#I HOPE YOU'RE HAVING A GREAT HALLOWEEN!!!!

[bunnys-kisses]

For your halloween special, can i have all dressed chips, with a espresso Martini by max verstappen plssss

halloween menu - bakery menu

spooky scary post-halloween submission! thank you so much for the request. it has been fun to write this one, so i hope that you love it. i know that the spooky season is over, but we can probably have a little more halloween magic until christmas, haha!

all-dressed chips: "i'd propose right now. but not while you're wearing this." + espresso martini: dom!character served by max verstappen (formula one)

tags: smut/pwp, dom & mad!max, driver!reader, established relationship, car sex (sort of), fingering/clit teasing & oral sex (reader receives)

"you can't laugh at this." you said as you zipped up the driver's suit to your neck. you looked in the mirror before you shushed your teammate. you turned in the mirror a little, "oh he's gonna freak when he sees this."

daniel laughed into his fist and you shushed your teammate before you turned to him and away from the mirror. the driving suit was so much baggier than yours. especially in the shoulders and thighs. you knew that if the team found out about this, they would lose it.

they were very particular with where the drive suit of the great max verstappen was at all times. and currently it was on your body as you and your teammate rushed to his car before you ended up at a halloween party in austin.

to be a couple on two separate teams often led to a flurry of discussions and rumors. you had about four pregnancy rumors happen oven the course of the season. that didn't mention the three cheating rumors (that was your cousin that photo) or the five secret wedding rumors. you hated those ones the most because they always made it seem like your wedding choices were tacky.

but tonight, you were thankful there were no press members lurking around the house that was rented out by the mclaren team for the austin weekend. and since it was close enough to halloween, that meant the drivers and others could have a party. and while it wasn't a dress up party, you took it upon yourself to have the best costume.

your teammate, daniel, was dressed a cowboy. you even remarked, 'you might give me a run for my money tonight." as you looked in the mirror to see if your lip gloss was ended up above your lip. he laughed and the two of you got out of the parking lot before the gate to the track was closed.

-

at the house, you spotted max waiting outside with his arms crossed and leaned up against the gate. when he saw you get out of the car, he was instantly over to you. it wasn't until he got closer that he noticed that you were wearing his driver suit.

he laughed, "you look so amazing." he scooped you up in his arms and looked at you with a smile, "very authentic."

you giggled, "it's a red bull original."

max looked at you, "i..is that my suit?"

you nodded, "yeah, well worn today and everything." you felt max hold onto you a little tighter and you got your hands into the front of his t-shirt. you looked at him, "i wanted to be the best dressed."

he swallowed then laughed, "well, i think it's a mission accomplished." he could feel the swirl in his gut.

daniel piped up after he locked the car doors, "what about me, max?" he laughed, "i think i kill it tonight too, mate." then winked at his former teammate.

max laughed, "why did i have a feeling that you were going as a cowboy tonight?" then ushered you into the house against his worst judgement. the back of his mind was calling for him to stuck you in the backseat and make the car rock.

so much was covered, but to know that you were in max's gear turned him on. so the entire night his gaze was on you, his hand on your lower back and when he could, his lips on yours. a night of partying ended with max driving you back to your hotel room.

"show me what's under it? got my fireproofs on too?" he asked. his hand was on the zipper and trying to get it down while you drove him. you helped him and he caught a glimpse of your bra underneath.

"i'd propose right now. but not while you're wearing this." he laughed, "and not when there's a risk i'll crash the car." he did however snake his hand between your legs, "fuck, you're so warm."

you moaned as he managed to get under your panties and rub against your clit. the sensation made you jolt and he laughed.

"aw c'mon, my love. you're always so calm on the track? what's the problem now? can't handle a little fun?" it didn't help that the speed he was driving left after shocks through your body.

you were both on quiet back end roads in texas. no one around for a good while, so of course max could rev the engine a little bit while he stimulated your clit. the strength of a formula one driver was concentration and the ability to calculate many things at once.

for example max's rough thumb was against your clit, moving in motions that were making you a total mess in the car. his eyes were on the road and he was going over the speed limit so he could almost stimulate your achy sex. all while not crashing the car.

they could give him the wdc for that feat alone.

your heart was racing in your ears and your pussy soaked through your cotton panties. max knew if he smelled his suit the next morning, it was going to reek like your achy cunt. and he wouldn't mind racing like that.

"shit, max. ah." you groaned and you shifted your hips to get a better feeling of his rough fingers. you swallowed back a particularly loud moan to escape from your lips. you prayed, hoped that no one would find out about this. you didn't need that on the front pages.

"you sound so pretty when you're needy." he purred, "i love how you sound. i feel like i should spank you for stealing my suit, but stealing it is quite the feat i have to say. mmmm, pretty thing."

his words sent shocked through you as you felt the blush bloom in your cheeks with an erotic want. there was something about max verstappen that drove you insane.

eventually he pulled his fingers away from your soaked sex and licked the bit of wetness off his thumb and knuckle. he groaned a little before he pulled into a nearby closed gas station parking lot.

"get in the backseat." he said before he watched you scramble to the back and he followed after. he almost hit his head against the top of the sports car he was driving. you chest was heavy in the low light of the parking lot.

max tugged at the suit, almost ripping the zipper to get access to your soaked cunt. he pushed the crotch of the cotton panties to get access to your sex. you could feel everything tight as he was pulled, but max's tongue on your aching cunt made it all better.

his pace was messy with two of his fingers pushed inside of you for added pleasure. he was a messy eater when he ate you out and you weren't too sure how much time you'd have before someone drove by. the car rocked a little as he pleasured you.

