodies bodies!’ and then we’ll pull the body back here and try to figure out who did it within 5 minutes, if the timer’s up and nobody figured out who the killer is they’ll stay anonymous and continue to be the killer to keep their streak going.”

he finally reaches your shot glass, looking you in the eye as he pours. “remember, you can’t trust nobody.”

“so, basically a game of hide and seek except we kill each other,” you note.

he reluctantly nods, “guess you could call it that.”

takemichi, sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest, speaks up, “i get stressed out every time we play this, someone always ends up beaten up,”

“exactly what makes this game fun,” hanma exclaims, his tone a little too excited for comfort.

you jump in, curious as to why takemichi’s nervous about some game, “why what happened last time?”

“It got ugly, that’s what,” keisuke says, swallowing his beer before responding.

“only because mikey and ken fought not that long before the game, so they kept butting heads,” Mitsuya adds.

“still, that was not fun at all,” takemichi says.

rindou knocks back a shot glass, smacking his lips before opening his mouth to speak, “let’s hope this time, somebody wounds up dead instead, you guys ready?”

before anyone can continue, mikey and draken walk in, “wait,” mikey interrupts, glancing at emma, who is sitting beside draken on his left. “emma, move to the right between draken and her.” he points at you as he stands in the circle.

emma furrows her brows, turning to look up at draken who sinks next to her on the floor, “why?”

mikey’s expression softens slightly. “i prefer draken to slap you rather than the rest of the guys, and you’ll be the one slapping her.”

Emma quickly complies, sliding over next to you with a wide grin, too excited at the fact that she gets to slap you.

Mikey then sits down, positioning himself between Rindou and Takemichi. Then Kazutora, who had been watching where Mikey would sit the entire time, nudges Rindou aside and takes a seat next to Mikey. earning a glare from Keisuke as if he knows what Kazutora’s planning. Huh, that was weird.

“Alright, who will do the honors?” Hanma says, crossing his legs and leaning back on his arms.

“Me,” Rindou volunteers, turning to his right to face Kazutora. he knocks back another shot in one go, then smacks Kazutora hard across the face.

Kazutora grunts but laughs immediately after, rubbing his cheek. he then turns to Mikey with a creepy smile on his face, brushing it away over the fact that he could just be coked out. he grabs the shot glass and tosses it back into his throat smoothly.

Mikey’s eyes narrow at him with a glare, to which Kazutora responds with a much harder slap than Rindou did. the sound echoes in the room, making everyone groan at him for that unnecessarily hard slap.

“The fuck, Kazutora?!” Draken yells, almost standing up but Mitsuya stops him, calming him down.

Mikey appears unfazed, adjusting his jaw, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face, you could swear that the color of his eyes just went darker than usual.

“What? It’s the game, chill,” Kazutora replies nonchalantly.

Mikey flexes his jaw, jerking his head to the side in a sharp, dismissive motion, shaking off the irritation as he tips back a shot, the burn of the vodka barely registering on his face.

He then turns to Takemichi, his expression softening at the sight of him, watching Takemichi squeezing his eyes shut. he hesitantly opens one eye, wondering why Mikey’s taking a while to slap him, Mikey’s mouth curves into a silent laugh at that. he raises a hand up and finally slaps him, making Takemichi hiss in pain, clutching his cheek and groaning exaggeratedly, earning a laugh from the guys. despite his initial reaction, he toughens it out, rubbing his cheek.

Takemichi sips the shot, his mouth twists into a grimace from the alcohol burning his throat. then turns to Keisuke, you can tell he’s intimidated by him. hesitantly, he slaps him, but it’s a weak effort, making Keisuke smile, his eyes narrowing as he tongues the inside of his cheek.

“Really?” Keisuke says, his tone mocking. Takemichi chuckles nervously, his eyes darting around the circle who were laughing at the weak tap he’d call a ‘slap’.

“Hit me again, harder, come on,” Keisuke insists, pushing his long hair back and leaning in, his eyes fixed on Takemichi.

Takemichi looks to Mikey, whose eyes are darting between him and Keisuke with an unreadable expression. he takes a deep breath, turning his head back to Keisuke, and slaps him harder. making him grin, “Goddamn..” he mutters.

“Are you mad at me?” Takemichi asks, his voice shaky.

Keisuke shakes his head no, but the gesture doesn’t reassure Takemichi at all.

You lean to whisper in Emma’s ear, “Why are we slapping each other exactly?”

“To give the killer a reasonable motive I guess,” she whispers back.

Keisuke takes a swig of his beer, turning to Chifuyu, and slaps him hard. making chifuyu wince, hissing in pain as he rubs his reddening cheek. he shoots Keisuke a mock glare before turning to Mitsuya.

Chifuyu then drains his shot in one go, feeling the warmth spread through his chest. he quickly slaps him, the impact making Mitsuya’s head jerk to the side. “Shit.” he laughs, rubbing his cheek and looking up at Chifuyu, who was chewing on a slice of lime with a smile. “I’ll get you for that,” he promises, his smile widening.

Mitsuya turns to Draken, almost excitedly, and then his eyes suddenly shift to you, locking onto yours as he licks the salt off the back of his hand and downs a shot. the liquid burns down his throat, but he still keeps a neutral face. he then looks back at Draken and gives him a solid smack in the face, making Draken’s head snap to the side. Draken laughs, a deep, rumbling sound. “goddamn, Mitsuya, was that personal?” he jokes. Mitsuya just shrugs, a soft smile on his face.

Draken then turns to Emma, his expression softening. he takes a shot while maintaining eye contact with her. she quickly tucks her hair behind her ears, offering her cheek. he gives her a solid slap, but not hard enough to harm, making her scoff and roll her eyes.

“Don’t go easy on me because I’m your girlfriend, Ken, c’mon!” Emma protests.

“Nah, you don’t know what you’re asking for little lady. now move on and slap her,” Draken nods at you, leaning back with his hands propped behind.

“Ohhhh yeah.” She giggles, remembering that she gets to be the one to slap you. She takes the shot and scoots closer to you. you roll your eyes at how extra she is as she affectionately cups your face, wiping away the excess mascara smudges under your eyes, and then slaps you hard enough to almost knock you off balance, making the guys collectively wince with some laughter.

“Fucking hell.. Emma!” You exclaim, rubbing your cheek from the burning sensation and glaring at her. Emma tilts her head in a challenging way, her grin still wide and cocky.

Shaking your head dismissively, you grab the shot glass and down it. turning to face Hanma, who seems a little too excited to get slapped by you right now. he licks his canine and leans down to make it easier for you, does he always have to show off that he’s taller than you every time?

You sigh, giving him a soft, shy tap on the cheek, making everyone yell at you for it, including him.

“You have got to be kidding me.” Chifuyu groans.

“Oh, c’mon, what was that?” Hanma says, his tone a mock of disappointment as if he’s talking to a kid.

“Put some muscle into it, new girl.” Keisuke encourages through his beer.

“I don’t bite, go ahead,” Hanma nods at your hand, staring at you with his hypnotizing heavy-lidded purple eyes. fuck, he can’t be looking at you like this, not right now.

You smile nervously, giving him another slap, firmer this time but not as hard.

he slowly blinks, “Seriously? fucking hit me,” Hanma insists.

“If anybody deserves a hard slap, it’s him,” Draken points at Hanma with his beer bottle, “I’ll finish this for ‘ya so you can smash it on his head.” He wiggles his beer.

“C’mon, his face is practically begging for it,” Mitsuya adds.

You glance at Mikey, who gives you an encouraging nod, and your sight then scrolls to Emma, who only gives you an eager nod. knowing her, she would probably kill to be in your position right now. you then take a deep breath, facing Hanma again, you straighten your posture in preparation, and this time you let loose with a solid smack that is hard enough to leave a soft red imprint on his face.

Hanma’s head jerked to the side a bit, biting his lips, he lets out a little hum, which sounded more like a growl. “Atta girl,” he praises, then downs a shot in the blink of an eye, turning to Rindou who took off his glasses in preparation, delivering a slap hard enough to almost knock him out of his position, but Rindou took it well.

he jerks his head to the side, “Jesus Christ, dude,” Rindou winces, he then clears his throat and shakes his head. “Alright, everyone turn around in your seat and put on your Ghostface mask,” he instructs. you all follow suit, putting on the masks and adjusting the cloaks.

“Now, stand up and shuffle around each other so no one knows who’s who, then pick up the papers on the table.” he continues. the group rises, moving in a chaotic, disorienting shuffle. some purposely bumped into you—definitely Mikey—while others suddenly grab your shoulders to startle you.

The group then moves toward the table, they reach for the folded papers, some squabbling over a single piece, while others snatch one and slip away quickly. unfortunately, you’re the last to approach the table. you pick up the final paper, slowly unfolding it, hoping to see an ‘x’ but to your luck, you find a circle marked on it. with a sigh, you crumple the paper before stuffing it into your cloak pocket.

You glance around the cabin, seeing nothing but the shadows of the guys in their cloaks walking away. good, no killer on your radar so far.

Your eyes land on the front door that was left open, as much as running around the woods would be easier than trapping yourself in a cabin with a killer, it’d be safer to stay inside where most of the group is, at least to have someone witness the murder instead of playing dead on the dirt.

You inch down the dark hallway, taking small, tentative steps, doing your best not to trip and fall on the glow sticks. the eerie glow from the flashlights disappearing the deeper you go into the halls. the atmosphere getting more and more sinister.

You make a few turns down narrow hallways, the sound of footsteps you were hearing before going distant, making you feel undoubtedly alone, and yet that thought scares you twice as much.

Eventually, you spot a closet big enough to hide in, before you even begin to think if hiding there the entire game is a good idea or not, something flickers in your peripheral vision. a slight shadow movement in the corner of the hallway, something lurking just beyond your sight. you quickly slip inside, hoping that your sudden movement didn’t alert whoever was at the end of that hallway.

The small space is cramped, hot, and pretty hard to breathe in, especially with this damn mask and cloak on. you remove the attire and slowly push back the hung coats, going deeper into the closet. the closet air is weirdly thick with the scent of cheap beer, maybe one of the coats has beer spilled on it.

You try to steady your breathing to listen intently for any sounds outside. But instead, you hear the soft sound of breathing next to you. your heart pounds as you turn slowly, only to come face to face with another figure in a Ghostface mask, looming over you and practically pinning you against the closet wall with his body.

Your breath catches in your throat as you stare into the dark eyes of the mask, the sound of their breathing filling the small space. you can feel the heat radiating from their body, their presence both intimidating and familiar. the figure breaks the silence, his voice low and menacing, though unrecognizable. “You’re in my spot.”

You clench your fists, trying to maintain your composure. “The spot’s big enough for both of us.”

“Nah, you’re crampin’ it up. I was doing great alone.”

“Well, you’re just gonna have to deal with it ‘cause I’m not moving.” You cross your arms.

“Oh, you’re not moving now?” The figure tilts his head slightly, “and how are you so sure that I’m not the killer?”

Fuck, you didn’t think of that. You let out a short, nervous laugh. “W-what killer would hide in the fucking closet?!”

“A killer that’s waitin’ to pounce,” He replies, stepping closer.

“You would’ve pounced by now,” You retort, trying to sound braver than you feel, positive that he can hear the hammering beat of your heart.

“I would have,” he concedes, “or I could just rat you out to the killer right here, right now.”

Your eyes narrow. “What? you gonna start screaming?” You mock.

He shakes his head slowly, a creepy edge to his voice. “I’ll make you scream.”

“Oh, so cliche. You’re just gonna get us killed, dipshit!” You hiss, trying to keep your voice low.

“Think I care?”

Suddenly, you hear heavy footsteps nearby, growing louder with each step. your eyes widen in panic, and before you can react, the man clamps a hand over your mouth, silencing you. The rough texture of his glove presses against your lips, and you can feel the strength in his grip, since when were we required to wear gloves?

The footsteps stop just outside the closet door. Your heart races, ear ringing from the beat of your heart as you strain to hear for any movement.

There was a brief silence, an anticipation for the closet door to rattle. it was eerily quiet, not a sound from out the closet, but there was still a shadow standing in front of it as if trying to scare you out. you kept your fixed eyes on that shadow, not noticing the mysterious man in front of you lifting your skirt up.

Before you could react to that, you feel a sudden sharp cold chill jolt against your clothed clit, pulling a muffled gasp from you and making you stiffen at the sensation. your eyes dart from the eyes of the mask to whatever’s against your panties, seeing an open ice-cold ultra beer bottle, from which he responds by squeezing your face with his palm as if forcing you to keep your eyes only on him.

You attempt to struggle, grabbing his big arms or hitting his rock-hard chest and pointing toward the closet door with your eyes so he wouldn’t get us caught but he doesn’t budge. he has you pinned so hard against the closet wall that all you can do to squirm is arch your back. you hear him take a staggered breath, clearly enjoying your struggles, feeding off your fear.

You turn to see if the shadow that was in front of the closet is still there, it is, and yet the man shows no sign of stopping as he drags the ice-cold bottle down lower toward your entrance. almost emitting a moan out of you but all that came out was a whimper.

You want to hate this sensation so bad, you want to hate the fact that the tall guy, with a ghostface mask on his head—that looks a little too good on him than frightening—has you pinned against the closet wall with a freezing cold beer bottle against your pussy, shutting you up with his hand and the thrill of the killer opening the closet at any second and killing you both, you really do wanna hate it. but it’s just all too hot, you can’t even tell if the wet spot on your panties came from the beer or if it’s from you, hopefully, he doesn’t notice that too.

He gets closer to your face, “think you can keep that mouth shut?” he whispers, you can feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek and neck as he nudges your panties to the side using the bottleneck. you didn’t respond, you don’t want to, you can’t. you don’t even know who you’re dealing with, and you sure as hell won’t be able to sleep with the fact that there’s a guy here that knows that you like to get fucked with a beer bottle like a cheap whore.

He uncovered your mouth but kept a grip on your face. you blinked up into his hollow “eyes”, you weren’t prepared for something like this at all, not a clue in that little brain of yours how to react. so you just sit there, choking out the desperate needy sounds that kept trying to escape your iridescent pink glitter lips. Oh, fuck. those lips that he’d kill to kiss right now, he wanted to bite it, he wanted to take your lip between his teeth and hear you moan. but your reaction to this was more than enough to fulfill his fantasies. there was uncertainty in your eyes, yes. but there was excitement too. such a fucking minx.

He never expected that type of look out of you, or for you to just sit there and take it. but shit, he’s not fucking crazy to be complaining about this. “Got a fuckin’ clue how hard it was to hold back with you runnin’ around the camp in that skirt of yours?” the man strains.

“h-huh?”

“Don’t play innocent now.” he cuts you off, “glad you didn’t keep that cloak on or I would’ve ripped it off of you.” he starts circling the tip of the bottle against your clit slowly, teasing you, torturing you. “Make everyone see that you’ve got taken advantage of, bet you would’ve liked that huh?”

“Who are you..?” you manage to whisper out, looking back at the closet door, seeing that the shadow’s gone, he grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him again, “Tellin’ you would ruin the fun.”

Just as you were about to feel the bottle being inserted, you hear a muffled shout from across the cabin, “bodies bodies bodies!” the call echoes through, making him step back, the cold feeling on your cunt that you started to crave now gone. “guess the fun’s over.” he murmurs disappointedly, he slips out of the closet, and before you know it he was gone from the hallway.

You continue to sit there, bewildered as you adjust your panties and put on your cloak and mask, not for the game but to hide the shame plastered on your face. Your heart hasn’t stopped racing since then, that was the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced and yet it was with someone completely anonymous, to be honest, you don’t wanna find out who it is, just to save yourself the embarrassment.

You step out into the hallway, walking towards the glow of the flashlights in the corner like it’s a safe spot. As you approach the living room, you spot everybody already there except three people. All also holding a bottle of beer except one whose cloak looks oversized and has a blue glow around their neck, assuming it’s either Emma or mikey. this doesn’t narrow it down for you at all, who the hell could the closet guy be?

You then see two Ghostfaces dragging a body across the cabin floor, they drop the body’s limbs onto the floor and it dramatically plops, whoever’s dead is having too much fun playing it.

The group crowded around it, finally taking off their masks including you. Chifuyu steps in closer to the body, grabbing the mask and pulling it off, revealing Rindou Haitani.

Hanma dramatically gasps at the reveal, Takemichi then steps forward with a half-assed attempt at a eulogy, “Here lies, Rindou Haitani, known around the community, and was such a, uh, he was..” there’s an awkward silence as he scratches his head and looking around at the circle as if asking for help.

Hanma then steps forward, “He was such a genuine person.” he shakes his head exaggeratedly, Oh he’s so drunk. “Who would throw the craziest parties.. he was so sweet and kind, considerate and loving..”

“Alright, you’re draggin’ it.” Draken cuts in, earning a kick in the leg from Rindou, he then sits up from the floor and settles into the couch, pointing at Takemichi and Draken. “remind me to blacklist you two from my funeral.” he says, “Go on! guess who killed me.” He sits back and observes with a grin, loving the attention on him.

You raise a hand up, “I vote Emma,” You interject. “The second you grabbed that paper, you vanished. Seems like someone was a little too excited to be a killer.”

“True, saw her waddlin’ away quick at the glance of her paper” Hanma chimes in, earning a nasty glare from Draken.

“Bitch, please! If I were the killer, I would’ve picked you as my first victim,” Emma retorts at you, crossing her arms defiantly under her oversized cloak.

“You hear that, guys? If I end up dead in this game, vote her out!” you declare, pointing accusingly at Emma.

"Do you hear that, guys? If I end up dead in this game, vote her out!” You declare, pointing accusingly at Emma.

“Nah, if we’re sticking to how the game works, it’s usually who got slapped by the victim, and that is…” Draken points accusingly at Kazutora.

“I also vote Kazutora, he’s oddly too quiet for a game like this,” Emma adds, eyeing Kazutora suspiciously.

“Don’t point no fuckin’ fingers at me. How about we point the fingers at who found the body?” Kazutora shoots back.

“That’s a great point, Hanemiya!” Hanma exclaims enthusiastically, Draken rolls his eyes at Hanma’s inconsistency, “Don’t invite this man for jury duty.” Draken mutters to himself.

“So, who found the body?” Mitsuya leans casually against the couch arm.

“I did, but I had Mikey nearby to witness!” Takemichi steps forward nervously.

“We said no teamin’ up,” Keisuke interjects, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

“We just bumped into each other and found the body,” Mikey explains.

