#tragedies feel. safer

[novelconcepts]

I Saw the TV Glow is such a uniquely, devastatingly queer story. Two queer kids trapped in suburbia. Both of them sensing something isn’t quite right with their lives. Both of them knowing that wrongness could kill them. One of them getting out, trying on new names, new places, new ways of being. Trying to claw her way to fully understanding herself, trying to grasp the true reality of her existence. Succeeding. Going back to help the other, to try so desperately to rescue an old friend, to show the path forward. Being called crazy. Because, to someone who hasn’t gotten out, even trying seems crazy. Feels crazy. Looks, on the surface, like dying.

And to have that other queer kid be so terrified of the internal revolution that is accepting himself that he inadvertently stays buried. Stays in a situation that will suffocate him. Choke the life out of him. Choke the joy out of him. Have him so terrified of possibly being crazy that he, instead, lives with a repression so extreme, it quite literally is killing him. And still, still, he apologizes for it. Apologizes over and over and over, to people who don’t see him. Who never have. Who never will. Because it’s better than being crazy. Because it’s safer than digging his way out. Killing the image everyone sees to rise again as something free and true and authentic. My god. My god, this movie. It shattered me.

[ahmed0khalil]

Hello, among the hundreds of tragic stories, I am sharing my painful story.

My name is Ahmed Khalil, I am 6 years old. I was at the beginning of my education, trying to learn, participate, and play with other children. My family consists of 8 members, including my mother and father. My father has diabetes, my brother Fathi is blind, my other brother Abdullah has autism, and my brother Mohammed was injured in his leg by shrapnel from rockets.

On October 7, 2023, the war began and has not stopped since. The airstrikes and Israeli shelling caused fear for me and my family. We could not endure the massive explosions that felt like recurring earthquakes and the red flames sweeping through the area. We were forced to flee to southern Gaza based on orders from the Israeli forces, leaving our beautiful apartments behind. We went to a UN refugee school in Deir al-Balah to escape the terror and death.

We stumbled into a different life full of suffering from every side, living through the most painful hell of war. I developed malnutrition due to contaminated water, poor hygiene, and the spread of infectious diseases with no suitable medicine available.

The situation is catastrophic and unbearable. “There is only death left in Gaza. Even death has become a privilege because it provides a sense of relief.” My older brother Mohammed and I begged our father to leave Gaza, but it was extremely difficult due to the high costs. My father lost all his property during the war, including his electronics repair center and apartment, which were completely destroyed, so he has nothing to help us travel out of Gaza. There is no safe place in the Gaza Strip.

I pray every moment for the end of this war and a ceasefire. The ceasefire is not just a call; it is a desperate cry to end the helplessness and despair spreading to every corner after more than 11 months of war. We flee from death every day, only to wake up the next morning to try to escape it again. My heart is heavy, unable to bear the recurring nightmares, and the overwhelming flood of news about blood, displacement, loss, and despair pouring from Gaza.

Every minute feels like a struggle. No one should have to endure this injustice, segregation, and discrimination. The ongoing shelling in southern Gaza and the intense bombardment of residential buildings in Deir al-Balah make everyone feel unsafe, believing they might be the next to face tragedy. Communications are cut off. We are exhausted and cannot bear more tragedies and losses. We are currently living in a classroom of the UN center, which is crowded with people, including my relatives and cousins. My poor father sees our pale faces and weak bodies and stands helpless due to the lack of money and resources.

I am still six years old, and I never thought I would witness such a brutal attack with complete disregard for human values. I am deprived of my basic rights, including health and education. I need to rebuild my life with my family abroad and receive better healthcare. Traveling to Egypt would cost at least $5,000 per adult and $2,500 per child, which is an enormous amount given the harsh living conditions and the blockade that has lasted for 17 years.

Therefore, I ask you to donate so that we can evacuate Gaza to safety. Please continue supporting our campaign by donating if you can and sharing it with your friends and family. Every contribution, no matter how small, helps us get closer to our next goal and brings us nearer to securing a safer future for my family.

[xyriath]

but seriously if you are at all blogging about the i/p conflict you NEED to read that standing together article from that post i just reblogged. please. please please please please please. these are the people who are actually doing something about freeing palestine and have been for years. And here's the thing:

IF YOU WANT PEACE IN ISRAEL, IN PALESTINE, THESE ARE THE PEOPLE IT'S GOING TO COME FROM.

Because yeah. The way this site is spreading around uncritical posts is a huge issue (and a reason I haven't been around since October). Standing Together is doing a hell of a lot more than blogging about it. They're on the ground putting in the work. Nine days before the October 7 attack, they were in Tel Aviv publicly protesting about the systematic oppression of Arabs (not just Palestinians) in Israel.

"The global left has to be synced with what we need." Trust me, the right is. Boy HOWDY is the right synced. I have gotten more support about my Judaism from the far right than the left and it's??? kinda fucked up??? Someone who worked for Pat Robertson should not feel safer than someone dedicated to activism, but here we are. I can feel how easy it would be to be radicalized towards the right, and I'm actively fighting against it. Now imagine that multiplied by millions of people, plenty of whom don't have the same desire to do so, or feel like they don't have the luxury of safety to do so.

Seeing Hamas being portrayed as sympathetic and talked about like they had a right to commit all of the atrocities that they have is making me lose my MIND. They're a group run by corrupt billionaires who actively started this conflict with the intent of silencing the Palestinian people who have been protesting their tyranny. They have been siphoning money from Palestinians for years and this entire attack is them deliberately throwing Palestinians into the path of slaughter to distract from that fact, the same way that Netanyahu absolutely took advantage of the threat and tragedy to try and get himself off the hook for his own corruption.

Also check out the google doc linked in the article. It's not just a good way to learn how to communicate, but a very good resource for finding out if something you're sharing is worthwhile. In fact, it does a really god job of breaking down why I've felt so uncomfortable about a bunch of the posts on my dash. Some excerpts:

This got way longer than I had intended, but hopefully does its job. Go read the article and, yes, if you need to, reevaluate your activism. Because if it's not what people involved actually want or need, then it's just for you. And that's kinda fucked up.

[whumpthemusical]

Whump: The Musical Prompts!!

As stated before, this challenge will run from March 1- March 31, 2024. All fandoms are welcome to participate despite it being prompts based off of musicals. Once again, all types of media are allowed. This challenge has the standard "choose one for the day" style, but feel free to do all three prompts if that's what you want to do!! All types of whump are allowed, but please be respectful to your fellow audience members and properly tag it!! Some of these prompts are sensitive, so make sure you warn your readers correctly! There will be an ao3 collection and an FAQ post coming soon, so if you have any further questions or comments about this challenge, feel free to drop me a line. Happy writing, my beautiful ingénues, and enjoy the show :)))

The prompts will be listed under the cut for those who have difficulty reading fonts!!

Cats- Sabotage • Second Chances • "I Can Dream Of The Old Days."

Wicked- Mob Mentality • Propaganda • "No Good Deed Goes Unpunished."

Jesus Christ Superstar- Whipping • Betrayal • "Then I Was Inspired, Now I'm Sad And Tired."

Les Mis- Survivor's Guilt • Failure • "Drink With Me To Days Gone By."

Heathers- Poison • Reluctant Whumper • "Wanna fight for me?"

Newsies- Chronic Pain • Exploitation • "Let 'Em Laugh In My Face, I Don't Care."

The Last Five Years- Infidelity • Gaslighting • "I Will Not Lose Because You Can't WIn."

Hadestown- Deals • Doomed Narrative • "Doubt Comes In."

Sweeney Todd- False Imprisonment • Razors • "Have You Decided It's Safer In Cages?"

Rent- Substance Abuse • Poverty • "Feels Too Much Damn Like Home."

Bare: A Pop Opera- Outing • Religious Trauma • "Please, See Me."

Waitress- Unplanned Pregnancy • Abuse • "She Is Broken And Won't Ask For Help."

Tick Tick Boom- Atychiphobia • Working To Exhaustion • "Is This Real Life?"

Dear Evan Hansen- Deception • Broken Bone • "Words Fail."

West Side Story- Star-Crossed Lovers • Prejudices • "A Boy Who Kills Cannot Love."

Come From Away- Stranded • Aftermath • "Blankets And Bedding And Maybe Some Food."

Spring Awakening- Withheld Information • Suicide  • "I Don't Scream, Though I Know It's Wrong."

Hamilton- Hurricane  • Dueling • "I Will Kill Your Friends And Family To Remind You Of My Love."

Falsettos- Sickness • Identity Issues • "Death Is Not A Friend."

Into The Woods- Blame • Lost • "Nothing But A Vast Midnight."

The Great Comet- Abduction • Letters • "Did You Love That Bad Man?"

In The Heights- Grief • Homesickness • "I Know That I'm Letting You Down."

Be More Chill- Mind Manipulation • Panic Attack • "Everything About Me Makes Me Want To Die."

Moulin Rouge- Class Differences • Sex Work • "Come What May."

Chicago- Cold Blood • Trial • "He Had It Coming."

Six- Execution • Trauma Bonding • "Playtime's Over."

Ride The Cyclone- Unexpected Tragedy • Forgotten Whumpee • "I Hear The Anguish Of The Street."

The Rocky Horror Show- Obsession • Wrong Place, Wrong Time • "I've Seen Blue Skies Through The Tears."

Nerdy Prudes Must Die- Bullying • Ritual • "Who Will Pray For You?"

Jekyll And Hyde- Duality • Good Vs Evil • "If I Die, You'll Die."

Phantom Of The Opera- Disfiguration • Shunned • "My Power Over You Grows Stronger Yet."

[hazelfoureyes]

A Doe in Fall (Part 8)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 📍 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds

Part 8 - Trust

Detective Brady is sharper than you initially thought, though Alastor is (seemingly) unfazed by the threat. While you both explore the idea of ‘home’ a familiar face shows up at your apartment.

「Warnings/Tags: Human Alastor x Fem Burlesquer reader, Detective Brady exists a lot and maybe too much, fingering lol, phone calls, almost our first fight, stress, Disney mom rule, Ruth is pretty alright for now, Brenda」

forgot to tag you in the deleted scene for TRDFAHS

M👻D☠️N👽I😈

Your mother always said ‘Anger is your sword and shield’. So you postured yourself as someone mad. One hip out, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.

“Sir I don’t appreciate a man in a lady’s space.”

Brady bit his tongue, wanting to say something sharp.

 I don’t see any ladies here.

 He met the glares of the women behind you. “Ah, well-,”

“Do you really expect her to leave in her robe?”

“Aren’t you the man whose been stalking her?”

“Autumn I’ll go with you.”

“You want her to get into a strange man’s car?”

He felt like a fox about to be pecked to death by the hens.

“Now-! Alright I’m seeing I maybe,” he set your shoes down and slid past you and between the other performers, “got a little eager to speak to you.”

“Does Janet know you like to hang around burlesquers?” Someone said as his back was turned.

Like having ice water poured over his head, his shoulders tensed as did his tone. “I’ll be right out the door.”

You tried to hide the tremble in your hands, but failed. Ruth slid beside you, “What do you need?”

A phone. But the cord wouldn’t reach that far. You wanted to tell Alastor. You needed him to know that detective had you cornered and knew of his existence.

“Could you stay with me? I’m not going anywhere. But I’ll feel safer if I’m not talking to him alone. In case he tries to drag me out. He seems a little off his rocker.” You were genuinely scared he would grab you by the arm and pull you out of the theater if he didn’t think anyone would see. 

She patted your back, the others filing in to continue with their work of getting dressed and undressed. You took your time, trying to plan what you would say.

Brady felt an embarrassed blush take hold as the women moved past him with scowls and tsks. He could feel a little bit of his sanity slip back now that you were in front of him. 

“I have some questions about Tommy. I’ve been trying to talk to you for weeks. We can head down now.”

Oddly, your mother also taught you, ‘You catch more flies with honey than vinegar.’ 

She didn’t always make a lot of sense, contradicting herself daily. 

Time to use the tried and true tactic, “I am sorry, detective. I had some trouble recently and have been keeping to myself… going home as soon as possible. Just trying to keep my nose clean. So to speak.”

Brady watched you look up at him with a face his daughter often gave him when she was in trouble. But you weren’t a child and you surely weren’t his daughter. “That’s no excuse to dodge me.”

Your turn to bite your tongue, “Of course, sir.”

Ruth was… confused. She’d never seen you so obedient. You had more venom in your voice after taking a hit from Tommy knowing a third could be close behind. Why were you being so small?

“Are you ready to go?” He fished in his pocket for his car door keys. 

Ruth felt the need to interject, “She’s not going anywhere.”

Perfect.

You nodded, “I won’t be out at night, sir. You know better than most about the dangers.” Your dangers. Your darling Alastor.

“No, no no,” an unhinged chuckle from the fraying detective, “You’re not slipping away again. I have my car, I’ll take you there and bring you home.”

Ruth looked to you, then back to the detective, “Is she under arrest?”

Brady rolled his eyes, “Of course not.”

“Then? What gives you the right?”

Technically, nothing. He didn’t need to talk to you. His lead still stood. But maybe you’d slip and say something to expedite his search for the radio man. Maybe this would only end with Tommy. But he felt something tickling the back of his skull. An urge to not stop pushing.

“I’ll meet you at the station tomorrow morning. Is it the address on the card you gave me?” Maybe you would, maybe you wouldn’t. You just needed him gone so you could call Alastor. 

He was shaking his notebook, key looped onto his finger. A nervous habit. “You still have my card?”

A smile, “Of course. In case any news came up. I’d have called but I didn’t realize you were so worked up.”

He scoffed. He wasn’t worked up. He was just annoyed. Maybe a little rougher in demeanor than usual but whose fault was that?

“If you don’t turn up tomorrow-,”

Ruth, taller than most women and some men and wide at the shoulders, leaned in.

Brady’s eyeline adjusted from yours to Ruth’s. Skye Scraper wasn’t just a pun, it was a cruel nickname she took ownership of. “Finish that sentence.”

The conversation ended there, Brady leaving with a huff.

You’d memorized the number the night Alastor gave it to you, too scared to write it down. He warned you though he wouldn’t be the one to answer.

“Is Alastor still there?” You tried to smile so you sounded less panicked. Ruth mouthed his name and pretended to swoon as you held the phone close to your ear. 

“Uhh depends, who is this?” Brenda answered, a voice you’d never heard but a woman Alastor had primed you for. 

“….”, but why hadn’t you thought through this part, what name was safe? Which was recognizable? You didn’t like the idea of this woman knowing your name. “Tell him it’s Autumn.”

“….” 

You laughed at Ruth, waiting still for a reply from Brenda, “Hello?”

“Is this a crank? Autumn like the season? I-,” a commotion, “Hey there! No. I don’t know. Well it’s past hours anywa-.”

Alastor was lying across Brenda’s desk to reach the phone, having wrestled it from the woman’s grip, “I’m here. What’s wrong? I was about to leave.”

“I’ll walk home tonight.” It hurt, physically hurt, to say it.

Alastor tried to keep his face neutral, “Oh.” Nervous fingers twirling the cord, “One second.” 

Harsh whispers, some clicks, and he was back, “I’m in my office. What happened?”

“Yeah Ruth is with me. It’s okay. I’ll call you like normal tomorrow?” 

“Should I swing by your apartment?” He considered doing it regardless of your answer.

“Ah, no. I wouldn’t recommend it. I’ll be heading to the police station early tomorrow so I’ll be asleep as soon as I’m flat.” Putting your hand over the receiver, you spoke to Ruth, “Thank you, we got it figured out.”

His heart sank to his stomach, “Did he finally manage to catch you?”

“Yeah. Or—-,” your voice cracked a little, the fear rolling in as soon as Ruth walked away, “Yeah.”

“I’m coming over to the theater.”

Cupping the phone you curved your shoulders in and turned away from the staff milling about, “Don’t, that’s worse.” Tears stung your eyes. You felt like you’d failed him. You had somehow, hadn’t you? The loose thread Brady could grab ahold of was you.

“If you can’t come to the alley I’ll leave after a couple minutes. But I’ll be there in twenty, same time as our normal pick up.”

“Alastor, that’s reckless.”

“Please, dear, I don’t want our first fight to be over my work line.” A calming breath, “You don’t have to meet me, but I’ll be there. Just five minutes, then I’ll be off.”

You decided the safest thing to do was to wait in the alley. If you saw any signs of Brady or anyone coming out, you’d go back inside and just miss the meeting. But the idea of Alastor being just beyond the wall, waiting all alone, was too much.

But how much harder would it be if the wall was of the prison? Or worse, dense earth under your feet? That’s what Brady was wanting. 

You hadn’t realized you’d been chewing your nails until his car turned down the alley from the back and you tore off much of the length of your thumbnail.

Your arms were thrown around him before he was fully out of the car, “Alastor, he knows I have a guy. He wanted me to go down right now but I managed to push it to tomorrow.” Alastor tried to decipher the words as you spoke them into his vest, “What do I do?”

Normally you’d have your own plans in mind but this was too big, this was capable of hurting him more than anyone else. 

He smelled like ink and smoke, a scent you inhaled as you tried to calm your breath.

A large hand patted your head, “Okay. You go tomorrow. It’ll be fine. Don’t stress.” Pulling you off he placed chaste kisses across your face. “Think about what you want to say to him and we can talk it out in the morning. Everything is fine.”

The reality of you standing in a dirty alley crying into the arms of a murderer set in. Then the little detail you were both killers creeped over your chest and took hold of your throat.

He was impressed at the strength of your hands as you gripped at his clothes. Leaning against the car, he offered you his most charming smile.

“Deep breaths, dear. Do I look scared?”

He didn’t. He looked like a magazine ad for French cologne or razor blades that left the softest skin. 

“No.” You shook your head.

“No.” He nodded. “It’ll be okay. If you don’t go, he will hound you worse. If you do go, maybe he’ll realize he’s got a handful of nothing.”

His smile blinded you. Bright grin as he rested against his car, arms open. 

“Do you really think so? A handful of nothing?”

“Did he say my name?”

“No.”

“Did he–” he elongated the word, lips pursed as he searched the sky for his next words, “have Tommy’s body?”

You laughed, morbid but preposterous, “I didn’t pat him down. Coulda.” 

Alastor snapped his fingers, “We’ll have to just assume he didn’t.” A moment of tension. The act of joking barely traversing the space between your bodies let alone reaching the stress under your skin. His hands came to your shoulders; firm, secure. “Did you want to have that fight now? About me coming over here.”

You rolled your eyes, obviously not. “Ala-,” you started and stopped.

“I’ll admit I’m being reckless but I think we can both agree my way is more fun.” Smile sliding into a smirk, he cocked his head and lowered it to get back into your line of sight. When you stuck your tongue out he took a deep breath in, relief. “Are you sure I can’t take you home?”

To which home, you wondered. He used the word so casually and interchangeably…

Face close to yours. Eyes solely on you. Perhaps the stage wasn’t as necessary as you’d once thought. Lips on lips, the feeling of his smile spreading as he returned the kiss. A second of panic as you realized you couldn’t see or hear or sense what else was happening anymore in the alley. Brady could have had you in handcuffs and you wouldn’t be the wiser. Not as long as Alastor’s mouth was moving over yours.

“I’ll call in the morning.” He said into your exhale.

You hadn’t opened your eyes yet. Not ready to return to earth. A pout from you. A chuckle from him. “I’ll be waiting,” You finally said. 

While you did your waiting, shuffling around the theater and later tossing around in bed, Alastor fell into a different kind of purgatory.

One he hadn’t realized he’d made for himself until you weren’t there. 

The house was quiet, almost eerie. Even with music on he found himself nearly uncomfortable. He shifted several times in his chair while reading, not finding any way to settle in. 

His bed was lopsided. Suddenly one side was too light. Multiple times his hand slid under the sheets in search of you out of habit. 

What a terrible feeling; to want someone. To know you could have them but they just… weren’t there.

It didn't make any sense. He knew he’d see you soon, in less than a day's time even. He typically enjoyed his home and its silence. Being alone was predictable and therefore comforting. Well, it had been. Before you. 

The feeling in his chest, akin to a magnet tugging through his sternum toward a distant partner, didn’t abate.

Only when he heard your voice again over the phone did he find a sliver of peace.

“I’ve decided I’ll deny I have a guy. And, I’ll never tell him about you. It’s safer if he never connects us.”

Alastor was listening, honestly, but he wasn’t really processing. His mind was worried about something else. The detective genuinely didn’t bother him but he had to agree, “I suppose that’s best. As long as we can manage it, to not let him know we’re together.”

Together.

You were together with him. An item. How spectacular you must be to be a part of anything with him.

But for how long? With a certain detective breathing down your neck…, “I’m scared. Actually.”

You could hear the smile in Alastor’s breath, it was odd but eased you. 

“He will never have enough to convict us. He’ll drive himself crazy trying. Trust me.” He soothed. 

Did you have any choice? “Okay. You’re right. I trust you.” Unequivocally so. 

He cleared his throat, “Sorry to change the subject…”

“Please.”

“I want you to come over again tonight. What do you think?”

“Oh, yeah. Of course, don’t even need to ask. I’ll always say yes.” All you needed to do was get through Brady and you’d be home.

But for Alastor, well, he wasn’t done asking the question. A moment of panic from a place unrecognized in his brain, fear of losing himself entirely. But what good was a safe harbor if he never ventured out to sea? That’s just a restraint then, isn’t it? 