"fuck, ah, max." you didn't know this would've given him such a response. but, you loved it. you loved how his tongue felt against your achy cunt. you had been thinking about him during the party because he was in your space so much.

he groaned against your pussy, your wetness was up to his nose and almost at his cheeks. he went all in when it came to oral sex, that was why it made it so easy for you to climax because of him.

you moaned a little louder and held onto his hair for a moment as you felt the climax wash over you. the feeling hit you like a ton of bricks and it made you hot all over. you felt the fire in your gut as he made you feel on cloud nine.

"oh my god." you panted heavily as he smirked against your soaked pussy before he looked up at you. you could see the glisten of your wetness across his face.

"i'm not done with you yet. let's see how durable this suit really is." he chuckled as you heard the unzip of his jeans.

-

being in red bull's head office the morning after a party was never a good thing. it was a situation most tried to avoid being. but as you sat with daniel and max across from horner and mekies wasn't a way to start the morning.

"can we at least get coffee." you groaned.

"no." horner replied.

apparently max's racing suit went missing last night. only to be found in your hotel room this morning. daniel was in the office for abetting in the theft. you wanted to die when christian showed the three of you the pictures of the stains on the suit. daniel hid his mouth behind his hand, to not make a very funny (yet very mean comment). you pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes and prayed for a moment that you'd go blind.

"this will result in a fine and community service." which made the three of you groan. the media was going to have a field day with this one <3

[buckyalpine]

I know it's a tad late for Halloween BUT I had this idea because of last year with this so:

"Nice pirate costume" Sam nodded his head in approval as Bucky approached the bar wearing a dark shirt, half unbuttoned, showing off a very nice view of his chest. His long black coat was belted at his waist along with a bandana tied on top of his head. His sword swayed with his hips, his beard trimmed down.

"I hope so, do I look like Will Turner?" Bucky looked down at his boots again, having already checked his outfit 10 times before leaving, comparing it to the reference photo, "I even waxed my chest"

A series of wolf whistles followed while Bucky patted himself down to make sure he had every bit of his costume in place, you insisted it had to be perfect, how else would people get it Bucky

"Oo, is y/n Elizabeth Swan? That's hot" Tony smirked with a wink while Bucky sighed, "Why do you look stressed, it's a great couples costume-

"HE'S GOT MY EYE! HE WON'T GIVE IT BACK!"

"Jesus"

Bucky could hear the cackling from somewhere in the abyss of people, the sound getting closer and closer.

"Who else could she be, you look terrified Buck, what's-

"I KNOW YOU'RE HERE POPPET"

"Is she-

"Yes. Yes she is"

"Good God"

"Is she Pintel or Ragetti?"

"...both"

"Hello, Poppet" You grinned, scurrying over with a hobble towards your boyfriend, shamelessly eyeing him up and down. "YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD"

"Baby-

"POPPET"

"I-I need the Rum"

[missingn000]

happy halloween, everyone! big news: The Phantom Guardian's hiatus is officially over!

exactly one year after the release of the last tpg chapter, sukuna's backstory: tears of the emperor, i'm thrilled to announce that my break from the story has come to a close. i'm now officially preparing to write the next chapter and return to tpg releases on a regular basis! i've dearly missed this story and this community, and i'm so excited to be back. 

to prepare for writing this story again, i'll be doing a tpg live-react reread in the tpg discord server! come laugh at me as you watch me suffer through the suffering i put all of you through. we can chat about the story, the characters, and reminisce about what a crazy ride it's been and where we could be going from here. come join the fun!! this will also be a great way to remind yourselves of everything that's happened without having to read through all 637,000 words of this monstrosity. join the discord here!

as for when the next chapter will officially come out: i gotta get through the tpg reread first, which might take a bit, but i hope to have ch49 out sometime before the end of the year, if not very early january. i'll be hosting even more fun events and activities to bring us all back together as the next release grows nearer! i don't use bluesky or twitter, but feel free to share this news wherever. i'd love as many people as possible to join the fun!!

i love you all so much, and i can't thank you enough for your patience with me this past year. i hope you're as excited to dive back into this fic as i am!

happy halloween, everyone. we're so fucking back.

[lis-likes-fics]

Strung Up

Pairing(s): Eddie Munson x Reader Word Count: 32.8k words Warnings: NSFW, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat (violence), graphic descriptions of violence, graphic descriptions of death, murder, blood, gore, anxiety, panic attack, implications of stalking, frequent swearing, drug use, alcohol use, manipulation, degradation (not always in the sexy way), dubious consent, light praise kink, fingering, groping, oral sex, multiple orgasms, spanking, titty fucking, masturbation, vaguely masochistic tendencies… A/N: IMPORTANT, PLEASE READ: Not all of the warnings are listed above, but the full list of warnings is provided here. The only reason they're not all here is to avoid spoilers throughout the story, but none of the warnings unlisted here should be trigger warnings. If you're still unsure, please feel free to check the list. But if you want to go into this blind, go right ahead! A/N II: Okay so...I did finish the last two scenes at 3 o'clock in the morning last night, but hey! We finished! This is the last upload for my Kinktober 2024 event. I'm glad I was able to finish just in time, and I hope you all enjoy this just as much as I did (even though I almost gave up five different times but that's not important.) Thank you so much and Happy Halloween! A/N III: The story is too long so Tumblr won't let me post this. Because of this, I will ahve to split it into two parts (which is annoying bc it will really damage notes and stuff and it's harder to manage >:( )

"Sonova bitch!”

You resist the urge to kick your tire. It's midnight, you're practically in the middle of the woods, and you're alone. Your car broke down along the way home, and now you're worried you'll have to walk for God-only-knows how long just to get help.

You look around, trying to figure out what to do without a car or any telephone nearby. You curse under your breath, bracing your hands on the side of the car as you lean against it.

You hear tires in the distance, and perk your head up at the chance of some luck coming your way.