“Wait, how did you know that was Mikey?” Chifuyu asks curiously.

“The height,” Takemichi replies, prompting nods of understanding from the group. “The hell?!” Mikey retorts.

“Was the killer the size of a gnome, Haitani?” Keisuke asks, ignoring Mikey’s pout at him, which Rindou mimed, zipping his lips shut and locking it with an imaginary key.

“Alright.” Keisuke stands up, beer bottle dangling from his fingers. “Mikey and Takemichi have each other as an alibi, and two people voted Kazutora.” He then turns toward Kazutora. “You have yet to give us an alibi, where were you?” Keisuke steps closer to him, who maintains a neutral smile.

“I wasn’t even in the cabin, I was outside. Whoever was sitting here first can vouch for that,” Kazutora asserts confidently.

Mitsuya raises his hand. “I was here first, and I did see someone come in from outside the cabin.”

“What were you doing outside the cabin, Kazutora?” Draken questions skeptically.

“Least likely for the killer to find me easily, and a good space to run. C’mon, Ken, you’d know that’s basic horror movie logic,” Kazutora explains, taking a sip of his beer nonchalantly, so Kazutora’s not the closet guy since he was outside, that should narrow it down for you.

“Hmm, hey Emma.. you’re real quiet, tell us your alibi,” Mikey interjects, attempting to corner Emma.

“I was at the balcony.” She replies confidentially.

“Why the balcony?” You cut in.

“’Cause I could hear if the killer walked up the stairs, and I have a good view of the outside of the cabin, duh,”

“Seems like everyone’s got a real good reason why they were at their places,” You observe suspiciously, earning surprised glances from the group that had you a little nervous.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook now, new girl. You were the first one to accuse too, where were you?” Keisuke steps closer to you, his tongue lingers around the top of the beer bottle for a little too long, taking a sip of his beer as his gaze locks onto yours, trying to read you. Fuck, you can’t afford to break a sweat right now, not when you’re being interrogated by none other than him.

“I was hiding in a closet, and I never left it the entire time,” You assert, crossing your arms defensively. “What about you, Baji? Don’t think just because you’re the one interrogating us doesn’t mean you’re not a suspect,” You redirect the attention to him instead.

Suddenly, a ringing sound echoes from Rindou’s phone. “Times up!” He announces, “The killer gets to stay being a killer next round, and the dead.. shall remain dead.” Rindou says in a mock-ominous voice and goes back to playing dead on the couch, almost looking like an excuse to nap.

A chorus of scoffs and groans fills the room at the sound of the alarm. You turn to Keisuke again, his eyebrows jump at you in amusement, his neutral face forms into a smug smirk. Lucky little shit, until next time, Ghostface.

Everybody reluctantly turns around, putting their masks back on and walking away, as you move to follow, a tall figure bumps into you, seeing a familiar sight of possibly the same guy in the closet, same height at least. He raises a hand, points two fingers at his own hollow “eyes”, then directs them toward you as he disappears into the halls.

You ignore the butterflies in your stomach as you scan the living room for hiding spots, your eyes landing on the front door. Maybe Kazutora’s idea isn’t so bad. You walk toward the front door and slowly twist it open, closing it quietly behind you, you keep your eyes on the door in case someone follows you out.

It was pitch black out, the only noises were the rustling of trees and crickets. Regret creeps in for leaving the cabin, but you can’t go back now—that’ll draw attention.

You approach the woods to camouflage your appearance in case the killer’s out here, not going too deep in, staying near the camp and scanning around it. You crouch down behind a tree and fix your eyes on the cabin, seeing occasional black figures walking by the windows, almost reassuring in your opinion.

Then unnervingly, it went completely silent, the cricket noises that once comforted you were now dead quiet, making you a little too aware of your surroundings.

You can’t seem to shake the sense that you’re being stalked, watched, that you’re not alone right now. Your senses are heightened as you start to hear unnatural leaf movement, like crushing it or moving it, you whip your head toward where you think the sound is coming from, you’re not sure what it is exactly but you don’t like it at all.

You want to call out, ask who’s there, but the rational part of you tells you it’s just a mind trick, it does that when it’s pitch black and silent, it makes appearances and noises out of nothing, it’s just your brain playing tricks, that’s all it is, you are completely and absolutely fine.

Then suddenly your spine tingles, somewhere nearby you hear footsteps creeping behind you a little too close, hair prickling along your scalp as your brain screams at you to run, and what would a rational person with survival instincts do?

That’s right, you bolt, not even thinking about investigating what it was, no matter if it was an animal or the wind you’re getting out of there. You run as fast as you can toward the cabin, pushing the doors open enough to have them slam against the walls, and the first thing you see standing in the living room is somebody in a Ghostface mask, holding a knife that does not look plastic.

Panic surges through you as you turn toward the hallway and continue to run. Cause no way in hell are you going back out there and having him and whatever’s waiting outside to chase you. You hear footsteps pounding behind you, your lungs start to burn and your legs feel like lead, but you don’t stop.

Suddenly, you run into another Ghostface emerging from a hallway. Making you crash into them, your instincts forcing you up as quickly as possible. “I’m really sorry!” You apologize to whoever you knocked down, bolting away again.

Breathless and disoriented, you sprint down the hallway, heart pounding in your chest. You glance over your shoulder to see if they’re still chasing you, but it’s hard to tell in the dark.

You quickly turn a corner and find yourself in the living room again. Your breath coming in ragged gasps, heart pounding in your chest. The sound of your footsteps echoes in the dimly lit cabin. You quickly glance around, eyes darting from shadow to shadow, half expecting Ghostface to leap out at you.

Rindou, who’s still sprawled across the couch, body motionless as he continues his charade of being dead from the last round. But when he hears you enter, one of his eyes slowly cracks open, “Hey, you good?” His voice calm, almost lazy.

You nod, still catching your breath. “Yeah… yeah, I just got chased.”

You walk over toward the couch he’s lying on and sink down onto the floor, leaning against it, your legs are still trembling from the adrenaline.

“Yeah?” Rindou’s tone is light as if this is just another round of the game. He shifts slightly on the couch, one arm draping over the backrest. “I just heard them yell out ‘bodies bodies bodies’ just now.”

Shit, how come I didn’t hear that? Whoever’s dead right now is your fault, but you couldn’t help it. Whoever was chasing you took the game a little too fucking seriously.

You hear the couch springs creak behind you, seeing Rindou peering over at you in the corners of your eyes with a smirk as if he’s amused by your reaction. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Are you sure you're good?”

Before you can answer him, the rest of the group begins to gather, removing their masks. Spotting everybody except Takemichi. You fixed your eye on the front door, waiting for someone to walk in but nobody did. Was that all in your head?

Draken drags in the body and places it in the middle of the room. Everyone circles around as Draken kneels down and removes the mask, revealing Mikey lying face-down, playing dead with an exaggerated stillness.

Emma drops to her knees beside him, her gasp over the top as she clutches her chest. “Ohh noo! My big brother..” She wails as he leans over his body, pretending to cry into his chest, her shoulders shaking with fake sobs.

You crawl over to sit beside Mikey’s “lifeless” form, tucking his hair behind his ear to see his face better, silently apologizing for being the one who accidentally got him killed.

Chifuyu speaks up, “Okay, so do we have any nominations?”

“Yeah, I’m for sure voting Emma now,” Draken accuses.

“Ohh, coming in hot,” Mitsuya crosses his arms, leaning against the fireplace wall.

“Why do you think it was Emma?” You ask, still looking at Mikey, why is he still playing dead?

“Yeah, why do you think it was me, Ken?”

“Because she agrees with everything that everybody’s saying to try and steer it away from herself. That’s her strategy in the game, and it always works.” Draken explains.

You tap Mikey’s shoulder repeatedly to try and wake him up, but he’s not budging.

“Do we have any other nominations?” Rindou speaks up.

“Aren’t you supposed to be dead? Shut the fuck up,” Keisuke retorts, earning a glare from Rindou, and yet he still complied.

“Yeah, I nominate Draken,” Kazutora cuts in.

Draken rolls his eyes, clicking his tongue. “Seriously? It’s a low-hanging fruit.”

“I mean, he who casts the first stone,” Kazutora shrugs.

“Guys, why isn’t he moving?” You nudge Mikey’s cheeks, “Mikey, get up.”

“Mikey, you don’t have to keep pretending for this long,” Emma pushes him.

Chifuyu sits next to Mikey’s body, pushing him to face up. He’s still playing dead.

“The hell?” Emma starts to shake him aggressively, starting to freak out, “Manjiro, fucking get up. It’s not funny anymore,” She tugs his arm up but he still doesn’t move an inch, “Guys, he’s not getting up.”

“Relax, he fell asleep.” Draken steps closer and leans down toward Mikey’s body, holding the neck of the bottle and nudging the cold bottle on Mikey’s crotch, making him yelp and immediately sit up from that, holding his crotch. “Fuck, that was cold!”

Emma punches him in the shoulder. “That wasn’t funny at all,”

Mikey grumbles, a little grumpy over the fact that he was woken up. He then looks around, as if searching for somebody. “Wait, where’s Takemichi?”

“Probably playing dead somewhere, poor guy.” Chifuyu snorts.

Mikey raises a brow, “We need to find him, he probably didn’t hear the call.”

“Alright, but… what about Kazutora?” Draken points at him, ignoring Mikey.

“Maybe it’s Draken. He’s always really aggressive when he’s the killer,” Mitsuya notes.

Kazutora snaps his fingers and points at Mitsuya. “There you go.”

“What? No, I am not,” Draken gulps.

“You’re lying. You always gulp when you lie,” Mitsuya continues teasing.

“It would be so fucking obvious if I were the killer, which I’m not.” Draken defends.

Kazutora sighs out of frustration. “Guys, Jesus Christ, can we just point out how Draken hasn’t said a fucking word to defend himself? No alibi, nothing! He’s just denying shit.”

Mikey crosses his arms, giving Kazutora a hard look. “you aware that we’re still playing a game here Kazutora? Quit pointing fingers at Ken and just admit that it was you, take responsibility for once.”

Kazutora’s frustration bubbles over as he points his finger at Mikey. “Ohoho… I don’t need to hear jackshit from you, Mikey. you always act like you’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?”

Mikey’s expression doesn’t waver, his tone remaining cold. “what I’ve got figured out is that you can’t handle the truth. you’re the killer, Kazutora. just own up to it, it’s getting late.”

Rindou, lounging on the couch with a bag of chips in hand, suddenly cuts in, nudging Mikey’s shoulder with his foot. his voice is sing-songy, muffled by the crunching. “Dead people don’t taaaalk.”

Everyone ignores him, their focus entirely on Kazutora and Mikey. Kazutora’s eyes narrow, his frustration turning into something darker. “ohh own up to it, huh? let’s not forget what you did to Sanzu. nobody was at your throat for that, were they? cause poor Mikey.. he didn’t even know what was going on when he did that shit to Sanzu’s face!”

Keisuke steps forward, trying to diffuse the situation. “Kazutora, that’s enough.”

Kazutora pushes Keisuke aside, his wide eyes still locked on Mikey. “but when I make one mistake—one fucking accident—everyone’s ready to crucify me but Mikey gets a free pass? why? I don’t get it.”

“That’s different-“

Kazutora cuts in with a bitter laugh, the sound harsh and grating. “different? how? because it was you, it’s okay? but when it’s me, I’m a fuck-up, right? I get called a murderer, that I’m fucking psychotic for that?”

Draken shifts uncomfortably, his eyes darting between Mikey and Kazutora, “Kazutora, calm down—”

Kazutora cuts him off, yet again. “no, I’m not gonna calm down. I’m done taking shit for something that was never my fault. all of you, you’re all fucking hypocrites.”

Mikey stands up from the floor, taking a step forward, and puts his hands up toward Draken to stop him from interfering. “at least I took responsibility for it in the end. you, on the other hand, continue to blame everybody but yourself.”

Hanma, who’s lounging on the couch next to Rindou, snickers as he watches them. “sounds like somebody’s feeling guilty. maybe you’re the killer, after all, Kazutora.”

Kazutora’s frustration reaches a boiling point as he snaps back, his head twitches to the side. “guilty? you’re all so quick to accuse me just because I’m not falling in line like the rest of you. I had to live with that shit for years behind bars while all of you welcomed Mikey with open arms right after he fucking stabbed somebody in the face!”

Draken glares at Kazutora, moving closer. “What’s up your ass Hanemiya? what’s gotten you so pissed like this huh, you on something?”

Kazutora scoffs, shaking his head. “don’t you start with me, Draken. don’t you got other shit to worry about?”

“Tora, shut the fuck up, right now.” Keisuke interrupts, attempting to calm him down before he says something he shouldn’t.

Draken’s eyes narrow dangerously. “and what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Kazutora hesitates to speak, eyes darting between Keisuke and Draken, and for a split second at Emma. he couldn’t hold back as his frustration is tipping him over the edge. “you can barely keep your shit straight with your girl, Ken. you’re no better than any of us. focus on that instead of sticking your head where it shouldn’t, would you?”

Mikey takes a step closer, his voice low and threatening. “Keep my sister out of this conversation.”

Hanma almost choked on his beer, “Woah, woah.. what did I miss now?” eyes darting between Emma and Draken.

The room goes still. Emma’s jaw dropped, slowly turning her head toward Draken, her voice trembling slightly. “You told them about that?”

“Hold uuup, what does he mean by that?” Hanma stands up enthusiastically as he attempts to interfere but gets dragged back down the couch by Rindou, not wanting him to ruin the argument he’s so obviously enjoying.

Draken’s head snaps toward Kazutora, eyes narrowing. “how do you know about that? huh?” he then scans the room, “Who the fuck told him that shit? We're telling everybody our business now?”

Then silence, the room’s atmosphere shifts into something you need to get out of, now. “everybody? what the fuck do you mean ‘everybody’?” kazutora’s voice drops an octave.

Draken scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. “oh, we’re just gonna ignore the elephant in the room now?”

Keisuke quickly moves to stand between Draken and Kazutora. “Ken, let’s talk about this later,” he then turns to Mikey, whose expression is completely unreadable.

“No, no. Keisuke, let him continue, what fucking elephant in the room? elaborate, c’mon!” Kazutora nods, trying to pick a fight. Keisuke turns to Draken to observe his reaction in case he lunges. seeing his eyes completely blown out and dilated, Keisuke’s eyes narrow at him. “Ken, did you use?”

he ignores him, his focus on Kazutora completely. “Elaborate? fine, I’ll fucking elaborate. when you were in prison, everybody was relieved you were gone. manjiro was relieved, you think any of us gave a shit about you? huh?”

Mitsuya quickly pushes himself off the wall, moving towards Draken, “Ken, calm down, you’re drunk.” he places a hand on Draken’s chest, trying to create a distance between him and Kazutora—who stays silent, his heart beating rapidly.

“the only person that gave a rat's ass about you was Keisuke, why? because he feels responsible for that. he doesn’t give a fuck about you.”

in a blink of an eye, Keisuke steps forward, around mitsuya, and swings a punch at Draken, his fist connecting with Draken’s lip with a strong thud. Draken stumbles back from the impact, his lip split open and blood streaming down his chin.

“You don’t know shit, Ken. so shut the fuck up.” Keisuke spits as he shakes his hand, shaking it up and down to ease the throbbing pain, his knuckles are already forming redness, you didn’t realize how hard that punch must’ve been.

Draken wipes the blood from his chin, still glaring at Kazutora. “I wish you got your head bashed in instead of him, Kazutora.” He growls, the blood staining his bared teeth red. “You spineless piece of shit.”

Mikey’s eyes went dark, and all you saw was a blur of motion and a strong thud. seeing Draken being knocked off his feet, with his head hitting right onto the floor.

“Don’t talk about him like that,” Mikey’s voice is low, deadly calm as he looms over Draken, whose jaw is open, completely not expecting Mikey’s reaction to be this severe.

Still facing Draken, Mikey shoots Kazutora a glare over his shoulder. “Don’t think I’m defending you, Hanemiya.. you’re still dead to me.”

Kazutora, breathing heavily, with his pupils being a frightening dot. he reaches his hand to the beer bottle on the floor, fingers curling tightly around the bottle, slamming himself on the head with it before holding the jagged glass out toward Mikey, his hand trembling with rage and whatever he took before. “I’ll show you who’s really fuckin’ dead, Mikey! I’ll kill you!”

Mikey doesn’t even move an inch, there’s something terrifyingly calm about his demeanor that you can’t really put a finger on, but it feels like time has frozen now, either that or you're just too shocked to move.

“Go ahead, try.”

Kazutora’s breath comes in ragged gasps, his hand tight around the glass. he swings it toward Mikey with reckless fury, but before he can land the blow, Chifuyu and Keisuke rush in, grabbing him by the arms and holding him back.

“Get off me!” Kazutora roars, thrashing violently in their grip. his eyes were wild, full of rage and something else—but it was too dark to tell.

Draken finally pulls himself to his feet, wiping more blood from his mouth, his eyes locked on Mikey with disbelief, as if he didn’t expect him to knock him down. there was a silent exchange between them, his eyes still locked on Mikey. But before Draken can voice his thoughts, his attention shifts sharply to Kazutora.

Draken steps in front of Mikey, his large frame acting as a shield, a shocking sight after seeing him get kicked in the head.

“I’ll fucking kill you all, I swear!” Kazutora yells, still clawing and twisting against Keisuke and Chifuyu. his voice strainer and raw.

Draken spits a wad of blood onto the floor, scoffing. he sneers at Kazutora. “yeah, you’re real fuckin’ familiar with that—“

“Enough.”

Mikey quickly cuts him off, his tone tolerating no argument, so commanding, that even kazutora falls silent for a split second.

Keisuke let go of Kazutora’s wrist, taking Kazutora’s silence as a chance to step in between, casting a wary glance at the three, ready to intervene again if necessary. “this is getting us nowhere, alright? let’s just go to bed, It’s late.” he then grabs Kazutora’s wrist and forcefully pulls him out of the cabin, leaving no room to argue. “we need to talk.”

As Kazutora and Keisuke leave, Mikey shoots Draken a quick glare, “I’m gonna look for Takemichi.” he leaves the cabin, heading toward the forest. the rest follow him out, heading toward the boys’ cabin. mitsuya kept close to Draken just in case, while you and Emma—still shocked from the scene—trail behind, not noticing hanma running to catch up next to Emma.