Maybe you held a place for him even richer in its comforts than his solitude.

So he let himself drift away from familiar shores, no sails and no compass, “I think it’d be smart to bring over a couple sets of clothes. I can keep them washed and always here for you. Would that be alright?” He had wanted to suggest it while together, but Brady was ruining more than his sleep.

Oh.

The same silence from when he first extended the invitation, the deja vu not lost on you. You struggled to decipher the second meaning you were sure was there. Maybe he didn't know what he had asked. 

“I know it’s boring out in the boonies but, you’re welcome to just stay over while I go to work. I can come back and get you for rehearsals… I’ll enjoy the clubs or come back and make something for a late dinner for us, and bring you home when you’re done.”

He said it. He hadn’t really meant to, so he felt the need to clarify, but you also needed him to clarify just as quickly, “I -,”

“Did you me-?”

“Sorry, go ahead.”

“No I interrupted you-,”

“Not at all pl-,”

“Alastor for the love of God please don’t make me keep talking right now.” You lightly knocked your head with the phone a few times. Your heart was gasping for an ounce of understanding.

He chuckled, glad you were still very much yourself, “I meant, take you home as in, away from work. So, here. Or, there, if you’d prefer.” His face scrunched up, this wasn’t a conversation he had any practice in, “Anywhere really. I’ll drive you anywhere.”

“Alabama?”

He looked at the phone as if you were in it. Alabama? 

“Like— the first time you asked me over.” You added quickly. A terrible joke, a bad callback that made it painfully obvious you committed everything he said to memory.

Alastor rested his cheek on the dining table, laughing into the wood before bringing the receiver back. You always offered him an out of uncomfortable situations, “Well the offer still stands. I'd be willing to even venture at least halfway across Texas.” 

“The best half of Texas is on our side so that’s a generous offer. But, given our work schedules, I think your house would be much better. Time wise.” 

He let his eyes close as he felt the coldness of the wood, “Is that a yes then? To bringing over a couple of items… for ease.” Was it a mistake? Would he regret it? 

You were worth regrets. He had decided. He wanted you to say yes.

The weight of what he was asking wasn’t lost on you an ounce. You could see your window from the phone booth. You took great pride in your little apartment. It was your space and no one else’s. As a child you struggled to have your own anything, so you valued your home. 

But could you call any place so far from Alastor a home?

It’s just a few items. You weren’t giving up your lease. It’s a baby step. One you could easily walk back if you needed to later. It’s not like you hadn’t spent every night possible already since that first offer.

“Yes.” 

It was a plan that took your mind off cops. Have your interrogation, go home, then go home for a relaxing evening of jazz and drink.

The levity ended though the second you hung up the receiver. An obstacle between you and him still stood. You pulled out your bag but couldn’t find the will to pack it. Your hands were too busy as you chewed on your thumbnail again.

Brady noticed the uneven length when you sat down and set your hands on the table.

“Surprised you showed.” He opened his notebook and readied his pencil. “First things first, what is your legal name?”

A chill. You’d gotten your warning the night before to prepare something to say but ignored it. Your mind was flipping through words and images. Piercing all of it were the white reflective eyes of the deer along the road. You decided to lean into what you knew. 

“Autumn.”

“Really? Never heard the name Autumn before.”

“Me either. Made for an easy stage name.”

“I’ll need to see your birth records, just to be sure.”

You sucked your teeth. “Ah, unfortunately…all that stuff was left behind with my mom when I moved.”

“And where can I find her?

“Corner of North Villere street and Piety.”

“And your address?”

You paused. His eyes rose and met yours. The radiant aqua from the cafe morning was now an icy color. “I don’t give my address out. You know where I work.”

“But you’re fine giving me your mother’s address? That’s cold.”

“Not as cold as she is, I’m sure of that.”

“Fine, I’ll find it in the census records.” He flipped the page, “Tell me about the dates Tommy arranged.” He tapped his notepad on the table like it was the starting bell of a fight.

You wished Alastor was with you, but also wished he would never enter that station. “Apparently many of the dancers agreed, got a cut. I had no idea about it until he,” you remembered the man and his ugly tie, “introduced me to a man who was very forward. I insulted him and ran off. Lost Tommy good money, apparently.”

“And who was that?”

You searched your memory, “S something. Mister Stein? I honestly wasn’t listening much after I realized what was happening.”

Brady nodded, “And then he knocked you around?”

You winced without meaning too, “Yeah. Got me good.”

Brady waited for you to continue talking, but you had learned this game. People know silence is uncomfortable and will use that against you. So you let the silence stay. Let the awkward tension build. You had limited time, he knew that.

He caved first. “And… the next date. Last time anyone saw Tommy. Tell me about that.”

Lying was second nature to you. You had killed for Alastor. You could do this. Deep breaths, slink into yourself. You imagined Alastor choked on the park grounds, wet and unmoving. Imagined him cold to the touch.

“Tommy said he’d kill me if I didn’t go. So I did. Promised me he’d stay with me for protection.” Tears welled. Bloody hands and a large rock. “But as soon as he got his money he left.” 

Brady was writing, “And the man? What was his name.”

“Something foreign. Kerr-something. Or Car?”

He looked up slightly, “You’re pretty terrible at names.”

You wiped away your tears, “I had more pressing concerns at the time than trying to remember that man’s name. I was hoping I’d never need to know it.”

Brady hummed, “Yeah. And what did your beau think of this?”

Did you hide it? The flash of panic that rolled under the flesh of your face, “If I had a beau Tommy wouldn’t have made me do that. He said that himself.”

“Too bad he’s not here to confirm.”

“If he was we wouldn’t be having this conversation, detective.”

“Touché. Clever little lady aren’t you?”

Fuck.

You shifted slightly in your seat, looking downward in an attempt at being bashful. “That’s kind to say.”

“So why did,” he flipped through his book, “Beth say you stopped singin’ on Sundays cuz of your radio boyfriend?”

“Ah,” a weak laugh to hide the way your breath got sucked in with panic. The words ‘radio boyfriend’ punched the air from your lungs. “You must mean the rake. Took me for a ride at a club corner and sent me off in a cab to never see me again. Didn’t know he was in radio though.” 

“Well now you’re lying and I don’t appreciate it one ounce ma’am.“

“What?”

“Beth says he’s been coming to your shows for nearly half a year.”

No acting necessary for this part. “What are you talking about? I met him at a club. We arranged a date and he picked me up at—“

“Beth’s dive.”

“…. Yeah. Well.” He’d been there before? So often? And you never noticed…, “That’s news to me, that he had been there for so long, it’s got its regulars though so...” You shifted again, this time with a clear uncomfortable edge. 

“He stopped coming when you stopped singing.”

“….guess he got what he wanted then. A fun time in the swing hall bathroom.”  Anger. Unreal and unfounded. Trying your best to hide how confused you were.

“Sounds like a stalker, miss. Maybe one who woulda been quite unhappy to hear you were selli-,”

You cut him off, eyes snapping up to meet his, “I really recommend you reconsider your wording.”

Brady laughed with a huff, “A man dizzy with a dame can do some funny stuff. Especially if he hears she’s in a pickle.”

“Well, no knight coming to rescue me. I’ve sworn off men. It’s why I’ve been leaving work early. Getting home, reading, sleeping. He really did a number on my heart and my pride as a woman.”

Brady’s pencil stopped moving. 

“And his name?”

You’d never fucking say it. He could walk in on you moaning ‘Alastor’ and you’d still act like you’d never heard that string of syllables in your life. 

“John.”

Brady laughed and tossed the pencil to the table, “Let me guess, last name Doe?”

You shrugged, “We weren’t on a full name basis. He was handsome, he took me out, we fucked, I never saw him again” You delighted in the way his face screwed up at your unladylike language. 

“So, someone in radio named John. You know I’m going to be at every broadcaster talking to every John, right?” The nervous shaking of his notebook again. 

“When you find him let me know.”

“Oh I will.” He said it so quickly, so sharply you could feel it cut at your cheek as the words flew past you.

You pulled your hands into your lap, eyes firmly locked on Brady’s. “You look tired, sir. I hope my answers will help you. So you can rest.”

“I am tired. Of people jerking me around. You won’t give me your address, you don’t remember anyone’s name, not even your own, and you deny having a man I know you have.”

If you screamed would he have you committed? “I’m terribly sorry,” you leaned over the table and pulled a piece of fuzz off his shoulder, “my friend gave you inaccurate and dated information. I am genuinely trying to help as much as I can.”

Upon closer inspection, his eyes were more than just blue. They were dark and light, deep and shallow. Blue so far down it was nearly black. A blue so bright it was a cousin of white. Eyes you were sure would haunt you. 

“Help me then, Autumn.” Your brows rose at the request. He leaned back and away from you, “Just tell me what happened to Tommy. What your guy did. If he was trying to protect your name then we could find a sympathetic jury.”

Sympathy? Your smile was too wide, stare gone too soft. What sympathy did he have or would anyone have for you? Did he think you wanted the tender hearts of strangers? “Tommy ran off with a bag of money. He was a good man with a bad habit. That’s all I know. I have no partner, man or otherwise.”

A standstill. 

Brady felt a twitch in his hands he wasn’t used to. An itch to move. Unlike him, and a little frightening. 

Maybe he had been running himself ragged. 

Back sliding down slightly in his chair, he laced his fingers and rested them in his lap, “You know I’m gonna find out what happened, right?” His tone had shifted to something serious and calm. He said it like he was telling you a secret. Low but firm. Steady and sure. 

Those eyes. No, worse. What was behind them. You could see it clearly; unflappable determination. He absolutely would. 

“I trust you will.” A moment of silence again as you both felt the conversation die. As you stood, Brady did too.

“I wasn’t bluffing about him going to Beth’s for more than half a year now. I don’t know how you think this is gonna end but it won’t end pretty. Whether it was just your boss or all the others on my desk, end it with him and help us bring Tommy home to his mother.”

You adjusted your purse on your shoulder, “I don’t know how many time-,”

“Autumn. I’ve seen enough make up covered bruises to clock em from across the room. That’s the act of a possessive, immature man. Just think about what I said,” You opened the door in an effort to keep your hands from shooting to your neck. “There’s no white picket fence or church bells for you two. He’s a bad man. I think he may even be an evil man. You’re gonna end up hurt, or dead.”

A laugh bubbled up in your chest but you managed to stifle it. With an honest smile you replied, “We’re all gonna end up dead someday, Detective. I’ll call if I have any news. Thanks for your concern and … evident hard work.” You offered a little nod of your head before leaving the room and the station as quickly as you could without running. 

When he set down his notebook after returning to his desk, he couldn’t sit. Energy was buzzing in his limbs. He needed to run or swing or pace.

His desk neighbor watched him immediately pick up the notebook again and grab his hat. A few other men shared a glance as Brady rushed out, an unsettling feeling passed among them. 

“He’s still on that case?” One asked quietly, going back to his papers.

“Not officially….” Answered Freeman, standing at the window and watching Brady flag down a taxi.

“North Villere street and Piety, please.” He told the driver, not noticing his friend in the window.

It wasn’t near the station, nor the dance scene. He wondered if your mother would be any more amiable. What kind of woman would raise such a creature as you?

When the car slowed, Brady clicked back into his surroundings. He looked through every window hoping to see something different.

After a long pause the cabbie asked, “Ya gonna get out?”

His knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the seat. “No. Take me back to the station.”

His blood pressure rose so quickly he was sure he would black out as the cab turned around and drove back past the sign; Vincent DePaul cemetery.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Alastor kissed away the worries when he took your bag from you. Every detail of the interview was just hummed away. “Even if he finds me, without a body he has no case.” He reminded you like it was nothing short of fact.

“What if he gets one?”

“Not one of mine, I can assure you. He’d sooner need to kill someone himself and call it my fault.” A pause, was that something the detective would do? He shook off the thought. 

He was so confident that even though you knew it was just skin deep it still gave you a sense of calm. The bodies, where they went after he was done with them in the greenhouse, was the last step he hadn’t shared with you.

There was one thing you didn’t mention about the interrogation. 

You waited until you were a few drinks in, Alastor’s bowtie off and shirt unbuttoned several buttons before bringing it up. Uncharacteristically nervous about how he’d react when you broached the topic, you needed several deep breaths to get up your courage. Normally the idea of offending a man with an honest question wouldn’t ruffle you a bit, but once again there was nothing normal about you and Alastor. He made you so unlike yourself but not necessarily worse. Perhaps some consideration of other’s reactions wasn’t a bad thing. 

“This is awkward to ask.” It was dark already, the sun setting earlier and earlier. The buzz of the kitchen light could be heard through the screen door, the light just enough to let you see each other's features clearly. Leaning back on both hands for support, your legs rested in an unladylike spread down the porch stairs. No shoes. No girdle. No pretense.

Would he be mad? Or maybe offended?

“Brady said you had been going to my Sunday shows for awhile. Months before we actually met. Did you really meet me by coincidence?”

“Or was I stalking you as my next victim?” His head fell to the side, eyes closed and smile wide. “I saw you there, yes. And though you weren’t the best singer, I did enjoy your shows.”

You tried to see him without directly turning your head. 

“But yes, it was a coincidence. I had noticed that brute of a man a couple weeks in a row, staring at you so intensely. Word got around he had made a scene some time ago with a dancer.” 

You listened like someone was telling you your own story. It was an odd feeling, hearing someone recount your days from a different perspective. An unknown one. 

“I was surprised to see you at the theater when I followed him there. Even more so to see you in the alleyway.”

If he had said it wasn’t a coincidence, you genuinely didn’t know what you’d have done. You’d be scared and angry. Another predator lurking just past the tree lines.

Your relief must have been visible. “He really got to you, didn’t he?” Alastor asked, leaning over and letting his shoulder bump into yours. He was still riding the high of putting away your belongings in his closet and drawers. 

“Yeah. He gives me a bad feeling. Like…a brick wall barreling toward me.” You kicked a leaf off the steps, “Or like, when you see a big dark cloud on the horizon. Can’t do anything but wait and hunker down.”

How do you wait out a storm so set on burying you?

“Dear,” his hands rose and palms flipped up in a way that said he wasn’t hiding anything, “We get hurricanes annually. We’ve survived every one thus far. He’s just a drip. A sprinkle of a man.”

People have drowned on land before. A sprinkle could lead to pneumonia and that could lead to a wooden box. 

He tried to change the topic, laughing about Brenda’s reaction to the call and making plans for an evening out when things settled down again. You listened, but it was your turn to be half there. 

You could barely muster concern when you realized you’d forgotten your makeup and hair wrap at home when you were preparing for bed. What you would give for going home barefaced with a ruined hairdo to be the biggest stress of your week. 

The distance in your stare was weighing down his joy, how could he relish in the newest addition to his home when you were so burdened? Even in the moonless night he could see the faintest light reflecting off your eyes as you stared at the ceiling. Did you even feel his stare? 

He couldn’t let Brady poison his bed, and the man was clearly there now. Chasing you in your mind still. 

“Could I offer you a distraction?” Alastor slipped up against you, hand finding your hip. He could see your smile forming. 

“I wouldn’t argue against a distraction…,” you’d beg for one if you didn’t want to feel any lower than you already did. 

“Perfect. This bed isn’t made for three, so let’s eject that little nag, dear.” His hands slipped down your legs, “I want to replace your thoughts with better ones.” He pulled you to him, your back pressed into his broad chest. The way his soft hands smoothed over your silk slip felt like foreplay, so smooth and slick. Frictionless and gentle. Those same hands ran down and between your legs, following the line of your thighs until they found your center. “It seems you forgot something else.” Two fingers caressed your lower lips, barely parting them, “Not that I’m complaining…,” his lips found the back of your neck as his fingers rubbed gently at your core. 

It took so very little to get your body on board, wet and relaxed for his practiced hand. Your own fingers coming down to rub at your clit quickly when you felt your pleasure winding up. 

He sighed directly into the shell of your ear, hands working in tandem with yours under the covers. His back pressed against you, hips rolling into your backside in time with his fingers. 

“What are you thinking about?” Barely above a whisper as he said it into your heated skin.

“Fingers.”

“Whose?” His voice was deeper than his usual speaking tone. A tenor that made you clench around him.

“Yours.”

You’d never been so satisfied with hands before. With breath. With the sounds of a man. Never saw stars while clothed and not under the lights of the stage. Warm and wet kisses to your neck as you came down from your high, you’d never considered sex could be more than a man fucking someone. Nor that a man could find pleasure so readily with his cock still in his pants. But the way he hummed and growled softly into your skin was proof of his good time. 

You’d learned a lot from those progressively chillier nights at Alastor’s over the first week of your constant cohabitation. How much you liked waking up with someone just a reach away. How Alastor woke slowly, incapable of coherent speech for at least the first twenty minutes of his day. He’d stare and smile as his eyes blinked out of sync, rolling back occasionally as he fought the urge to fall back into sleep. Hair disheveled and soft.

When the weekend came, Alastor offered again to take you out. A promise to take you somewhere no detectives would be hiding about. A week without a peep, you were sure he had followed up with your mother and was probably steaming to get at you. But, for some reason or another, he hadn’t appeared again in the crowd of your shows. 

A week of going into work unmade and unkempt, you finally gave in and asked to be taken to your apartment early Friday. You’d grab a few items you needed, take them to work, and be back home that night. 

Your eyes were on Alastor when his car pulled up to your building. When he kissed you, your hand scratched at the shorter hairs at the nape of his neck. Eyes closed, you could smell him and feel him so much clearer. Perhaps when you were old together you wouldn’t have to worry about your sight giving out, you thought. Because you’d always know it was him by the way his skin on yours lit you up. 

“Pack something you’d like to wear out tomorrow night.” He reminded you before you pulled yourself from the car and waved him off. You lingered for a moment as he drove away, wondering if maybe the storm had been pushed off course.

“Oooh, who is he?”

Whipping around, you saw a familiar face sitting on the stoop of your building. An unwelcome one, though. 

“What the fuck are you doing here, Mavis?” Your bag fell from your hands as the strength drained from your limbs.

She patted the dust off her dress before bouncing down the steps.  “The names Ephi now.” A half sister, though perhaps a quarter sister would be best to describe the often absentminded, when not literally absent, sibling. 

“That’s not a name that’s a fucking letter of the alphabet. Mama would smack the color of your cheeks if she heard you.” You were sure you’d not see her ever again, not after she ran off to head north before your mother passed. She scowled, arms crossed as you brushed past her. “I don’t have any money so you wasted a trip. See ya in another decade.”

Ephi grinned up at you as you climbed the stairs, “Looked like he had some money. Mr. Big Shot and his shiny bus.”

“Lotsa people have cars.” Your eyes landed on the suitcase poorly hidden behind the steps. Hand halting its search for the building key as you could feel the stare of your mother looking…down? A weight slipping over your shoulders like a man’s heavy winter coat.

“Well I don’t need money or cars. I need a place to crash.”

Your head fell. You could feel it coming. The gust of wind dragging the clouds slowly towards you. No, the storm wasn’t off course. It was just building momentum.

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

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[bonefall]

Mapleshade Discourse O'Clock

It's that time again!!! SO I just kinda want to jot down all of my various thoughts about it as a story and just generally weigh in about Mapleshade.

I like the idea of Mapleshade more than the actual Mapleshade that is used throughout the books.

She has a really good gimmick-- to haunt Applekin though the generations. I don't like how they turn her into a generic "cat satan" for Tigerclaw's Fury and keep making her appear as a vain lackey demon.

I like her characterization in Mapleshade's Vengeance the most, of all her appearances.

But, I don't think my reading of the character depicted in MV is what the author intended.

See, I like MV as a story with no hero. The only blameless characters are the kittens who drowned and Perchpaw, while everyone else is some flavor of selfish, cruel, or vengeful. Everyone thinks they're in the right, but no one truly wins in the end.

Nothing about it was noble. Every tragedy that happened was utterly avoidable. In the end, everyone bears some responsibility for the pain and suffering that happened the day those children drowned.

BUT I'm pretty certain that the intended reading was that Mapleshade would be the one clearly in the wrong the whole time, as she justifies her own actions like a villain does.

Especially knowing how poorly the writers thought of similar female characters like Squilf and Leafp lying about the three, or Nightcloud being jealous her crummy husband is acting strange around another woman.

I feel justified in assuming that when Mapleshade is not happy she's being cheated on, or when she refuses to correct Frecklewish's record knowing it's unsafe if her kits are revealed as half clan, the writer really does think you're not supposed to take her side.

Because women should just not have emotions about being cheated on or something, and lying is unspeakably bad even if the truth puts you and your children in danger.

But. Y'know. We can all use the braincell for a moment and see that this is fucking stupid

SO when the book goes on to have Mapleshade ignore all the warnings about the swollen river, show both ThunderClan and RiverClan being obscenely cruel to her, and then walk across that bridge while insisting in her head that the deaths weren't her fault, I think the implication is obvious AND SHITTY.

Ergo I reject it completely. I can see what the book wants to say, and I think it says something trashy.

In spite of how badly the writer wants it to be Mapleshade's fault the kittens died, I say it was the asshole who threw a bunch of kittens out into the rain for being mixed race, actually.

Oakstar had the power here. Ravenwing had some power as well, but he makes it clear it wasn't his suggestion to throw the babies out into the woods.

And when it comes to Bridge Discourse, it was at least the afternoon, raining heavily, and Mapleshade was trying to get to RiverClan Camp. A straight shot across the stepping stones.