But the only thing coming your way is a large, almost creaky van. Upon seeing you, it begins to slow down to a creeping pace, and you wonder if you should just make a break for it.

Just your luck, too. You're stuff on the side of the road in the middle of the night with no way to communicate with a single living soul, and now there's a creepy van inching toward you like you're about to meet your end.

Your back is stiff, and your nerves are frayed. “Just a van driving toward you,”you mutter to yourself. “Nothing scary about that at all.”

As the blinding lights shine across you, you raise a hand and squint your eyes against the strain. It pulls into the side of the road, parking behind you as the lights continue to blare.

“Hey,” a guy says as he swings the door open and steps out. You give a wary smile at first, waving timidly back at him. “Something wrong?”

It's hard to see him. All you see is the outline of his figure against the lights. He's taller than you, with big bushy hair and wide shoulders. You try not to shrink away from this dark, shadowy thing of a man.

You bump the toe of your shoe against the tire, crossing your arms as your hand pulls nervously at the collar of your work shirt. “Stupid engine died on me.”

He gestures to the car, his voice is actually kind of nice, and a bit familiar… “A beauty like this?” He pats the back of it, wild hair shifting as he looks down at it. “That's surprising.”

You shrug. “Yeah, everyone thinks it's such a great car. It's actually a piece of shit.” You chuckle lightly, and he joins you. “Do you think you could help?”

He steps to the side, and some light finally shines on one side of his face. You start to piece together his features, squinting your eyes and realizing why his voice is so familiar. You're put at some ease now that you recognize him. Your shoulders fall, and the features of your face calm.

“Wait, you're that Eddie guy. At my school?”

He looks up at you, a smile tugging at his lips as he nods. “That's me. The Eddie guy.” He holds out his ringed-up hand. “Eddie Munson.”

You take it, the cold of his rings a slight surprise against the warmth of your palm. “I'm–”

“I'm well aware, sweetheart.”

You purse your lips, chuckling lightly at the way he says it. It's not mean in any way, but there's an undertone that you find slightly unsettling.

He squints the corners of his dark eyes, making a cringing face as he nods slowly. “Sorry, that sounds bad. Uhh–”

“No, all good,” you say quickly. You shuffle on your feet, chuckling lightly to try and ease the tension between you. “You're not gonna, like, kill me and stuff my corpse in the back of your van, right?”

He smiles, laughing as he shakes his head. “No, all good.” He raises his fingers in the air, one hand over his heart as he bows a little. “Scout's honor.”

You nod. “Cool.” You glance back at your car and pat the hood. “You think you could help me out, Eddie Munson? Maybe a hot wire?”

He cringes slightly, running a hand through his messy hair. His muscle tee rides up a little from the movement, revealing a slip of his tummy shone gently in his headlights. “Unfortunately, my old girl can't handle a hot wire. I love her, but she's a bit of a piece of shit, too.”

You hum, your shoulders falling slightly. “Oh, that sucks.”

“But…” He steps over to your open door, leaning inside to pop the hood before he walks past you to look at the engine. “I'll tell you what, I can tow it and get it fixed for you.” He seems pleased with this answer. He smiles like a dork. “I help out at an auto shop, they know me. And,” he rubs his hand over the side of the car, admiring the make, “I think they'd be thrilled to work on a nice thing like this.”

Sparks of hope shoot like fireworks in your eyes when you look at him. “”Really?” Then you backpedal as you second guess yourself. “I wouldn’t wanna bother.”

“Psh, no bother, at all.” He says it so casually, like the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. The amount of work, money, time—it doesn’t seem to mean anything to him. “I’ll hook her up and take you home.”

You clasp your hands together, a wide smile falling on your face. “Thank you so much.” You start walking toward his van with him, watching as he opens your door for you like a true gentleman. “I’m so glad you’re not some sort of creep.”

As you sit down, his smile widens with his joke. “You never know.” He winks at you, and it makes you laugh. If he were some middle-aged man, you’d truly be worried. But he’s really just some really nice (and kind of hot) weirdo who goes to your school. He’s not threatening, at all.

Once Eddie’s got your car properly fastened to the back of his van, he’s driving down the lightened road with the radio gently underscoring the otherwise silent air. He taps the wheel gently, glancing over at you every now and then when you’re looking out of the window at your side.

“So,” he mutters, “why are you out here so late?”

You chuckle lightly, scratching your neck absent-mindedly. “Leaving work.” You purse your lips. “My hours are kinda ridiculous.”

His brows raise. “Damn. Sounds like you need a new job.”

You shrug a shoulder lazily. “Eh. Pays well, good boss, one shitty coworker.” You look at him and smile. “It’s nothing.”

“At least it’s not a shitty boss.”

You nod eagerly, laughing lightly in agreement. “Got that right. I got lucky.”

His eyes keep switching between you and the road. He leans his elbow on his arm rest, still steering with one hand on the wheel. “So where do you work?” he wonders curiously.

“Retail.” There’s a crack on the passenger’s side mirror, and you briefly wonder how it got there. “This semi-expensive place, like twenty minutes from my house.”

He tilts his head to the side with a hum, as if the distance is another reason to quit. “Good pay.”

Another involuntary chuckle rises from your chest. “Good pay,” you echo. “What about you?” You turn to him, your head tilted. Then your eyes close and you purse your lips, raising a hand to brush down your face. “You totally said you help out at an auto shop, didn’t you?”

He laughs heartily. “I did, but I actually work at Radio Shack.” You nod like working at Radio Shack is this super interesting thing. “Pays kinda meh, shitty boss, couple good coworkers but the others kinda hate me.”

You lean back against the seat, sighing like it's happening to you. “That sucks. I'm sorry.”