“Could’ve called me when your boyfriend couldn’t hit the spot for you.. you know I’ll always answer,” Hanma teases loudly. Draken overhears and spins around, throwing a punch that lands squarely on Hanma’s face.

Hanma staggers back but then starts laughing, wiping a smear of blood from his lip. “really? that all you got?” he taunts. Draken lunges again, fists flying. Hanma dodges and laughs, his mocking tone only making it worse.

Mitsuya, Rindou, and Chifuyu rush in to break up the fight, grabbing Draken’s arms and pulling him back.

“He’s trying to get on your nerves, Ken. calm. the fuck. down,” Mitsuya says firmly, blocking Draken’s punches with his hand.

Draken, panting heavily, looks down at mitsuya and then fixes a hard glare at hanma, yanking his fist away from Mitsuya’s grip. he then storms off towards the boys’ cabin. hanma—still chuckling—walks towards a different cabin with Rindou following behind, their laughter echoing through the camp.

You put a hand behind Emma’s back, caressing it. “let’s just go.” you gently push her towards the girls’ dorm. quietly, you open the door and tiptoe inside, heading towards your bed with Emma still following close behind. before you collapse into your bed you quickly change into something comfortable as Emma stares into the distance, sitting on your bed, her face unreadable but clearly exhausted.

When you finally slid on your tank top, you heard Emma sniffling. “Emma? hey, are you crying?” you sit next to her, scooting closer to her to rub her back soothingly.

“I just.. didn’t think he’d get brought up like that.” she whispers, wiping away her tears with her palms, but more keeps pouring down her cheeks. “I don’t know why he’d do that, we were playing a stupid fucking game then suddenly, I..” she starts to choke on her words.

“Shh, it’s okay.” she quickly turns to hug you, squeezing you a bit too tight but you don’t complain, quietly sobbing on your shoulder, she continues to blabber incoherently but you don’t stop her, you run your fingers through her hair as an attempt to soothe her but it only made her cry more. “it’s okay Emma.”

Still, you can’t shake the image of her reaction when Kazutora brought up her and Draken. it lingers in the back of your mind, nagging at you. now that you think about it, you can’t seem to remember any issues they’ve had except for the fact that he took too long to confess. but this isn’t the time to pry, deciding to leave that conversation for another time, when she’s ready to tell you.

After a moment, she loosens her grip and pulls away, her eyes red and puffy as she holds onto your hand. “can i sleep in your bed tonight?” she asks, her voice small and shaky.

“Of course, you can come here.” you crawl under the covers, to your side of the bed, making room for her next to you, pulling the covers up for her to lay in. She lays down next to you, facing you while still having her fingers intertwined with yours. “thank you.” she sniffles. “goodnight..” she buries her face into the blanket, refusing to let go of your hand, even when it’s disgustingly sweaty, but you’ll brush it off for her.

“Goodnight, Emma.”

You jolt awake, heart pounding, drenched in cold sweat. For a few seconds, you’re still caught up in that nightmare. Your adrenaline races as you run from the masked killer, desperate to escape brutal death.

Even as your eyes slowly adjust to the walls of the cabin, you can still feel the masked killer nearby, stalking. Hunting us one by one. It doesn’t help that the location you are in happened to have a similar fate to your nightmares.

Your feet kick at the sheets as sweat pours off your body. Rolling over onto your side and reach for Emma, only to realize that the bed is empty. Guess she might’ve gone back to her own bed at some point.

Fuck, you need air. Now.

You throw the covers off your body completely and slid in your fluffy black slippers, moving toward the front door and slowly opening it to avoid any sound.

Once again, it’s pitch black, no winds, no rustling trees, just quietness. You lean against the porch rail, staring into the night sky, searching for the moon as you take a deep breath.

You hear the faint sound of metal clicking as if somebody was sharpening or playing with a knife. Ignoring the goosebumps, you scan your surroundings, peering around the trees, spotting a figure leaning against a tree a little way off, flipping what seems to be a butterfly knife in their hand. You squint, trying to make out who it is.

He ran his fingers through his long hair and sighed heavily as he gripped it, it’s Keisuke. He looks frustrated, apparently, you weren’t the only one who’s having a bad night.

He flipped the knife again. His fingers were quick and light as the blade swung out. The metal appeared impossibly fluid as he manipulated it through the air, making it look easy, like it was second nature. He played with it for a while without much focus, staring off into the trees as if distracted by something in the distance.

You quickly wipe underneath your eyes, hoping to catch any smudged mascara or eyeliner, and quietly make your way toward him. The leaves crunch softly under your slippers. As you get closer, Keisuke turns his head slightly, still staring ahead. Before you can say anything, he brings the knife to his lips, shushing you. He then points at something with the knife still in hand.

Following his gesture, you see a baby deer standing at the edge of the clearing. It looks peaceful, completely unaware of the human presence nearby. The scene feels almost surreal after the nightmare you just had, almost like you needed a little pureness after that, but it didn’t help seeing Keisuke dragging his thumb across the sharp knife while staring at the poor innocent deer, you were suddenly feeling a hell of a lot warmer.

You cross your arms, still staring at the deer, opening your mouth to speak quietly, “Sorry, didn’t mean to ruin your alone time,”

“Hardly alone.” His deep voice rolled out, making the hair on your skin stand. He flips the knife closed and tucks it in his pocket.

“Seen it’s mom yet?”

He shakes his head in response.

After a few minutes, the deer raises its head, its ears flickering as it senses something. It looks around, then suddenly bolts into the woods, disappearing into the darkness.

You and Keisuke glance at each other, then back to where the deer ran off. “Think there’s a predator around?” You ask.

He made a sound that could have been a laugh, but he wasn’t smiling. “Guess you could say that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Could be a ghost.” He teases, finally facing you, seeing that your cheeks are swollen and your eyes heavy with sleep. “What’re you doing awake?”

“Had a bad dream.. couldn’t sleep after.” You glance up at him, noticing a couple of bruises on his cheek and a cut on his lip and jaw, almost deep enough to have blood dripping down his neck. “Jesus, you look like shit. What happened?!”

He takes a minute to think before answering. Contemplating if he should just tell you but decided to be careful around his words. “It’s nothing don’t worry about it.”

“Let me patch you up at least.”

His tongue swirls over his bottom lip, licking the bleeding cut. “No need.” He mutters as he wipes the blood off his jaw with his thumb,

“You’re gonna get an infection like that. Hold on, I’ll be back.” You head back into the cabin, searching for the first aid kit you brought with you, a cold water bottle, and your phone for the flashlight. Thank god you didn’t listen to Emma when she told you that an aid kit would be useless to bring, now you got an excuse to get close to him and maybe be his little personal nurse.

Returning to him, you find him still leaning against the same tree, staring off into the distance. He turns toward you, giving you a quick once-over, his eyes landing on the tank top you’re wearing with a printed band logo on it.

“What do you know about that band, huh?”

You stop in your tracks, squinting at him. “What do you know about that band?” You step closer and sit right in front of him, patting his bloodied boot and ignoring how painful it feels to sit on the forest ground. “C’mon, sit.”

He stands there staring down at you for a minute, his gaze intense, this position only making your body even warmer than usual. Finally, he sinks down with a groan, indicating there are more injuries than just the ones on his face. He leans back against the tree with his legs spread, resting his arms on his knees, you crawl up between his legs to get closer to his face.

Your scent hits him like a truck the minute you crawl closer, vanilla body lotion mixed with lavender shampoo you borrowed from Yuzuha after the lake. How the hell do you smell so good even after already spending a day at this campsite?

You soaked the cotton pad in alcohol, carefully dabbing it against the cut on his chin. He flinches, a sharp hiss escaping through his teeth.

“Quit being such a baby, relax,” you murmur.

He grumbles under his breath but keeps his eyes glued to you. Leaning his head back against the tree, he gives you easier access to his neck and chin, but the way he’s staring—intensely, unwavering—sends heat crawling up your skin. It’s impossible to ignore, especially with that focused look cutting right through you. His gaze is more than a distraction; it’s a problem, a problem that makes you wanna gouge his eyes out. A problem that makes what’s between your legs throb and you can’t afford to acknowledge right now.

“Can you not stare at me like that?” You say, still wiping the blood off his chin, trying to avoid looking up into his eyes.

“Like what?”

“Like that!”

“What?” A soft smirk tugs at the corner of his lips but quickly vanishes.

“You’re doing it right now.”

“I’m not doing nothing.” He drawls.

“You’ve got that face on your face!” You snap.

He cocks his head to the side, “That face on my face?”

Frustrated, you throw the cotton pad down. “You know what I mean!”

“You’re not even looking at me, and you’re complaining about a face I’m making?”

You let out a huff from your nose as you grab another cotton pad, soaking it in alcohol again, and continued tending to his wounds. After you finish cleaning it up, you place an ice-cold water bottle on his cheek without even looking at him. He quickly swats it away, that action surprises you enough to meet his eyes, he then softly grabs your wrist, guiding it back on his bruised cheek.

“If you’re gonna patch me up,” he says softly, “you gotta look at me.”

Your breath hitches as you release the bottle, forcing him to hold it himself. You reach for a band-aid, your fingers brushing against his skin as you lean in to place it on his chin.

“Technically, I need to be looking at your wounds,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper as you finally meet his gaze again. A hot flush rises up your neck.

“Think you missed my chin there..”

You frown, glancing down at the band-aid and realizing that it’s nowhere near where it should be. So much for being his “personal” nurse, you can’t even get the damn bandaid on the wound. Ripping it off, you try again, cursing yourself under your breath.

“What’s gotten you so distracted huh?” He teases, his voice low, and husky. Like he knows exactly what effect he has on you.

“Baji…” You warn, the sound of his name coming out more breathless than you intended.

“I’m messing with you. You need to relax… Need a smoke?”

You let out an exaggerated sigh. “I’d love to if Emma and Draken hadn’t finished it all last night.”

He hums in acknowledgment, the sound almost sympathetic. “Rough night, huh?”

“Oh yeah…” You shift and crawl over to sit beside him, resting your back against the same tree. The bark is cold and rough, but being next to him makes you feel a bit more grounded.

Keisuke puts the water bottle down and digs into his pocket, pulling out his butterfly knife. The familiar click of metal fills the silence as he flips it open, fiddling with it in his usual absentminded way. There’s something oddly soothing about it, even though your nerves are on edge. His presence makes you want to spill everything that’s been making you paranoid about this campsite.

“I keep having this reoccurring nightmare,” you admit, your voice quieter now, as if saying it out loud will make it more real. “About this Ghostface guy.”

Keisuke lets out a little snort, like it’s ridiculous, and you elbow him lightly in the side.

“I’m serious!” You say, half-laughing. “There’s a serial killer on the loose, and everybody treats it like a joke.”

He’s about to say something but catches himself, offering a quick apology instead. “My bad, sorry…”

Your gaze drifts toward the dark forest in front of you, the trees casting long shadows. You instinctively flick on your phone flashlight toward the direction you're staring at, just in case. “But I don’t know why… That nightmare this time, was way more vivid. Like, more real than before.”

Keisuke doesn’t look up from his knife, but his brow furrows slightly as he flips the blade with a practiced hand. “How so?”

You hesitate, trying to find the right words to explain the feeling gnawing at your gut. “It’s like… The killer is even closer now, y’know? Watching me. I’m twice as paranoid, and I keep seeing things out of the corner of my eye.” You hear a sudden snap of a tree branch nearby, your body tensing as you whip your flashlight toward the sound, but all you see is darkness and the endless maze of trees.

Keisuke, on the other hand, barely reacts. He keeps fiddling with the knife, unbothered. “Think you just really need a smoke.”

“Yeah… Maybe…” You mutter, still staring in the direction of the noise, your heart pounding a little too fast for comfort.

Keisuke flips the knife shut with a swift motion, tucking it back into his pocket as he pushes himself to his feet. “I’ll give you some of mine tomorrow. Just get some sleep.”

You push yourself up as well, stumbling a bit since your feet fell asleep. He jerks his head to the side toward the direction of the girls’ cabin, “I’ll walk you to the cabin so you won’t get killed.”

“That’s not funny,” you mutter.

“It is,” he teases, making you walk in front of him as he follows behind.

Reluctantly, you step ahead, feeling the weight of his presence close behind. The crunch of leaves underfoot fills the dead silence of the night, not even crickets. And you can’t help but feel a little self-conscious with him right there, walking just a pace behind. Every now and then, you glance over your shoulder, catching him watching you, his hands casually in his pockets, fiddling with the butterfly knife as he strolls along like a visible stalker.

When you finally reach the cabin, you stop by the door, turning to face him. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

He gives a soft hum of acknowledgment, his usual way of saying ‘yes’ without actually saying it. His gaze holds steady on yours, and for a brief moment, there’s something unreadable in his expression.

“Okay… Goodnight, Baji.” You smile softly as you push the cabin door open, the wooden hinges creaking as you step inside.

Before you can fully enter, his deep voice cuts through. “Keisuke.”

You pause, glancing back at him, “Huh?”

“It’s Keisuke,” he repeats, his tone softer now.

Your lips part in surprise, and for a moment, you’re not sure how to respond. But then a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips, face warmer than before. “Alright then. Goodnight, Keisuke.”

He nods, his eyes lingering on yours for just a second longer. “Night.”

You groggily rub your eyes, trying to adjust to the noise of loud chattering and the bright sun hitting your eyes. You attempt to tug the blanket up to hide your face but you struggle, you then attempt to kick the blanket up thinking it was just tucked in the corners but you struggle again, kicking your feet in frustration, you hit something solid, only to realize why it’s stuck.

Mikey, sitting at the edge of your bed like a statue, unbothered by your kicks, as if you barely grazed him. you kick at his back on purpose this time, back to back, each hit harder than before. and despite your persistent kicks, he doesn’t budge, making it seem like he’s completely immune to your attempts.

“Move,” you mutter.

He glances back this time, your voice being the only thing that got his attention, fucking prick. “look who’s awake,” Mikey says casually as if you aren’t still trying to kick him off the bed. “Emma says you know how to do creepy face paint.”

You finally give up, squinting at the bright room, sunlight flooding through the wide-open doors makes everything a bit too much for your still half-asleep mind. the dining table that’s pushed in the center is now a cluttered mess of makeup bags, hair straighteners, and mirrors, as if everyone decided to make it their vanity, spotting Senju sitting there and putting rollers in her hair.

Still too tired to process much, you stretch lazily, letting out a muffled groan as your body cracks back to life like those glow sticks from yesterday. “makeup…?” you murmur, voice still thick with sleep.

“Yeah, yeah. can you do that for me?”

Before you can respond, Emma pops up from behind his shoulder, seeing you finally awake. she approaches the bed and shoves Mikey down, crawling over him.

“Come skinny dipping with me,” she chirps, hovering above your legs as Mikey continues to struggle beneath her, her bodyweight suffocating him as he starts squirming beneath her, grumbling little ‘Get off of me’s’ and ‘Stop!’

You pursed your lips, raising a brow at her as if that’s the last thing you want to hear right now. “Why don’t you ask the other girls?” You mumble, not ready to leave your bed.

“Everyone already did, we woke up late,” Emma pouts, finally climbing off Mikey. She pats you on the shoulder like it’s a done deal, “C’mon! go brush your teeth.”

Mikey, still recovering from almost being squashed to death, glares at Emma before giving you a look like this is somehow your fault, like you’re the one ruining his morning. “bullies, you two.”

“I literally just woke up, I barely did anything to you,” you mutter, kicking him in the back one last time, finally getting him to move. But unfortunately, he stays in the room, lingering like he’s got nothing better to do.

You ignore him now that he’s off the bed, finally having the chance to get comfortable again. you pull the covers up, snuggling into them, ready to drift back into a cozy 20-minute nap.

Just as you’re about to doze off, you feel Mikey leaning in close, whispering something in your ear that you didn’t know you craved. “the lake is really hot right now…”

Your eyes shoot open, no way in hell you're missing out on that. you fling the blankets off, grabbing your toothbrush and toothpaste from your bag and quickly run out of the cabin toward the bathroom.

Outside, everyone from the campsite is already preparing for the Halloween party tonight. at the gate, there were new bikes and cars pulled over, guessing it’s the people that are here for the party and not to stay.

You continue walking toward the bathroom, almost bumping into guys who are hauling logs of wood to stack in the center of the campfire, with some sitting lazily in chairs they were supposed to move. It’s as if the party has already started before anyone’s even put on a costume.

As you approach the bathroom, you notice that it’s already occupied by Keisuke, who’s standing at the sink flossing his teeth, you move past him hoping he would acknowledge you somewhat, but he doesn’t seem to notice your entrance, or at least bother to say ‘Hi’. that kind of stings..

You wave off the thought and start washing your face beside him, glancing at him through the mirror every now and then, until the gorgeous sight gets interrupted by Mikey, who clearly followed you all the way here, walks right up next to Keisuke and stares at him through the mirror. “That’s crazy to look at,” he comments dryly.

Keisuke pauses mid-floss, turning to face Mikey with the floss string still stuck in his teeth. his left hand rests against the sink while his right hand settles on his hip. So dramatic. “What’s that supposed to mean, huh?”

Mikey’s eyes flick to Keisuke’s floss before he grins. “Last time I saw you brush your teeth, you did it with your finger. Now here you are, flossing and shit… who’re you lying to huh?”

Keisuke glares and kicks Mikey in the knee, making him yelp and bolt out of the bathroom, with Keisuke chasing after him, leaving the floss still awkwardly hanging from his mouth.

Kazutora squeezes past them, shooting them a look as they disappear in between the crowd that’s already forming around the campfire they’re making. he walks into the bathroom and closes the door behind him, glancing over at you.

“Hey,” he greets casually, not so casually locking the door behind him.

You turn to face him, he looks like he just rolled out of bed, disheveled, yet unfairly attractive. His black and blonde hair is tousled, strands falling messily into his eyes, there’s a slight puffiness to his face, his eyes still heavy-lidded with the remnants of sleep, making him look soft but no less intense.

Your eyes landing on his wife beaters that cling to his figure, creased from sleeping in it. you glance down at his hand that rakes up under his rumpled shirt, scratching his stomach as he squints at the bathroom light with a faint scowl. his blue plaid pajama pants hang low on his hips, before your eyes roam over to his.. obvious print, you greet him with a nod, mumbling out a little ‘Hi!’ as you continue to brush your teeth as if the way he looks didn’t almost make you weak in the knees.