I think it is ridiculous to imagine an extremely emotional parent managing three very scared children, attempting to get out of the rain and dangerous wilderness before nightfall, would be rational enough to realize a large detour would be safer.

MAYBE the distance from ThunderClan Camp to the Bridge is equal to the distance to the Stones. But the distance between the bridge and RIVERCLAN Camp is longer.

I hope this goes without saying; but Frecklewish didn't deserve the Dark Forest.

Even in Banana World logic where she was sitting on the bank watching those kids doggy-paddle. Do not fucking jump in to save drowning people if you are not trained to do that.

I'm dead serious, this is the first thing you learn in any kind of water safety course. They WILL panic, you WILL get dragged down, you WILL become another liability someone else has to save instead of helping your initial target.

And that isn't even mentioning this being a flooded river. That's POOL safety.

In spite of how I think Mapleshade was right to lie, I do think Frecklewish being that upset and angry was understandable.

You're entitled to your feelings, but not how you treat people. She still attacked Mapleshade and called the kittens a slur.

That's what makes her interesting, though.

I don't think she deserves the Dark Forest, but Frecklewish's anger is an interesting trait. I don't like how a lot of defensive interpretations of her character end up downplaying how she acted at the exile

why does a woman being rightfully angry suddenly strike people as "unsympathetic." Girls can also say things in fury they don't fully mean. OR girls can rationalize their unjustified, ballistic response post-hoc out of pride.

Idk let girls be mad. Admit they were wrong without deserving HELL. I don't like the woobification impulse.

It's not really a hot take anymore I think, but Frecklewish is definitely only in the DF because the writing team judges women characters more harshly. Oakstar threw babies out in the rain in fury, and Ravenwing didn't stop it. But somehow only Frecklewish, a normal warrior, gets DF'd.

But what really rattles around in my head about the whole story is the way that the in-universe culture is able to suddenly value ethics like peace, forgiveness, and tolerance when MAPLESHADE is ready to throw those things out, but BEFORE then, it's well established that Clan culture is violent, vengeful, and intolerant.

One of our earliest scenes is Rainfall snarling at Mapleshade that he loves the way Birchface and Flowerpaw drowned. He's threatening that he'll kill even more ThunderClan warriors.

Over in ThunderClan, everyone is itching for revenge against Appledusk for those deaths, even though it seems to have been an accident. Oakstar even hates RiverClan well into sequel books for this.

But then later on, everyone acts Shocked Pikachu that Mapleshade actually went and GOT revenge.

And like, let's be real. This is a battle culture. Yes, by OUR standards Revenge Is Bad.

But in these books, so full of war and clan conflict...?

What I'm saying is that I wish the books let Mapleshade be a little more "controversial" in-universe. Like some cats actually frame the story very differently, and you can learn a lot about a person by who they think the hero is.

And how RiverClan responds to the drowned kids bugs me a lot tbh

We just established over in ThunderClan that there are people who think the babies were born filthy for being HalfClan.

We know everyone there stood by and watched as Oakstar threw them out into the rain-- only Ravenwing even seemed uncomfortable.

AND we know very well that in a few generations, TigerClan will rise. Which openly executed a HalfClan cat and wanted to kill 2 apprentices.

We KNOW the bigotry in Clan culture is deadly and unfair.

But then they go over to RiverClan and Darkstar is sad these three kids are dead? And RC is furious with Mapleshade for that?

Again, YES, you and me with OUR morals know that this bigotry is insane and spiteful. What I'm getting at is that IN-UNIVERSE half clan kittens and their parents face extreme discrimination. Even within this book.

It's odd to me that Darkstar refuses to let Mapleshade bury their bodies, sends her away for the death of the kids while saying it's "not the season for losing warriors" to Appledusk, and it's meant to come across as delusional that Maple thinks her babies were buried dishonorably

I wish more women in WC got so pissed off at the absolute injustice of it all that they went on a girl rampage. Perhaps it's my own taste, but I like it a lot more when the villain isn't entirely wrong and there's several angles you can read the story from. If she didn't do what she did, she would have been the only one who saw any consequences for anything that happened.

Anyway in conclusion uhhh idk murder is wrong. But Mapleshade's allowed to do it because she's a silly billy. Her greatest crime was not killing Oakstar also

[sickuma]

TULIPS — a König fic.

❱ This will have two parts (or more) depending on how the comments on tiktok are /j but it'll probably be more than two! please keep in mind that the **" "** in italics are their memories, or something they said before the incident.

ꜝ？angst warning, as well as mentions of injuries. pairing is König x reader !

this is unedited, grammatical and spelling errors are to be expected.

➴ SYNOPSIS — You and König were in a mission when you see a lens-flare aimed right at his chest, without hesitation, you lunge and take the hit for him.

VORFRUEDE — the joyful intense anticipation that comes from imagining future pleasures.

"[name], call for backup." 

You nod, doing your best to comply as much as you can despite the exhaustion which enveloped your body,

It's your duty. It's your job to protect,

"Backup's on the way, König. Evac is almost there too, we just have to—"

You will never die for these people,

You wouldn't allow yourself to die for the military. No matter how brutal your battles are, you've sworn to always put yourself first.

"König."

A ragged breath escaped your lips.

You would never choose someone else over your own life.

No one would come first before yours,

No one else but him.

"König!"

It was as if you caught a brief glimpse of your world crumbling down, seeing that red dot aimed right at his heart, you couldn't hear anything else but this blinding ringing.

Without another thought, you lunged towards his direction. Pushing him aside roughly as you take the hit for him,

As if this moment was purposely slowed down, you saw his eyes widened through your blur of a vision, you saw the glint of panic in his eyes.

"König, when we retire, 

let's have a small house and garden."

"[name]!"

König found himself falling on the hard floor, not feeling the impact of your push as his attention focused on your trembling figure,

He saw it,

He saw how you froze, how your head slowly turned down to look at the horrifying wound. Raising both your hands weakly to look at the stains of blood.

"In that garden, we'll grow tulips."

His frightened gaze laid on your collapsing figure. Without wasting a moment more, he rushed towards your limp body, lifting you up to sit you somewhere safer.

With tears stained eyes, he dropped to the floor, holding your trembling body close to him as his clouded vision attempts to stop the threatening tears,

"Keep your eyes open, [name]."

His body shook, he could feel his hands shake terribly. Looking down at you with a horrified expression.

The love of his life laid limp on his lap,

And it's because of him.

Of all the reasons, did it have to be him?

"Evac is— evac is coming. Please please please."

He knew the bullet hit somewhere fatal, otherwise you wouldn't have gone into shock. He saw the life fade from your eyes,

But you raised your weak hands to caress his clothed face, a smile making its way to your blood stained lips.

"The tulips, könig, they're gonna be so pretty."

"no, no, no." He shook his head as he saw the acceptance in your eyes.

"I've never loved anyone as much as I did with you, Keep that—keep that in your mind könig."

He shakes his head vigorously, screaming for you to wake up. Shaking your trembling body, 

The tulips, we still haven't planted them.

Wake up.

"[name] you can't, please, the tulips."

Who knew loving you would be a beautiful tragedy?

Have you known,

[name]?

Have you known that you'll be taking my heart wherever you go?

Have you known I'll grow those tulips, just for you?

"Grow the tulips for me, my love."

"I won't." He shook his head repeatedly. 

"Without you, I won't."

With your weak, strained voice you spoke. For him you kept trying,

"We'll plant them together—right Liebling?" He desperately spoke, keeping his hand tightly placed on your wound to apply pressure.

"Just as we planned. Together. In our small house. After we—" he paused to sob, letting out the clashing emotions that pierced through him.

"You even said that we'll have a cat, he's gonna be named Leaf because of our garden. You said I'll wake up next to you, I'll wake up to you playing with my hair—because I like it so much—right? [name]?"

"We still have to do those."

His lungs felt trapped in every word he spoke, it felt as if he’d pass out. Never had he felt so weak and hopeless, not for a mission, not for something,

Especially not ever for a person.

And yet here he sat, crying uncontrollably for you to stay and fulfil the plans you’ve made together. 

"You still have to—"

"You still have to marry me," he whispered. 

"Schatz bitte."

He cried, as he couldn't do anything else but wait for evac. He needed you, 

He can't lose you.

Not now. Not ever.

"I know I sound selfish, I know you're hurting and you want to rest but—I just—what would I be without you?"

Tulips,

Without their roots, they are lifeless.

Tulips without their sunlight are bound to wilt.

You felt your own tears trickle down your face,

"Liebling, I won't just let you go. I won't. Even after we planted those tulips," He paused, unable to control his emotions as he looked into your weak eyes. Your eyes that are on the verge of giving up,

"I'll keep needing you, I'll keep holding on."

And as if on cue, he hears the door thump. For a moment, he felt relieved, his tears abruptly stopping as his head turned towards the door. “[name], see? Evac is—” His heart dropped when the realisation hit, it wasn’t evac. They would have asked first, they would have given callouts. It’s the syndicates,

With an exhausted breath, his eyes grew darker, placing [name] on the corner hurriedly and gently. “Stay here, call for evac again alright? Don’t—don’t close your eyes [name], please.” He placed a kiss on top of your head before he picked his weapon up once again, sparing you one last glance before he quietly made his way towards the entrance. The sadness fading for a moment as rage replaced the burning emotion in his heart,

They did this.

They're taking you away from him.

With gritted teeth he strides, coming in contact with the geared enemies. As if he’d forgotten how exhausted he was, he fought efficiently. Taking hits and giving just the same, he was enraged, and they felt it. How he grunts and how he raised his hand. His strength and size overpowered them easily, 

It was as if he lost himself, he looked almost unreal. Taking lives with a clenched jaw, he felt anger. As he remembered what could possibly happen because of what they did,

What he can possibly go through.

He pants, staring down at the bloody sight. Taking in the smell and the horrendous end he made them face,

It didn't feel accomplished. Inside that room, you sat with a bullet deep inside your body. Defeating these people didn't feel as accomplished as it did before.

He weakly walked back—praying to whoever that you’re still breathing, that you’re still alive to continue on with your lives, still alive to plant the tulips with him. With droopy eyes he saw your bloody figure, sat with closed eyes and the talkie wrapped around your hands,

His tears fell once again, “schatz, I'm back.” he whispered, collapsing beside your body. Throwing the talkie and replacing it with his hands, clasping yours together with his tightly. 

The tulips,

“We couldn't separate them so we had to fit both of them in one evac vehicle.”

The captain looked at horangi in question, “Couldn't separate them?” “König held them too tightly, we were only able to separate them when we arrived here. Roze suggested letting them share a room together but due to some policies, the hospital didn't allow it.” he explained further, as they looked at König’s sleeping figure,

He had a frown despite being in a deep sleep.

“I see.” the captain mumbles, “make sure to let him know that [name] is safe, I'm certain hell would be loose if he didn't see them near him.” Horangi nodded, he spoke just before the captain reached the door. “[name]’s in a coma, doctors have informed us that they’re unstable.” “They’ll pull through, for König they will.” the captain replies without turning his head back. “They spoke of their retirement recently, [name] wouldn't disappoint König.”

“What color of tulips will we have?”

“Mm, white.”

“Why's that?” he asks you,

“To symbolize how sorry I am.”

He gasped, sitting up on the bed with his hands tightly wrapped around his neck, attempting to catch his breaths. The dream had hunted him, the look on your face,

The apologetic tone you spoke with,

What did you mean by that? What are you sorry for? Before he could take in his surroundings, he exited the room. Uncaring about the chords that connect to him, he walked and walked till he reached the front desk. “[name]. Where is their room?” He spoke sternly, catching the nurse off guard, he knew he looked terrifying but that’s not of his concern right now. He needs to know you're here, he needs to know you have a room, because if you dont it can only mean one thing.

And he’ll refuse to believe that. “Ah— [name] under the KorTac factions is it?” the nurse stuttered, flipping through the pages of their record book frantically, not wanting to cause the soldier any more agitation.

“Room 405 sir. The patient who’s in—” Without hearing any more words from the nurse, he ran, hurriedly ran to wherever that room could be. Worriedly reading the numbers in each room as adrenaline enveloped his body. Relief, happiness, everything all at one, he could cry.

But not yet, not until he sees you, not until he holds you. “[name]!” He chimes, barging inside the room recklessly. There was no one else inside, only you on the bed, sleeping soundly. He pants, walking closer, feeling his hands tremble by the sight of you. “Liebling.” he mumbled, reaching for the chair and sitting by you. “Love, you're here.” He could feel the tears fall at last, feeling his heart at ease. The sight of you removed the thousands of worries on his shoulder, that dream meant nothing, you had nothing to be sorry for. You didn't leave him, “You didn't—you didn't go.” he broke down, laying his head down on your hands which he held. Sobbing to you. “When we go back, let’s retire as soon as possible, okay?” he mumbled, lips trembling as he spoke. His voice broke with happiness. Croaking out whispers of  ‘I love you’s’ while he laid on your hand. “No more of these. No more.” “Let’s buy a house, a small one. Then we’ll go get leaf and—and, the tulips, my love.”

The tulips,

In our home.

Let’s grow the—

“Tulips?” His breath stopped, he froze as you spoke. He raised his head to look at you, weakly staring back at him. “What tulips?” “Where am i?”

The rasp on your voice was heard, the confusion evident and visible from the way you spoke and looked at him. He felt his heart drop, 

“Who are you?”

[voidbeomgyu]

ALONE (Teaser)

In which you meet your bias in the worst circumstances.

PAIRING Idol Jake Sim x Fan Fem Reader

GENRE Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Slow Burn, Romance/Strangers to Lovers, Suggestive (Maybe smut, not sure yet.), some fluff

WARNINGS 18+ MDNI, Descriptions of violence, death, blood, etc., All members except Jake died so keep that in mind (I'm sorry), Cursing, Crimes, Mental health talk and experiences, Death, Sickness (Throwing up), Making out, Smut(?), It's an apocalypse!au idk how else to warn about that LOL

SUMMARY The group Enhypen get on a plane to the US and when landing are met with the worst. Jake makes it out alive... but alone. Since the dead are attracted to areas where the population is saturated, your best bet is to stay low in the areas usually considered dangerous (alleyways, abandoned buildings, etc). He made his way into the country and found a nice cabin alongside a lake. His further inspection led him to believe it was abandoned for whatever reason, maybe it was a vacation home? Little did he know his inference was correct, and soon he was met face to face with a member of the family who owned it. How would she react to seeing her favorite artist rummaging through the cupboards of her new--hopefully permanent--home? And how would he be able to explain to a loyal fan of his that he was the only member left?

TEASER WORD COUNT 1,625

RELEASE DATE To be determined.

TAGLIST Comment on this post or send an ask to be added. (Have your age on your profile or you will not be tagged)

Endless walking while trying to find a suitable place to stay was slowly driving Jake insane. The exhaustion from travelling, fear of death, and anguish from the scene at the airport was weighing down on him heavier and heavier every second. Having watched his best friends, his brothers, his family all being taken away from him without being able to do anything but listen to the oldest’s words, “Run”.

Jake had not yet cried, there was no time for it. It’s been almost thirty six hours since then, he’d stolen a bike around a mile away from the airport. It’s helped him a lot on his journey to safety. He never stole, he wasn’t like that, not that type of person. But in the moment he didn’t have the time nor energy to feel guilty about it. 

Jake didn’t know exactly what he was looking for, but he wanted quiet. Not knowing wether or not it’ll be safer in the city or the country side, he chose the latter. Cities are crowded with people, meaning they must be crowded with the dead by now, right? No matter; either way he knew he’d feel much better being in the middle of nowhere, or at least in the middle of what looked like nowhere. All alone in an abandoned farm house, maybe a lake house, any house on the country side would do. He was being too optimistic, he knew, but he couldn’t help it. Finding a safe home to live in alone with no one around for miles sounded comforting.

The Jake from two days ago would’ve shivered at the thought of being completely alone. Though no extrovert, he needed people. He needed that connection, that interaction. His reasons to smile and laugh were mostly based around the people around him or the entertainment he consumed. Entertainment was out of the question now, and it seemed like people were too. Most dead, and others probably too violent to give Jake a chance due to the circumstances. 

All he held on him was his and Sunghoon’s carry-on bag from the flight. Note to self, don’t try to save your friend by holding onto their bag. Thoughts like this crossed his mind every few minutes, tragedies sentenced as jokes but he wasn’t laughing. What’s wrong with me? How could I think something like that? Maybe it was the dehydration, starvation, overall fatigue? He hadn’t eaten anything since the flight and was savoring the small amount of water he had on him. Either way, thinking of his beloved friends didn’t do much to help his mood. Trying to think of the good times? Those good times will never happen again, they’re gone forever and I’ll never get them back.  

More days passed like this. With a stop at a gas station probably being the reason he’s even alive right now. It was abandoned, for the most part. It was the early morning, and he was literally starving now. The cashier was still there, but his neck was chained so tightly to the wall that it was on the edge of ripping his head clean off. Oh, he was a living corpse too. Jake could tell that much by just looking at him, muffled grunts and groans coming from the pale body every minute. Luckily, he didn’t seem to care much of Jake’s criminal activities there. Stuffing whatever foods and drinks he could into the bags he had on him. They were even heavier now, but he couldn’t feel anything. He was numb to all feeling, mentally and physically. 

At day four he had started keeping track of how many days passed with a calendar he found on the wall of the gas station that morning. He didn’t stay there though, he didn’t have it in him to kill the cashier, and he knew that if he somehow got loose while he was sleeping it would all be over. The past few days he hadn’t slept or rested much at all actually. Napping for at most an hour at a time, waking up to the slightest noises and scurries of nearby wildlife. He knows he’s incredibly lucky to not have encountered any of the dead, besides the one at the gas station, but it’s a little stressful to not have seen any either. Where could they all be? He had made it out of the city, the once bustling streets on day two, he knew many people weren’t out here to begin with. But knowing there are creatures that could kill him in seconds lurking while having no idea where they are was terrifying. 

It’s been six days. His legs started feeling numb just hours after finding his bike due to the frantic pedaling, now he felt like his legs were asleep all the time. The feeling of pins and needles covered his lower body as they worked on auto pilot to keep him going. His back felt horrible, slouched from his broken spirit. Endless cramping and soreness of his hands and fingers from gripping the bikes handles for hours at a time. His knuckles were white, and now so was his once tanned and alive skin. 

His lack of proper meals, sleep, and rest was now obvious. Jake hasn’t seen himself since that day in the airport, but from looking at his now thinner, paler, vein visible arms, he could take a guess at what his face looked like. Hell, he could feel the bags under his eyes whenever he blinked now. 

It’s been quiet and empty for a few miles. Nothing but grass, and a dirt trail he’s been following in sight. How long is this damn trail? he thought. Jake started following the trail at the sunset of day five; he remembers because of his calendar. It was coming to the end of day six, the sun starting to set in the distance behind him. He found a flashlight at the gas station and used it to find himself a place to “rest” for the nights he faced, it neared the time to find a spot to sleep.

Trees were all around him now, the area looked more alive here, not dried out and dead like the miles before. He must be getting close to some sort of building, forest trails usually have a building as a starting point, right? Unless this trail wasn’t made for hikers, in that case he was hoping in vain. 

It was almost completely dark now. Jake had usually found somewhere to stay by this time, but something was telling him to keep going. Using the flashlight to illuminate the shadowed forest, he heard his friends voices cheering him on over and over again. 

“Keep going Jake!”

“Just a little longer!”

“You’ll be okay!”

Tears were unconsciously streaming down his face now, though he still didn’t feel anything. His body just gave up on the effort of keeping them in. 

Jake pedaled faster. He couldn’t hear anything but his heavy panting, it felt like someone had covered his ears with their hands and muted the sound of everything around him. He saw something in the distance, the roof of a building; he padaled faster. A house, the roof made of wood, looked like a cabin; he padaled faster. He could hear the muffled sound of streaming water; he pedaled faster.

Face to face with a cabin, going so fast he couldn’t stop himself from crashing into the wet grass below him. Still struck with adrenaline, he pulled himself up quickly and dragged his bike to the front door. His broken and unused voice sounded through his pants as he tried frantically to open the damned door. 

The door handle had a key hole but was locked with a rusty padlock. He could turn the handle and wriggle the door, that padlock was what he needed to remove. He pulled a hammer out of his bag; he grabbed it from the gas station floor, it was covered in dried blood. Obviously used by someone prior to leaving it there. Jake slammed the hammer into the padlock, over and over again. The loud bangs from striking the lock were null to Jake’s ears, his desperation coating over all his sense. 

Smash. The padlocks body is broken away from its handle and the door is free from it’s hold on the wooden frame. 

Jake shoves his way inside, throwing the bike onto the hard floor of the entry way before turning to lock the door. It was locked from the outside but had a perfectly working lock on the inside, though he didn’t care to question it. He made it, he was safe, he felt like he could faint.

He had no time to think, let alone find a good source of light before he threw up. Keeling on the once clean floor, liquid from his stomach poured out from him. His throat burned and ached at the feeling, like his throat was made of sandpaper. Falling back he sat on the floor, staring at the door and the mess he made on the ground. He laid back and let his eyes rest for the first time in nineteen hours. Jake fell asleep there on the hard floor, knee propped up on the backside of a couch.

If he was thinking clearly, he would’ve checked the entire cabin, then scavenged for any foods that may be there. But he was broken, body and mind. Luck had been on his side since the beginning though. The home was completely vacant before he entered, and when he wakes up he’ll have found himself a place to live in safely. Away from the corpses living in the surrounding cities, and away from any still living people, all alone.