Eddie shrugs. “S’fine, I'm used to it.” He grins a little. “That's what happens when you listen to this.”

He turns the station, turning it up a little as the rambunctious sounds of metal music almost blast through the speakers.

You've never been a fan of metal, but the popular rhetoric of it being music from the devil was annoying. Music is music.

“And when you play RPGs.” He turns the music back down.

You smirk, raising a brow at him. “So you're a nerd?”

An almost startled laugh rises from his throat, it almost sounds like a snort. “Maybe a little,” he says. His smile is so big, you wonder if his cheeks hurt. Then you wonder if he's this nice to everyone.

“That’s okay. I like a good nerd.”

He glances over his shoulder teasingly. “Oh, yeah?”

You nod, chuckling to yourself with a gentle giddy. “Mhm.”

The rest of the ride is as calm and as pleasant. Eddie's good company, and you find yourself genuinely hoping that you continue to be friends after this.

Soon enough, he's pulling into your posh neighborhood. The street lamps have been on for a long time, illuminating your relatively expensive house and the large tree in front of it in a gentle golden light. The porch lights are on, so your parents must be (obviously) asleep.

Eddie jogs across the front of his van to open the door for you. “Tada!” he exclaims quietly as he gestures dramatically toward your home. As you step out, still looking at your house with a furrowed brow, your skin prickles and the back of your neck goes cold as you begin to realize something.

“I…never gave you my address.”

You turn to look at Eddie, who's smiling really widely. His dark fringe kisses his lashes, his lips are pulled taut by the stretch of his smile, which is lingering strangely on his face. A tiny huff of breath passes from his mouth.

There's a strange silence as he stares at you, looking like someone's pressed pause on him. It's just short enough that it's easy to miss.

“I've been to one of your parties before.”

Oh.

“You have?” You think quickly, trying to remember seeing his face and falling short. “I've never seen you at one.”

“Yeah…” he says. “Not really my crowd.” Eddie closes your door after you've grabbed your things. “A friend invited me, but I left quick.” He shrugs a shoulder, “Besides, atmosphere wasn't super welcoming.”

Right. He's a social outcast.

“Oh,” you mumble. It doesn't sit well with you. You wished you would have noticed him. At least then you could have tried to make it better for him. He's a really sweet guy…

“Who’s your friend? I think I heard Steve Harrington mention you before,” you wonder. Steve is a friend of yours, and he’s been to nearly all of your parties.

“Yeah, he invited me.” He shrugs. “But I went with Jonathan Byers.” You know the name, another social outcast. He and his brother are very kindly looked upon, especially after the incident where his little brother was lost in the woods. That’s the only time you ever spoke to him, to offer your sympathies. If you’re thinking correctly, he’s a pothead now.

You give him a smile. “Well, I'd like to formally invite you to my next one—whenever that is, then I can properly welcome you and your friend.”

He laughs lightly, doing a grand flourish with his hand as he bows to you. “Well, thank you very much.”

You gesture toward the back of his van. “And my car?”

He nods dutifully. “I'll get that fixed up for you in no time.” Then he thinks for a moment. “Well, a little bit of time, but not too long.”

“Oh.” You nod, smiling still. You glance off down the street like you're looking for something. “I’ll just have to figure out a ride to school then… My boyfriend kind of lives out of the way and both my parents work.”

You miss the way his shoulders sink, his smile easing just a bit. He brings a hand to scratch the back of his neck. “Well…” he speaks slowly, slower than he means to. “I can come pick you up.”

You clasp your hand again in a slightly pleading manner, but there's so much kindness in your eyes. “You're already helping out so much.”

A small sense of pride swells in his chest. “It's not a problem, really. I'm happy to.”

You set a hand on his shoulder, and you feel it tense a little through the thickness of his leather jacket. “I'd really appreciate it.” It's sincere, and you hope he knows. “Thank you.”

He puts his hand over yours. “No problem.” Then he clears his throat and lets go of your hand so you can have it back.

You start walking backwards. “Goodnight, Eddie.”

He raises an open palm, doesn't wave it or anything. “Night…”

You turn around and head inside. He watches you put the key in your door and walk inside.

Eddie stands there still, sighing gently as he wonders what he's going to do with himself. You're just so sweet and so pretty. You're perfect.

You're everything he was hoping for.

~

You've been trying to speak to him for the past ten minutes.

The lunch table isn't as full today. A couple buddies from the team are gone, their girlfriends included—which also means Brynn isn't here to resort to either.

You sigh, rolling your eyes as Jake's lips suck on your neck still. He hasn't moved from this spot unless it's to go to the other side of your neck in ten minutes. His hands are all over your waist, and when he nips at you, you huff.

“Hey, can you chill?”

He hums, not letting up as he continues to suck on you like a goddamn vampire. “What's wrong, baby?” he mumbles against your neck.

You push him off of you so that he'll look at your face. His lips are a little swollen from the attention, and his eyes are hooded like you've just been going down on him or something.

“I'm trying to talk to you, and you’re trying to fuck me in the middle of the cafeteria.

“I'm sorry,” he says, kissing your lips gently. He sighs lightly and smiles. “What were you saying?”

So he wasn't paying attention? You thought as much.

You turn to him. “I was saying that I might get fired.”

He furrows his brows. “Why?”

You brush a hand down your face to calm yourself before you yell at him for being so inattentive. You lick your lips, centering yourself with a sigh as you pull a sarcastic grin over your face.

“Because Cassidy found us making out in the storage closet during my lunch break—which you suggested after I said it was a bad idea.” There's a small grin on his face, and you have a feeling he isn't listening again.

He shrugs, “Cassidy’s a bitch who's been trying to get you fired for months. She's not doing it now.”