Kazutora moves behind you, stepping closer against you, his body presses lightly against your back, basically pinning you against the sink as his arms move around your waist to grab the toothpaste, his chest brushes your back as he squeezes the toothpaste onto his brush. he made the contact seem casual enough to be innocent, but you both knew it was far from that.

He reaches around you again, this time moving his arm up and over your shoulder to start brushing his teeth, practically enveloping you. his bicep brushes your cheek, he smells so clean, like mint with a mix of shampoo, making it impossible to focus on brushing your teeth. As you glance down, you spot a deep scratch on his arm, the wound looks fresh. probably from the glass he broke last night.

You tilt your head down under his arm, bending over, pressing close against him from behind to spit out the toothpaste, putting yourself in an awkward position and making Kazutora’s hand slip down to your hips instinctively, his hands hold you tight as he mumbles through his toothbrush, “Damn, we’re doing this the second day?”

you quickly wash your face, turning around to swat him lightly in the chest, “Uh-uh, don’t put this on me. You’re the one doing all that just to brush your teeth!” You grab some tissues to wipe off your face.

He finishes brushing his teeth, rinsing out his mouth, and wipes his lips with the back of his hand. “what? didn’t mean nothing.. you were just right there.” he stuffs his hand in his pocket casually, his eyes flick to your lips for a second, as if your words are going in his ear and coming out the other.

“Well, that same argument goes for me,” you counter, leaning back against the sink and crossing your arms.

He steps closer, looming over you, his arms come down again, bracketing you in against the sink. “Yeah, alright.” his eyes won’t stop glancing down at your lips, enough to make him bite his own to hold himself back from pouncing on you.

And you picked up on that, “someone could walk in you know..” you murmur, heart racing as he leans in, his nose gently brushing against yours.

“So?” he whispers, right against your lips. “Let them, I don’t care.” his voice is low, just like how he spoke to you in the same spot yesterday, will he finish what he started this time?

Kazutora’s lips hover just inches from yours, his eyes heavy-lidded and dark. Your breath hitches as you anticipate what you didn’t know you craved so much until he got so close, until yesterday in the same exact spot when he could’ve had you.

“But.. we barely even know each other.” you manage to whisper against his lips, eyes nervously darting at the door and then back at him, he seems to notice that as he tilts his head to make you keep your eyes on him.

“We could get to know each other now,” he murmurs, his eyes looking down at your lips then flicking up to meet your eyes again. “What’s your favorite color?” he asks as his lips graze against yours. The question feels almost like an afterthought with how focused he is on torturing you—and himself.

“Yellow.” you joke as his mouth moves to the corner of your lips, trailing soft, teasing kisses. “What’s yours..?” you mutter, barely getting the word out before his lips are on yours, fully this time, kissing you as if he’s been hungry about you. His hands move up to grip your hips, feeling his fingers go under your waistband.

He hums against your mouth before breaking the kiss to glance down, tugging at your panties to check the color, “mm.. black,” he mutters against your lips as his finds yours again, feeling his hands rake under your shirt to hold your waist, pulling you closer toward his body as his lips find new ways to kiss you each time.

His mouth finally pulls away just enough for you to catch your breath, eyes dark and heavy with need as he leans in again, but instead of another kiss, you feel his hands under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly onto the counter, feeling the cold surface beneath you as he tightens his hold on your thighs, pulling you closer to press his body against yours.

He moves his hand up your chin, brushing his thumb across your lower lip while biting his, making your breath hitch as he lifts your head up and captures your lips between his again, except sloppier—more desperate, yet so annoyingly slow, like he wants to savor your taste against his lips. his tongue delves deep into your mouth as he softly groans against you.

You wrap your arms around his neck, playing with the back of his messy hair as he leans in even more into the kiss, pushing you to lean back against the mirror.

His hand snakes down your stomach, going between your legs to play with your clothed cunt that was embarrassingly soaked just from him kissing and teasing you. he breaks the kiss to rasp against your lips, a string of saliva still connected. “You’re soaked, you know that? I can feel it all through your shorts.” he grits his teeth, “It’s so damn hot.”

You let out a mewl, closing your legs on his hand as two of his fingers start to play with your clit, keeping his hypnotic honeyed-eyes on yours, “How long have you been friends with Manjiro for?” he asks another question as he teases your clothed clit, slowing his fingers down to make you focus on him instead. you can barely think, let alone form a coherent thought as you grip the front of his wife beaters.

“A-a while..” you stammer, glancing down at him toying with you through your shorts, he takes it as a hint for him to go under it as he snakes his hand down your waistband, moving under your panties as he runs two fingers between your soaking wet folds.

The corners of Kazutora’s lips tug into a smile, letting out a small laugh. “a while huh? where were you from me then? you hidin’?” he slowly inserts two fingers inside your cunt, his palm right against your clit for stimulation, making your thighs jerk up as he fucks his fingers into you. You're extra sensitive now and he’s abusing the hell out of it. “m’ sorry.. I wasn’t—” he cuts you off before you can explain by speeding up, making such embarrassingly lewd sounds echoing around the bathroom.

“You do this with anybody else?” he asks another one, making you look up at him from that unexpected question, he’s already possessive of you and it’s only been the second day. God, this is not how things are supposed to go, you didn’t mean to have a guy get possessive over you so soon, the wrong guy too. but you can’t stop him now, not with how his fingers are hitting your sweet spots continuously.

You manage to shake your head, trying to find your voice, but before you can respond, he’s already speaking again, his lips brushing yours. “Good, I wanna be the only one.” his voice soft but his eyes say otherwise. he pulls his fingers out of you, placing them in his mouth, sucking your wetness off his fingers, his eyes still on you.

‏Then his hands move down to your thighs, tossing your thigh over his shoulders, “I know a better way to get to know you more,” he murmurs as he lowers his head down between your legs, his nose coming to bury itself against your soaked shorts, taking your scent in as his hands rub up and down your thighs while his eyes roll back.

Your thighs clamp around his head as he kisses your puffy folds through your shorts, the leg on his shoulder curling around him instinctively as if you are pulling him in for more, making Kazutora growl, hands going up your hips to pull you against his face again, keeping you in place as he takes in your scent while teasing your clit with his kisses.

You then get interrupted by Emma's muffled voice against the bathroom door, calling out your name, “Can you hurry the fuck up? I feel disgusting.” she calls, followed by the rattling of the doorknob as she tries to open it. You quickly move your hand to clamp it over your mouth, muffling out your whimpers.

Kazutora seems unbothered, too distracted getting drunk on your scent as he tugs on the waistband of your shorts, sliding it down your legs with your panties as he glances up at you, expecting you to answer and dismiss her. Nothing's stopping him this time, not when your pretty pussy is displayed in front of his eyes. You can't expect him to stop.. not when he's been craving you, not with his pants getting tighter, rubbing against the annoying confinements of his boxers. if he can't fuck you now, the least he could do right now is eat you.

And you both did just that, "Yeah, just.. give me a second Emma I'll be right out!" you manage to call out, running your fingers through his hair as he buries his face into your pussy, his tongue slid over your clit. Emitting a moan out of you as he licks you again, he flicks his tongue back and forth slowly over that swollen nub.

Every flick made your body jerk, whimpering as you watched him. his eyes remaining fixed on you as his lips close around your clit, his tongue rolling over it, brows furrowing in desperation, moaning against you as if he's tasting heaven on his tongue. His fingers digging into your hips. You cry out quietly, gasping at the feeling of his tongue against you—something you haven't felt in too long, and not this fucking good either.

You start to feel the ache building up slowly, speeding up as you hear Emma's continuous knocking on the door. hearing muffled little 'Hello?'s' and 'Hurry up's' and whatever the hell she was saying through the door, you didn't even care anymore, not with Kazutora devouring you alive right now with his sexy honey-colored eyes fixed on you so intensely.

You whimper against your hand, nodding your head at him repeatedly, silently telling him to not stop as his tongue fucks into you, going in and out, making your legs squeeze around his head and desperately grinding on his tongue. Earning a needy moan out of him, the tip of his dick leaking pre from how hot you are right now. He loves it when his tongue is being used by you.

You move your hand to his soft hair, tugging at it. You're close, so damn close, your ears completely muting Emma's persistent knocks and doorknob rattles as your brain only focuses on him and his tongue, your vision starts to blur around him as his head bobs side to side, only hearing his earring jingle as his tongue glides across your folds, moving back to your clit, sucking on it as your legs begin to shake.

You curl your lips inwards to hold back your moans, melting onto his mouth as the coil bubbling in your belly finally snaps in a rushed climax. you let out a gasp, quickly silencing yourself with your palm as he licks your mess up, not missing an opportunity to taste you.

He hums, reluctantly pulling away from your pussy he calls a delicacy. Chin, and lips still wet from you as he moves his hand back to barricade you. "Wanna keep eating you.." he whispers, almost coming out like a whine. his hand slides up to your hips, moving you closer against his crotch and pushing himself onto you, making you feel how hard he is against you.

Another gasp emits out of your lips, and just as you are about to speak, Emma does it for you. "What the fuck are you doing in there?!" banging on the door even louder than before, causing unnecessarily too much attention around you.

Kazutora clicks his tongue and lets out a heavy sigh, “Of course.”

You let out a scoff, leaning your head back against the mirror again. “I don’t think the universe wants this to happen.” you tease, trying to lighten up the mood but he still looks frustrated.

“Fuck the universe for that,” he mutters, stepping back reluctantly, His gaze lingering on you for a moment before picking up your shorts and soaked panties. looking down at the fabric before bringing it up to his nose, inhaling it in front of you shamelessly. "Let me keep this."

"No, kazutora I can't be walking around with no panties on, give it." You reach out for your panties as he moves them up from your reach. "But I want something to remember this by.. come on." he says with a smile, almost convincing you from how fucking hot he's being, you cup his cheeks, running your thumb on his lips. "You've got more than enough to remember this by." you quickly snatch your panties from him, putting them on with your shorts as he, once again, shamelessly checks you out from behind.

He then wraps his arms around you, pressing light kisses to your neck, tickling you. until Emma interrupts yet again.

"Oh my god, you better be dead in there or I'm ditching you!" she shouts through the door, her frustration obvious not only to you but to bystanders nearby.

"Alright, fine! Jesus!" you call back, exasperated. Kazutora groans and rolls his eyes, begrudgingly pulling away from you, his eyes still fixed on you. even as he backs toward the door, his gaze unwavering as he unlocks and opens the door for you, unbothered by Emma's presence.

Emma stands there, her mouth slightly opening, clearly confused by the sight of Kazutora inside with you. She wasn’t expecting him to be there, much less the two of you together. You slip out beside him, flashing her a sheepish smile, but Kazutora barely acknowledges her, his focus still on you as he finally steps back, nonchalant as ever. he strolls off, ignoring the curious looks from nearby as Emma’s earlier outburst had clearly drawn attention.

Emma rolls her eyes and lets out an exaggerated sigh, grabbing your hand. “Come on, we’ve got shit to do.” she mutters, pulling you toward the forest where Senju and Yuzuha were waiting.

You step outside—pulled outside really—weaving through the camp where preparations for the Halloween party are in full swing, people swarming Mitsuya to alter their costumes, guys passing by, blocking your path and forcing you to go around them as they carry more hefty tree logs toward the center of the camp, a makeshift bonfire already starting to take shape.

Your eyes drift to the right as a familiar car pulls up near the entrance. Rindou and his brother Ran hop out, hauling bags filled with battery-operated Halloween decorations—speakers, candles, everything needed to throw a full-blown party without electricity. Rindou’s crew—slaves—rush to help, gathering boxes and bags and carrying them to the cabin where the party’s taking place.

You continue toward the trees, where Senju and Yuzuha are deep in conversation. Their voices are hushed as if talking shit about somebody, catching bits and pieces as you approach.

“Yeah, ever since Takemichi disappeared, he’s been… different. More persistent with her, it’s weird.” Senju says, crossing her arms in discomfort.

You reach them, slipping into the conversation. “Who are we talking about?” Your gaze drifts, searching for the victim of their discussion.

Emma steps closer to you as she points discreetly toward the chairs where a small group is gathered. “See that guy with the glasses? Sitting next to Hanma.”

You spot the victim immediately—Kisaki Tetta. Not from Emma’s description but because his eyes were already on you. And for a second, it felt like time had stopped. His eyes were so sharp and calculating, almost like he was aware you were talking about him. Something about his stare makes your skin prickle—like he knows exactly what’s going through your head. The corners of his lips quirk up just for a split second. Hina’s complaining about that giving her attention?

“Yeah,” you murmur, dragging your eyes away from his. You fight the urge to do something silly, like twirl your hair and kick your feet.

Emma crosses her arms, leaning into her stance like she’s about to go to war. “He’s got this weird obsession with Hina. They used to be friends back in elementary, but then he turned into a total douchebag.”

Yuzuha scoffs, “And now he thinks he can compete with Takemichi. Not like... Takemichi’s cuter or whatever... but still.”

“Kinda cute…” You let it slip out before you can stop yourself, putting your hand over your mouth as if you said something to the wrong audience.

Emma turns to you, her eyes narrowing as if you’ve just betrayed the entire group. “I hope to god you mean Takemichi.”

Senju steps in, resting her hands on your shoulders. “Actually... distracting him away from Hina might be good for her, at least until we find Takemichi.”

You raise your hands defensively, “Ohh no, no, no.. I’m not going to be whoring around this Halloween all because you want Hina’s boy toy off her dick.. besides, I’ve already got someone in mind.”

Emma’s brow furrows teasingly, a smirk plays at the corner of her lips, “Kazutora?”

“What? No! He wasn’t part of the plan!” You protest a little too quickly.

“Wasn’t?” Yuzuha teases even more.

“Oh yeah, she had her eyes set on Baji Keisuke.” Emma whispers in Yuzuha’s ear loud enough for you to hear.

You groan, rolling your eyes. “Wow, can you say that any louder?”

“I mean, I’ve already seen how Kazutora was practically eating you in the bathroom. I don’t think you can score better than that with Keisuke, at least before the getaway’s over.”

At that, both Senju and Yuzuha gasped dramatically, with little ‘How come you never told us!’ and ‘Where were we during this?’

You shake your head, “I’ll tell you two later! I feel too gross to be standing around right now.” You wave them off as you start to head toward the lake, watching them head back to the cabin giggling as you and Emma start walking toward the lake. “And it was nothing. We barely even kissed.”

“Uhuh, right. Okay.”

You stop abruptly, turning to face her and grabbing her shoulders. “Okay, listen. If I tell you this, you have to swear you won’t tell anyone. Especially Keisuke.”

Emma’s eyes widen, “You’re calling him Keisuke now? Oh my god, what season did I miss? Did I skip a few episodes?”

“Emma. Swear.”

“Alright, alright! I swear.” She holds her hands up in surrender, “So, spill it. What’s going on?”

You hesitate for a second, scanning the area to make sure no one’s listening. “Kazutora and I did coke together.. and after, there was a little tension.."

Emma gives you a long, suspicious look, “There’s some details missing… I can tell from your face.”

“No important details. just little kisses on my legs and all that, but it stopped when the power went out.”

Emma crosses her arms, tilting her head. “Then why are you being so secretive about it?”

“Because he told me not to tell anybody, and I kinda figured that he meant Keisuke.”

“Hmmm.”

You narrow your eyes at her, trying to read her expression. “Do you know why he doesn’t want Keisuke to know?”

She shrugs, “Your guess is as good as mine.”

As you both finally reach the lake, you spot a few empty shampoo bottles littered on the ground, men’s shampoos to be exact. Guess everybody had the same idea, although they could’ve at least picked up after themselves. “Y’know, for being known as rich... they couldn’t afford showers in this dump?” You remark.

“You think they give a shit about quality from a place with history like this?” she responds. Emma wastes no time, quickly peeling off her clothes and stepping into the water. You hesitate, glancing around nervously as you undress, feeling a little too exposed right now.

“Hurry up before it gets cold!” She calls, already waist-deep in the water. “God, I needed this.”

You step into the lake, the warm water enveloping you as you sink into it, letting out a sigh of contentment. The water really was just as Mikey described, hot and relaxing. You dip your face under, wiping the water from your eyes as you emerge.

“We should’ve brought some shampoo,” you mutter, eyeing the empty bottles floating around, and pushing them back to the shore.

Emma leans her head back, letting the water get into her hair. “It’s not worth it. I’ll need another shower after the party anyway. Can’t be wasting it.”

“True…” You murmur, gazing up at the sky.

For a few moments, it’s quiet—just the sound of water lapping against your bodies and the soft rustling of trees. That’s a surprise, you’re not paranoid about silence anymore. This is a nice feeling.

Emma suddenly breaks the silence, her voice low, almost as if she’s been holding it in for too long. “I haven’t spoken to Ken all day.”

You turn your head toward her, sensing there’s more she wants to say.

“I didn’t think he’d tell the gang something so personal, y’know? I didn’t even tell you guys about it… I just thought it’d be fair if he kept it between us too.”

You stay quiet, not wanting to interrupt, though you really want to know the context—what’s gotten them all so tense yesterday, but you don’t want to pry, not when she’s pouring herself out to you.

She takes a breath, staring at the water. “He got me pregnant… and I had an abortion without telling him.”

The words hit like a wave, and though you try to keep your face neutral, Emma already caught the surprised expression on your face before it disappeared. She chuckles a bit at that.

“I just… I thought he’d run away,” she continues, her voice trembling slightly. “That’s a lie, I know he wouldn’t… I like to comfort myself with that thought so I won’t feel shitty about it. But, a part of me didn’t want to tell him because I knew he’d convince me to keep it, saying he’s ready to be a dad and stuff. But I knew I wasn’t, and he didn’t take that lightly.”

“What do you mean?” You ask softly.

She stays silent for a minute before letting out a big sigh. “He kinda took it as me saying I didn’t want a baby with him. It wasn’t that. I just wasn’t ready. That’s it.” Emma pauses, dipping her hand into the water, and swirling it around absently. “We fought about it—bad. Even Manjiro got involved. Everything went to shit after that. Which… was out of character for him, yeah. But things were already going pretty bad for the gang, he and Mikey fought before, and this just kinda made it worse, I guess.”

“Emma, I’m so, so sorry…” You want to reach over and hug her, but the fact you’re both naked stops you. Instead, you extend your hand toward her, and she takes it, squeezing gently.