(A/N: Hello friends! I'm finally writing LOL I've had this wip since December and I'm finally going to finish it. This post is just to see if people would even be interested lol. The total fic word count I don't know yet because I haven't finished it, but I am close! I won't give y'all any hints but I will apologize in advance for the angst I'm about to put y'all thru<3 sorry love you guys muah. Don't know exactly when I will publish the full fic, maybe right when I finish it, maybe a month after I finish it IDK I haven't written seriously in months so I'm not too confident anymore but I am excited. Hope y'all are as excited as I am :D )

[grxndprix]

𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 — 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦! 𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘶 𝘨𝘰𝘫𝘰 & 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦! 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘶 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘰 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮! 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘵𝘸 — 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘯 (𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩), 𝘴/𝘢, 𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘢, 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘪 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘪𝘥𝘬, 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭

A fresh new start always felt like bull.

It was like fate itself holding her life on puppet strings. Moving her like a numb pawn in a chess game. Everything felt calculated for everything except her. She just had to wait for things to go her way every once in a while, before it fell apart again.

Right now, it was going fairly mundanely. Nothing interesting or even mildly negative had happened in a while, though nothing had either. She had already been living alone for quite some time. Moved out of her parents’ house as soon as possible and invested in a house of her own for the sole reason of hating apartments. Too rickety, and she would feel safer in a smaller, single house than with broken windows or whatever else.

[name] ran a ringed hand through her hair, huffing out a breath as she hauled her cross-body bag over her shoulder. The job down at the local cafe awaited straight ahead, and despite her fears, she wasn’t a child anymore, she could do this. 

Morning pink and white skies, highlighted with gold clouds had her taking in the fresh air. In fact, it wasn’t until she picked her walking pace up again, stepping toward the cafe doors, that the slightest bit of dread began to pool in her stomach.

A sigh, and [name] reached for the handle as she made her way inside. Her eyes wandered, trailing along the gold embellishments among the otherwise green, brown, and orange-ish tints around her. She lumbered on her way to the back of the building, swiftly tugging her uniform on and starting to take orders from her position as cashier.

Customers piling in couldn’t deny the coziness, some of them staying for quite some time. [name] herself enjoyed every second spent on the job and could never imagine quitting. Or— At least… Those were her premonitions for now. It was a steady source of income while living alone, the atmosphere was nice, the people were nice, it wasn’t—

The doors opened just as the clock chimed at 3 o’clock. 

Not even a divine mercy could save such a tragedy. In waltzed two figures, tall in stature and a bit intimidating with their builds. [name] gulped for a second, feeling the cozy air around her start to dissipate. Despite recognizing them as regulars, the girl was unsettled. They always came in and just… observed her every move. She averted her gaze for the sake of her own well-being, lips pursing and unpursing. The feeling of her lip gloss brought back some sense, and she snapped out of her stupor.

In the short time she’d looked at them, she noticed they looked pretty identical to the last time. Cold white hair, blue eyes that held the world in their irises, black uniform — He was the one whose gaze raked along her entire figure, always whispering obscene things to his friend. Of course, said friend had raven hair, long locks that swayed with each step. They were tied up into a bun, and his matching eyes always remained locked on her face, barely wavering. His irises held nothing but sorrow, the weight of the universe—

‘Don’t judge people by their looks,’ She reminded herself. It’s rude to do so, even in this case… Her eyes flicked back to the pair, and she physically had to hold herself back from flinching. Both of their gazes were locked right onto her, one sporting a small smirk, and the other smiling softly. 

The man smirking ran a hand through his snowy white hair, whistling lowly and leaning over to whisper something in his presumed friend’s ear. The smiling man whispered something as well, raven locks swaying in the small breeze. She wouldn’t have cared about any of this had their stares not been piercing into her. Something felt off, something really felt off— What was once just invasive had turned predatory. At least before, it didn’t feel like this.

The first time the pair had come into the cafe, they took a seat and seemed to talk casually for a bit. They weren’t ordering anything, but just to be sure, [name] had made her way over and asked them if they wanted to try anything off the menu. She tried and failed to conceal her wince when their eyes snapped up to meet hers. 

That was the first time she’d experienced true intimidation. Satan regarded the two of them with a shiver, and she felt her hand tremble at her side. As if they had gotten what they wanted, the pair smiled, but the notion didn’t reach their eyes. 

Neither one of them spoke a word for a moment, until—

“Just coffee, thanks.” The ravenette had a gentle voice, countering his intimidating stature. She nodded, a strained ‘Of course!’ falling from her lips before she walked back to her place at the counter. Still, she felt their burning stares pierce through her back. 

Fate held a scissor to the string.

She tried to mind her own business. She really did. Returning to brewing some coffee for the person in line, sliding it across the table, and giving them a smile. Her lips could barely form the words, “Have a good day,” before she cut herself off, eyes widening. The coffee she had handed them knocked out of their grasp, laying spilled on the floor. 

[name] gasped quietly, eyes darting back up to meet black and blue hues. She froze a second, suddenly realizing that while she’d been on autopilot, spacing out— The rest of the cafe had gone empty. Beginning to yell at the pair, the customer the coffee had been for looked beyond pissed. They opened their mouth to continue screaming at the white-haired man, but—

A swift flick of his fingers, and the customer went flying across the room, seemingly gaining momentum as they crashed against the wall and hit their head hard enough to knock out. A sickening crack echoed throughout the room, allowing [name] to freeze completely. Her face paled in horror at the sight, a horrifying entity forming right behind the customer. They didn’t get the chance to fight, head effectively bitten clean off their body. 

Blood poured forth from the stump like that of the Lord, body falling limp. The crimson color had splattered all over the walls and floor, a horrifying canvas of the spiral to hell, to purgatory— 

Muted noiret hair cascaded over his shoulder as the man knelt on one knee in front of the body. He seemed to observe the way a few ants had already begun crawling out of the small hole in the wall, breaths quiet. Then, he cracked a smile. “‘Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?’… May your god have mercy on your soul, low-life.”

With that, the entity swallowed the rest of the customer up whole.

It was quiet for a second. A clock ticked in the background, but she swore it almost felt like the seconds had slowed down. [name]’s mind was running wild with the visual and implied information dumped onto her. ‘What was that entity? Why did they kill the customer? What were they gonna do to her? Was this it? Were they going to kill her too?’

Despite the icy look he sent the corpse, the white-haired man huffed out a snicker. “C’mon, Suguru, don’t be like that.” He dragged the last word out, cracking his knuckles in front of him. His sapphire eyes took their time in studying every reaction [name] had to offer. From her shivers to her darting eyes — He consumed it all.

The ravenette chuckled too, lightheartedly smacking the other on the back. “How else should I be, Satoru?”

That seemed to snap her out of her state. The girl tried to scream, all blood leaving her face, but all she could form was a weak whimper. Her hands clutched at her uniform in an effort to ground herself, trying to sprint for the back. There were about 15 steps between herself and the door. She only made 3. 

A hand clasped around her wrist, tugging her backward and into a chest. “Trying to leave so soon? Oh c’mon now, princess,” Satoru’s hand trailed down to her waist, lips brushing against her earlobe and greedily drinking up the shivers he got in return. “We haven’t even started yet.”

Suguru made his way to her front, one hand in his pocket while the other grabbed her cheeks to make sure she looked right into those pools of tar. He smiled softly, a stark contrast to Satoru’s smug grin as his lips nipped at her neck. Suguru took in every little detail of her face, including the blood from the customer’s splatter. The pores, the imperfections, the perfections— He couldn’t get enough. 

“You’re a beautiful thing, y’know that?” He muttered, as if it was a secret only between the two of them. Something that no one else should ever know about. She tried to form a remark, anything to tell them off— But all it sounded like to them was a puppy’s whines.

His lips came crashing onto hers with a passion that rivaled Hades as he pursued Persephone. [name] tried desperately to push them off, using every bit of the strength she had— Yet as they backed her into the backroom, she knew it was all in vain. The realization didn’t stop her though, lips finally pushing past their rest and yelling for them to stop, almost sure it might draw the attention of someone outside. Before they closed the door, she saw that it had begun to pour rain, loud enough to completely mask any and all of her noises.

Satoru was the one that pushed her down onto the counter, Suguru immediately beginning to pull her oversized shirt off. The white haired man ran a hand through his strands at the sight, a hissed “Fuck,…” pulling through his throat. The ravenette saw how [name] tried to cover herself again, face pink, and immediately pinned her wrists above her head.

“Shh… It’s— It’s okay, we’ll take care of you, right, ‘Toru?” His voice was tight, like he was refraining from saying something, doing something— She tried to tug her wrists away from his hold, yelling for help, telling them to stop, just about anything that could just end the moment here and now. 

A chuckle, and Satoru leaned over her body, face mere centimeters from hers. His lips practically brushed hers as those damned jewel-like orbs devoured her own. 

“Yeah, we’ll treat ya real good, princess.”

𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘭𝘮𝘢𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘰𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘣𝘦𝘳-𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘶𝘦𝘭 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘰𝘬 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘹 𝘰𝘶𝘵 ☆

[lalathemediterraneanmermaid]

What do ikevill suitors smell like? PT.2

Hi little robins, this is pt.2 of "What do ikevil suitors smell like?". I've included the three new babies villains, the Vogel boys. Eventhough we don't know much about them, I couldn't resist including them here, because I already love those sillies. Soooo, enjoy, my dears!!! Btw, just like in pt.1, I tried to put the same amount of perfumes on each boy, except for Elbie, our greedy boy.

Elbert Greetia

A melancholic, porcelain-doll-looking nobleman. Our Ethereal Prince. My Greedy Boy. As beautiful as a work of art. He has a little maniacal obsession with collecting the most beautiful things in the world, just for himself, that's why he has so many perfumes, he can't decide which one he likes the most, so he keeps buying new fragrances. "I want. I want. I want… If only I could find it, then surely..." Love, let me hold your hand while telling you this: you are the mot beautiful thing in the world. His ocean-blue eyes and long, fluttering lashes hold such a sorrowful gaze. If it weren't because of his curse, he could perfectly be part of ikemen prince, you can't change my mind. I love Elbie, and I can't wait to play his route over and over again. He reminds me of a rain-soaked garden with a gazebo full of roses in the middle. He reminds me of a nostalgic walk along a solitary beach at dusk. He reminds me of a magical forest bathed in silver moonlight. He definitely smells clean, soft, and ethereal, with perhaps some citrusy notes blended with salty-marine hints that reflect his love for beach walks.

Notes: Bergamot, lemon, aldehydes, orange blossom, jasmine, lavender, sea salt, sandalwood, white musk and amber.

Perfumes he might like:

De Profundis - Serge Lutens

Un Jardin Apres La Mousson - Hermès

Wood Sage & Sea Salt - Jo Malone

Aqua Allegoria Teazzurra - Guerlain

L’Eau Froide - Serge Lutens

Sel Marin - James Heeley

Fou d’Absinthe - L’Artisan Parfumeur

Meomir Man - Amouage

Ninfeo Mio - Goutal

Jude Jazza

The Cunning & Ruthless Mobster. Crown's personal Maleficent. Silvio 2.0. A mean pookie who enjoys the problems and suffering of others. "All your yappin's real noisy. Lemme shut ya up.” OMG he even speaks like Silvio. Pretty sure he's kinky af, he may be into chains or something similar. "He's earned himself many enemies" Nah, really? I would've never guessed, not with that golden retriever personality of his. "He always fulfills his promises and expects the same of others, holding a special one close to his festering heart." You see? He has a heart, allegedly. Anyways, we're here to talk about scents, aren't we? I feel like he smells like tobacco and liqueur, I'm 100% sure. And, I don't know why, I can sense some kind of smell that reminds me of sylvester bushes and a really old library, full of dust. Of course, we can't forget that he has money *cough, cough, Silvio, cough*, so he also needs a really expensive scent. He probably doesn't have a favourite perfume, because he slays at layering them and creating new scents that combine with his radiant and bubbly personality.

Notes: Liqueur, cognac, tobacco, black pepper, cinnamon, bergamot, cedarwood, sandalwood, leather, amber and vetiver.

Perfumes he might like:

Man In Black - Bvlgari

Tobacco Vanille - Tom Ford

Angels' Share - By Killian

Straight to Heaven - By Killian

The Tragedy of Lord George - Penhaligon's

1740 Marquis de Sade - Histoires de Parfums

Ellis Twilight

The little sunshine oddball filled with happiness and joy. Have you seen those cute little curls in his hair? *OMG he's so fluffy I'm gonna dieeee.* He wants to reveal the happiest moments of other people’s lives (and then kill them). He really has a peculiar obsession (another impulsive maniacal wow, such a surprise hahan't.) for the "happiest moment" in others' lives and his own definition of "love" he's striving to prove (Alexa, play "Safer" by Tyla). “Tell me, how happy are you right now…?” If I tell you I'm depressed will you let me live?. Crown's youngest member and Jude's assistant (I don't even know what to think anymore, poor Ellis or poor Jude?). Anyways, as the mentally ill person that I am, I'll patiently wait for his route release. Back to the scents, he loves crispy baguettes and raspberry jam. I feel like he smells like a twisted picnic in a forest at dusk, with pink roses, fresh bread and berries. Clean, but with earthy and woody hints. Since he is such a people pleaser, he doesn't have a favourite perfume, he's just going to wear whatever you like the most, even if it's nothing, even if it's gasoline.

Notes: Mandarine, grapefruit, raspberry, rose, bread, cedarwood, vanilla, oak moss and amber.

Perfumes he might like:

By The Fireplace - Maison Margiela

Eau Rose - Diptyque

Aventus for Her - Creed

Memoirs of a Trespasser - Imaginary Authors

Pomegranate Noir - Jo Malone

Mûre et Musc - L’Artisan Parfumeur

Darius Vogel

The so called Untrustworthy Cruel Angel, or what I prefer, Chevalier and Gilbert's love child. He truly looks as beautiful and ethereal as an angel, but so did Lucifer, and he ended up ruling Hell, so... we'll have to wait to see him in action... According to Victor in his Vicpedia "Is he an angel or a devil? You’ll have to find out for yourself." “Hello cursed people and everyone else. Won’t you join me in building a wonderful world?” Vlad, is that you? The angelic head of the German empire’s direct organisation, “Vogel”. Referencing Victor on his Vicpedia, "Though he looks like an angel, there’s a strong scent of evil coming from him." So, translated to scents, what does that exactly smells like? Based on what we know, which is not much, if not nothing, I will say that his scent matches his appearance, so maybe a really light, soft, airy and beautiful opening, with white flowers and white musk, very angelic-like, with a "punch" of something much more obscure beneath the surface, maybe some spices, sweet liqueurs and dark woods. All that in a winter-like scenery, very cold, like a breath on top of a glacier.

Notes: Bergamot, jasmine, gardenia, lily of the valley, snowdrop, foxglove, cypress, sandalwood, cinnamon, black pepper, oak moss and absinthe.

Perfumes he might like:

The Language Of Glaciers - Imaginary Authors - His favourite

Nightingale - Zoologist Perfumes

Viking - Creed

Reflection Man - Amouage

La Religieuse - Serge Lutens

Poivre Noire - Serge Lutens

Nica Schwartz

Just like Jude is the villanous version of Silvio from ikeprince, I feel like Nica is Nokto's doppelganger in ikevillains. A frivolous and cunning person who plays with love. He gives me foxy vibes, but in a darker and colder way. He's referred to as "Vogel’s brain" and seems to have a knack for manipulation and has an eye for money and power. “Guten Tag, cute robin. I want you to be my toy", yep, we have yet another fox. He's a bookworm, but, apparently, is just so he can gain more and more knowledge so he can play with you all. In the official information given directly by Cybird, it says that Nica resents shows of affection, but he still plays with you like a toy. Doesn't that sounds like he's desperate for someone loving him? "He resents love because he has never been given some." Again, this are just assumptions based on what we know and the vibes that I get from him. In conclusion, beneath that foxy-like appearance, I feel like he may have a huge heart of gold that he is too afraid to share. If I had to translate that vibe into a scent, it would probably be something seductive but fresh and sweet at the same time, something more "wild" like a fox playing in a field, but with a cooler vibe, maybe between winter and spring.

Notes: Bergamot, vetiver, jasmin, fruity, leather, ambar, incense, musk, lily of the valley, wild flowers, vanilla, honey, tulip and pink pepper.

Perfumes he might like:

Fox in the Flowerbed - Imaginary Authors - His favourite

L'homme Ideal - Guerlain

Yesterday Haze - Imaginary Authors

XJ 1861 Naxos - Xerjoff

Tam Dao - Diptyque

Snowy Owl - Zoologist Perfumes

Ring Schwartz

The love of my life pt. I already lost the count. The cute Vogel's guard dog. Dariu's puppet and Licht's doppelganger.  "This younger twin suffers from blushing easily" Victor please stop, I can't take it anymore. “If you don’t want your life to be taken, don’t get in the way of us, Vogel.” Okay cute puppy, whatever you say. From what we know, Ring seems cold when you first approach him, but he will be on his knees at the minimum show of affection towards him. So, if you play with his heart, you'll not only have Nica going for you, I'll be there too. Based on the information that Cybird has given us, he seems to be shy and cold, since one of his hobbies is "being in the corner of a room", still, it's not like he is an antisocial, we can guess that because the thing that he resents the most is "eating alone". The other hobby that he has is "taking a nap while looking at the sky" this tells me that he prefers quiet places where he can feel at peace, and somehow it also gives me the vibes of a dreamer, since "looking at the sky" is kind of poetic and it can symbolise freedom, if you know what I mean. In his skills he mixes two aspects that seem quite radical, combat skills and martial arts, along with a really good relationship with animals and an understanding of plants and flowers. When I say radical, in this case, I mean it's that one thing is "agressive" and "tough" while the other is so much more "soft" and "light energy". That aspect of dichotomy or duality is the most important characteristic of Ring, and it needs to be reflected on his scent.

Notes: Grapefruit, black pepper, ginger, lavender, vanilla, lily of the valley, snowdrop, leather, sandalwood, amber and forget-me-not.

Perfumes he might like:

The Noir 29 - Le Labo

Jubilation XXV - Amouage

Pardon - Nasomatto

Russian Leather - Memo Paris

Hyrax - Zoologist Perfumes

Burning Ben - Strangers Parfumerie - His favourite

And here it ends the "What do ___ suitors smell like?" Ikemen Villains edition. I hope you have enjoyed reading this as mucha as I have enjoyed writing it. You've probably noticed that the ikevil version of these series is pretty much less humorous than the ikeprince version. I think it is mainly because, eventhough both games characters are so well written and have a lot of traumas and issues, I still think that Ikemen Villains is the darkest one, and so, the one with less humorous content. And also, I tried to understand each character, that's why the character's descriptions are so long, sorry for that hehe. Anyways, thanks for your attention and love!!! Love you all my little robins!!!

Btw, I will probably continue doing this with ikevamp and maybe, maybe, ikesen, but it will take some time, there are a lot of characters in those game series.

[mickstart]

I know we have a lot of content about Ratio being protective of Aventurine (good!) but that comic you reblogged from me has me thinking about Aventurine being worried about Ratio... Aventurine, who has lost everyone he loved in horrible and violent ways throughout most of his life, being in a situation where he almost loses Ratio... _(´ཀ`」 ∠)_

I am literally never not thinking about this. I think one of the main barriers to them Making It Official IS this paranoia aventurine HAS to carry - after having it drilled into him again and again - that he loses everyone he even slightly cares about at some point. He definitely feels like both he and ratio are safer if he tells himself / the world he doesn't care about ratio.

And tbh I don't know if, faced with that scenario, Aventurine would shut down or just get so completely *dangerous* in a way he often isn't. If the man who beat people to death with his own chains to survive comes out. If Ratio is so important to him that his apathy gets superceded by his intense ability to Survive and Fight because surviving now means having Ratio at his side.

I think prior to penacony he might shut down because like. He's so traumatised and resigned to the pain of it that he would just sit there and take one more tragedy and bitterly wonder why it's never HIM that gets to die.... But AFTER penacony, where ratio is literally partially responsible for giving him a reason to live, it's the second option for sure. Aventurine clutched on to life for so long and then drifted, looking for death, without a reason to keep going. Now you're going to put his new motivation in danger? Get ALL OR NOTHING-ed.

Maybe it's even more vicious a response than when he was fighting for survival. Because Ratio doesn't just represent surviving actually, he stands for LIVING, for Aventurine actually enjoying and partaking in life rather than just tolerating it. And if aventurine can beat a man to death with chains for survival, imagine what he'll do for life.

(and then imagine aventurine forcing ratio to stay awake by being as annoying as possible with a forced smile even if his voice is shaking, asking him what to do, following his instructions dutifully, getting him back to safety, refusing to leave his side, silently asking his family to look after him if the worst happens. Ratio wakes up and Aventurine is like: Dark circles wild eyes messy hair visibly hasn't bathed or slept in a few days. And the first thing drugged up ratio does is reach over and boop him on the nose and mutter "pretty")

[hibanny]

what i love about Dungeon Meshi is how Ryoko Kui slowly eases you into how fucked up its world and story are, she doesn’t throw all the drama and darkness in your face right away, sure it starts with tragedy but she then walks you through, to, and beyond it in a safer and less overwhelming way by focusing on its comedic and lighthearted parts with sprinles of more serious and darker ones thrown in, slowly making the latter parts be of bigger importance the deeper into the dungeon the characters go, which, in my opinion, makes its dramatic and heartwrenching moments much more impactful because you feel a lot more connected to its world and characters once you get to where everything is going, you start to care about them because of their positivity and beauty so you want to stay through their negativity and ugliness.