Your stress is getting to you now. You reach out to grab his face in the hopes that it'll make him pay a little more attention. “Except this time, she's got me for indecency in the workplace. Which could be filed under sexual harassment. That can get me fired.”

He furrows his brows a little in confusion. He grabs your wrists and pulls them off his face, down to his lap. “I think you're being ridiculous,” he shrugs a shoulder like what he's said isn't a ridiculous statement. “Aren't you training to be like…a crew lead or something?”

His hands fall to your waist, and you ignore him as he leans in again to keep sucking on your neck. He tilts your head up, holding your chin still as he has at it.

You let out a frustrated sigh. “Which is why I'm stressed out. She's going to tell my boss, and she's going to fire me.”

He pulls away from your neck. You watch his face twist in more confusion. He stares at you for a second, then glances away, and then looks back at you. “Why would you get fired?”

You stare at him with an astonished glare in your eyes. “You don't…” you huff unbelievingly and swat his hands away from you, “...fucking listen.”

You stand up and start gathering your things, wiping absent-mindedly at your neck as you throw your bag over your shoulder. He watches you, ever-confused as you storm away from him. “Where are you going?”

When you plop down next to Eddie, he seems unsurprised. He looks over at you and smiles. The rest of his table isn't fazed by your entrance—you come over a lot and you're nice, so they don't care.

“Hey! How's it goin’?” Eddie's happy to see you, and it's already making you feel better. He notices the way your face is screwed up, and he's come to know the look well by now. His face falls a little, concern lining his forehead as it does. “What's wrong?”

His warm hand comes to rest at your face, rubbing lightly between your shoulder blades. It's a soothing thing that actually helps to calm you down a bit. “Jake's pissing me off.”

“How?” He sounds almost as exasperated as you.

You sigh gently, getting ready to recount the story for a listening ear. “A couple days ago, I was on my lunch break at work and he convinced me to…” it's a little awkward telling Eddie about your semi-sexual habits, but you know he won't judge you, “...to make out with him in the storage closet, and my goddamn coworker saw us and is going to tattle.” You drop your face into your hands. “I could get fired for this.”

Eddie thinks for a moment. “This is…Cassidy, right? Cassidy Franklin?”

“Yeah.” You sit up again, probably looking as hopeless as you feel.

He brings his foot up to prop against his chair, tilting his head to one side to let his hair fall off his shoulder. “Isn't she that same girl who started the rumor about Betty Carter and Richard Vance making porn tapes for money?” He raises a brow, “And that one about Steve being in a relationship with Jonathan?”

You nod slowly. “Yeah.”

“Huh?” Jonathan asks, looking up from his food at the mention of his name. Eddie waves him off, rolling his eyes before he looks back over to you. He smiles, opening his hands. “She's a rumormonger. No one's gonna believe her. Especially not your manager. Your manager loves you and everyone hates Cassidy Franklin.”

You think about that, and it's making you feel better. You nod again. “You might be right.”

He wraps a hand around his knee, smiling to himself like he's so pleased to hear that he's right. “Besides, it'll probably end up coming back to her anyway.” He tilts his head, leaning in fondly as he flutters his lashes at you. ”People like that don't always get away with being assholes.”

“Yeah.” You chuckle, nodding. “Okay. You're right, yeah. She's a bitch.”

“Who’s a bitch?” Robin’s head pops up. She looks between the two of you, curiosity all over her face.

You shrug. “My coworker.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes and nodding. “Yeah, my coworker’s a bitch, too.”

You chuckle lightly, glancing at Eddie. “Don’t you work with Steve?” You’ve checked out movies at Family Video from them before. They seemed to mostly be getting along.

“Yeah, why?” She smirks slyly, returning to her conversation with Argyle. You don’t know what they’re talking about, but you’re not sure it’s going to make a lot of sense with the way his eyes look right now.

Eddie’s smiling when you look back at him. “Anyway, don't sweat it. Everything's gonna be fine…’kay?” He holds out his pinky, squeezing with a funny kind of harshness when you wrap yours around it.

You nod. “Okay.” You sigh, and this time it actually feels like you're letting go of the stress. Eddie always knows how to make you feel better. “Thanks. My boyfriend's an idiot, and it feels like you're the only person who listens to me sometimes.”

He furrows his brow curiously, turning toward his bag of pretzels sitting almost forgotten on the table. He pulls a couple from the bag, picking them individually from his palm. “What about your friend? What's her name—Brooklyn?”

“Brittany.” Your smile sours. “And, yeah, Brynn spends a lot more time with her boyfriend now than she does with me, so I might have to remind her that I exist first.”

He scoffs, shaking his hand as he looks down at his pretzels. “Shitty friend,” he mumbles under his breath. He seems genuinely and deeply upset. His brow furrows maybe a little more than it should.

You look over his expression, briefly wondering why he cares so much. “Just a bit,” you mutter absent-mindedly. You look at the time. Lunch is almost over. “Anyway, thanks, Eddie.”

He seems to snap out of it then, a large grin returning to his face. “No problem.”

You set a hand on his arm, smiling hopefully. “Hey, are you free tonight?” Something glints in his eyes. “Jake's hanging out with his boys and, like I said, Brynn's with her boy. I wanted to watch that new movie.”

It's a horror movie, Annihilator. You know Eddie likes horror movies, and you don't want to watch it alone. Or, rather, you'd prefer to watch it with him.

Eddie does this weird thing sometimes where he pauses. It's like his brain suddenly freezes and he just stops moving. He stares at you. His smile intact and his face just as Eddie-ish as usual, but just a little…off.

It only ever lasts a moment though.

“Raincheck?” he asks regrettably. “I'm hanging with my uncle tonight. We've been planning it for a while now.”

“Oh, sure,” you chirp. You know how much his uncle means to him. They don't usually get time together since he always works so late. “No problem. Tomorrow night?”