“It’s okay. It’s been a year since then, and we never really talked about it after, until today. I didn’t think it’d get brought up again, especially not like that.”

“That was really messed up of Kazutora, I’m sorry you had to go through that.” You squeeze her hand back.

She lets out a bitter laugh. “Don’t apologize for him. Yeah, he’s been all up on you lately, but still…”

You smile softly. “I can drop him for you, you know?”

Emma’s eyes widen, shaking her head quickly. “No, no! Please don’t. that’s the last thing I need right now. he’s already being fucking insane I don’t need you depriving him of pussy too.”

She dips her hair back into the water, letting the warmth wash over her as she sinks deeper into the lake. “And then there’s Hanma… It’s like he has a sixth sense whenever Ken and I are having issues.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What, he hits you with a ‘you up?’ text?”

Emma lets out a dry laugh. “Literally! No joke, he’s exactly that cliché. He’s the type who goes after vulnerable women in relationships just for the thrill of it.” She pushes back her hair from her face, getting all the water out. “And back then, he had this weird phase of being obsessed with taking a girl’s virginity, especially mine. Like… I wasn’t even a backdoor virgin at the time.”

You wrinkle your nose, cringing. “Okay, I didn’t need to know that.”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh please, like I haven’t told you worse.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “How could you resist him though? I mean, the guy’s hot. He’s got the height, the eyes…”

Emma’s expression drops into a deadpan. “Are you only attracted to the absolute worst of the worst? Be honest.”

“Emma, don’t even try to deny it.”

She sighs, tilting her head as if considering for a moment. “At first? Maybe, before I really knew him. But after dealing with his antics for so long, the charm kind of wears off, and Ken is my type, not Hanma.”

“Ugh, you’re no fun…”

“Bitch, please. if your definition of ‘fun’ is Kisaki and hanma, I’ll pass. and stick with Keisuke—he’s better for you mentally.”

You scoff, leaning back in the water. “Not really… He gives such mixed signals, he was driving me crazy yesterday.”

Before you can elaborate, Emma suddenly perks up. “Hold that thought! I really should’ve brought a bikini before jumping in here.” She stands, the water sliding off her skin as she quickly grabs her clothes to put them on. “You want me to grab yours too?”

You glance around, feeling a little exposed now that she’s mentioned it. “Yeah, please. I’ve been feeling a bit too vulnerable out here.”

She pulls her wet hair out of her shirt, and then nods toward the trees. “Gotcha. I’ll be back.” She starts walking toward where the cabin is, disappearing into the forest and leaving you alone with the quiet ripples of the lake.

You float lazily in the warm water, letting your body relax as your mind drifts back to yesterday. Glad she didn’t pretend nothing happened like those guys did, especially Mikey. He was still acting the exact same this morning, although they do have a history of forgetting their arguments, but this one was too intense. Guess they were just too drunk. It’s pretty frustrating though, it’s like no one but you had felt the weight of what happened.

You tilt your head back into the water, exhaling softly, your mind drifting to the cut on Kazutora’s arm. Sure, you were just as fucked up as they were, but you seriously don’t remember him getting a cut from the glass, or anything really. Maybe he and Keisuke fought after? That would explain Keisuke’s bruises. If that’s so… that fight must’ve been intense.

The water’s stillness is suddenly interrupted by the realization that Emma’s been gone for too long. You push yourself up slightly, scanning the edge of the lake for any sign of her. Nothing. The trees remain undisturbed, quiet except for the occasional rustle of leaves from the wind.

You stand, the cool air hitting your wet skin immediately. As you step out of the lake, you instinctively reach for your clothes, only to find them missing. What the fuck? You start to scan the area, checking to see if they might have fallen or been moved by the wind. Maybe Emma took them with her? But something about that doesn’t sit right. She wouldn’t pull a prank, not after being so vulnerable with you a couple of minutes ago.

Your heart starts to race as your eyes dart around, feeling more and more exposed. You cover yourself with your arms while searching for anything to do the job for you. Finally, you spot a towel draped over a rock nearby. It’s ridiculously small, probably meant to be a face towel, but it’s your only option. You wrap it around yourself as best as you can, covering what’s most important, though it barely does the job.

Still shivering from the cold, you tiptoe into the forest, leaves, and dirt clinging to your feet. You’re wet and vulnerable, like prey ready to be pounced on. The dense canopy overhead makes everything seem darker, and the chill in the air feels sharper against your damp skin. Every rustle of leaves makes you jump, paranoia creeping in. Great, just as you were about to celebrate the fact that you weren’t as paranoid anymore.

As you step deeper into the forest, the towel clings to your wet skin, barely offering any warmth, and you clutch it tightly, scanning the dimly lit path for any sign of Emma or your missing clothes. “Emma?” You call out, although your voice doesn’t seem to be reaching the cabin. It’s as if no matter how loud you scream, no one will hear you. Why did your thoughts lead to that now?

The silence around you feels suffocating, the occasional rustle of leaves now sending a chill down your spine. You’re not sure what’s worse: the fact that your clothes are missing or the creeping feeling that something isn’t right.

You push through the underbrush, the wet towel sticking to your skin, its small size doing little to make you feel more secure. The chill of the air and the dampness on your body make everything worse. You try calling for Emma again, but your voice sounds weak in the thick, still air. “Emma?” you repeat, a little louder this time. The sound of your voice feels hollow, swallowed up by the trees as if there's no one around to hear it.

A twig snaps behind you. you then hear a voice—faint at first, like a low chuckle. you freeze in place, your heart skipping a beat as the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. not right now, not right now! He chuckles again, a deep, mocking sound.

“Lose something?” a familiar voice drawls from behind you, sending a chill down your spine that has nothing to do with the fact that you’re wet and naked.

You turn around slowly, hoping that it’s just a hallucination. Unfortunately, it wasn’t. you spot Hanma Shuji, standing a few feet away, leaning casually against a tree, with your underwear dangling on his finger, his lips curling into a lopsided grin as he witnesses your terrified eyes, his eyes expanding at the sight of it.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me…” You mutter, your voice betraying the anxiety you’re trying to suppress. You tighten your grip on the towel, taking a step back away from him, considering bolting for it or fighting him for your underwear, at least you would only worry about the top being exposed.

You feel Hanma’s eyes slowly travel down your body, his gaze lingering on the damp skin left exposed by the tiny towel.

“Oh, come on now,” he pushes himself off the tree, taking a step closer to you. “you don’t need to be so shy, not after the little show you’re putting on.” He teases.

You clear your throat, “Hanma, give it,” you demand, trying to keep your voice steady, though you can’t ignore the way your pulse is racing.

Hanma lifts the underwear higher, inspecting them with exaggerated disinterest with a hand on his chin. “hmm, I don’t know. you’re looking pretty good like this. s’ a shame to cover up so soon.” his eyes flick back to you, filled with that lazy, predatory hunger look in his eyes that always seems to follow him.

“Don’t push it,” you snap, though your voice falters just a little. you try to stand your ground, but with nothing but the thin towel to cover you, you can feel your confidence slipping. Oh fuck. you need that underwear now.

Hanma tilts his head, his grin widening, clearly enjoying every second of this. “Black, huh?” he muses, raising an eyebrow as he gives you a slow, teasing once-over. He clicks his tongue in mock frustration, “Damn, was betting on white, y’know.. ” he trails off.

You feel your face heat up instantly, did he hear what you and Emma were talking about? “what the fuck does got to do with anything?!”

Hanma chuckles at your reaction, twirling your underwear around his finger. “unless you’re gonna tell me you’ve been keeping yourself pure for someone special,” he says, his voice dropping low, the words rolling off his tongue with that smug, knowing tone, “are you?”

Your eyes narrow, fighting the urge to lunge at him and snatch your clothes back. “Why does that matter, huh? Can you just give me my clothes back?”

“Answer my question and I’ll give it to you.” he takes a step closer, forcing you to step back into the tree. “Are you, or are you not?” his gaze flicks back down to the towel, then to your face.

You grit your teeth, fighting to maintain control. “That’s none of your business.”

He bites his lip, shaking his head while looking down at your underwear, fiddling with the lace. He then dangles your underwear in front of you once more, but still keeps them just out of reach. “I’d kill to see you walk to the camp like this anyway..”

You might actually bolt for it this time, you glance back toward the camp, where you can already hear the faint sounds of people talking and preparing for the Halloween party. The idea of walking through the crowd like this, wrapped in a towel barely covering a thing, makes you wanna curl up and fucking die. Your eyes dart back to hanma, who’s watching you with that insufferable smirk of his, clearly eating up every second of your discomfort.

You sigh, shoulders sagging in defeat. “Can I please have my clothes back?” your voice comes out soft, almost pleading, just barely above a whisper as you impatiently stomp your feet in frustration.

Hanma tilts his head, matching the soft sound of your voice in a way to mock you, “Answer my question first.” you should be pissed but jesus christ did he sound so fucking hot doing it.

You clench your jaw, knowing you’re trapped. There’s no way around it, not with how he practically has you pinned to the tree, you look away from his gaze. “Okay! alright! I’m not a virgin, whatever! give it back.”

But Hanma only scoffs, “You think I’m just gonna give this to you without proof?”

Proof? Is he fucking crazy? Proof? your breath catches, and you feel your stomach drop. “Proof?”

He steps closer, the gap between you shrinking as he looks down at you. “Let me check.”

Your stomach tightens, heat rushing to your face. “What do you mean ‘let me check’? you can’t just—”

He cuts you off, “You want your clothes back or not?” his grin widening, shameless as ever.

Is this why Emma fucking despises him? cause now you’re starting to get it. You stood frozen, heart pounding, chewing on your lip as your mind races. There’s no way you’re going to let him get away with this, but the way he’s looking at you, the way his voice dips so low, makes it impossible to think straight.

“So?” he leans closer, his breath brushing your ear. “You gonna let me?” he drags his fingers along your curves, going down to your thigh. And unfortunately, your body betrays you. Your mind locked onto the feeling of his fingertips drifting your thighs, going between, accepting the sensation of his fingers drifting up from your inner thighs to what’s next to it. Kazutora’s unfinished business is being handed to hanma, and somehow, you’re not complaining.

A part of you enjoys the way he toys with you, the way he puts you in such a humiliating position just for his own pleasure, just to see you crack. and a part of you wants to crack for him, you can’t hide your masochism forever. unfortunately for you, as much as you try to deny it, and pretend you have self-respect and dignity, your body will always betray you.

He chuckles against your ear as if what he’s feeling on his fingers is unbelievable. “you’re fucking wet.” he whispers, and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

You let out a whimper, almost loud enough for the camp to hear but he quickly covers your mouth. “you don’t want them seeing you like this do you?” he speaks against the back of his hand.

You repeatedly shake your head, already tearing up and he barely did a thing to you. “why’re you crying?” he murmured, his gaze softening at the sight of your tears, but his dick was far from soft at that. his knuckle grazes beneath your chin, tilting your head up, forcing you to meet his gaze. but it wasn’t gentle, no, it was patronizing. “do I need to shut that mouth of yours?”

A soft pout forms on your plump bruised lips as you peer up at him through your lashes, your eyes wide, almost pleading—an instinctive reaction to his taunt.

Hanma tilts his head, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “you’re really bringing out the big guns with those puppy eyes, huh?” he then holds your underwear up, stretching it out enough to use it to gag you with it, he then stuffs your mouth with it, tying it to the back of your head.

“Bite.” he demands, and you comply, earning little whispers of ‘good girl’ and ‘you look so damn pretty like this’ against your lips as he leans in to kiss you, soaking up your underwear from it, his thick tongue rushes over your own, feeling yourself getting wetter as you silently wish emma doesn’t come back for you.

He then breaks the kiss, yanking the towel off your grasp and exposing you completely to him as he throws the towel aside, the sharp cold air hitting you enough to twitch. before you had time to react, he sinks to his knees, grabbing your thighs and spreading your legs open enough for him to go in between, “that’s a pretty fuckin’ pussy..” he mumbles right in front of your folds before spitting on it to make it easier for what he’s about to do to you. his warm breath fanning your cunt as he uses his ‘sin’ etched hand to lightly play with your clit, watching you twitch and pulsate against his fingers. humming little ‘mhm’s as he inserts two fingers inside you.

You practically melted on him, “so tight..” he coos, “not a virgin, huh?” he teases, you couldn’t even look at him anymore from how humiliating this is, biting your panties to muffle out your moans, and he couldn’t have that either.

He clicks his tongue, “let me hear you.” he says irritatedly as he pushes himself up from the ground to loom over you, wrapping his fingers around your neck with his ‘punishment’ etched hand, forcing you to look up at him again as he speeds up his fingers. shamefully, his long fingers feel so fucking good inside you, and your body can’t help but react to it.

“Don’t be ashamed about it.. wouldn’t expect a girl like you to be alone for this long. hey.. am I the only one that went this far in the camp? tell me.” he whispers huskily as he tightens his fingers around your neck.

You replied with muffled choked whines, but instead, he moved his hand from your throat to grab your chin, forcing you to nod your head at his question. “yeah? such an honor.” he gets his face closer to your lips, hovering over it as his ‘punishment’ hand moves to your thigh, lifting it up to get better access as he goes knuckles deep into your pussy, making you almost short circuit. “y’know, you’re all the guys have been going on about. couldn’t help but wanna get a taste of what they’re cravin’.. maybe ruin it for them too while I’m at it.” you tightened around his fingers at that, making his brow raise and let out a deep chuckle, “Ohh, you liked that huh.”

Your eyes rolled back as you leaned your head against the bark, you couldn’t even tell if it was because of his words or how good his finger felt. and of course, he would turn this into a competition. it makes perfect sense that he’d chase after someone the guys won’t shut up about. that’s just who he is—a thrill-seeking asshole, always needing to one-up everyone else. the exact kind of man Emma kept warning you about. but you just can’t ignore feeling yourself make a mess on his fingers, soaking and tightening around it even more, every time he speaks, like the dirty fucking whore you are.

He pulls it out, putting it in his mouth to suck on, making sure you’re looking up at him as he tastes you. “Mmm, mhm.. you’re ready.” he leans in to meet your lips with his again into a sloppy wet kiss against your panties while he unzips his pants, slipping it down to his thighs as he gives himself slow strokes, precum already dripping down his dick.

He breaks the kiss, biting his lip as he grabs both your thighs and lifts you up, supporting you with the tree he’s got you pinned in. The rough bark scratches your bare back painfully but you don’t care anymore. instinctively, you wrap your legs around his hips.

“Hold onto me better,” he murmurs, you wrap your arms around him and dig your nails on his back for support, leaving behind stinging lines from your nails as he digs his onto your hips, angling your wet slit on his tip.

Your eyes widened looking down at him: his cock is pierced, a curved silver bar fitted through the underside of his tip. you’ve never seen that before— never even thought someone would do that—and you could scarcely imagine how that would feel inside you, and he’s sooo fucking huge too. for a guy who used to be obsessed with being the one to take a girl’s virginity, with a size like his, combined with the piercing.. that would feel so painful, but you assume he’d be into breaking girls like that, making them bleed on his dick, and gosh does that thought turn you on.

It’s so indecent the position he has you in currently, it’s so indecent that you just got your pussy eaten by a different guy you barely know too. this wasn’t even the plan at all, you didn’t plan to have Hanma Shuji driving his pierced cock deep into your pussy right now, and you didn’t plan to have your cunt squeezing his dick either, making him question if what you said about you not being a virgin is true from how goddamn tight you are. you didn’t plan to have your pussy eaten on the second day of the getaway and yet here you are. in the middle of nowhere against a tree with a seven-inch deep in your stomach, you can’t even complain about the cold anymore, not with his hot dick and pre already coating your insides.

“Ohhh fuck, look down.. look down at it angel, watch how it fucks you.” Hanma choked, his face scrunched up with need from how good your pussy was swallowing him. you roll your head down to watch him stretch you open, resting it on his shoulder while watching your skin clap against his as his veiny dick disappears into you, making your clit throb as he drives himself into you over and over. your mouth now dry since you drooled all over yourself, the sight only making hanma even harder from how braindead you look.

You lean back against the bark again, tears rolling down your cheeks, sniffling. so cute to him, so cute as he’s continuously pounding his cock into your puffy, swollen pussy. with each heavy thrust, he hits your spot, making you cry out for him as his hips interact with yours. and you can’t help but make Hanma’s back bleed as he cusses under his breath.

You’re ready to cum, so close to it you feel it in the pit of your stomach as your eyes roll back, a moaning, drooling mess. “uh-uh,” he says sternly, “Look at me.. look at me while I fucking ruin you, c’mon.” he growls, getting even more aggressive as he stretches your legs further up. his dick bulging out of your tummy. he wasn’t even looking at you either, his eyes were on your tits, bouncing each time he thrusts his hips into you. he can’t help it either, every single inch of you is hypnotizing to him.

You let out a soft mewl, breath hitching as you feel yourself coat his dick, the slapping sounds getting wetter, almost echoing through the trees. it all comes crashing down at you as the ache in your stomach snaps, squirming against his grip, legs twitching, and hips bucking against him. you feel so, so painful and sore now but that’s an issue for you to worry about later.

He pulls out his dick, and a part of you wishes he didn’t as you already start to miss him being inside of you. He starts to stroke it. Speeding up as thick, pearl white cum oozes out of his pierced tip, dripping on your stomach and your rhinestone belly piercing, making it shine for him as he groans at the sight. “So damn pretty..”

He pushes himself against you more to pin you hard against the tree for support as he scoops up a bit with his middle finger, grabbing the panties from your mouth and pulling it down to your neck, shoving his middle finger down your throat. “Suck,” he orders, making your clit throb one last time at that.

And you did just that, his purple eyes were focused on your lips as you glide your tongue against it, keeping your doe eyes locked on his as you start to moan around him, his mouth fell open with a desperate sigh as you were sucking down hard on his finger and letting your tongue tease its tip.

You take the chance to distract him with your mouth as you undo your underwear from the back, trying your best to imitate as if you're sucking his dick, his eyes remaining on you with such intensity. you finally undo it, swiftly hiding your underwear behind you as you let go of his finger with a lick, purposely leaving a string of saliva still attached.

“How am I supposed to let you go after that..” he says with hunger so unmistakable and raw it made your legs weaken, almost convincing you to stay with him a little longer. you bring your fingers to your lips, kissing them softly before grazing them against his mouth. his body that was pressing on you momentarily loosening. Taking that chance, you kick him back away from you with all the strength you can muster. His surprised expression is the last thing you see before bolting.