[sassypantsjaxon]

Okay, quick disclaimers: 1. I know some people don't like Horikoshi's worldbuilding, would say there's a lack of depth, etc, etc. I'm not one of those people, I just see it as my chance to overanalyze and fill in the gaps myself for these kind of headcanon/theory/whatever you want to call this post. 2. This post will briefly touch on my own personal headcanons of Mic being an orphan and Aizawa being a rich kid.

Okay! all that being said, I'm just going to throw some things at the wall about my own thoughts/headcanons about the world Mic and Aizawa grew up in, and you guys can let me know if anything sticks.

You ever think about how All Might is around 25 years older than Mic and Aizawa?

Given that he left Japan as a teenager and went to college in America, he probably came back and started becoming the Symbol of Peace in Japan in his early-mid twenties.

Mic and Aizawa would have been part of the first generation of kids who have never known a world without All Might

Like. Think about that. They would have grown up in a world that is just beginning to recover from the horrors (as compared to the relatively deceptively safe society we see at the beginning of the series)

Hizashi grows up in an orphanage with a lot of older kids who were orphaned by villain attacks and...not so many kids younger than him. Which is good for them, but kind of lonely for a kid like Zashi

There's a wall around the orphanage that is supposed to be for protecting them, but as villain activity decreases, it just starts to feel like it's keeping the kids in

Hizashi becomes a hero because he knows nobody else is going to save him

Shouta grows up in a high security gated community

He's always wanted to be a hero, and he's always been told it's pointless, because All Might will have eradicated villainy by the time Shouta's an adult this is of course a lie

part of the tragedy of Oboro's death is that they've heard their whole lives how large scale villain attacks like that are a thing of the past

They would have had drills for what to do in case of villain attacks when they were little kids starting school. These would have slowly been phased out by the time they were in middle school

Another thing that's changed since they were kids is the architecture

No more burned down, bombed out buildings that just sit around because there's no point rebuilding something that will just be destroyed again in a few weeks. No more business that are still open, but the windows are boarded up because they can't afford to keep replacing the glass

No more graffitied walls and fences and gates. No more anti-villain spikes on top of buildings and around cities

And all of these things disappeared so slowly that it's like one day when they're in highschool, they just look around and realize they don't exist anymore and wonder where it all went and when it happened

There was probably a population boom as All Might started to cement his place as the Symbol of Peace. People realizing their kids would have a safer world to grow up in and they didn't have to fear dying every other minute

People moving out of the safety of the cities back into more rural areas

actually hang on. that would kind of explain the racism and bigotry we know exists in the rural regions

this was supposed to be more about mic and aizawa and now i'm just spitballing worldbuilding sorry.

Mic and Aizawa are kind of in this weird inbetween of the fourth generation of quirk users, who grew up fully in the horrors of quirk wars, and the fifth generation, who grew up in the era of All Might and it's all just the past to them

Because even though they didn't exactly live it themselves, they did still see the direct effects of it

And that's the horror of this new war, because their students had been living the peace Mic and Aizawa were promised as children

[kiragecko]

One of the main reasons I love things like Reverse Robins AUs, is how they can help you figure out what's important to a character, and then look at those things through a fun house mirror to learn them better.

This is why my new favourite Reverse Robins concept is Tim, the second Robin, dying protecting a 4 year old Dick Grayson and his parents from the Court of Owls.

Part of why he dies is that Damian has made showing weakness so painful that he doesn't call for help. Dick leaves Gotham with his parents and gets another 5 years of happiness before they're killed by Tony Zucco. Tim becomes a Talon. He becomes active in Gotham when Jason is 16, and nobody knows who he is until Dick has become the newest Robin and the Court sentences Batman and Robin to death, a year and a half later.

Things that I find really satisfying about this idea:

It keeps the canon Dick+Tim 'Relationship Transformed by Kindness and Death' dynamic, but flips it. Instead of Dick being trapped in the place of his tragedy, surrounded by reminders, and Tim growing up silently watching him; we have Dick being whisked away from his tragedy, growing up surrounded by reminders of what's been saved.

It allows us to play with Jason's 'I Can't let Go of My Death and So I've Lost Myself and Everything I Loved' issues. Tim can't let go of his death, and it's his only link to himself and everything he's lost. He remembers saying 'The Flying Grayson's will fly again!' Keeping Dick alive is more important than avoiding being thrown back in the Labyrinth. Protecting Dick from the Court is his path back to his family.

It keeps the obsession and connection between Tim and Dick, instead of trying to convince the reader that Tim idealized Damian. I've struggled to translate Tim's motivation for becoming Robin in a reversed setting, and I can't make it work. This gives that motivation to Dick, instead, and allows us to explore how DICK would have been transformed by that one meeting. He didn't need love and affection in the same way Tim did. But I can see him holding on to the hope and heroism he saw, and instead of getting consumed by his rage when his parent's die, he's motivated to live up to Robin's legacy.

It gives a reason for my favourite reversed dynamic: instead of Bruce being broken by Jason's death, Bruce is convinced to step up by Tim's. In this universe, Bruce didn't choose either of his first 2 kids, and found it easier and safer to deny Tim even WAS his kid. (During Tim's tenure, Batman and Robin start patrol from the central Wayne Ent. Batcave, leaving the Manor to Damian, because it's easier than keeping Damian's vicious resentment and jealousy in line. Tim learns to mostly avoid the Waynes as civilians. Bruce deals with anything he sees, but doesn't confront the roots of the issues, and Tim loves being Robin but never feels particularly safe in the role.) Bruce 'got a kid killed' by holding him at arms length, and so, when Jason comes into his life and Bruce's attempts to find him a better place are stopped by corruption at every turn, Bruce chooses to truly become a parent.

One of the few things Tim remembers is his certainty that Robins aren't safe around Damian. This lets me keep Dick's canon struggles with Tim and Damian's conflicting needs. Both want to protect him, but Tim wants to protect him FROM Damian, and clingy baby Dick idolizes Tim, but NEEDS to hang off various parts of Damian for as much of the day as possible. Damian is drowning in guilt and wants to make Tim as comfortable as possible, but has committed to raising Dick. He can't let Tim stay between the 2 of them at all times.

It doesn't give as many hooks for Tim and Jason's relationship as I like. And I remain conflicted about whether Cass and Steph should come before Tim (to properly reverse canon) or after Tim (to make them contemporary with Jason, because he deserves to have contemporaries in AUs. Canon denied him). Duke is swapped with Babs, and I have fun thoughts about him, but that's a different post.

I don't think I can write this, but I want to see it!

[lets-all-calm-down-a-bit]

3 different ways house's head and wilson's heart was devastating (because these are the only half-coherent thoughts i could put together after the eps):

1) amber dies before she's fully related to the audience. you can feel the buildup, you know shes gonna get that moment of vulnerability. that moment that shows us at her worst and helps us empathize with her- then its all yanked away in an instant. and its something so preventable. if she hadn't taken the flu meds she would have lived. it was all so preventable yet inevitable.

2) wilson finally has a relationship that's attainable to him and HEALTHY. house could have been that person for him, but he wasn't. amber was. because amber was willing and able to work through her own flaws- unlike house. amber brought something out in wilson. something good. she made him stand up for himself. she made him care for himself and stop being so self-sacrificing. wilson was finally in a healthy fucking relationship. he was finally happy. after 3 failed marriages. then- it was all taken away. inadvertently by his best friend and, by him. the cause of amber's death falls equally on all three of them. amber wouldn't have died if she hadn't been on the flu meds. amber wouldn't have gotten on the crashing bus if house hadn't called wilson to pick him up when he was drunk. she wouldn't have left to pick up house if wilson hadn't been at the hospital and away from the phone. wilson could never blame amber. so the only two others to blame are himself, and house.

3) house was having a normal night till amber showed up to pick him up. he didn't expect amber to pick him up- he expected wilson. when he was concussed, he knew someone had gotten hurt who he needed to help. he knew but he couldn't remember. and everyone thought he was crazy. he KNEW someone needed him but he couldn't do anything. so he spent all of his time trying risky dangerous things to jog his memory despite his fractured skull. then, he found out it was amber, and he had to tell that to his best friend. he had to tell his best fucking friend that his partner was dying. and when they finally were able to treat her, he couldn't bear to see wilson so upset. any time wilson would plead with him to just take it slower, take the safer route (even if it wasn't rational or safer), he would give in. he gave in and gave in and gave in. then, wilson asked him to risk his life, to save amber's. amber, who wilson had known only for a few months. house had known wilson for over a decade. and wilson was asking him to do something that could kill him, just to save his partner.

and he did it. without a question, he did it. he didn't care if he died, as long as wilson could be happy- he didn't care. and then he does it. he does it and it turns out that missing piece, that last thing he needed to remember to solve the case- proved everything hopeless. it meant they failed. and then he went into a coma. he went into a coma after risking his life for his best friend's happiness. and when we woke up, all wilson did was look at him and walk away. wilson wasn't with him when we woke. wilson was with amber. even though she had already died. he stayed with her. and he blamed house as much as be blamed himself.

devastating from three different angles. three different characters. all of which made each other's situation worse. everything lead to another in a terrible tragedy. one that could have been prevented with one small change to the night. 3 different ways it could have been changed. three opportunities. none taken

[pedgito]

𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 ⛧ 𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞!𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: summer of 96’, fresh off the anniversary of the tragedy that took place on year ago—you and your friend are ready to enjoy your last few days of freedom and fun, but someone has other plans in mind and everyone is fair game.

cw: 18+ (minors dni), obviously a dark fic (pls read with caution), gore, major/minor character death, mentions of blood/stabbing, background stancy, robin being heartbroken but woke as always, established friendship between reader and eddie, smoking (weed), oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (with some bordering coercive themes, reader is aware and in full control of her choices), knife play, mention of creepy staff member preying on young girls, slight cliffhanger (if you squint), this is exactly what you expect it to be and i’m probably missing some tags, so just lmk.

word count: 15k

Dread filled the summer of 95’, fresh off the killings of some of Hawkins' beloved students; it was a tragedy that affected the entire town, everyone mourning together in unity. The killings should’ve ended there, but that was just the beginning. 

The masked assailant plunged the knife into the chest of his eleventh victim, sweet Tammy Thompson who pleaded for her life—she screamed, fought until the very last second, but she wasn’t a match for the brute strength and force of the person who caught her, adding a sharp twist of the knife as blooded pooled from her mouth, the light leaving her eyes. It was supposed to be a fun trip; everyone’s last hoorah before they parted ways after graduation, instead, it turned into a bloodbath. The killer was never caught, all that was left behind; a mask, stark white and horrifying as its mouth stretched on for miles—it was engraved in everyone’s mind, until it wasn’t. Just a faded distant memory of summer that ended badly.

Enter summer of 96’, a fresh faced group of seniors on the precipice of one of the most monumental trips in their lives to date—it was senior tradition, everyone disconnected for a weekend and lived in the moment, even despite the dark cloud that still lingered over.

“I don’t understand why Principal Higgins needs to go,” Eddie says amongst the large group of seniors, voicing everyone’s thoughts, never scared to be the one to point out the blatantly obvious, “doesn’t that defeat the point of having fun?”

“Mr. Munson,” Higgins' voice boomed from the front of the room, “do I need to remind you how lucky you are to even be allowed on this trip with your grades and attendance record?” 

Eddie slumped back in his seat slightly, earning a few laughs from the basketball team huddled in the corner of the room, namely Jason Carver, resident Hawkins High asshole. And yes, the trip was planned and chauffeured by the school—it was more affordable that way and it was meant to make people feel safer, though it sucked the fun out the entire thing. 

“No alcohol, no sex, and I don’t want to catch any of you young men spying on any of these ladies—“ Higgins explained, the other two designated teachers to be joining nodded beside him, mimicking his weak attempt at scolding, “but that goes both ways. If I catch any of you up to no good, I’m sending you home immediately.”

Steve raised his hand impatiently, a small acknowledgment from Higgins was sent his way, “Are we allowed to drive ourselves? Or do we have to ride on the bus?”

“Everyone’s required to be on the bus, we need to make sure everyone is accounted for.” Well, it seemed logical enough and you couldn’t really argue against it. 

Principal Higgins passed out a stack of papers, a long list of necessary supplies to bring along—bug spray, sanitary items, blankets and pillow, nothing out of the ordinary—you’re hyper focused on the page in front of you, unaware of Eddie’s insistent poking at your ribs until he’s plucking the paper from in front of you.

“Eddie,” You say with annoyance, “give it back.”

He smiles wide, still dangling the paper a few feet out of reach, “Whaddya say, sweetheart—should I sneak in the—,” Eddie makes a quick motion to his mouth, lighting up a fake joint, “—or are you on your good girl behavior this weekend?”

You flip him off, forcefully snatching the paper from his tight grip. Still, you weren’t going to pass up that opportunity. “Stop calling me that—,” You insist, lower your voice to a level only he could hear, “—but yeah, you should.”

Eddie chuckles at that, kicking his feet up on the empty chair beside him, ringed fingers drumming against the table. “Higgins is such a creep,” Eddie points out, aiming his voice toward the small group of people at your table—you, Steve, Nancy, Robin, and a few other seniors you didn’t know too well, they didn’t really pay much mind anyways, “like he isn’t going to be staring at all the girls in their swimsuits the entire time.”

“Like that time he got caught staring up Chrissy Cunnigham’s skirt when she was at the top of the pyramid.” Steve pointed out with a boisterous laugh, earning a soft nudge of warning from Nancy.

“Cut it out.” She warns, “She didn’t deserve that.”

“I don’t even know why we’re going back,” Robin points out, “people died.”

She was still partially traumatized after Tammy—unrequited love and all, she knew it would never be reciprocated but her death still affected Robin more than she cared to admit.

“They caught the guy, though.” Steve pointed out, “Don’t you remember?”

“You really think a poor, homeless man was capable of all that?” Nancy challenged, staring Steve down with a scrutinizing gaze. Eddie snickered from his seat—neither of you wanted to be on the receiving end of that.

“Anyone’s capable of anything with the right motive.” Steve shrugs.

“Stop trying to sound all philosophical and sign the fuckin’ clipboard, Harrington.” Eddie interrupts, scribbling down his name—and your own, before tossing it to his friend. 

It was already filled with about fifty names; not everyone had been interested in the trip and some didn’t even entertain the idea to begin with, but Eddie was a master manipulator and great at convincing people—take you and Robin for example, who had been so on the fence about going that it took every ounce of begging from Eddie to get you both to agrees—on his knees, hands clasped tightly together, praying and pleading for you both you.

“Don’t subject me to third wheeling Nancy and Steve,” Eddie had begged, “I will literally never forgive you guys.”

It didn’t take much convincing after that, plus Eddie had barely managed to make it on the list for the trip and the last thing you wanted to do was let him have a horrible senior trip, not when he’s done just about everything to help you manage through this year—friendship and all, outside of your core group of friends, he was the closest to you. 

It wasn’t like you spent every waking moment together, but it was just about. He’s never made you feel uncomfortable or unwanted, always just the right amount gentlemanliness mixed with his own dumb charm, it was addicting. He always knew just the right things to say, when to make you laugh, and how to soothe you when you were upset—he’d never made it clear if he ever wanted anything more with you and that was fine, but you couldn’t help letting it break your heart just a little. Eddie was the perfect type of guy.

“So—graduation is tomorrow, we leave that next day—Friday, bright and early,” Higgins' voice cut through the chatter, “Eight in the morning, on time—right, Edward?”

“Eight in the morning—got it.” Eddie replied with a low amount of snark, glancing over at your smiling face, struggling to hide the small crinkle of your eyes as you tried not to laugh. “What a dick.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t bring a swimsuit to swim,” You say jokingly, knowing how creepy everyone thought principal Higgins was, Eddie stared at you with a puzzled expression, eyebrows drawn together, “what—I just wouldn’t swim at all, it’s not a big deal.”

“You’re swimming, sweetheart.” Eddie says decisively, “I’ll look out for you, don’t worry.”

And if there was anything to put your mind at ease, it was Eddie.

Eddie answers the door to his trailer with a loud groan and a curse, already pissed at you for waking him up so early. Wayne is trailing up the stairs behind you, having barely gotten off of his night shift, coffee and empty lunchbox in hand.

“Open the damn door for the lady,” Wayne complains, motioning toward the handle, “—do you have your shit ready?”

“Yes—god, yes,” Eddie complains, swinging the door open and rubbing his tired eyes, “the sun isn’t even out and you two are already bitching at me this morning.” Eddie stumbles off, still muttering to himself.

“Keep an eye out for him,” Wayne says to you quietly, following in behind you as you step through the threshold, “I know it’s like babysitting with him sometimes.”

You nod obediently, offering a warm smile. 

“Trust me—I’m well aware. He’ll be okay with me.”

“You two are still talking shit about me?” 

Eddie walks out of the hallway leading to his bedroom, backpack slung over his shoulders, large duffel clutched in his hands. You would’ve thought he was going on a week-long retreat—but it was Eddie, he was probably planning to sneak his entire bedroom into the cabin for the weekend. 

“Yep.” You answer simply, lifting yourself up on the counter as you waited, allowing Eddie to say a quick goodbye to his uncle. 

“Where the hell are your bags?” Eddie asks, taking a full body glance at you. You wore a simple pair of cotton shorts and a dated band shirt that once belonged to Eddie—before you stole it, but not a bag in sight.

“Out by your van,” You motion with your thumb in the direction of his vehicle, parked out front, “—are you ready to go?”

“Let’s get this show on the road.” Eddie says with a rambunctious enthusiasm that could only be contained within him, all of his early grogginess suddenly disappearing before your eyes. 

Eddie makes the rounds for the rest of your friends—first Robin, who looks about as excited as Eddie did when you showed up at his trailer this morning, tossing her bag into the row of seats behind the front two, crawling in to lay her head down against the makeshift pillow. 

“Tell Steve and Nance the seats are occupied.” She mumbled, shifting onto her side, eyes shut. “No love birds allowed up here.”

“Surely they can’t be that lovey dovey this early,” You say out loud, earning a soft rumble of a laugh from Eddie. “What? Am I wrong?”

“I gave him a ride to school for a week—it was the worst week of my life.” Eddie said without explaining, but you caught on quickly, hearing Robin’s mocking impression of Nancy every time Steve went in to kiss her. 

“Steve—Steve, stop it.” Robin squealed tiredly, mimicking Nancy’s soft giggle.

Speaking of the devil, Eddie pulled to a screeching stop in front of Steve’s lavish home, too big for someone who was an only child, a giddy Nancy in tow. 

“Eddie—you really need to change your brakes.” You tell him, the screaming metal slicing together, creating an awful sound. “It’s been that way for weeks.”

“She’s still tickin’.” Eddie joked, patting the dash lovingly, the sound of Nancy and Steve clamoring into the back of the van cutting your conversation short. Eddie turns from the driver's seat, “I hope you two got that shit out of your system before we have to bunk with you both.”

“No promises.” Steve chides back, settling on the floor of the back of Eddie’s van, Nancy settled close by. Robin was already dead to the world, softly snoring away from her seat—if she had the choice to stay home, she easily would have. But, she would feel horrible leaving you behind.

You’re still the last to arrive, albeit on time, but Eddie was really hungry—hence the reason you five showed up with food, piling onto the back of the bus without so much as a word, shoveling your mouths with the food, acting like you hadn’t eaten in days.

Eddie makes a face when he sees Steve reaching for the last bit of food in the bag, like he hadn’t already eaten enough for the both of you, giving a soft shrug and an excusal, “If this is gonna be my last good meal until Monday, I’m taking advantage of it.”

“I don’t think it will be that bad.” Nancy offers, not really believing herself when she says it.

“Well, it’ll definitely be interesting.” You add, shifting into the cramped seat beside Eddie, leaning into his outstretched arm.

“Oh, that’s a guarantee.” Eddie jokes, squeezing you tighter. The bus lurching forward in time with his movement, sending you stumbling further into him.

“Woah—you okay?” He asks timidly, your hand reaching out to stop yourself from slipping out of the seat.

“The faster we get there, the better.”

It’s nearing afternoon when you finally arrive, a long winding road of trees and wildlife, not a person or structure in sight, the place was practically abandoned aside from the giant cabin near the end of town, settled on a large piece of land that houses a lake, two smaller joint cabins, and a few other structures that held supplies for outside, and a tiny outhouse—despite the cabin already having its own bathrooms. 

It seemed perfect—it looked beautiful; lush green foliage and clear water, not a cloud in the sky, aside from the suffocating humidity. But, that came with the hot Indiana summers. You couldn’t imagine the tragedy that took place the year prior, or why they would decide to bring you back to the same spot, but it seemed like a completely different place—untouched, new, like someone had gone out of their way to remove that evil or any reminder of the dread.

You give Eddie a gentle nudge from where he’d fallen asleep on your shoulder, grumbling in disagreement as he lifted his head, eyes riddled with exhaustion.

“How late did you stay up last night?” You asked, the palm of his hand coming up to rub at his eyes. 

“One—maybe two.” Eddie shrugs, “I couldn’t sleep.”