He smiles that proud grin again. He does it a lot. You think it's sweet.

“Absolutely.”

“See you then.” You steal a pretzel as you move to stand.

He waves you off with wiggling fingers and a cheeky grin. “See you.” He winks on your way out.

~

Dragging yourself out of the bed the next morning was hard. You don’t know why. You just woke up and felt like maybe tonight was the type of day not to go to school.

And, technically, you could if you wanted to. Both your parents are gone on a business trip—they left before you even woke up that morning. They won’t be back for at least a week. You could ditch and the worst that would happen is a phone call that you could delete if it was really necessary enough to do so in the first place.

But anyway, you don’t. You drag yourself out of bed, get ready for school, and head downstairs for breakfast. You're stirring sugar into your tea when you turn on the TV, switching through the channels to find the cartoons.

Something catches your eyes when a news channel flashes on the screen. You flip back to it quickly, and you stop mid-stir at what you find.

“–about a gruesome murder is tearing through Hawkins like a wildfire.” You drop the spoon in your mug, turning the volume up loud. “The life of a student at Hawkins High School, known as the basketball captain Jason Carver, was taken last night by a suspect police have yet to identify. Hawkins PD is still–”

You rush to the phone, dialing Brynn’s number faster than you ever have before. It rings only a couple times before the dial tone ends. You give her no time to speak.

“Are you watching the news right now?”

“Yeah. Jason fucking Carver? Who the fuck would do this?” She sounds distraught, as distraught as you feel.

You swallow thickly, pacing as much as you can with the short cord keeping you tethered to the phone. You start to worry. What if this isn’t a one time thing? What if people are actually in danger—your boyfriend, your friends. “Don’t ask me.” You start to feel sick.

“This is insane.” She sighs heavily through the line.

“You’re telling me.”

“How’s your car?” she asks, your words running a mile a minute. “Do I need to take you to school?”

It takes you a moment to respond. Your eyes had gotten stuck to the screen. There are police lights and caution tape and people everywhere. It feels so unreal. “Uh—It’s fine.” You clear your throat, wiping a hand over your face. “Especially after Eddie worked on it.”

You can almost hear the scowl in her voice. “You still hang out with him?”

Here we go. “You don’t hang out with me.”

“He’s probably the one who killed Jason.”

Her comment is a slap in the face. You can’t describe the anger and disgust that rises in your throat at what she’d just said. It’s corrosive, and you wish you could show her how upset it actually makes you, but you can’t. So instead, you say, “Why the fuck would you say that?”

Your tone makes her back off. Not by a lot, but enough for her to second guess. “He’s like…a satanist or something.”

“Or something.” You shake your head. “He’s just a nerd, and he’s kind.” You mean it in a nice way. “He’s got nothing to do with this.”

She scoffs. “Whatever.” She takes a moment, calms down, and then says with more sincerity than annoyance. “Don’t get fucking killed.”

“You, too.”

“I’ll see you in class.”

“Bye.” You hang up. You stare at the screen again, staring for a while as you try to process this. You knew Jason. He was your friend—or, he was relatively your friend. You were dating one of the members on his team, so you’ve known him for a while. Now that he’s gone… It’s just such a bizarre concept to digest.

You don’t know what you’re supposed to do. You dial Jake’s house phone, waiting and waiting for it to pick up, only for it to flatline. With a huff, you try again. When it still doesn’t go through, you start to go for a third time when you catch the time. You’re gonna be late. You’ll see him there anyway.

You try to ignore the gnawing feeling that you might not.

~

You lean against your locker next to Eddie, holding onto your bag as your hands worry away at the strap. “I just can’t believe this happened.”

“Yeah, it’s crazy,” Eddie says. He shrugs a shoulder, “I mean, this place has been kinda cursed for a while but something like this?”

You shake your head, imagining the scenes you’ve been told by the amount of people you’ve walked past or talked to since you left the house. “It was so brutal. They said he was gutted and then hung from a fucking tree.” Your gut twists with the image. “I keep looking over my shoulder like this killer’s gonna be there.”

Eddie's hand comes to cup your elbow. He rubs it soothingly with a reassuring glint in his eyes. “Hey, don’t worry about that kinda stuff. Everything’s gonna be fine, okay?” His thumb strokes the meat of your arm. He offers you a smile.

You nod. “I hope so.” You glance behind Eddie, catching sight of Chrissy. It’s a wonder she even showed up today. She’s walking through the halls with her eyes down at the floor, moving so sluggishly that you wonder briefly if she’s really just some zombie roaming the halls. You speak quietly. “I can’t imagine how Chrissy must be feeling. She’s such a sweet person, she doesn’t deserve this kinda thing.”

Eddie’s eyes linger on her as she continues walking down the hall. He swallows thickly. “Yeah…”

His brows suddenly furrow. A crease wedges itself between them as he sees something, and he lets out a sigh as he glances away, straightening his posture as he goes. His thumb rubs your elbow one more time before letting you go. “Hey, I’ll see you later, okay?” You nod. “Stay safe.” He says it with an intensity that honestly warms your heart.

“You, too.” He gives you a quick smile and then leaves. You turn around to watch him go just as you see Jake walking toward you. That makes sense. The two eye each other as they pass, and Jake looks at you like he’s annoyed by something.

The sight of him had initially brought you some relief. You were worried that something happened to him when he didn’t answer the phone this morning. The more you look at him though, the more that feeling sours and becomes something more exasperated than anything else.

You turn around with a sigh, leaning against the locker again on your other elbow. He comes up to you, a partial scowl set upon his face. “Was that Eddie Munson?”

You hate the way he says his name. It pisses you off every time you hear it. “Yeah.”