Quickly snatching the towel from the ground, you barely manage to wrap it around yourself as you dash away from him, wiping away remnants of him on your stomach, a sick reminder of what happened as the cold air hits your skin again. Your heart races as fast as your feet as you sprint toward the camp, the towel slipping dangerously, barely covering you.

You finally reach the camp, bursting out of the treelines, your worst nightmare—aside from being murdered—begins in slow motion before you. The once lively camp now silent as everyone stops to stare, conversations freezing mid-sentence as people halt whatever they're doing, gawking at your half-covered figure. You should've at least worn your underwear before running here so you would only have your tits to worry about, but something about the thought of you running around in your underwear sounds just as worse as right now.

You don’t even have time to process the embarrassment creeping up your neck as your grip tightens around the towel, fingers trembling as it threatens to slip from your grasp. You make a desperate dash across the camp toward the girls’ cabin, each step feeling like you’re running through thick mud, the weight of humiliation heavier than anything you’ve ever carried.

Please, not now, not like this…

One pair of eyes catches your attention more than the others. You recognize the blonde hair streaked with blue—fucking Rindou Haitani. His eyes were locked on you, widening as he covered his mouth with his hand, trying—and failing—to hide a grin. He leans over, nudging his brother Ran with an elbow, chin pointing directly at you.

Great. Didn’t even need to get anyone into bed for them to see you half-naked. Already crowned the whore of the century in just two days. Heat floods your face, prickling your skin as humiliation grips you tighter than the towel ever could.

You quicken your pace, legs trembling beneath you. Just when you think you can make it, you hear someone call out, something about Hanma. Wait—Hanma? Why is he brought up?

Your blood runs cold in realization. No. No, no, no... don’t do this to me.

Your breath hitches, and your question hangs in the air for a split second. As if on cue, Hanma bumps into you from behind, his hands finding your waist as he nudges you to the side like you're in the way, "Shit... didn't see you there," he says with a smug, half-assed apology, making his group break into jeering laughter, the kind that digs under your skin.

He then appears in your line of sight, strolling across the camp casually, his usual lazy grin plastered on his stupid, stupid face, the action only fueling his group even more. you don't even need a crystal ball to figure out what they're thinking either—Hanma and you are alone in the woods, with you naked. The weight of their stares nauseating as he walked toward Kisaki, mumbling something in his ear. whatever it is, makes Kisaki glance your way, fucking great. Now you've got Kisaki's attention on you, and Hanma’s as well as his eyes drift back in your direction.

You can feel their stares—Hanma’s eyes burning into you like he knows exactly how uncomfortable you are—and it’s unbearable. The humiliation is indescribable, you’ve never felt more suicidal until now. Your grip on the towel tightens as if it’s the only thing tethering you to reality.

Then, before you can even think of bolting, a familiar, comforting voice yells through the camp, coming to your rescue.

“The fuck you looking at? Huh?!”

Your head snaps up, spotting Draken at your side in an instant, quickly shrugging off his jacket and throwing it over your shoulders with no hesitation, the fabric heavy against your skin. Your legs feel like jelly from the embarrassment, but Draken catches on as his hand finds the small of your back, urging you forward.

“Look away, you fuckin’ cunts!” Draken barks, “Nothing to see here, scram!”

You flinch at his words, the sharpness of his tone making the embarrassment feel even heavier now that all eyes are on you from how goddamn loud he's being. At least he has good intentions, but now you’re not sure whether you want to be hidden or to disappear entirely.

At the corner of your eye, the person you desperately want to yell at—Emma—appears beside him, rushing toward you, her voice apologetic. “Oh gosh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to leave you out there!” She urges, her hands hovering uselessly near you as if trying to help without knowing how.

Draken’s towering frame shields you as he leads you toward the cabin. You can still feel their eyes on you—the weight of their stares, lingering like fingerprints on your skin—but it’s all just background noise now.

Just then, the cabin door bursts open, and Mikey storms out, drawn by Draken’s voice. His eyes widen as he spots Draken and Emma ushering you toward the girls’ cabin. “What’s going on? Why are you naked?” Mikey asks as he strides over, nudging you further inside gently as he closes the door behind him.

Your heart pounds in your ears as your face reddens from embarrassment. Legs give out as you sink to the floor. Your face burns, skin hot to the touch from the sheer mortification.

You’re not sure what’s worse—the fact that it happened or that they all saw it.

It was already sunset, four hours before the Halloween party. You stroll toward the boys' cabin with your costume in hand. Your steps are quick since you don’t want to be seen by anybody else right now—the sting of embarrassment from earlier creeping back up your neck. On top of all that, you found out that Emma conveniently decided to make up with Draken, leaving you to fend for yourself naked in the woods. Timing, right? But it’s whatever now. It already happened. What can you do?

The cabin door is left slightly ajar, and through the crack, you spot Mitsuya sitting at the dining table, chatting with Hakkai, who's leaning on a chair in front of him, rocking it back and forth with his long leg. You vaguely remember Hakkai witnessing that whole ordeal earlier since he was nearby helping the others carry logs. Just your luck. With a sigh, you try to center yourself before pushing the door open further, letting it creak to announce your presence.

As you step inside, Hakkai notices you immediately, his eyes widening in surprise before he quickly looks away, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. He glances at Mitsuya for some kind of signal, who only gives him a subtle nod, silently dismissing him.

Hakkai stands awkwardly, muttering a quiet “see ya,” as he shuffles past you, practically shrinking, avoiding eye contact. At least he didn’t comment or stare at you like the rest of the guys did earlier.

Finally, Mitsuya looks up from the table, giving you an easy smile like you didn’t just flash the entire camp. “Hey, what’s up?” he greets, his eyes flicking to the costume you’re holding. “Got something for me to fix?”

You cringe slightly at his casual tone. It’s only the second time you’ve really interacted with him, and you’re already asking for favors. You feel a little guilty, but then again, you only have four hours to get ready. “I hate to be that person, but I completely forgot to alter this… it’s too big on me, and I need it, uh… shorter.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, hopping off the dining table, clearing it out for him to start working on your dress, grabbing his glasses from his head and putting them on. He looks so cute with his glasses on… “Hand it here.”

You pass him the costume, and he starts to feel the fabric between his fingers, laying it out on the table for a better look. “Velvet, huh? I can work with this. How short do you want it?”

“Umm…” You chew on the bottom of your lip, reaching for the dress as he moves back with his hands in his pockets. You fold up the bottom of the skirt, nearly half of it gone, showing him how short you need it. You smile sheepishly, feeling a bit ridiculous.

He stares at the fabric for a beat longer than necessary, chewing on the inside of his mouth. “You sure about that?”

“Yeah,” you reply, more confident this time. “I’m sure.”

“Can you, uh… put it on so we can see exactly where you need it?” he suggests, still making sure you really want it that short.

“Yeah, okay.” You take the costume back and slip it over your clothes. It’s loose around your waist, and the skirt falls all the way to your ankles. Walking over to the giant body mirror, you fold the fabric up, bringing the hem slightly above the bottom of your ass. You glance back at Mitsuya, who’s now standing behind you, hand on his chin as he examines the skirt you’ve folded up. A quiet laugh slips out. He rubs the back of his neck, eyes darting between you and the absurdly short skirt.

“Oh, so you’re serious?” he asks, trying to hold back another laugh.

You glance at him through the mirror, your face heating up. “Yeah, I’m serious,” you attempt to say confidently, but you can’t help but crack a smile.

He stares for a moment longer, his eyes drifting over the costume and back to you. “That’s really short,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m not saying anything, I’m just making sure you know what you want…” You can tell he’s debating whether to warn you about how impractical the length is—dancing, bending over… all risks.

“Thanks for the concern, but I know what I want, don’t worry, Mitsuya,” you mutter with a smile. It’s your costume, after all. With a shrug, he nods.

“Alright, I’ll make it work. You mentioned tightening it around your waist, too?” He walks back to the dining table to grab a few pins.

“Yeah,” you confirm, turning to the side in the mirror to inspect the fit. “It’s a bit loose.”

Mitsuya moves behind you with pins in his mouth, his hands hovering near your waist, waiting for permission. You meet his eyes in the reflection and nod with a small smile. He gently runs his hand on your waist as if you are fragile, tightening the fabric at your waist, and carefully placing a pin to hold it. Then, he drops to his knees, pinning the skirt’s hem to the length you want, still hesitating but ultimately deciding to trust your choice. For a moment, it looks like he might add a bit of length without telling you, but he wouldn’t. The customer’s always right anyway.

“Alright, you can take it off now,” Mitsuya says as he stands up.

Careful not to mess up the pins, you slowly slip out of the dress, folding it neatly before handing it to him. He walks back over to the dining table, already gathering his tools to start cutting and sewing.

You follow him, perching yourself on the edge of the table next to his work, watching him as he does his magic—focused and all, long lashes that almost brush his cheeks when he blinks, then to his lavender hair, holding the urge to run your hand through it, then at his hands as he takes off his rings, placing them to the side.

One of the rings catches your eye, resembling the cross earring he wears that you really liked. You hum in interest. Without thinking, you reach for it, slipping it onto your thumb. The ring is far too big, but you try to make it fit, twisting it around, and looking at the details. Mitsuya, still cutting, notices the missing ring, his eyes flicking up to you. With a soft smile, he tilts his head slightly to grab your attention.

“You like it?”

You glance back at him, realizing you’d been caught playing with his ring. “Oh—uh, sorry,” you say quickly, taking it off and setting it back on the table, feeling a little embarrassed.

“Don’t be,” he says casually, his voice soft. “It looks good on your finger.”

“Yeah… it doesn’t really fit though,” you mutter, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you place your hands in your lap, fingers fidgeting with the fabric of your pants awkwardly.

Mitsuya’s gaze lingers on your hands fidgeting for a moment longer before he asks, “So, who’re you gonna be tonight?”

“A succubus,” you reply.

“Well, I’ll look forward to seeing that then.”

Just as you’re about to ask him what he’s gonna be, your stomach growls, loud enough to make you freeze. Mitsuya glances up at you with a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“You should go eat while I finish this up.”

“Yeah, okay,” you mumble, slightly embarrassed. “Thanks for this, Mitsuya, you really saved me.” Hopping off the dining table, you give him a grateful smile before heading out of the boys’ cabin. Your feet carry you toward the main cabin, silently hoping that they brought an acceptable breakfast. You’d kill for some Honey Cheerios right now.

Reaching for the cabin door, you pull it open and step inside, only to find two guys already there, mid-conversation—the Haitani brothers. Their words pause the moment you enter. Making you hesitate to walk in, but it’s too late to leave. Their eyes are already on you, and turning back now would just make it look like you’re trying to avoid them.

They finally look away as you cast a smooth, subtle glance at Ran without him noticing. He’s frowning so deeply it almost looks permanently etched on his face, his lips pursed as he sips his coffee. You hope it’s just a case of him not being a morning person, rather than something to do with your presence.

Rindou, on the other hand, looks like he’s holding back a laugh as he stares down at his cereal, swirling it lazily with his spoon. You ignore the awkward tension and move to walk past, doing your best to seem unbothered. But just as you pass, you hear Ran mumble, “No good showers… No good coffee… The cheap-ass motel nearby can at least give me a good shower.”

Tell me about it, you roll your eyes at that, moving toward the cabinets and trying not to engage. You sift through the shelves, noticing most of the snacks are half-eaten or left wide open, gross... What do you expect in a cabin full of guys? You turn around and finally spot something decent—a box of cereal right next to Rindou.

“Dude, we can leave after the party… Quit whining,” Rindou says, leaning back in his chair, still playing with his cereal.

You grab the box of supposedly protein cereal, lifting it to see how full it is. Thank God, it’s brand new. You move over to grab a bowl and head to the sink, which Ran is currently blocking with his brooding presence. He’s ignoring you, his attention is still on Rindou.

You let out a quiet sigh and clear your throat. “Excuse me,” you mutter, hoping to avoid any unnecessary interaction with him.

Ran side-eyes you but eventually steps to the side. he seems so grumpy. You quickly wash the bowl, hearing the brothers chatting again, but you’re too tuned out to catch their conversation. After grabbing a plastic spoon, you sit at the dining table and pour yourself a bowl of cereal, only to realize that the milk already out on the table is… lukewarm.

“Goddamnit,” you mutter under your breath.

“Uh-huh. Goddamnit indeed,” Ran quotes you, grimacing as he takes another sip of his coffee before slowly stepping out of the cabin to sit on the porch.

You dig into your cereal, grateful to get something in your stomach before getting fucked up tonight. But even that small comfort is ruined by the weight of Rindou’s stare, first on you, then your cereal, like your mere existence is bothering him. His gaze feels heavy, almost like he’s expecting something. You glance up at him, your eyes lock with his, and he doesn’t look away. Which only makes you eat faster, hoping to finish and get out of there as soon as possible.

“You know that’s my cereal, right?” he says with a brow raised.

You freeze mid-chew, looking at him with a mouthful, feeling caught. “I’m sorry,” you reply, your voice muffled by the cereal. “It’s just… everything else was already half-eaten or stale. I should’ve asked.”

“Nah, you’re good, I don’t wanna shit on your morning like he always does with me.” He points his spoon toward where Ran left, then scooping up some cereal for himself.

“Is he always that grumpy?” you ask, still chewing while looking at Ran’s back through a window.

“Mmhm,” Rindou hums in response, resting his head on his palm. Giving you a once-over, a subtle smirk playing on his lips. You pretend not to notice his staring, focusing on your cereal like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

“So, who are you, anyway?” he asks, breaking the silence again.

You pause, swallowing before responding with your name. “…I’m a friend of the Sano’s.”

At the mention of their names, Rindou straightens up slightly, his interest piqued. “Oh, you’re with them? How come I don’t know you?”

You shrug in response, attempting to cut the conversation short since you still feel awkward about this morning but he seems persistent as he still keeps his goddamn eyes on you.

He leans back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly against the edge of the table. “Interesting. Can’t believe Mikey didn’t mention you.” The way he emphasized his name sounded almost like he was mocking, “So, who’re you gonna be for Halloween?” he tilts his head as if he’s trying to piece together how you fit into their world.

You shift in your seat, feeling the intensity of his gaze as if trying to study you. “oh just some succubus, you?” you ask, wiping your mouth with a napkin.

“I’m going as Leon Kennedy tonight.”

Your face brightened at the mention of Leon, but you kept your cool, trying to not fangirl as much. “that’s cool, i never thought you’d be into resident evil.”

“so you’ve thought about me.” he mutters to himself, leaning back with a feigned sigh of disappointment. “Was hoping you’d be Ada. We could’ve matched, y’know.” He teases, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looks you up and down before adding, “you’d look good in red.”

you brush off his weird compliment, “i mean, i’ll be covered in blood tonight so technically i’ll be in red, you gonna wear a brown wig, too?” you finish up your cereal, only taking spoonfuls of milk now.

“Pfft, nah… I don’t look good with brown hair.” He shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair.

“Really? I think you’d look good.” You respond without thinking twice about the way you said it.

His eyes gleam as he sits up, leaning closer to you with his elbows on the table. “You think I look good with brown?”

You nod, trying to see what he’s getting at since what you said was completely innocent. “Yeah, totally.”

He grins wider, “So you’re saying I look good?”

You roll your eyes, laughing it off, “Okay… I didn’t say it like that!”

He crosses his arms, his arm tattoo distracting you enough to slip up. “So I don’t look good?” He tilts his head again like he’s waiting for you to stumble on your words.

“I didn’t say that either,” you shoot back.

“Which is it then, huh, new girl?”

You stand up, reaching to grab your empty bowl, and putting it in the sink. “Come back with your Leon costume and we’ll discuss,” you reply before heading out of the cabin.

Rindou watches you walk away, leaning back in his chair as you walk toward the door. “I better get an answer by then,” he calls out after you as you bite your lip, trying to suppress your giggles before finally stepping out of the cabin.

You walk out, heading toward the girls’ cabin. the path lit in flashlights and cheap halloween themed lanterns. already seeing some of the guys loitering around, either borrowing makeup or pleading for help with their own.

You’re pretty sure Mikey had all but demanded you do his makeup too. Figures. The party hasn’t even started and you’re already running logistics in your head: your own costume, mikey’s, whatever chaos the boys might drag you into. you barely push the door open before the scent of burnt hair, setting spray and perfume hits you.

Inside, the girls are mid glam, lanterns and flashlights used for vanity mirror lights, lashes curling and fake blood are already being spilt all over the wooden floors.

You spot Mikey planted beside Emma while inspecting her makeup, and next to him, Keisuke watches with the cutest look of confusion on his face as Emma carefully applies her eyeliner. It’s hard not to let your eyes linger on him for a moment longer than necessary. Not that he’d notice, though—his attention is all on whatever witchcraft Emma’s doing.

Mikey catches sight of you walking in and immediately perks up. “Fucking finally, you gonna do the paint now?”

You raise an eyebrow, “Who are you even gonna be?” you ask, pulling out your heavy SFX makeup from your bag with a sigh. The weight of it feels appropriate for the mess you’re about to deal with.

“I’m gonna be a vampire,” Mikey replies, crossing his arms with a smirk plastered on his face as if he’d just dropped some mind-blowing revelation.

You can’t help but deadpan as you drop the makeup bag onto the bed. As if you pulled it out for nothing, “Mikey, you barely need makeup for that.”

In the corners of your eye, you catch Keisuke approaching, your heart starts to race as you pretend to be casual about it, keeping your eyes on Mikey as Keisuke jumps in. “You gonna be a vampire? I was gonna be one.” His gaze remains stubbornly fixed on Mikey, making you subconsciously pout. Look at me, look at me!

“Uh-uh, change. I called dibs on being a vampire in August,”

You cut in, “You’d make a pretty solid Eric Draven, Keisuke,” you say with your hands clasped behind your back, holding yourself back from rocking side to side.

Keisuke finally turns his head toward you, raising an eyebrow. “Who?”

You feel your heart skip a beat—not because of him not recognizing an icon, but because, well, he’s looking at you. “He’s from The Crow,” you explain. “You’ve never seen it?”

Keisuke narrows his eyes at you in confusion, and just as you’re about to elaborate, Kazutora, sporting cute little leopard prints on the sides of his face, slides in with his arm lazily draping around your shoulders. “What’s going on?”

“I was just telling Keisuke he should be Eric Draven,” you reply, instinctively leaning slightly into Kazutora’s touch.