“I’m sorry.” You frown, feeling slightly empathetic,

“Not your fault,” He shrugs, “I had a lot on my mind.”

And you don’t push, because despite how close you are with Eddie, he doesn’t open up as easily as most people—you knew enough about him that it didn’t seem strange, everything that friends would normally know, but he never talked about his past or his parents or how he was raised prior to Wayne. It was all a big mystery. 

When you do finally make it off the bus, it’s met with a sigh of relief and a giant breath of fresh air, despite the sweltering heat—you could live with that, it felt good to be able to stretch your legs again. 

You can sense the slight amount of uneasiness lingering in the air, between the students, between your friends, like you’re waiting for someone to say something or address the elephant in the room. Principal Higgins, of course, speaks first.

“I’ve already got rooms assigned on the chart,” He points at the piece of paper clutched in his hand, “boys on the left, girls on the right—I don’t want to hear a single complaint out of anyone. I went off of everyone’s requests so there shouldn’t be any confusion.”

He takes a pause, too long to remain in a comfortable silence, before he finally speaks again.

“I realize what went down last year—but that’s not why we’re here.” He attempts to assure you all, though it doesn’t really have much effect. “That was all resolved and handled—I can promise you all, it’s going to be fine.”

“Famous last words.” Robin mumbles, arms crossed over her chest as she switches between feet, fidgeting because she can’t stay still—she’d been so confined all day that it was driving her mad.

“I don’t know,” You shrug, “it feels good right now—peaceful, you know?”

Eddie and Steve had gone to fetch the rest of the bags earlier, approaching you near the end of Principal Higgins half hearted speech, you take your bags with a smile and a wink from Eddie, who now, seems entirely too chipper. There was definitely something in the air, less of a weight on everyone's shoulders, whatever impending doom everyone had expected to feel wasn’t there at all, like it never even existed.

“Come on, Robin,” Steve says, “stop worrying.”

“Someone has to.” She defends, feeling defeated over everyone’s lack of concern. “—Whatever, give me my bags.” Steve hands them over without argument, watching as Robin stomped begrudgingly along to the cabin.

“You two should follow her,” Eddie suggests, motioning toward you and Nancy, who seemed just weary as Robin now that you all had officially arrived on the lake, “we’ll meet up in an hour?”

“Yeah,” You agreed, tightening your grip on your bag as you shifted it onto your shoulder, “come on, Nance.”

If there was anyone to cheer Robin up, it would be you—it used to be Steve and you weren’t sure you could ever compare your friendship to that, but he’s been so caught up with Nancy and Eddie lately that Robin almost didn’t feel like a part of the group anymore, and you hated that. So, if it meant abandoning Eddie for a few hours, just to make Robin happy, you’d do it.

The rooms are horribly small, also—three beds to a room, just enough space to fit your bags at the end of your beds, but that was it. There were several lined up on each side of the house, upstairs and down, with two bathrooms at each end—but, things could be worse and at least you weren’t forced into a tent like some of the others originally suggested. A weekend on a lake, sure—camping outdoors for two day? Absolutely not.

“How is everyone not freaked out?” Robin asks, laying stomach down on the rickety bed, feet kicked up behind her, face resting against her arms where they were placed against the comforter.

“I don’t think people care, really.” Nancy tells her, unfolding her clothes neatly onto her bed, double checking her bags to make sure everything was still there, “The killer was caught.”

You couldn’t explain why it felt weird to hear Nancy say it out loud—maybe because you didn’t really believe it yourself, or that it just sounded absurd to say in any scenario, but regardless, you voice your concern.

“Do you really think he was working alone?” You ask, glancing at both of your friends from where you were sitting cross-legged on your bed. “I mean—eleven people, that’s…it’s a lot.”

“Where’s this coming from?” Robin asked curiously, “Don’t try to freak me out anymore than I already am—I’m leaving both of you behind if things start getting weird—I swear.”

“She watches all those weird crime things and reads up about all the crazy serial killers,” Nancy says, adding a small laugh at the end, “if there’s anyone to believe, it’s her.”

“It also just makes the most sense,” You shrug, “—I mean, maybe the person was one of the people that got killed—maybe that guy turned on him, but I don’t think it was him alone, it doesn’t add up.”

Robin seems more intrigued now, pushing herself up to sit on her knees.

“The weird phone calls, messing with their cars, managing to kill them and still hang up some of their bodies like props—I refuse to believe that one homeless man was capable of any of that.”

“We’ll, that’s definitely not comforting to hear.” Robin admits, crossing her arms over her chest tightly, glancing over at Nancy who seemed less than interested in the conversation.

“I don’t think we have anything to worry about,” You attempt to comfort her, “—plus, we’re probably the furthest down on the list of victims if it ends up being someone on this trip—Jason could clearly go down first, everyone hates him.”

“Let’s hope so.” Nancy interjects, interrupted by two solid knocks against the closed door to your room, swinging open before you can even leave the bed.

“Higgins shoved us in with Carver,” Eddie complains, glancing over at Steve sparingly, they were already dressed in their swim shorts—Steve in a muted red reaching halfway down his thighs, Eddie in a pair of plain black ones, reaching just about the knee, both with towels slung over their shoulder, “—I guess no one else wanted to room with him.”

You hummed softly, “Lucky you,” You teased, turning toward the clearly irritated men standing in your doorway, “—swimming already?”

“Yep,” Eddie nods, throwing his towel in your direction, “get changed, ladies—you know much King Steve hates to wait.” Steve scoffs tiredly, earning a deep laugh from his friend, the two of them shoving each other down the hallway as they departed.

You look at Robin, who seems dead set on staying out, “Hey, come on,” You push gently, jumping off your bed to wrap your arms over your friend’s shoulder, the side of her face squished against chest, “swimmings fun, right?”

“If I say yes will you let go?” Robin asks.

“Yes.”

“Then yeah, it sounds fun.”

Most of the afternoon and evening is spent in the lake, on the waterside or laid out on the dock, everyone soaking in as much of the sun and quiet as they can, reveling in the last couple of days of peace before they’re thrusted back into reality—forced off to colleges and filling out job applications.

 By nightfall, after dinner in the cabin, you and Eddie decided to take one last dip into the water, away from the rest of the group. The rest of your friends stayed by the dock, engaging in mindless conversation.

Eddie dunks you under the water immediately, surfacing seconds later to throw water back in his face. “What the hell, Eddie?” You ask, “A warning would be nice?”

“Live a little, sweetheart.” Eddie says endearingly, wiping the hair out of your face that stuck to your cheek, you freeze momentarily, eyes glued to his face, his expression mostly plain. He notices you watching, “Something on my face?”

“No,” You respond softly, “I’m just—are you not thinking about any of the stuff that happened?”

“That was last year—“ Eddie shrugs off, “Why—are you scared?”

It sounds teasingly, almost like he can’t believe someone like you could be so terrified over something that happened a year ago, completely disconnected from you—and the truth was, you weren’t scared.

“No, I’m not,” You tell him sternly, making yourself clear, “But, Robin is worried—I guess I’m feeling her emotions a little.”

“We’ll, she’s your friend,” Eddie points out, “it makes sense, you two are close.”

“She’s your friend, too.” You counter, face drawn up in confusion. It was a weird way to phrase himself.

“Of course,” He confirms without hesitation, “but it’s different for you—like how I probably know things about Steve that he’d be embarrassed to tell you.”

You grimace, nose scrunched up in disgust. “I don’t wanna know.”

“And what makes you think I was gonna tell you?” Eddie teases, crowding you under the water, arms encircling your waist to pull you closer, fingers digging into your side playfully. You squeal, begging him to stop. “I take secrets very seriously.”

“I hope so.” You remark, swatting him playfully when he finally lets you go. 

You take his hand, tugging until he decides to follow, swimming toward the edge of the dock toward your friends, both of you perching on the edge, forearms rested against the soaked wood. 

“What’s going on?” You ask Steve, who’s staring back and forth between a slightly jumpy Nancy and an uncomfortable Robin, clearly having interrupted an uncomfortable conversation.

“Robin was talking about the phone calls,” Nancy explains softly, “and all those weird questions that person was asking—“

“Yeah, but those could have been rumors.” Steve tries to defend, “We don’t really know what happened last year—we’re going off of what a bunch of teenagers told the cops.”

“You know—maybe it was Prinipal Higgins making those calls—that fuckin’ creep,” Eddie remarks jokingly, transitioning into his best impression of the man, “Mmm—What are you wearing?”

Steve joins in with a laugh, “I can see you—can you see me?”

Eddie fakes sneaking up behind you, leaning over your shoulder as he whispers, “What’s your favorite scary movie?”

You elbow him gently, shoving him away playfully. “Cut it out,” You laugh, watching Eddie’s face pull into a large grin as he leans against the dock again, hand resting lightly against your back—Eddie was as touchy as touchy could get, regardless of how close you were, he’d always been that way, “Robin is already freaked out enough.”

Robin, who’s looking more and more uncomfortable by the second, finally speaks up. “I’m going to bed,” She said excusing, “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Robin, wait—“ Steve begs quietly, grasping onto his friend’s wrist.

“I’m fine,” She promises, tugging her wrist back, “I just want to get some sleep.”

Robin departs soon after, leaving the four of you in a comfortable silence, starting out at the front of the cabin, lights flipping on and off momentarily, before a loud clattering from the side of the house grabs the attention of all of you. 

“Woah—hey,” Nancy whispers urgently, “Is that Jason and Chrissy?”

“Innocent Chrissy? There’s no way.” Steve jokes, watching as the two of them wander obviously into the woods, up to no good.

Eddie laughs from your side, taking a careful glance over at Nancy who’s cuddling herself into Steve’s side, he lowers his voice where only you can hear, “Let’s give the other lovebirds some privacy,” He jerks his head at the pair, “before Higgins catches us out here and cuts the fun short.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s passed out in his cabin right now.” You assure him, pointing directly at the cabin to the far right of you, no lights, no legitimate sign of life stirring about—if there was any time to get away with murder or rule breaking, it would be now. 

Eddie pulls you further away, near the edge of the water where he can grab his towel, helping you out and drying himself off before passing you his own towel, helping you wrap it around yourself snugly. “I could’ve brought my own towel down,” You point out, ignoring how his fingers lingered against your arm, “I am capable of doing things for myself.”

“I know,” Eddie smiles slightly, wet hair dripping rivulets of water down his chest, pale skin standing out against his tattoos. You’ve seen them a million times before, it doesn’t bother you, but suddenly you’re resisting the urge to reach out and touch—and that’s more terrifying than anything, “good thing we left when we did—“ Eddie motions behind you discreetly.

Steve and Nancy had already slipped into the water by that point, covered by the other side of the dock—you and Eddie weren’t voyeurs, but it wasn’t hard to make out what was going on from the several feet of distance you had between each other. 

“It’s kinda hot.” Eddie says shamelessly, shrugging at your bewildered expression. “What? Don’t look at me like that.”

“Eddie,” You say in disbelief, his face splitting into a giant grin, “I’m kidding—obviously, but you really shouldn’t act so shy around me. I know all your secrets, remember?”

“Shut up.” You shove him lightly, wrist caught by his hands.

“Even the ones you haven’t told me.” He teases further, twirling you slowly until your back is pressed against his chest, hot skin burning against the exposed part of your back. You can hear the faint mix of moans from where you stood—you weren’t even sure if they knew you both were still nearby, or cared, for that matter.

“You never answered my question earlier.” Eddie points out, eyes dragging up toward him from where he stood behind you. 

“I thought you were just trying to be funny.” 

“Yeah—but I’m still curious.” He admits, “What is your favorite scary movie?”

You smirk knowingly, “Don’t have one,” You tell him honestly, “I prefer the real stuff.”

“Like?”

“Bundy, Dahmer, murderers and serial killers—I like learning about stuff like that, but scary movies; they just aren’t scary.” 

“You’re a little freak,” Eddie responds playfully, words lighthearted, it doesn’t bother you at all, “have you always been that morbid?”

“Yes,” You admit with a soft laugh, “instead of morning cartoons I was watching the news for the latest homicide or police arrest—it freaked my parents out for a while, but I think they realized it was all harmless, eventually. I was a curious kid.”

Eddie makes a small noise of acknowledgment, the lewd noises of your friends overpowering him, your chest tightens, his arms flexing ever so slightly around your waist. You can’t find the courage to speak first, so Eddie does.

“We could join in, if you want.” He mentions nonchalantly, a playful attempt at breaking the tension. “I won’t mind.”

“Of course not, you pervert,” You wiggle away from him playfully, “Just shut up and walk me back to my room.” You tug at his hand, dragging him along with you. Eddie’s hand settles low on your waist, but you can’t be bothered to adjust it, spoiled by how easily he shows his affection toward you. Eddie didn’t need to admit the attraction he felt toward you, it was obvious—and you couldn’t say it was one-sided all the time, you were just as guilty.

“Hey—both of you,” Nancy shouts, startling you awake, “get up.”

You rub at tired eyes, sitting up abruptly in your bed. “What the hell, Nance?” Robin responds with the same enthusiasm. 

“Jason’s hurt, they’re taking him to the hospital.” Nancy said in a hurry, pulling her top on. Robin perks up slightly.

“So, does that mean we’re going home?” Robin asks with a hint of hopefulness.

“I don’t think so,” Nancy answers and Robin sinks slightly, “but they’re making us meet downstairs to talk—so hurry up. Steve and Eddie are already waiting.”

It takes some extra convincing, but the two of you eventually make it downstairs, half dressed and still barely awake. You plop down on the couch between Eddie and Steve, both looking just as groggy and clearly annoyed at being disturbed so early. 

It takes you a moment to recognize her, but you catch Chrissy huddled in the far end of the room around her other cheerleading friends, shaken up and crying—like she’d witnessed something she shouldn’t have.

“Hey, what happened?” You nudge Eddie, catch the faint whiff of his vanilla scented shampoo, the one he stole from your place last month because he constantly badgered you about how good it smelt that you finally caved and let him have it, just to shut him up—“Why aren’t we leaving?”

“Uh—they think a mountain lion attacked Jason last night in the woods,” He explains, “Remember when we saw him and Chrissy sneaking off?”

You nod silently and Eddie continues, “I guess he ended up pissing Chrissy off and she left him out there and—I don’t know, something clearly wanted a taste of him—or it was karma for being an asshole.”

You rolled your eyes lazily—it was a fair opinion, because you couldn’t feel much sympathy either, with how much of prick Jason was all the time, specifically toward Eddie, and you by association, there was no telling what caused Chrissy to flee from him last night, but it must’ve been for good reason.

Principal Higgins blows through the front door of the cabin a second later, his scratchy, annoying voice disturbing the peace, “Alright, I’m sure you all have probably talked amongst yourself—and yes, Jason is in the hospital, but the doctors are pretty sure it was an animal attack. We’re not planning on cutting the weekend short, but we are setting a curfew—everyone needs to be in the cabin by nine, no excuses.” There’s a large collective groan from the entire group. Eddie shakes his head slightly in amusement, rubbing at his head tenderly.

“You okay?” You ask quietly, glancing over at him.

“Headache.” He tells you simply, closing his eyes slowly as he leaned his head back against the couch. You tap your fingers against his knee gently, providing him a sense of comfort as he grabs your hand loosely.

“We’ll keep you updated as we learn more,” Higgins explains, “but seriously—keep your asses out of the woods.”

But you knew, in Eddie’s mind, that was a big flashing red sign that said the exact opposite—besides, where else was he supposed to smoke all of the weed he brought with him?

The uneasiness lingers throughout the entire cabin the rest of the day, but for you, it’s one of the last things on your mind. Eddie and Steve seemed tense with each other—and it dawned on you again, they had been rooming with Jason; it was probably freaking both of them out more than they could care to admit. 

When you knock on their door that afternoon, you catch the end of what you can only assume was a heavy argument, both of them angrily shoving at things on opposite sides of the room, shoving Jason’s belongings away to be brought downstairs. 

“Should I come back later?” You ask awkwardly, peaking through the door, both of them surprisingly startled by your presence.

“We’re fine.” Steve says, tossing the duffel on the floor by your feet. It’s too harsh, too clipped for it to be friendly, he doesn’t want you standing at the door and you can feel it.

Eddie chances a look your way, sending your worry and urges you outside, squeezing himself through the small opening to lead you into the hallway. 

“Some people are trying to start rumors,” Eddie explain in a hushed voice, “they think Steve was part of the reason why Jason ended up getting attacked—it doesn’t make any sense, but you know how Steve is—“

“But, we know that’s not true—he was with us last night.” You add, even though it’s obvious information between you and Eddie.

“People talk, though—I’m sure it’ll blow over.” Eddie attempts to reassure you, but you’re not understanding why he’s saying it to you and not Steve—but again, Steve would rather avoid everyone right now. 

“Looks like that stuff is going to come in handy,” You emphasize, but Eddie already knows you’re referring to his stash on his bag, “if you can manage to find somewhere to smoke it.”

“I was planning on heading out to the woods after dark anyways,” Eddie shrugged, hands shoved into his back pockets as he leaned his shoulder against the wall, “if you’re so curious to join.”

“The woods?” You ask incredulously, “Seriously? After what just happened?”

“I’ll take my chances.” Eddie laughs, “I’ll protect you—don’t worry.”

You hadn’t even said yes, but it was like Eddie knew, you couldn’t resist an opportunity to be around him.

Eddie tips your chin up with his finger, offering you a warm smile.

“Why don’t you work your sweet girl magic and help with all the rumors?” Eddie suggests, nodding to the group of kids downstairs. “You’re better at socializing than me.”

“I’ll try.” You answer lamely, forcing a tight smile.

“Tonight at eleven.” Eddie tells you, “Don’t be late.”

Whatever the rumors really were, they didn’t have much substance behind them—you eventually found out that it was a harmless comment Chrissy made about Steve being jealous of Jason because he took the captain spot from him, thus spurring him into the undying need to hurt Jason—which just wasn’t true, but Chrissy was rightfully upset, still leaving out the details of what happened with her and Jason in the woods. She did apologize, which ended most of the talk about it, but Eddie still planned to drag Steve out for some time to think, digress, and get high out of their minds, which didn’t sound too bad now. 

Which brought you to now, sat on the couch beside Nancy, most of the others already bunked up for the night, allowing you both time to talk, without Robin or Steve or Eddie. 

“Are you not worried about him?” You ask Nancy, who shrugs in response.

“He worries about his image a lot, but he’ll get over it.” She takes a moment to pause, eyebrows drawing together in question. “Are you and Eddie ever going to address what’s going on between you both?”

“There’s nothing going on.” You laugh, but it’s unconvincing to Nancy, who stares on knowingly, lips pursed to keep from smiling. “You don’t always have to label everything.”

She nods quietly, pulled out of thought from the phone ringing down the hall. You both freeze in fear, startled by the sudden noise—Robin pops out of the room from above, “Don’t answer that.”

You shake your head slightly, pushing up from the couch, “Well, it’s either answer it or listen to it ring for the rest of the night.”

Nancy hesitates, hand reaching for yours, “—Maybe you should let it ring,”

“God, you two are way too scared.” You say with a tinge of annoyance, walking the short distance to the phone and pressing it to your ear. 

“Listen, if you start this phone call off with a question, I’m hanging up.”

You’re met with silence, before the line goes dead abruptly.

You smile triumphantly, pressing the phone back to the wall.

“See, it’s not that—“ Another shrill ring interrupts you, sending Robin halfway down the stairs before you can even comprehend, both of them hurrying to your side to listen.

You press the phone to your ear without hesitation, you meet them with silence instead this time. There’s a faint hum on the other line—breathing, maybe? Then a voice.

“Cocky, I like that.” The robotic voice responds, unsettling your nerves slightly. Both Nancy and Robin’s eyes widen in panic, but you’re not entirely convinced this isn’t just another stupid senior prank. “Where are you right now?”

“If you’re calling, I’m sure you know.” You respond snarkily, attempting to silently comfort both of your friends, “Where are you?”

“You don’t get to ask questions.” The voice snaps, but you feel nothing.

“Are you alone?” They ask, voice tipping up slightly on the last word, intrigued by the idea. You lie.

“Yeah.” You say, “Just me, all alone.”

“And you wouldn’t lie to me?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” You tell them with an overly sweet tone, enjoying the low level game they were playing at. 

“Good—because if you were; I’d have to kill you.”

You tense slightly, watching the worried expression of your friends turn to horror. 

“Instead, I’ll just go for one of your classmates—how does that sound?”

“Oh, so you’re working alone?” You question, ignoring the earlier warning.

It’s not received well.

“I told you no fucking questions.” The voice rips through the receiver, “You’re going to regret that.”

The line goes dead again, anxiety settling in your body, your brain trying to think of any way this could be turned into a joke—that no one could really be attempting to kill you and your friends.

“Now can we leave?” Robin pleads, pulling at the phone line to disconnect it. 

“Do you really believe that shit, Robin?” You ask, “Someone is just trying to scare us.”

“Well, I’m fucking terrified.” She admits, interrupted by a nervous Nancy.

“Wait—Steve and Eddie—we have to go get them.” Nancy tells you.

You can tell by the look on their faces that it wasn’t going to be either of them risking their lives, so by default, it ends up being you. 

“Fine, I’ll go fetch your boyfriend.” You give in, shoving past the two of them, but Nancy stops you with her hand around your wrist, “What—“

“Here,” She scrambled toward the kitchen, running back to hand you a measly kitchen knife, a butter knife at best, unlikely to fend off anything bigger than a squirrel, but you take it to soothe her anxiousness, “for protection.”