“Why are you hanging out with him?” He looks genuinely pissed out. You roll your eyes, ready to leave this conversation because it’s such a petty thing to be arguing about right now. Someone just fucking died—one of Jake’s closest friends just fucking died—and he’s upset that you’re hanging out with some guy who plays DND? You were worried he was dead, and this is how he greets you.

“Why does everyone keep asking me that question?” You seethe the question, trying not to bring any attention to yourself as you lean in to talk to him, your own scowl set to combat his own. He huffs and shakes his head, but decides it’s probably just best to drop it.

“You didn’t call me this morning.” Your quiet anger is biting at your fingertips. You try to remind him of the situation because it doesn’t seem to be registering for him. “A student at Hawkins High was killed, and you didn’t call me this morning.”

Jake sighs, running a hand down his face as he thinks about it. You finally start to see the grief threatening to peek through as he looks away from you. “I was on the team with Jason. My parents were bitching about being safe.” His voice is quieter now, not as firm.

You start to feel bad now. You’ve been bitching about him lately about his bad behavior. You’re doing it right now, when what he really needs is your support. You sigh, looking down at your feet as you offer a truce in the way of cradling his arm in your palm. He looks at you, his eyes softening with your own. You just look at him for a moment and take a breath.

“I just don’t understand.” Your voice would be a whisper if there weren’t so many people crowding the halls. You have no doubt that every single one of them is talking about Jason Carver, former captain of the basketball team. “It’s all so surreal. This kind of thing doesn’t happen in real life.”

He lifts his hand to your cheek, offering his comfort. “Hey,” he says gently, “everything’s gonna be fine. I’ll make sure you’re good. You can stay at my place until this all clears up.” Sometimes you wonder why you’re even with him. But then he does stuff like this, and you start to feel a little better about the struggle. “We can also have Brynn and Andrew over to make it fun. How does that sound?”

Better than you thought it would. You haven’t been around them in a while. You feel like maybe you shouldn’t delay that any longer.

“Yeah.” You nod, hyping yourself up a bit as you offer a little smile. “Yeah, that’ll be nice. Thanks.”

His smile widens a bit. He leans in. “Anything for my girl.” He kisses you. It’s a gentle kiss, and it makes you feel better because it feels like he means it. His thumb strokes your cheek, and you can’t help but to smile against his lips.

~

You take a nap as soon as you get home. The whole day has been so exhausting, weighed down by all the grief and confusion. There’s a team meeting after school, so you have to wait for that to finish before Jake comes to get you.

When you wake up, it’s almost eight o’clock. It’s weird. The meeting should’ve been over by now.

It’s too quiet. The silence is making your skin crawl, and you reach for the remote in a desperate need to fix it. When it’s on, you immediately regret making that so.

“A second murder shakes the grounds of Hawkins as another student by the name of Cassidy Franklin is killed only an hour ago at–”

Your shock is interrupted by a tiny clattering sound. You nearly jump out of your skin as your gaze is immediately drawn upstairs. You feel yourself begin to shake, and you don’t think you can move after you’ve turned off the TV just as quickly as you turned it on.

Everything is so still now. Even the air refuses to move as you wait for anything—another sound, more silence. Anything.

You will yourself to move as you go to the kitchen, pulling the biggest knife from its sheath and ignoring the way it trembles with your fear. The tension is the air so palpable, you genuinely believe you could cut it with the knife you have clenched in your tight fists.

You feel dumb walking upstairs, toward the noise you just heard. You feel like you might die if you go any further, but you also feel like if the killer is actually in your house, then you’ll probably die if you stay downstairs, too.

You turn every knob like it’s searing hot. Every time a door opens, you feel like your heart has jumped out of your throat and then forced its way back down once you’ve confirmed there’s no one there (or rather, once you don’t see anyone because you refuse to investigate any further).

When you reach your bedroom, you think you might die. Maybe not from the killer, but from the heart attack you feel creeping up your chest.

On your bed is a single letter and a strange doll thing. You don’t feel like your heart is beating when you walk into the room. You almost slip multiple times over your own feet just trying to get to your bed. When you’re standing there, you’re frightened by something moving beside you, and you genuinely do jump this time.

Your window is open. The curtains swayed gently with a light gust of wind coming through.

Yes. You think you might die.

You swallow thickly, trying to keep your tears choked down as you pick up the doll. It looks handmade. The arms are thin and pillowy, so are the legs. Neither of them have hands or feet, and it has a stitch mouth and buttons for eyes. In a weird, abstract way, you think it sort of looks like you. The skin tone is the same and the buttons match your eye color, at least.

It falls from your hands more than you set it down. They’re shaking so badly, you don’t think you’d have been capable of putting it down yourself.

When you look at the letter, the paper also looks like it’s been folded and glued by hand. Your name is written across the front in handwriting you’ve never seen before. You force yourself to open it to see what’s inside.

When you pull out the note, you cover your mouth as you throw it back down, stumbling away. Tears spring to your eyes, despite your best effort to keep them away. There’s a smudge of blood on the paper. It doesn’t look old.

You squeeze your eyes shut, holding your breath like it’ll wake you up from some terrible dream. But when you open your eyes again and find yourself in the same room, you try not to choke on your tears.

As your entire body trembles, you find your way back to the bed. You pick up the note and do your best to keep your hands still (miserably) so you can read it.

I’ll pull all the loose strings for you, my little puppet. And once they’re all gone, we will be together.

A startled cry rips its way from your throat. You collapse to the floor as your chest heaves uncontrollably. This is too much stress. You can’t take all of this.

You don’t know how long you spend on the floor like this—sobbing and losing a lot of water—but once you’ve wracked up the strength, you crumple the letter into a ball and grab the doll by its torso, squeezing with all the fear and anger in your chest. You open your closet door, throwing them both at the wall with all your strength and forcing the door shut.