“Ohhh yeah, he kinda does look like him,” Kazutora agrees, giving Keisuke a light nudge. “You should totally do it.” A small part of you didn't want him to intervene. But another part of you says that Kazutora can convince Keisuke to let you do his makeup for the party. One, because you can touch his face without him being weirded out by it, and two, you get to see him in corpse paint.

Keisuke looks between you and Kazutora, brow raised in doubt. “You think so?”

“Yeah! He’s got that corpse face paint metalheads do. Plus, he’s got long hair, so you already got that down.” Kazutora explains.

“So, I look like him just ’cause he’s got long hair?"

“Nah, dude, it’s more than that. Trust me, let her do the face paint. It’ll look sick.” Kazutora finally slides his arm off of you, casually strolling away out of the cabin.

“What about me?” Mikey suddenly whines, pulling your attention back.

“Mikey… you literally just need fangs and some fake blood. You barely need anything else,” you say, turning to Emma for backup. “Right, Emma?”

Emma, engrossed in her makeup application, shrugs. “I don’t know what you just said, but yeah, sure,” she replies, turning up the volume on the music playing. Body by Summer Walker flows through the speakers, indicating that she doesn’t wanna be bothered right now.

You move over to your bed, unzipping your makeup bag and grabbing the fake blood bottle to hand to Mikey, "That'll work, just dab it everywhere on you." Then you grab the essentials for Keisuke's makeup, waving him off to sit anywhere so you can get started.

You stroll toward the dining table where everyone’s scattered their makeup tools, only to spot Keisuke already sitting there, leaning on the chair, waiting while bouncing his leg.

His eyes meet yours as you move closer to him, steadying yourself in between his legs as he moves to sit on the edge of the chair, closer to you. Legs apart enough for you to stand in between, his hands loose on his thighs. Occasionally cracking his fingers while you arrange your products away from the other girls'.

You grab the first step of the makeup, the Elf Power Grip primer, squeezing a bit of it onto your fingertips, his brows immediately furrow as soon as the cool, slightly sticky substance touches his skin.

“The hell is this? Feels sticky,” he mutters, instinctively pulling back an inch.

You grab his chin, gently but firmly, bringing him back into place. “You want this stuff to last the whole night, don’t you?”

He grunts, still clearly annoyed by the texture as you wave it off to dry with your hand before grabbing the white under-face paint stick, carefully gliding the pale white makeup across his cheek. You didn't realize how tan he is until you added paint, noting in your head that he might need a double coat as you're making sure to cover every inch, but not touching his neck.

You try not to be affected by how close he is, even though you're feeling his breath on you, and each time your fingers graze his skin, you swear his breathing deepens, just enough for you to notice. You're positive he can hear your heart hammering against your chest but you pretend to be unbothered—impossible—focusing more on doing his makeup.

You grab a brush to blend it all in, and your fingers brush his jaw as you tilt his head for a better angle. His skin is warm beneath your fingertips, a sharp contrast to the cold makeup. His eyes watching you closely, unreadable but so distracting, god why is he so fucking distracting.

You catch his gaze, and it’s like the air in the room shifts, you flash him a polite smile as you tilt his head again, blending the paint in with the brush. He huffs but doesn’t pull away this time, settling into the stool again.

As you move on to the actual white base, you dip the beauty blender into the paint and begin dabbing it across his skin. Almost immediately, he makes a face,

“Stop that,” you mutter, holding his chin steady with one hand, blending the paint in with the other.

He shoots you an exaggerated glare, eyes narrowed like a cat who’s been stepped on. “Feels like you’re trying to knock me out.”

“You’d know if I was trying to knock you out, just stay still,” you mutter, though the words come out softer than you mean them to.

“You’re good at this,” he murmurs.

“I know a thing or two.”

You dab the beauty blender on his cheek again, harder this time just to mess with him, and he grumbles under his breath, crossing his arms over his chest. His long legs stretch out, and he shifts like he’s trying to get comfortable.

“Oh—god, Keisuke. Please don’t move.” You say, exasperated. “You’re making this way more complicated than it needs to be.”

He doesn’t budge, instead choosing to stare at the ceiling, “I’m perfectly comfortable like this,”

You let out a frustrated sigh, “Fix your posture, please?” you insist, tapping the side of his knee with yours. “You’re not helping me here.”

He keeps his gaze fixed on the ceiling, tongue gliding over his teeth before responding. “Nah, I like it like this.” He settles into the chair even more to get comfortable.

You mutter a ‘Jesus Christ.’ and with a huff, you put your knee on the chair, positioning it right between his legs as you lean over him. The closeness makes it harder to focus on the makeup, but you’re determined to make this work.

You reach for a couple of products to hold at hand as you're hovering over him, “If this turns out to look like shit I’m blaming it on you,” you say. He’s unyielding, maintaining that ridiculous position, and you find yourself almost pressed against him as you try to get the angle right.

“Yeah, that’s great,” he teases, his voice low, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at his stubbornness.

When you finally finish with the white, he runs his hand over his face, frowning at the texture. “This stuff feels weird.”

You quickly grab his hand, "Don't touch your face, it'll crease!" You start blending the part he touched to fix it.

He raises a brow, and his expression changes in a way that you could only describe as regret that he even agreed to this, "The hell's the point in this if I can't touch my face?"

You roll your eyes at his impatience, pulling out a small container of powder. “Don’t worry, it won't move when I set it with this.”

He eyes the powder suspiciously, “What’s that? Glitter?”

You roll your eyes. “No, Keisuke. It’s powder. You put it on top of the base paint so it 'doesn’t feel gross.'” You mock him, unscrewing the powder and dabbing it with a powder puff, dusting the excess powder before applying.

He frowns but doesn’t argue, letting you dust the powder over his face. As you work, you notice his jaw relax a little, clearly less bothered by the texture now.

You reach for the dark eyeshadow palette on the table, trying to maintain your position against him as you tip over. Just as you feel yourself wobble, his hands find your waist, steadying you on the chair. The suddenness of his touch almost actually made you tip over, the expensive palette slipping from your grasp as you froze in place, awkwardly grabbing it before it fell on its face.

You then look up to see his reaction through the mirror, your breath hitches as you catch a glimpse of his confused expression, making you jolt back to reality. You quickly regain your composure, trying to shake off the flutter in your chest. “Thanks,” you mumble, your voice steadier than you feel.

He, of course, says nothing about it, moving his hands back on his lap as you start on the black around his eyes, applying a generous amount all around it. When you reach for his waterline with your black pen, you feel him tense up again, squinting like he’s bracing himself for impact. You’re careful with the pen, making sure it doesn't bother him and yet he’s still being a baby about it, “You’re getting it in my eye,” he grumbles.

“No, I’m not. Shut up and hold still.”

He huffs, but he keeps still, though you can feel the way he’s resisting the urge to blink. As you finish the last stroke, you step back, admiring the shape of the dark circles around his eyes. He opens them fully and stretches his face again, clearly trying to get used to the feel of the makeup. He's so annoying about it but so cute still.

You shift to the other side of his face, trying to ignore the way your fingers tremble slightly as you work on the black lines around his other eye. More calm now and less freaked out over the pen.

“You’re done with that part, right? ‘Cause it’s—” He frowns, shifting in his seat.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m done.” You pull out the last piece of the look and hold it up in front of him with a grin. “Alright, what’s this?”

He squints at the small tube you’re holding, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. “Lipstick?”

“Wrong. eyeliner.”

He mutters something under his breath but doesn’t protest as you move in closer again, tilting his head back to get the last lines around his lips. As you carefully draw the dark line around his lips, filling them in. His eyes stay locked on yours, and for a second, you pause, forgetting what you’re doing. It’s just you and him, his amber-colored eyes pulling you in like they always fucking do.

You watch his mouth move, mumbling a "You good?" with his soft-looking lips, fighting the urge to kiss him right here right now until you remembered where you were. There were people around, everybody is watching, he was watching, and you need an excuse on why you just stared at his lips for too damn long. "Yeah, it's just... I'm trying to figure out how to shape it to your lips."

He hums in response as his eyes blink to the ceiling, lifting a weight from your shoulders, and finally giving you the chance to actually focus on doing his makeup.

When you move to line the corners of his lips, your thumb accidentally brushes the corner of his mouth. His eyes flick back at you at that, but he stays quiet, his lips parting slightly as you paint the dark line.

You clear your throat, trying to ignore the way your hands feel warmer than usual. “Stop staring. It’s weird.”

He slightly smirks in response, probably knowing how much his stare affects you. You scoff, but it’s hard to focus when he’s looking at you like that. You quickly regain your composure as you move to do the lines on his eye down to his cheek, keeping it quick and sharp. You finish the last line and step back quickly from him, and once you do, you feel like you can breathe now.

You reach for the final piece of the puzzle—the setting spray. The bottle makes a soft rattling noise as you shake it, and Keisuke immediately looks suspicious.

“let me guess… Perfume?” he asks with a furrow to his brows.

“Setting spray,” you say, stepping in front of him again. “Keeps everything in place so you don’t look like a melting corpse halfway through the night. Now, close your eyes.”

He blinks a couple of times at that, but he does as he’s told, closing his eyes. The moment you spritz the mist onto his face, he scrunches up like you just sprayed him with water from a hose, his entire face contorting.

“Quit scrunching your face!” you laugh, “Just relax.”

He dramatically holds his breath, still keeping his eyes shut tight but trying to loosen up. You spray another mist, and he manages to avoid flinching this time.

“There, done,” you say, stepping back to admire your work.

Keisuke opens his eyes, blinking a couple of times as if testing whether everything is still intact. His fingers hover near his face, but he doesn’t touch the makeup.

“Feels like I just got hosed down,” he mutters, now testing the feel of the makeup on his face, and his eyes return to yours. There’s a heaviness in the way he stands, the way his shoulders shift as he rises from the chair, towering over you now.

“Well?” you ask, folding your arms. “How do you feel?”

Keisuke stretches his face out again, eyes flicking to the mirror, “Like a dead guy.” He reaches up, running a thumb over the edge of the makeup near his jawline. “You did a good job.”

“Thank you.” You can’t help the smile that pulls at your lips as you watch him.

He tugs at his hair tie, running a hand through his hair, his intense gaze flicking over to you one last time.

“Let’s just hope this shit doesn’t come off,” he mutters, “Or else I’m blaming you for makin’ me look bad tonight.”

Before you could speak, the cabin door creaks open, Mikey, Chifuyu, and Pah-Chin strolling in, all done with their makeup and face paint, on cue to Keisuke being done as well.

Mikey’s immediate reaction is to cackle, his fake vampire fangs gleaming, “Keisuke, you look like you came out of a morgue!”

Keisuke’s eyes cut to Mikey, unimpressed. “Your fangs are bigger than your teeth,” he deadpans.

Mikey instantly shuts his mouth, clearly self-conscious about the oversized fangs, his grin shrinking into a scowl. “Shut up.”

Chifuyu, who’s been checking out Keisuke’s makeup, steps closer, “You look like you’re ready for a metal concert,” he says, his tone amused.

Pah-Chin, who’s dressed as the Joker with his own face painted up, snickers from behind them. “More like the circus.”

“You would know about that wouldn’t you?” Keisuke smacks Pah-Chin’s head from the back as they all head out the door to leave the girls’ cabin. Before he does, Keisuke shoots a final glance at you, his eyes locking with yours for just a moment longer than usual before breaking it and stepping out.

After they finally leave the cabin, you turn back at the mess you and Keisuke made, the lingering warmth of his presence still evident, making you miss him already as you collect the scattered makeup items.

Just as you were about to start your makeup, the door swings open, and Mitsuya steps in, a dress draped over his arms, looking almost comically small against his frame, the realization of how tiny the dress actually looks and how naked you’re practically gonna be just decided to hit you. “Hey, almost forgot to bring this over.”

“Thanks, Mitsuya,” you say, “I really need to hurry up.”

He glances at the mess you made on the dining table, “Yeah, good luck with that, see you at the party?” he says as he rushes back to the door, also needing to put on his costume.

“Yeah, I’ll see you.” You say, rushing over to your side of the dining table, your heart racing as you quickly prepare until you realize you almost forgot the most crucial part of the costume, “The blood! I need the fake blood for the look! Oh my god. Mikey!!!” You shout, your voice echoing off the cabin walls, making Emma flinch and almost fuck up her makeup.

© 𝑯𝒀𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑶𝑻𝑰𝑪 all rights reserved. please do not repost, steal, or modify my work.

[junos-jrabbles]

can i request playing a horror game with sniper… or scout

Of course!!!! I love this request so much thank you for sending it in <33 (did sniper and scout because they are The Guys of all time) Sorry this took so long!! love y'all <3

Spooky Time with the lads!!

Sniper

Would LOVE the resident evil games, dear god somebody bring this man to life, please, he needs to see chris redfield, needs to experience the joy of getting that stupid chess piece puzzle in the second game right.

Big fan of sorta niche horror games, can easily imagine him starting muttering about how a game’s mechanics were ‘directly taken from’ another game from like forty years ago you’ve literally never heard of. Probably almost exclusively uses knives and rifles, this man does not know the word "medium" LMAO

Quick time event hater, can’t find the keys quick enough, usually gets messed up. But subsequently, five minutes later, pulls off the juiciest, most amazing tactic you've ever seen.

“I don’t… Really get why they’ve got to mark everything with that ruddy yellow paint, like, I’m not blind…” This is followed by him repeatedly walking into zombies because ‘the brightness is too low’ TAKE YOUR SUNGLASSES OFFFF

Would definitely go out of his way to set the mood, assuming you guys are playing in his camper, probably on his TV (i love the 1970s let’s just play pretend…), he’d have all the lights off, and maybe a candle on, would probably play spooky music on his phone and almost shit himself when an ad plays.

Would have the time of his life, honestly, a night in playing games with you would probably be a great way to top off his day, but he definitely suggests some spooky games you guys could play outdoors, flashlight tag being top priority (he thinks it's funny as hell chasing you around in the dark)

Scout

Screaming. Endless SCREAMING.

Would definitely be the kind to run directly at a threat, screaming, and immediately start yelping like a trod on puppy when Shit Happens.

“AY! AY- NO! NAH, C’MON!” Viciously mashing buttons on the controller. “WE DON’T PLAY LIKE THAT ‘ROUND ‘ERE C’MON MAN! I DON’T WANNA FIGHT YOU! Well- Nah- okay, I do- COME HERE.” Looney tunes style monster chasing him into a room immediately turns into him chasing the monster out of the room.

^^ Absolutely a controller player, if the game doesn’t support a controller, he’s probably not playing. (He likes knowing that if he gets mad enough, he’s got an easily Throwable Item at hand /j!! He'd just find it way easier, less buttons to mess around with.)

He is definitely gritting his teeth waiting for jumpscares the ENTIRE time, especially if you decide to play a more atmospheric game. He's wincing when he has to walk around a corner,

Would absolutely be sloooowly shuffling up against your side, he’s not scared, no, what? No, definitely not scared, man! He’s the coolest Bostonian this side of… not Boston! Shaddup!

Completely misses almost EVERY quest objective, but is adamant that he knows what he's doing at all times. Eventually, after half an hour of him searching for an item, you have to vaguely guide him towards it.

If the game has weapons, you best believe that if there's a bat, he's using it, but will also rant if it breaks. "Wh- Whaddaya mean it broke in like... uh- Three swings?! That's DUMB! Man, I know I swing hard, but, c'mon!" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ btw I just wanted to say to anyone who's reading this, thank you :) thank you anon for this request, thank you to everyone who's liked, reblogged, and commented, you're all so kind <3 and also some of the reblog tags I've gotten literally have me GRINNING!!!!! :D << me fr!! Hope you're all well, sorry this is short, my silly ass probably gonna write some more Sniper stuff soon :3

[thewulf]

Something Else || Aaron Hotchner

Summary: Request - hiyaa i have such a 😩😩 storyline in my head and i think you would excecute it soo well! Sooo i was thinking Hotch x Reader where they have to chase someone but somehow reader ends up in a car alone... Read Rest Here

A/N: Ahhh missed writing for my criminal minds fav man! Thank you for the request anon, hope ya like it :)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Hotch’s voice was low, groveling, begging you not to do it desperately through the car speaker, “Agent, stand down!”

You pressed down on the peddle of the black SUV you were driving too aggressively a little harder, “Hotch, he’s going to get away and hurt somebody else.” Somehow your voice was much steadier than his as you focused on the unsub in the small sedan racing ahead of you.

“Dammit Y/N, do not engage the unsub. That is an order.” He was more panicked than anything. He shouldn’t have let you go to that police station alone. This was such a you thing to do. You didn’t seem to care about your safety and it terrified Aaron. You would put your life on the line every single time if it meant saving somebody else. You were too selfless, too good for this job. It was going to kill you if he didn’t talk to you about it soon.

“But Hotch! I can intercept him. End this whole thing now. I have to.” You mumbled mindlessly as you came up with your brilliant plan to speed up in front of him on the road next to the one he was on. The two of you were heading out of the city into the countryside with grided roads. You could intercept him down the road if you played it out correctly.

You heard shuffling on the other side of the call before he continued his pleas, “You’re going to get yourself killed. You’re going to get somebody else killed Agent! Stand down!” To his credit he certainly wasn’t backing down in his demands. He was committed to getting you to stop what you were doing. But he should’ve known you better than that. You’d never stand down. Not when you had the opportunity to stop him.

“We’re in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night. I’ll manage.” You sped quickly down the dark country roads knowing you’d have to be hauling it to execute your plan. Get ahead of him enough you could cut down the side road and crash into him. He wouldn’t see it coming.

“You’re not listening to me.” He was all out desperate now as you ignored him and pressed on.

“I have to Hotch. I’ll be okay. I promise.” You hung up the phone in a hurry as your turned your car down the next road, you could do this. But you couldn’t have your boss yelling in your ear if you were to do this properly. You just needed to clip the back end of his vehicle as he sped on by. You got there seconds before he did allowing yourself to decide if you really wanted to or not.

Instincts took over and you gunned it, hard. The front end of your SUV smashed into the rear end of the unsubs small Honda Civic speeding on by. The sound of crunching metal was one that always shocked you. It was just so loud. What you’d failed to calculate was just how hard you hard pressed the gas. One moment you were conscious, the next you felt you head smack against the airbag sending you into that blackened state you really did try to avoid but couldn’t this time.