If anything wanted to attack you outside, you weren’t going to be able to stop it with your hands, let alone some knife, but you went anyway.

Both Eddie and Steve are laughing obnoxiously when you approach them, unbeknownst to your presence, knife still clutched tightly in your hand. The snap of dry branches pulling their attention toward your dark figure as it lurched from the shadows.

“Woah, sweetheart—“ Eddie says with wide eyes, hands held up in defense as he sees you posed, weapon at the ready, “care to explain the murderess look in your eyes?”

“Nancy wants you back at the cabin,” You point to Steve, motioning with the knife in the direction of the house. Steve and Eddie share a look, long and difficult to decipher from an outside perspective, but you ignore it, desperate for Steve to leave, “she’s pretty freaked out—Robin too.”

“Are they okay?” Steve asks, earning an if of surety from you.

“Nance just wants you back, I wouldn’t keep her waiting.”

Eddie gives Steve a knowing look, tapping his arm gently, “Remember—no sex, they’re always the first ones to get slashed.” Steve shakes his head in annoyance before leaping from the table in a hurry, jogging back toward the house without much of a word, knowing that Nancy would have it out for him if he didn’t.

You drop the knife to the ground immediately, Eddie approaching you without hesitation, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Look, I’m really trying to hold my shit together, right now.” You say slowly, eyes closing to calm your breathing, Eddie’s hands rubbing gently at your shoulders, “But, we just got a call back at the house—and I’m fucking freaking out.”

“Hey, hey—“ Eddie says softly, “everyone knows it’s the anniversary of all the shit that happened last year—someone’s probably trying to scare you, that’s it.”

“That’s what I was trying to tell Nance and Robin,” You explain, “but—you know, what if—“

“Here,” Eddie says, holding up the rolled joint, ultimately ending the conversation and soothing your worries, “light up and forget, alright? She’s all yours.”

“You’re a terrible influence.” You tell him, plucking the joint from his fingers and following him toward the picnic table, climbing until you’re seated on the top, Eddie squeezing onto the bench below you, shifting until he was seated between your outstretched legs. You let him light up the joint before pulling it to your mouth, breathing in until it stung.

“See? All your problems float away, like that.” Eddie jokes, snapping his fingers for show.

You sigh softly, joint held tight between your fingers as you look down at him, “How are you so calm?”

“Well, I’m really high—so that helps,” Eddie laughs slightly, “but the more you think about it, the more it’s going to bother you—I mean, look at Robin.”

“So, I shouldn’t be worried about that call?” You ask, like validation from Eddie would solve all your problems.

He was always the fix-all; Eddie knew the right things to say, when to say them, to a disturbing degree, almost—but it helped comfort you like nothing else ever could.

“No.” He tells you simply, you believe him.

“And the chance that a mountain lion might come and attack us right now?”

“I’ll fight it off with your butter knife,” Eddie jokes, “problem solved.”

“I’m serious,” You stress, face pleading with him.

“Close your eyes,” Eddie says, your eyes fall shut obediently, “listen—do you hear that?”

There isn’t a sound to be heard, not a gust of wind, a crackle in the deeper part of the woods, only the soft slush of the water as it moved within the lake.

“I don’t hear anything.”

“Exactly—there’s nothing to worry about. It’s just us.”

Eddie’s hand circles the span of your ankle, rubbing soft gentle touches into the skin, your head tipping back as you finish off the joint, passing along what you couldn’t smoke the rest of, Eddie taking it on greedily. Eddie was always very touchy, but it intensified at times like these—and your skin burned, tingled with electricity as your mind wandered, feeling like it was floating away.

“Tell me something you’ve never told anyone.” You ask Eddie, head tilting up to look at him, his eyes spread over the expanse of your thighs, skin exposed from the shorts you wore. “Not even Steve.”

“I’m an open book,” Eddien replies plainly, “you already know everything.”

You scoff, “Lame.” You move further up the table, feeling bold, ass nearing the edge as you fall into Eddie’s lap, his hands latching onto your waist instinctively. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him look genuinely shocked, mouth hung open slightly as you spoke again, “fine—I’ll go.”

“I know I should feel bad about Jason being hurt, but I don’t.” You shrug and Eddie smirks slightly at that, knowing all too well. “That prick deserves everything that’s coming to him.”

“You’re still upset at him for exposing that picture all around school, aren’t you?” Eddie teases, it wasn’t much of a sore subject anymore—a joke, sometimes, but he never tried bringing it up unless you did first. 

“I was stupid for trusting him.” You admit honestly, through your haze of unfiltered thoughts, “Now the entire class knows what my tits look like.”

Eddie makes a small noise of amusement, “I guess this can count as a secret, seeing as you’re my best friend and Steve would gouge his ears out if I told him this,” You’re apprehensive to hear now, but Eddie continues, “I liked them.”

You shove Eddie with a weak force, “I thought you said you didn’t see it!”

“I lied,” He shrugs calmly, watching your face heat up, “does that make you uncomfortable now?”

You shake your head slightly, the sudden proximity feeling charged, his hands squeezing gently at your hips for a brief moment.

“Don’t move.” Eddie instructs hotly, breath ghosting over your chest as he leans into you, his face barely visible in the darkness, the faint glow of the cabin helping you make out the more basic features of his face. His wide eyes looked full black, you weren’t sure you recognized him, but it still felt like him. “I’m gonna kiss you.”

Your breath catches, hands falling to his knees where they’re spread out beneath you, stabilizing you on his lap as he pulls you closer—he wasn’t asking or hoping, he was taking; and god forbid you deprive yourself of something you wanted just as bad.

He kisses like fire—hot and intense, lips smashing against yours messily, no rhythm or care; just pure need and want. It felt like being swallowed whole, savored. You couldn’t get enough. He grunts, hands digging into the swell of your ass as you pull back, your bottom lip caught between his teeth as he pulls gently, releasing it slowly. 

You sigh, a long exhale, “We should get back to the cabin.” You say with deep regret, but couldn’t stand another moment outside being eaten up by bugs and covered in a sheen of humidity induced sweat.

Eddie makes a noise, neither approval or disagreement, like he’s not totally listening—but then the lights to cabin cut off, followed by a high pitched scream that pulls you both from the moment—you jump off of Eddie’s lap so quickly he falls off the bench, barely catching himself with his hands.

“The hell was that?” You ask in a panic, grabbing desperately for his hands to help him up. 

“Maybe it was a power surge.” Eddie tries to remain levelheaded, but it’s followed by another bloodcurdling scream. “Okay—maybe not—here, go.” He shoved you off toward the direction of the cabin, running back to his supplies sitting on the table, “I’ll catch up with you, I promise.”

“Eddie.” 

“I promise,” He assures you once more, “go.”

The run back to the cabin is short, a concerned Robin meeting you at the front door, looking far more terrified than earlier. 

“The power’s out,” Robin says in a panic, pushing you outside of the doorway, “Steve’s trying to get it back on and Nancy went to wake up Principal Higgins—“

“Robin,” You call out to your rapidly talking friend, pulling at the item coughed in her hand, “what’s with the keys?”

“It’s just—just a precaution,” Robin explains, pointing at the bus parked down the road, “—I told you—things felt weird from the beginning. I wasn’t lying.”

You glance back at the vehicle, an idea springin on you, “Wait, come here,” You grab at Robin’s hand; dragging her along with you until you reach the door of the bus, prying it open, “—better safe than sorry, right? See if it’ll start..”

Robin doesn’t hesitate, squeezing through the small space until she can reach the driver’s seat, shoving the key into the ignition—she turns it once, a hopeful rumble of life from the bus before it cuts short, “More, try turning it faster and holding it.” Robin nods, trying again.

The bus sputters, the entire thing dying out after a few seconds.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Robin exclaims, screaming at the steering wheel.

“Hey—maybe Steve will get the power back on,” You make an attempt at calming her down, “we can plug the phone back in and try to call the police—“

Nancy’s scream rips through the air, her distant running figure hurling toward the bus at a speed that could only be described as panicked, her hands covered in thick, red sludge and face pale with fear. 

“Fuck—Nancy, what happened?” You ask, grabbing her outstretched arms to steady her shaking. 

“Mr—Mr. Clark and—and Mr. Mundy,” Nancy stammers, eyes welling with tears as they glazed over, “I saw them—I saw it—it killed them.”

Robin shoved through the accordion door, “Who?” She presses, keys gripped tightly in her hand, “Who killed them?”

“I don’t—I don’t know.” She shakes her head, “The mask—they had the same mask. It was the same person. It has to be.”

“They arrested him.” You assured her, “It can’t be.”

“Then it’s someone else!” She spits back, broken from her frozen state of fear, pulling her arms back, blood splattering against your face. “I’m covered in—oh my god—where’s Steve?”

“He’s still trying to get the power on,” Robin points out, “what about Eddie?” Their heads immediately turn to you.

“He had to pack up his stuff in the woods—“

Nancy gives you a weird look.

“Weed—Nance, we were smoking.”

“Wait, how close are the woods to those cabins—and the generator?” Robin asks, trying to stay level headed enough to piece things together.

By some horrible, unfortunate coincidence, the cabins are settled just a handful of feet away from where you and Eddie had been only a few minutes ago, not far off from Steve either, which makes the three of you jump into action—until you’re turning the corner of the cabin, meet with the two men you were so frantically looking for.

“Nance—Nancy?” Steve shouts, running toward her in a rush, staring at her blood covered hands in shock, “Are you hurt?”

She shakes her head profusely, “No—no, I’m not.”

“Did you get the power on?” You ask, staring up at Steve from where he was curled around Nancy, hugging her shaking body.

“Someone cut the lines,” He tells you, “Eddie tried helping, but we’re screwed—“

“Wait,” Eddie cuts in, glancing over Nancy’s disheveled figure, “why are you covered in blood?”

“Clarke and Mundy, they’re dead.” You explain for her, knowing that Nancy wouldn’t be able to explain it again, not with the state she was in. “Whatever was here last year, it’s back and it killed them in front of her.”

“So, we’re leaving then.” Eddie says, like it’s the most obvious option. 

“One small problem, dipshit—“ Robin says with an immense amount of snark, “They fucked with the bus, too. We’re stuck here until morning,”

“Someone needs to get Higgins,” Nancy says softly, “If he’s even still alive.”

“And we need to make sure everyone’s awake and knows what’s going on.” You tell the group, pointing at Robin, “Maybe you can find someone who has a phone with them and can call—“

“Didn’t Higgins take everyone’s phones before we left?” Steve asked, something you had completely overlooked. “Can we even trust him?”

“We’re talking about a group of teenagers, Steve.” Robin replies, “Someone is bound to have snuck one in. Don’t worry, I’ll handle it—you should go clean Nancy up.”

“Eddie and I can go look for Principal Higgins.” You offer, grabbing at Eddie’s hand, his own grip giving a squeeze. “We’ll meet back here in an hour, if we’re not back, come looking for us.”

Steve slowly guides Nancy toward the front door, a nervous Robin on their trail. “We will, be safe.” She tells you, receiving a nod from both you and Eddie before they disappear behind the threshold of the door. 

“Still with me?” Eddie asks, a slight hopefulness to his voice. “I can go by myself if you’re too scared.”

“You’re not going by yourself.” You say with finality, “Do you still have your pocket knife on you?” He nods, pulling the tiny switchblade from his front pocket and presenting it to you.

You grab it with ease, pulling the blade out and grasping the handle tightly in your palm. “Look—now I can defend myself.”

“Yeah, from someone with a fear of papercuts.” Eddie jokes, flicking the tiny blade with his fingertips.

“This isn’t suspicious, right?” You ask, shoving open the unlocked door to the empty cabin, not a soul in sight beside you and Eddie, who crowds in behind you, closing the door for safety. “Principal Higgins?!” You call out, mouth immediately clasped over by Eddie’s palm, effectively shushing you.

“What are you doing?” He asks in a hushed voice, “Are you trying to draw the killer here or something?”

“Sorry,” You say impishly, tugging his hand away gently, “—maybe we should take a look around.”

“For safety?” Eddie asks with a small quirk to his eyebrow.

“And curiosity," You tell him honestly, sifting through the dresser drawers haphazardly, shifting and shoving clothes to the side, “it doesn’t hurt to look.”

Eddie shrugs, joining in your search, peeking through the duffel bags placed one the circular table shoved in the corner of the room by the front door, a remedy of normal toiletries and random items that didn’t make much sense to him.

“He could already be back at the cabin,” You suggest, disappointed in your lack of discovery, aside from his terrible choice in clothing, “did you find anything?”

Eddie doesn’t answer you at first, back hunched over as he searches through the bag. You approach him slowly, nudging gently at his waist until he answers you, “Hey, you okay?”

“Well, if he’s not killing people, he’s definitely a grade A creep,” Eddie says into the quiet room, slapping a small stack of Polaroids on the table.

You shifted until you were beside him, alternating through the pictures—various girls in different states of undress, some during the day that were taken from inside his cabin, girls dressed down in the swimsuits, but the more disturbing ones—a few of the cheerleaders, asleep in their bed; meaning he would have had to sneak into the cabin and into the room quietly enough that they wouldn’t be disturbed—but that was already unsettling enough.

“Part of me is relieved that I’m not in here,” You admit selfishly, “is that horrible of me to say?”

Eddie shakes his head, “No—I wouldn’t have let that happen.”

“Oh, really?” You ask, slightly intrigued. “Because you knew that Higgins was up to no good and you were hoping to be my knight in shining armor?” It’s a harmless joke, your hand releasing the Polaroids as they scattered back onto the table. “I don’t need you to save me, Eddie.”

“I’m aware.” Eddie chuckles slightly, turning slightly to face you, sitting against the table, fingers curling around the edge. “I know how well you can handle yourself—you always have.”

You bat your eyes sweetly, “Eddie, are you really trying to put the moves on, right now?”  Eddie shrugs nonchalantly, “Eddie—“

“Is it working?” Eddie asks hopefully, his foot carefully sneaking between your parted ones, nudging at your shoes until you lose balance, forcing you to fall against him.

“Eddie—people are dead,” You point out, “Jason was hurt the other night, Nancy and Robin are back at the cabin freaking out—and someone threatened to kill me over the phone—“

“Yet, there’s no one around,” Eddie points out, “there’s no screaming—look at me,” He taps at your chin with his finger, pushing your face up to meet his, “I mean it—look at me.”

Your eyes pull to his, his wide doe eyes glazed black in this light, penetrating your very essence of being, almost like you couldn’t help but be entranced by the things he was telling you, the way he was looking at you—touching you. 

“I’ve been trying to get you alone,” He admits, sending a chill of excitement down your spine, mixed with a hint of apprehension and arousal, “but you were always busy—“

“But, the other night—with Steve and Nance—“

“Alone,” He insists, “just me, just you.”

“We do that all the time back in Hawkins—what’s the difference?”

Eddie smiles sadly, pushing stray hair from your face, his fingers pressing into the dip at the base of your neck, pulling it taut gently, “Feels like we’re running out of time, right? Feels like I’m gonna lose you.”

“Eddie—I’m not leaving.” You reassure him, “I’ll always be there, whenever you need me.”

“Promise?” Eddie asks softly.

You nod gently, eyes peeking a glance to his soft lips, jutting out slightly from the front on his face, before slowly moving back up his face. Eddie catches it, feeds off of it. 

“Say it.”

“I promise.” You tell him, not a shake or waver in your voice.

You felt shift long after Eddie, he knew it for the moment you stepped inside the cabin—the unwarranted tension, thick and permeating between you both. It was strong now, after earlier in the night, now just a few minutes after midnight—you wanted him to kiss you again—again, and again, until you couldn’t even remember your name. It felt ludicrous and maybe it was the lingering high, despite being freaked out of your mind, you still balanced an unnatural sense of calm. And Eddie seemed unphased, unconcerned—so you followed suit, knowing that as long as you were near him, you’d be fine. Eddie had always protected, that would never change.

You shift between his outstretched legs, tugging idly at the at leather chained bracelet secured around his wrist, letting the hand fall to your thigh, feeling Eddie squeeze until you get message, hiking your leg up and over his own silently, letting him repeat the same process with the other side—and suddenly he’s got your legs secured around his hips, leading you toward the half made bed, neither of you uttering a word until your back hits the mattress.

“Eddie—“ You begin, cut off by his soothing voice.

“Shut your mind off, sweetheart.”

“Didn’t you—you say that the people who have sex always end up getting killed first?” You ask with a slight joking tone, his mouth working underneath your shirt, lips dragging over the soft skin of your stomach, catching on the firm underwire of your bra, his nose nudging the material further and further up your body. 

“What a way to die,” He says with a dramatic sigh of relief, eyes crinkling from the laugh he lets out, your face scrunched up in disbelief,  “—we’ll be okay, trust me.”

“We don’t even have a condom.” Eddie nips at the top of your breast, tongue leading a line of your collarbone until your shirt is shoved under your neck, leaving you no option but to remove it, fabric falling to the floor with little care. 

“Do we need one?” Eddie asks boldly. It wasn’t like you didn’t trust him—Eddie didn’t get much action outside of his hand and it was very apparent, despite his constant refusal to admit it to you—things already felt off, but Eddie is desperate to comfort you, “I can pull out?”

It feels ridiculous in the moment, hearing him say it, but you nod hesitantly, pulling at the edge of his shirt until he understands, material pulling over his wild mess of curls, his hair falling in your face. You laugh softly, shoving it away and guiding Eddie’s mouth to yours, sufficiently silencing him for a moment, aside from the quiet groans of pleasure he let slip against your lips, tongue begging to slip through and into your mouth, wandering hands pulling at your jean shorts until you’re letting him wiggle them down your hips, not once pulling away from his mouth. 

“Wanna taste,” He breathes against you, tongue dipping past your parted lips, triggering a sharp intake of breath, “—all of you.” Your cunt pulses at the thought, the thick fabric of Eddie’s jeans rubbing against your thighs and you grimace, the sensitivity of your skin making it feel uncomfortable. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Your jeans,” You tell him, feeling slightly ridiculous, “take them off.”

“Can you ask nicely?” Eddie teases.

Your face falls, emotionless against his smiling face. “Take them off.”

Eddie smiles even wider, quickly releasing his hold on you to pull at the belt and button of his jeans, shifting his pants down his legs until he can kick them away. You take note of his expression, looking smug from behind the obvious haze of lust.

“Do you like being bossed around?” You laugh softly, feeling you discovered something new, something Eddie had been trying to hide from you.

“By you, maybe,” Eddie shrugs, lifting you with ease until your head hits the pillow, squealing softly as you go, “—assertiveness looks good on you.”

“Almost as good as you look on me,” You say sultrily, pulling Eddie down for a deep-rooted kiss, his hands twisting around your thighs to hike them up again, feet crossed loosely over his back, “—in me, too, if you hurry it up.”

And Eddie was a man of action, so he doesn’t waste anymore time, his hands slipping under your panties in a hurry, yanking them down your legs until he can throw them away in a random corner of the room, his mouth connecting with your center in an instant, the gasp you let out is startling, hand shooting out to prop yourself up, body curling in on itself as Eddie works away, licking a broad stripe up your cunt and back, nosing at your clit with urgency, your other hand fisted tightly in his hair as your hips rocked against his face out of instinct. “Eddie,” You moan out, “—feels so good, more—“ You can’t breathe, overtaking with the stimulation—you fall back in defeat, letting the feeling flood through, his hands gripping at your inner thighs, pulling them wide and tight into his grip, his eyes peeking up from below, daring you to make contact, begging to see just how fucked out you are.

Eddie pulls back for a second, “Look at me,” He demands, his mouth latching back on, tongue flicking gently at your swollen clit, waiting patiently until you can muster the courage, eyes falling open to connect with his, face flushed with pleasure and embarrassment, mouth held open on a gasp that gets caught in your throat, the muscles in his face twitching as he works away at you, hearing the wet squelch of slick that comes from you as he sneaks a hand in too, middle finger pressing into you slowly, “—that’s right, need you to remember who’s making you feel this good.”

“I don’t think I could forget,” You laugh breathlessly, a loud moan ripping from your throat as Eddie curls his finger, pulling back slightly to watch his finger disappear inside of you, he loses his focus, ignoring the soft calls of his name until you finally raise your voice, “—Eddie, come here.”

He lifts up slowly, rising to his knees as you shift forward, your head level with his chest as he looks down at you, hand still covered in your wetness as it flexes, his rings shifting with the movement.

“Open.” He says softly, using his other hand to pull at your bottom lip, parting your mouth until  your tongue peeks out, eyes peering up at him. His hand raises slowly, slipping to the tip of his middle finger over the flat of your tongue, more and more, until the edge of his ring hits your lip, “Suck.”

You weren’t initially turned off by the idea, only slightly hesitant as your lips closed over his finger, sucking gently, the warmth of your mouth and soft press of your tongue constricting around his finger, a slightly pressure as he pressed down testingly, pushing just a bit further until your eyes are watering, nearly gagging. Eddie pulls back carefully, staring down at you with a special kind of adoration; something you couldn’t decipher right now, he smiles softly, forcing you to return the sentiment. 

You’re too impatient now, staring up at him with eager eyes, hands pulling at the band of his underwear, “Do you want me to?” You ask softly, nodding toward the obvious tent in his boxers, his cock straining against the thin material. 

Eddie shakes his head hesitantly, “I’m gonna be honest, sweetheart—if the sight of your mouth around my fingers is enough to kill me, I’m not sure I can handle it around my dick—not right now at least.” You laugh softly at his honesty, letting Eddie push you further and further against the bed, shifting his underwear down in the process, “Plus, I’d really like to be inside of you more.”

“Oh?” You voice lilts, breasts shifting underneath your bra, jumping slightly at Eddie’s movements. It was a small oversight he missed, too eager to please you, but he noticed now, flicking at the small black bow in the middle of your breasts, finger slipping under the stiff centerpiece, shifting your breasts upwards. He doesn’t need to verbalize that he wants it off, you can see the way his face turns, almost demanding, rather than questioning. You smile with amusement, hand slipping behind your back to release the clasp, letting Eddie pull it from your body with ease, your body on full display before him. 

Eddie’s hands caress the lines of your body, up and down, exploring with care, stopping at the curve of your hips, squeezing gently, “Can I be on top?” You ask shyly, your hands falling to his, traveling up the expanse of his arm, squeezing in return.

Eddie nods eagerly, spinning you with a ferocity that has you both laughing, your hands slapping against his chest in a hope to stable yourself, wet core sliding against the line of his cock, his breath coming out in a stutter, even more forceful as you grab his shaft with a gentle grip, settling onto him with ease, the mixed pitch of sighs joining together, whatever line that you two had originally drawn was crossed and long forgotten about.

“Fuck,” Eddie sighs, hands resting up by his head as you shift forward slightly, a slow gentle rock of your hips as you accustomed yourself to him, the stretch of his cock welcoming but intense, you watched as his hands balled into fists, uncurling and curling every few seconds, unsure of what to do with his hands. You lean back, hands placed back on his thighs as you bring your hips down in one sharp movement, spiraling both of you into a mess of loud groans, your head falling back, eyes closed as you focus on the intense feeling of Eddie inside of you.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” You say honestly, breath hitched as your thighs tighten, there’s a faint ruffling sound, but you’re too distracted, hips rocking in time with his thrusts, “—can you?”

Eddie chuckles lightly, feeling the cold press of metal against your inner thigh, the deep indent of his rings as he presses harder, until it’s bordering on pain, pulling your attention back to him.

But it isn’t his rings, it’s a knife—not his pocket knife, a large, threatening, very real knife, pressed along the line of your inner thigh, blade poised against the skin. Your first instinct is to jump, push away, but Eddie senses the apprehension immediately, a firm grip on your leg as he pushes the metal further, barely cutting the skin.

“I’ve waited a long time, sweetheart.” He states, still sounding like Eddie, feeling like Eddie, but his face is different—it’s still him, mostly, but there’s a weird pull at his smile, his eyes less wide and innocent, like he’s not really himself, but still vividly aware of what he’s doing. “I don’t think you really know.”

You jerk away, expecting the moment to be broken, but it only seems to spur Eddie on further. You don’t feel scared, or terrified—but startled, yes.

“What the fuck?” You say viciously, gripping the wrist that held the knife. “This isn’t funny, Eddie.”

“Let go,” He says through gritted teeth, yanking harshly at your hand until you release him, he pushes further into the skin, a small trail of blood slipping down your legs. You wince, jolting away from the blade, blood spilling down your thigh onto his, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Your eyebrows pull together in frustration, “You just cut me.” You say with a harsh tone, causing Eddie to shoot up, pulling the blade from your leg to press against the center of your throat, blunt edge pressed against the skin as the tip barely grazes the line of your neck. You tense, forcing yourself to be still, watching Eddie examine your expression, a faint smirk pulling at his face. 

“But, I didn’t hurt you,” He says softly, free hand moving to caress the side of your face, thumb rubbing the shivering line of your bottom lip, “I didn’t tell you to stop moving, did I?”

It feels ridiculous, trying to move or run away, so you listen, allowing Eddie to lead the movements, his voice coming through a few seconds later, “Unless you’d like to stop,” He offers, “I was enjoying myself—I know you are too. I just wanted to talk, sweetheart.”

You nod slightly, careful of the knife, “Then talk,” You instruct, voice light and airy as Eddie’s hand traveled to your backside, curling around the curve of your ass as you moved, allowing him to chase whatever morbid pleasure he was after, “or go ahead and kill me, if that’s what you’re after.”

“No, no, no,” Eddie coos, leaning in to drag his lips down your chest, catching up the hardened bud of your nipple, cold metal still pressed firmly against your skin, “I couldn’t ever kill you—wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Are you trying to scare me?” You ask softly, voice shaking, “Is it you, Eddie? Please—just be honest with me.”

“Don’t be scared,” He soothes, lips dragging higher, voice muffled against your skin until his lips can latch against your throat, alongside the blade, dragging small, light patterns into your skin. Your breath catches, body fighting between pleasure and fear, still overwhelmed by Eddie and the care and love you held toward him, but terrified out of your mind that this might be your last moment of life, “I can explain, if you’ll listen—but I want you to finish—want you to feel good.”

You feel like you’re losing your mind, like part of you might actually enjoy whatever show Eddie was putting on; fake or not. He pulls the knife away, flipping it in his hand to set it aside, turning his full attention back toward you as his arms tighten around your middle, lifting you with ease as you fall against him, arms sling over his shoulders as he fucks into you, legs spread wide over his thighs. You gasp, pulling tightly at the hair near the nape of his neck, earning a pained grunt in return.

You can see the knife at his back, just barely out of reach, mind working hard to come up with a way to grab it, throw it, get it away—anything, but your eyes curiously travel upwards, catching sight of the horrifically familiar mask from where it had slipped out from under the pillow, having been deeply tucked away and out of sight. You gasp in horror and arousal, Eddie’s rough, calloused hands searching between you both until he finds your clit, rubbing slow, languid circles until you’re nothing but a mess; moaning, begging, forgetting everything but the feeling of him inside you and all over you, sighing out his name as you come, feeling ashamed but overpowered with euphoria—finally achieving something with Eddie that you craved for so long, but conflicted with whatever emotion you were feeling in the moment, you couldn’t pinpoint it.

“Shit—gonna come too,” Eddie warns, the sound of his voice more comforting, more him, “move, sweetheart.”

“No,” You challenge—and maybe you’ll regret it later, but it feels right, it feels like everything you need, “you can—it’s okay.”

Eddie pulls back, looking back at you with a vulnerability you’ve only ever seen once, in a moment of deep connection, his eyes closed, face buried into your chest as he tenses, coming inside you with a rough grip on your thighs, hips working gently through the aftershocks.

And it’s the only opportunity you have in the small window distraction, hand slipping down discreetly to pull at the knife, grabbing a fistful of hair to yank his head back, knife poised at his throat. 

“Now talk,” You demand, pressing the knife in further, “is it Higgins? Or have you been lying to me this whole time?”

“It’s me. It’s me.” He says in desperation, face drawn up in pain as you pull hard, a strangled moan of discomfort slipping from his lips. “I want to explain. I want to talk. Sweetheart—come on.”

You press harder, urging him further. You weren’t handing over that power, even when he subtly shifts to pull out of you, legs still squeezed tightly over his lap, keeping him at bay.

“You don’t know how it feels,” He says quietly, “to kill someone. It’s exhilarating—like a drug, I can’t describe it.”

“Try.”

“I wanted you.” He admits, “I wanted you by my side.”

“What?” 

“Don’t act innocent,” He smiles slightly, “I know you’ve thought about it—what it feels like.”

You pull back slightly, feeling exposed. You weren’t crazy, you didn’t feel crazy, but deep down, part of you believes him. You can’t tell if it’s confused by the love you held for Eddie, or the innate fear of losing your friend, or him having never really been himself at all—maybe it had always been a show.

“I wanted to ask you last year, but we weren’t close enough.” He admits, swallowing noticeably, “You were shy—but I knew. You’re just like me.” He says with a faint laugh, “We’re practically the same person—I know you see that.”

“So that means I’m a fucking murderer?” You ask with a bite, pressing the knife into his skin until it bleeds a tinge of red, Eddie hisses, jerking away with no success. “I’m nothing like you.”

“Not yet,” He says boldly, “everyone is capable deep down—with the right motivation.”

“So, how did you do it?” You ask curiously, tightening your grip on his hair from where he’d slipped loose, Eddie makes a small noise of discomfort, nostrils flaring.

“Last summer?” He asks with a faint smirk on his face, “I ran solo—it wasn’t what I wanted, but it ran smoother than this time.”

“This time?” You ask, trying to pick at what he was hinting around. 

“Think, sweetheart.” He teases, pushing against the blade slightly, “Use that pretty little brain of yours.”

It’s a seems like a simple process of elimination, but with one of your closest friends posed beneath you, confessing to murdering over a dozen teenagers, it wasn’t that easy. You cross Robin and Nancy off immediately though, knowing they couldn’t be capable—

“I see the gears turning,” Eddie sings, “I’ll give you three guesses.”

“And if I get them wrong?”

“Then you give me my knife back,” Eddie says simply, “and I’ll tell you why you’re wrong.”

“Jason?” It seemed completely out of the ballpark, but it was still a shot. “I’m guessing you’re a man down.”

“Huh, no. He’s lucky to be alive—if it had been me, he wouldn’t have made it out.”

“God—this entire time, Eddie—you were lying to me—“

“Next guess.” He pressed, ignoring you.

Your jaw clenches, shoving the tip of the knife up by his ear, blade scraping against the barely growing scruff, “Fuck, I don’t know—Chrissy?”

“You think I have a fetish for working with people that hate me? Let’s think a little closer to home.” Eddie says with a laugh, the small slip drilling into your mind, causing you to immediately pull back, dropping the knife and shoving yourself off his lap. 

“No,” You say softly, pulling at your clothes, scrambling and slipping to dress yourself to some degree, “no, no, no.”

If it weren’t for Eddie and Steve pushing this trip so hard, you would have never gone, content with staying back in Hawkins and never seeing half of these people again, contained in your small bubble of friends, but it hits you in phases—thinking back on every single interaction you’ve ever had.

Eddie was never overly obsessed with you, but Steve had showed a quickly growing interest, pulling you into the friend group with ease, shoving you into their daily routine and making your transition from mostly sticking to yourself to hanging out almost every day, being thrusted into the unnatural social circle that Steve had created for himself, always finding more comfort in hiding away with Eddie than anything else—it was the main reason you two had grown so close, so fast. 

“Steve—he wouldn’t—” You tell him, shirt clutched to your chest.

Eddie moves slowly, reaching for his discarded underwear and jeans, pulling them on as he spoke, “Steve is—interesting,” Eddie says carefully, mincing his words for Steve’s sake, he buttons his jeans, standing shirtless as he approaches you, “—this is why I wanted you alone. I needed you to hear me out.”

“You’re insane. Both of you.” You say harshly, extending your hands out to push Eddie away, but you don’t put up much of a fight when he shoves past, pulling your face into his hands gently. “Where’s Higgins?” You ask quietly, eyes pulling up to connect with Eddie’s; you couldn’t feel scared, because it still felt like himself, he still looked like himself.

“Tied up, out back, he's out for the night,” Eddie tells you without hesitation, “you see, I have this plan; it’s all going to be on him. Higgins is a creep, anyways—we can turn it around on him, let him take that fall. No one would ever know.”

“So, you didn’t kill him?” You ask.

He shakes his head slowly, “No—the other two, yeah.”

You exhale shakily, “But—why Steve? How?”

“I always wanted it to be you by my side,” He admits, “but Steve found out at the beginning of the school year—picking through my shit like the nosy fucker he is. I don’t think you understand how unhinged he is—“

“And you’re not?” You counter, feeling like it was a weak attempt to justify his actions.

“Sweetheart, what do you think? Do I seem unhinged?” He asks calmly, “Who do you think tried to kill Jason?”

“Not you.”

Eddie nods, “Bingo—Steve couldn’t even get the knife through, started slashing because he panicked—Jason will never know, probably won’t even remember any of it, but Steve was never capable of this shit, not the way he wanted to be.”

“But, why me?” You ask with a gentle frown, tears burning your eyes. “Why don’t you just kill me? That’s what you want, right?”

Eddie shakes his head, further reassuring that you were never who he was after.”Steve planned all of this for you—he wanted to be the one to kill you.”

“What?”

“He got a little obsessed,” Eddie tells you, “kept talking to me about how we should do it, when we should do it—and I couldn't break his poor heart, not at first.”

You feel dirty, disgusting, betrayed, every possible emotion that could be felt in the human body, you’d felt tonight.

“So—if I go back to the house—,” You try to calm your breathing, taking it slow and steady, despite the obvious quiver to your tone, “I’m dead?”

“Not unless you do what I say when the time comes,” Eddie tells you carefully, “You listen to me—everything I say; you’ll be fine.”

“What happens from here?” You ask with apprehension.

“Steve kinda wrecked my plans—I didn’t mean to kill those two in front of Nancy—I never even planned to hurt her, but he’s a terrible partner—god, you would’ve been perfect.” He trails off, your hands snatching his own away from your face.

“Eddie.” You warn, “Get me out of here. Now—or I’m killing you.”

Eddie offers a knowing smirk—he already knew what it would take for his dream to become reality.

“Listen to me carefully,” He begins, pointing to the cabin in the distance, “You’re going to run back there, find Nancy and Robin, let Steve come to you. Do not end up alone with him—I’m serious. Despite how horrible he is at going through with shit, I don’t think he’ll have trouble with you—not with how obsessed he's been about you.”

You nod carefully, trying to grasp how you’ve ended up in such a bizzare turn of events, standing in front of your best friend, a threat; murderous enough to kill people, but not you, for whatever reason. It felt like a horrible fucking nightmare you couldn’t escape. You force your top back on, pulling at the handle until the door creaks open, Eddie grips at your arm before you take a step.

“I’ll be there.” He assures you, eyes lingering on your emotionless face until he decides to let go, the pit in your stomach grows larger, feeling like you were about to be swallowed by whatever long, impending doom had been following you all night.

“Nance?” You scream out at the head of the cabin, a suffering silence overtaking the lake, aside from a faint ruffling inside the house. “Robin?!”

You didn’t hear anyone, not your friends, not anyone else—like they had all fled, which considering the knowledge you had now, was probably for the best, but it still send a deep tinge of worry through your body, wondering if they weren’t all just dead inside—was Steve really capable of that?

You push the door open, the door creaking to a stop in the dead silence. You call out their names again; nothing—but there’s a noise, faint, but close. It sounds like crying, desperate and muffled.

“Hello?” You call out, a small shriek in response, someone desperately trying to get your attention. “Are you hurt?”

Nothing that time, you take it a few feet further, turning the corner to a small library shoved in the corner of the house, two bare feet peeking out from around this bookcase. 

You can feel the regret instantly, your feet taking you past the threshold without thinking, cries now becoming whimpers, clearer than ever.

“I can help you—“ You say softly, stepping back slightly as the person stepped forward, turning the blind corner; they weren’t alone, bound with their hands behind their back, knife shoved forcefully against their throat. It was Chrissy, face covered in tear stained mascara.

The person behind them was silent, covered in black robes, that same mask that Eddie had hidden back in Higgins cabin, not so secret anymore. You hear Eddie’s earlier warning, wondering if this was all an elaborate set up. 

Maybe this was their plan all along, maybe Steve wasn’t as reckless as Eddie thought. The person cocks their head, knowing that if they spoke, it would give them away immediately—lucky for you, that wasn’t a problem.

Chrissy looks mostly unscathed, aside from the noticeable bruise by her eye, probably used to subdue her before binding her hands. “Let her go,” You suggest gently, but firmly, “let her go and you can have me.”

The masked figure shakes their head, refusing to speak.

“Cat got your tongue?” You tease, “You were very talkative on the phone, you know?”

You can see his grip tightening around the blade and Chrissy tenses, eyes squeezing shut in fear. If Eddie’s words were true, Steve would never be capable.

“But, I thought you were going to kill me?” You asked innocently, “Don’t I ask too many questions?”

“Shut up.” He snaps, “Or you can watch me gut her first.”

Chrissy cries out, face turned away as she wiggles away from the knife with no luck.

You hear the approaching footsteps before you see him, Eddie turning the corner with a focused speed, wasting no time in pushing past you, plunging the knife through Chrissy’s chest with ease, not a single twitch of hesitation. Your mouth falls open in shock, feet stumbling back against the wall as you watch on in horror. 

You couldn’t say that you were ever close to Chrissy—you didn’t know her very well and you didn’t know the history between her and Eddie, but didn’t deserve that, it didn’t seem feasible. But, you try to shake the thought from your mind, staring at Eddie—he’s not dressed up, which seemed to throw Steve off track, and he yanks at his mask in frustration.

“What the fuck?” Steve asks loudly, throwing the mask to the ground.

Eddie ignores his frustration, “Nancy, Robin, where are they?”

“They got everyone out of the house, they’re trying to flag down help—or—whatever—why the fuck is she still alive?” Steve glances over at you boldly, your body runs cold.

You didn’t even recognize the person standing in front of you.

“I could ask you the same,” Eddie counters, “but it looks like I took care of that for you, like I have been.”

Your eyes narrow, sensing the growing tension. You take a careful step back, floor creaking underneath your feet, both of their heads shooting in your direction. Steve almost lunges after you, but Eddie has a tight hold on him. Eddie looks at you with intense, pensive eyes, silently begging, 

“Don’t. Move.”  He says, nodding toward the empty chair. “Sit down.”

You move slowly, carefully, following the edge of the room until you can slip into the seat, watching Steve’s intense gaze follow you the entire way. 

“I saved her for you,” Eddie admits; your heart drops, “—there’s no backing out now, Steve. She knows.”

You watch as Eddie adjusts the knife in Steve’s grip, allowing him to get a firm grip, before Eddie’s quietly trailing behind you, hands pressed against the back of the chair, curling over the edge, “She’ll tell Nancy, and Robin—everyone, and we’ll be done.”

“I tried to like you,” Steve says suddenly, his now terrifyingly dark eyes locked on your own, “I really did.”

He steps closer, leaning over the front of your chair, leaving you sandwiched between the both of them, attempting to make yourself feel smaller—and maybe by some miracle, Eddie wasn’t lying; you might not die tonight.

“Now, try not to close your eyes,” Steve tells you, blade pressed carefully over the fabric of your shirt, the sharp prick of the knife seeping through, “it takes the fun out of it.”

Steve’s eyes are locked on yours, you don’t even recognize him, just the shell of a person you thought knew, unaware of the small nudging underneath the chair as Eddie slipped the knife in your hand, poised above you calmly. You grip the knife without hesitation, careful of making any sudden movements. Steve is dragging it out, thinking he has all the time in the world, until he doesn’t—the knife presses in at the same time yours is shoved through his abdomen, Eddie’s hands creeping up around the side of your face, directing your face to the point where the knife met his body, you shoved it deeper, twisting for that extra dose of pain, blood sputtering out of his mouth and into your face. 

He stumbles back, hitting the full bookshelf as the books fall to the floor, his hand grasping weakly at the knife stuck in his abdomen, staring up at Eddie with wide, shocked eyes. 

“Sorry, Harrington.” Eddie apologizes, “It was always her.”

The adrenaline hits you then, pushing away from the chair and stalking toward Steve, grabbing the knife and tanning it from where it was buried deep in his chest, savoring the way he yells out in pain, blood stained teeth gritting against each other as he clenched down. 

“You stupid bitch,” Steve snaps weakly, your eyes narrow, knife pressing against his neck before you can stop yourself, “he’ll kill you—he doesn’t—doesn’t care about you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” You tell him sadly, gripping his hair to pull at his slumping head, “Eddie’s always been there for me.”

Steve opens his mouth again, but the words never fall, knife slicing the line of neck, rendering him voiceless, motionless, the blood and life draining from his eyes as he slumped down completely. It takes a moment for the emotions to settle, but when they do, you don’t feel the regret that you’re expecting, falling back on your hands as the knife clammers to the floor loudly.

“I just killed him,” You say out loud, not to any particular person or for any reason, needing to say it for it to feel real, “He’s dead.”

“And he was going to kill you,” Eddie reminds you, hands slipping underneath your arms to pull you upright, letting your body lean against him for a moment, “you did everything perfectly.”

“I just killed somebody.” 

“I know.”

You take a small breath, inhaling through your nose, “Why don’t I feel bad?”

“I told you, sweetheart,” Eddie says, peering down to look at you, eyes shifting over to Chrissy and Steve’s lifeless bodies, “you’re like me.”

“It doesn’t feel right.” Your voice steadies, turning your head up to look at him. “I don’t—I’m not—“

“It gets easier,” Eddie says assuringly, “I’ll teach you.”

“What do we do?” You ask in a slight panic, having already fallen deep into Eddie’s hold—you didn’t have to kill Steve, but you did. You could’ve let him kill you, ended all of this—but you consciously decided against it, feeling that immediate surge of power as you inflicted that severe physical pain on him; normal people would feel disgust, regret, but you felt nothing.

Eddie had always been right, he just needed to show you why.

“I’m gonna clean this up,” Eddie tells you, “you’re gonna clean yourself up—and then you’re gonna find Nancy and Robin—I’m going to do everything I told you I would, sweetheart.”

“Be careful, Eddie.” You feel the need to remind him, “I can’t lose you.”

“We’re in this together now, sweetheart.” Eddie says with a strong sense of finality, “You trust me?”

“Always.” You reply without hesitation.

“Promise me.” He demands.

“I promise, Eddie.”