When the bright light of the doctors flashlight hit your eyes your body decided it was time to come back to reality. A muffled groan escaped your throat while your eyelids finally decided to work and slowly opened up adjusting to the bright lights around you.

“Ah, there you are.” The doctor standing beside your bed smiled, “Great to see you awake. Your head may hurt. Took quite a hit there according to your boss. Looks like a mild concussion. Didn’t find anything else on intake. Got off lightly all things considered.” He pointed towards the man sleeping in the corner of your room. He looked so peaceful, the usual downturned scowl on his face had vanished in his own unconscious state.

“Mmm suppose I did.” You mumbled still coming back into reality. It wasn’t a moment later you heard Hotch shuffle from behind the doctor, light sleeper he was.

The doctor must’ve heard it too as he turned back to Aaron, “She’ll be just fine, see? Nothing to worry about.” He motioned to your wakened state, “I’ll be back in a little while. Have a few labs I need to check and then we should be able to get you out of here.” The older doctor smiled kindly at you before leaving you stranded with your probably over angry boss.

He crossed his arms over his chest as he took you in. You’d never truly felt so small under his gaze until now. He was angry, pissed, “I should have you fired.”

You closed your eyes fighting back the oncoming tears. You vowed to never cry in front of him but damn it was going to be hard to stop them. Your head was pounding, your boss who you had a massive crush on was threatening to fire you and all you wanted to do was shrivel up under the thin hospital blanket.

He cleared his throat seeing you react so timidly under his intimidating gaze he so hardly used on his team. He knew it wasn’t the time nor place no matter how angry he was. He could be angry later. You needed him now and he had to suck it up for what you needed, “Let me be clear. I should, but I won’t.” He dropped his rigid stance once your eyes made their way back over to him.

You nodded, looking away quickly. You were too ashamed to look him in the eye for too long, “I’m sorry. Did you get the unsub?” Your curiosity needed to know even if it would piss him off further.

He let out a shake of his head, “You’re something else Y/N. Yes, we got him. You knocked him out too. Quiet the scene to arrive to. Scared the shit out of me.” He grabbed the chair from beside the bed and pulled it close to sit down next to you, “Finding you with blood all over your face had me thinking the worst. You’ve got to be more careful. You’ve got to start giving a shit about yourself Y/N. You can’t keep pulling stunts like these.” His deep brown eyes searched yours hoping you’d finally hear his words he had been begging you to hear.

You heard him, you always did. But you couldn’t understand why he always tried to stop you and nobody else on the team. Derek pulled the same stunt not even a years ago, “But Derek did the same thing last August…”

He stopped you by grabbing your arm gently. He’d hardly ever touched you let alone grasped your seemingly small bicep, “You aren’t Derek, Y/N.”

Rolling your eyes, you knew you were likely pushing your luck with your very handsome superior, “I know that Hotch, but I’m an Agent just like him. I have to take these risks too. What makes me different?”

He let go of your bicep before looking away and grumbling something you couldn’t hear. When he turned back to you his softened features had turned back to the usual scowl he wore in the office. Neutral natural Hotch.

Deciding to push your luck you continued to chirp, “What makes me different Hotch? He gets praise while I get scolded? Come on!”

He shook his head seemingly conflicted of his next words, “You’re just not him, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“That’s not an answer Hotch!” You were getting worked up now, “What? So, everyone else gets to take risks to move on up in their career and I get to sick back and watch? That’s not fair Hotch and you know it!”

“You could’ve gotten yourself killed!” His usual stoic tone roared with emotion he so rarely showed. You were getting somewhere now. You just had to poke him a little further.

That wasn’t good enough for you, “So could all of my coworkers yet they get praised!”

“It’s different.” His voice had calmed but he felt his emotions bubbling to the surface as you continued to push him.

You let out a sigh after feeling like you were just going in circles, “What’s different Hotch?” You weren’t yelling but you certainly weren’t quiet.

He ran his hands through his hair conflicted beyond belief. But fuck it, you weren’t going to let it go until he gave you an answer right? He couldn’t think of a good enough excuse, so he gave you the truth instead, “I don’t love them.”

It felt like your rapidly beating heart stopped right then and there. Loved? Had you had a thought that Hotch had loved you? He’d always treated you different sure, but you never had an inkling thought he had done that because he loved you.

“You… you love me?” It felt like your throat was made sandpaper as you really processed his words.

He nodded his head at you. Slowly, watching for your reaction, he grabbed for your hands hoping to understand if you could potentially feel the same. He’d done an excellent job hiding it based on your shocked reaction. It wasn’t bad, no. You just seemed genuinely shocked.

“I love you.” He said it a bit more confidently this time.

“Are you sure?” It was the only thing you could think, and it sounded funnier spoken out loud than you truly had meant. Because why would your successful boss who seemed so far out of your league. You were only five years out of school. A measly twenty-seven-year-old attempting to figure out what being an adult actually entailed.

His stoic expression broke out into a smile followed by a soft chuckle. You’d always adored when he smiled. It seemed few and far in between he let you see that side of him, “You really are something else, you know that right?” He continued grinning at your reaction to his confession, “But yes, I’m positive. I’ve had a few years to ponder it.” He continued smiling seeing your expression go from shock to a smile to a slight blush back to embarrassment all within a few moments. He’d always found your expressiveness adorable beyond belief and this was no exception. Without much of a second thought he grabbed for your fidgeting hands hoping he could provide your brain some comfort.

“I uhm… wow. That’s not what I thought you’d say… I yeah.” Your face flushed further under his loving gaze. Now that he’d said the words out loud it’s like you were given to a softer, sweeter Aaron Hotchner that was just underneath his stoic surface.

Sure, you’d had a massive crush on the man. Looked up to him. Wanted to be him. Like almost everything about him. But did you love him? You liked him a lot. Loved him though? You thought further. You’d crushed on him since the moment Strauss had introduced you right out of college. But he was with Haley at the time. You’d pushed down the bubbling feelings for your boss that was nearly ten years older than you. He was everything you wanted to be and more. Smart, collected, calm and the best boss you’ve ever had. Yeah, you loved him too. You’d always loved him. The way he treated everyone. The way he was able to be the best version of himself when he needed to be.

He found comfort that his words had sent you into a babbling state. You hadn’t pulled your hand away from his which was a good sign, “You don’t have to say anything Y/N. I just.. I’m sorry I told you like that. You just, wouldn’t stop until I told you.” He grinned knowing that he just put it back onto your own actions for his statement. Which was true, you had decided to push and poke and prod. It kind of was your fault.

It was your turn to laugh now, “I’m sorry for yelling. Escalating. You know how I am.” You smiled bashfully at the man who had your heart. And who apparently loved you, who would’ve thought?  Certainly not you.

He nodded, giving your much smaller hands in a gentle squeeze, “Like I said, you’re something else. Now, get some sleep. I’ll wake you when you need to. You need to rest. We’ll talk later.”

You nodded at him, closing your eyes at his request. But before you could drift off you had to confess the same to him, “Hotch?”

“Call me Aaron. Yes?” He answered your question with his own.

You smiled after opening your eyes and making eye contact with him. He truly was a stunning man. Inside and out.

“Alright Aaron.” You laughed seeing the way his eyes lit up under the new way you said his name. It was thrilling. The two of you were learning about the others in their own ways, “I love you too.”

His smile only grew wider before he smirked over to you, “Are you sure?”

“Don’t make fun of me Aaron Hotchner!” You giggled feeling the weight of the world being lifted off your shoulders. Even though your head was aching it felt good to be here with him. He was laughing right along with you. The two of you off in your own little bubble finally finding each other after pining for so long over the years.

Aaron Hotchner/Criminal Minds: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: Taglist Sign Up) ) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @daily-evanstan @hardballoonlove @14buddy22 @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @mrs-ssa-hotch @panandinpain0 @viscade @kreepja @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @kajjaka @guacam011y @kreepja

[betterwithbooksthanwithpeople]

things I noticed in The Outsiders musical seeing it a second time (2/20/25 matinee):

feel like putting a disclaimer that I've now seen the show twice but in two partial view locations (standing room today) and my memory is far from photographic so some of this might be stuff that happens every time that I just missed the first time or it stuck out to me differently

-the greasers were HYPED. UP. from the top of the show basically all the way to the drive-in. sooo much energy which is also how I felt getting to see the show again so I loved it

-really thought Andre Malcolm was a great Steve! also John Patrick Collins is back covering I don't even know what role because it's whoever Trevi is when he's not Ponyboy and I've seen him as Ponyboy both times lol

-during Grease Got a Hold Soda kept poking at Darry trying to get him to join in and he said either "don't talk to me" or "don't touch me" but with a little smile like he couldn't actually be annoyed with Soda

-at the end of Great Expectations and the scene after with Johnny and Dally, Johnny was rocking himself back and forth but as soon as Ponyboy would put the flashlight on him or Dally would look at him he'd stop

-honestly I think Sky played Johnny more fidgety/ shaky in general (I saw Josh last time). what's that line from the book that says Johnny is like a kicked puppy? that's what he was embodying

-Marcia did a little wave and "hey" at Two-Bit during Friday at the Drive In!

-Emma's vocals were eating in that song and especially I Could Talk to You All Night. I've seen her Cherry before but today? dangg

-Paul has a new boyfriend real?! bro was fully laying on the car stargazing and drinking with somebody (Chet maybe?)

-Ponyboy opt down in Far Away from Tulsa! now I know what y'all are going on about lol

-Ponyboy was SO out of it and Johnny was yelling SO much the whole way from when they get jumped through all of Run Run Brother and it was making me ahhh

-Cole was amazing as Paul, especially in Justice for Tulsa. He played it so angry that he was kinda scary, plus vocalsss

-maybe this is always the blocking for Death's at My Door so apologies to people who've seen the show more than I have, but when he's singing "I'll never leave you alone," Johnny put his hand out to take the knife from Ponyboy who repeated the line but just? wouldn't let go of the knife? to grab his hand? until they both sing the line together and fully make eye contact, then Pony finally gave back the knife after and Johnny did this little sigh of relief almost as he put it back in his pocket while keeping a hold on Pony's hand. it's a lot guys.

-Throwing in the Towel vocals were off the charts today. Brent and Jason were not messing around - the riffs

-Darry was so happy and united with the gang in Hoods Turned Heroes that I almost started the act two crying right then and there. he's just a kid proud of his little brothers

-Ponyboy was PISSED during Trouble like he was giving do NOT mess with me right now

-I am convinced Jason is in on the Parry lore because the faces he was making during the whole Paul/ Darry pre-rumble conversation were so loud I fully missed the first punch since my eyes were on Soda lol

-just everything about Ace in the rumble. yelling "get off of me!" and the genuine concern when Two Bit takes awhile to get up after and jumping into Dally's arms because they won - it was adorable (actually Tilly was just getting picked up so much? maybe that's her Ace's thing even more than others lol)

-Aramie put his whole heart and soul into Little Brother oh my gosh. Like fully sobbing for much of the song, looked a mess, scREAMED the "does anybody care" line?! I was crying so much that my friend pointed it out after the show pls

-speaking of crying, Darry was a whole mess not really in the argument part of the end scene but for the entire time Pony and Soda are talking at the dinner table - like, he'd visibly pull himself together in order to talk evenly when he had a line? but wouldn't look towards his brothers like he was hiding his tears? Brent Comer you understand Darry so well I'm so glad I got to tell you he's my favorite at the stage door

-overheard at the stage door: someone asked Trevi about the Johnny/ Ponyboy ship and he basically went "they're too young" hahaha

hours have passed somehow but this is all I've thought about and I've forgotten so many things and already want to see it again but yeah, yay outsiders

[marlynnofmany]

Not Special

The refueling station was on a small moon in the back end of nowhere, close to nothing but a couple of wormhole junctions. Since it had a little convenience store and everything, it really gave off “7/11 next to a desert highway” vibes. Just, y’know, in space. The moon wasn’t big enough for proper gravity or air on its own, so someone had installed a gravity generator under the dusty red ground. And turned it up just a smidge too high, but I wasn’t going to complain.

I was going to buy pre-packaged alien snacks at the store while my coworkers handed the refueling. Mimi was calling the shots, tentacles waving and gravelly voice audible from here, while the Frillian twins handled the heavy lifting of connector hoses and Captain Sunlight was at the payment kiosk. The others were either staying onboard or already browsing the aisles.

I’d just picked up a pack of something colorful (doing an artful fumble-and-recovery because of the gravity) when a rowdy group of Armorlites trooped in. I didn’t pay them too much attention — just a bunch of macho dinosaurs with holstered blasters and bipedal swagger; totally normal here — but one of them said something that brought me up short.

“Hey look, another human,” said the cheerful voice. “Maybe you can get some tips on how not to be such a disappointment.” Raucous laughter followed.

I frowned in their direction and saw that they did have a human with them: a pale and unassuming guy just a bit shorter and stockier than me. He looked annoyed by the comment, but not surprised.

When he walked over to me, I asked, “What’s that about?” The Armorlites were already ignoring him.

The guy sighed. “They heard a lot of stories about humans before they hired me, and I don’t meet their expectations.”

“What kind of stories?”

“Humans doing daring things, like running for hours to get medicine to dying people, catching a diseased rat before it infected an entire space station, throwing fruit at charging fauna hard enough to make it leave…” He ticked things off on his fingers. “Exorcizing a ghost, and riding a hoversled like a skateboard fast enough to catch a bomb before it blew up. How am I supposed to compete with that?” He threw his hands in the air.

“Um,” I said, putting down the snack I was still holding. “Would it make it better or worse to know those were all the same person?”

“What?”

“The rat wasn’t actually diseased, the ghost was a howling dog, and I didn’t know the thing was explosive when I rushed to catch it,” I said. “And I wasn’t the only person throwing things at the fauna.”

“What?” he repeated, with a spread-arms gesture that smacked into the shelf. Rubbing his hand, he asked, “That was all you?”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “Unless there are other humans doing the same things, which is possible.”

He raked fingers through his hair, setting it at odd angles. “I can’t believe this. I’d tell them, but they’d just want to hire you instead.”

I rushed to assure him, “I’ve got a job already, and I don’t want to take yours.” I glanced over at the Armorlites, who were grabbing food and accessories. One clicked a flashlight on in another’s face, prompting curses from him and laughter from the others. That tracked from what I’d seen of Armorlite culture before. Toughness was important. Kindness, not so much. “What do you do for them?”

He sighed again. “Bookkeeping, officially. They needed somebody to handle the boring stuff like money and permits while they focus on hunting the biggest animals they can sell.”

“Gotcha. That sounds … exciting.”

“It’s not. It’s like going on a trip with my cousins again, except they’re even bigger and make fun of me for not having claws.”

“You’ve got other stuff going for you, though!” I said. “We just need to figure which of your differences they’ll respect most.”

“I’m all ears,” he said with a certain level of sarcasm. “Please tell me what about my fragile human physique will get me respect from the Mighty.”

Oh right, they did call themselves that. I’d almost forgotten. At least they were a straightforward species without a lot of mysterious depths.

“Well,” I said, thinking. “They like fighting. You’re more suited to stealth than they are, small enough to hide and do sneak attacks that they wouldn’t see coming. What if you introduced them to rubber band warfare, and sniped from hidden parts of the ship?”

“Nope,” he said. “That would just end with me cornered somewhere, and them showing off how even thin scales are tougher than my skin.”

“Good point. Oh! What kind of animals do they hunt? You said big ones, but do you know the specific names?” I got out my phone and brought up the database of known fauna that I’d talked Captain Sunlight into buying for me. As her own hired animal expert, it was really the kind of thing that I should have. My vet training on Earth only went so far.

“Uhhh, I think the last one was a treehorn,” he said. “Wait, they talked about going for Argoshan Dagger Birds next.”

“Right. Now what kind of noises do those make…” I typed quickly. Big creatures indeed, by the looks of it: Dagger Birds had prevented more than one colony from getting a foothold in the wilds of a nearby world, and were unlikely to stop being a threat anytime soon. I skimmed the rundown for the vocal files. “Here we go. Mating call.” Keeping the sound low enough for just us to hear, I played the croaking warble.

“Okay?” the guy said, confused.

“Can you imitate that?” I asked. “Give it a shot. Kinda like a frog. Woarrrk.”

Looking skeptical, he did. The expression on his face said he wasn’t impressed with his own efforts, but it sounded accurate enough to me.

“Great!” I said. “Give that a bit of practice, then you can go out with your crew and impress everybody by luring in some targets for them.”

“I could,” he said thoughtfully. “I usually stay on the ship while they’re hunting, but it might be worth a try. Can I have a copy of that sound for practice?”

He got out his own phone and I played it again so he could record it. The Armorlites were dumping things onto the front counter, ready to pay and leave. I caught sight of bright packaging that I recognized, and I had another idea.

“Thanks,” the guy said. “This might actually help. What was your name?”

“Robin Bennett,” I said with a belated handshake.

“Oscar Tennyson,” he replied. “Thanks for your help. Looks like I should grab my stuff and get going.”

“Before you go. See those tall cans with the purple labels?” I pointed at something the Armorlites were buying.

“Yeah?”

“Have you ever tried that?”

“No! They get wasted on it; I’ve steered far clear.”

I grinned with all my teeth. “That’s not alcohol. That’s caffeine.”

“What?”

“Humans can process caffeine better than most species on our own planet, and just about everybody in space. It’s a poison to most. It gets them super drunk, but for you—” I pointed at him with glee. “For you, it’s just a bit of energy. Pick your moment, then walk in casually while they’re getting wasted, and slam one down. See what happens.”

He was smiling now. “You’re sure? It’s really just caffeine? How much?”

“I checked into it before. One of those huge cans is like a watered-down coffee. These guys are absolute lightweights, and they don’t even know.”

He grinned to split his face. “That is the best news.”

One of them called for him to hurry up, and he bid me a quick goodbye before scampering off. I saw him grab food cubes, water, and a six-pack of caffeine, which he bundled onto the counter as the Armorlites headed out the door.

“Be right there! Just getting some stuff!”

They didn’t look, simply telling him not to waste any time. He smiled his way through the purchase.

Peeking over the shelves, I smiled too. Then I went back to my own purchases, with thoughts of getting an energy drink or two in his honor.

~~~

These started as backstory tidbits for the main character from this book, and turned into a sprawling adventure series in their own right. The sequel book will feature a return of some familiar faces. And Patreon is coming soon — even the free tier will be a handy way to keep up with the ongoing shenanigans of this particular human in space.