You calm your breath enough to stop your tears and wipe at your face, rushing down the stairs with the bag you’d already packed. You’re out of the door in barely any time, getting in the car as quickly as possible and you tear a path straight to Jake’s house.

Once you’re there, you don’t see his father’s car, so you assume he’s working overtime at the department to catch this killer. The way your fists pound on the front door is insistent. You almost sock Jake right in the face as soon as it’s open.

“Fuck,” he says quickly, his words rushing from his mouth. “I’m so sorry, babe. I lost track of time and–”

You don’t listen to him. You throw your arms around him and bury your face in his chest. He smells vaguely of your perfume. You try not to cry again. It’s not too hard, seeing as you already cried a ton of tears earlier onto your bedroom floor.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” You sound pathetic, but you don’t care enough to try to fix it.

“Yeah. Come on.” He opens the door wider, pulling his arm tightly around you as he tucks the both of you into the house. He closes the door behind you, still holding onto you as you pull him tight. He eases your face back into his chest. “What’s got you so freaked out?”

You don’t know what to tell him. You tell him the truth, he might believe you, he might not. If he does, he might decide to go on a killing spree to deal with whoever he thinks could have done it (you have a suspicious feeling that Eddie will be at the top of the list, simply because he doesn’t like him). There are just too many variables, and you’re too tired and too scared to deal with any of them.

“I…” you sigh shakily, “I’m just surprised by…Cassidy’s death.” Cassidy’s fucking dead. You almost forgot about that with all the insanity swarming through your head.

As his hand strokes down the back of your head, you feel his chest rumble against your cheek as he speaks. “You worked with her, didn’t you?” He sounds genuinely curious. He really wasn’t listening…

“Yeah.”

He shakes his head. “That’s crazy.” He sets his chin on top of your head and keeps rubbing your back.

“Jake.” You pull away from him just enough to look at his face. His hands cradle your elbows as your own clutch desperately at his sides. You need to know. “Do you love me?”

He stares at you and nods, bringing a hand to your cheek. His thumb strokes it, just like before. His hand is hot. “Yeah.”

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, searching his eyes for something to hold onto it. “Would you…” You try to steady your breath, swallowing thickly. “Would you let anything bad happen to me?”

You don’t expect him to say yes, but you need to hear it all the same. “��Course not,” he says. “You’re my girl.”

You lift yourself onto your toes to kiss him. He cranes his neck down to meet you, and his hands fall down to your waist. You bring your arms up to wrap around his shoulders, trying to bring him down further. You need to forget about all of this. Just for a moment. You want to forget.

“Make me feel better,” you mutter against his lips.

He smiles a little, bringing his hands down further to pick you up, wrapping your legs around his wait. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

~

“Welcome, students.”

The gym is packed full of students. All the students and faculty are sitting in the bleachers or standing around the gym floor, watching the principal and the police officers giving an announcement front and center. You sit so close to Jake that your hips are practically glued together. Brynn’s on your other side with Andrew next to her. You keep wanting to glance over your shoulder where Eddie is sitting with his group, but you decide it’s probably best not to for the sake of not dealing with your friends and boyfriend’s bad attitudes.

“I know we are all aware of the recent losses in our community. Many of us are grieving the beloved memory of these fallen students. In an effort to avoid losing any more of them, our chief of police is going to set a few rules in place to keep our community safe from this unidentified individual.”

Principal Higgins steps back to offer Chief Hopper the floor. He steps forward, already looking tired as he directs his attention to the giant crowd staring at him.

He doesn’t bother with pleasantries. He gets straight to business. “From now on and until the killer is found, a town-wide curfew will be implemented.” People start murmuring in protest. “No one is to be out of their homes past nine o’clock. All doors will be locked and-”

Everyone is talking now. There are murmurs and shouts and boo’s and all kinds of protest as they respond frustratedly to these new rules. You personally don’t oppose them too much…

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Jake groans.

“This fucking sucks!” “What the hell, man?” “Seriously?” “We didn’t do anything!”

Chief Hopper isn’t having it. He cares little for the commotion, and it’s really just pissing him off.

“Hey!”

Everyone is immediately silenced. His voice is even harder now as he yells over the silence. He makes sure to enunciate every word. “All doors and windows will be locked. You are advised to come to school and then go straight home to reduce the risk of being hurt. Police will be patrolling the streets to ensure these rules are being followed. We advise you to stay in groups and be vigilant of your surroundings. Anyone caught breaking curfew will be brought in for questioning, which could lead to a possible arrest.” There’s more silence. No one wants to interrupt him again. “Am I understood?”

Everyone murmurs their reluctant agreement.

“Thank you.”

He stands back again. Principal Higgins steps forward. “Thank you, Chief Hopper.” He clasps his hands together. “Now let us all close our eyes and bow our heads for…”

You’ve tuned him out by now. You don’t have the strength to listen to him right now. You keep replaying that note in your head over and over again.

Once they’re all gone, we will be together…

“They’re calling him Ghostface,” Jake mumbles, keeping his voice low to avoid being called out. “‘Cause of the mask they found at Cassidy’s crime scene.”

You try not to flinch. “Why are we calling him anything but a murderer?”

He shrugs. “I mean, there are a lot of murderers.”

You glance at him, but you ultimately keep your gaze fixated on your hands as you rub at your palms. “I don’t think we should be villainizing him. I mean, people actually like villains.” I’ll pull all the loose strings for you, my little puppet…

He sighs lightly. “I think it’s a pretty sick name.”

“Jake.”

“Just saying.”

There’s a weird feeling burning into your back, like someone’s watching you. It spreads like a wave, and you fight the urge to shudder as you glance behind you to see what it is.

You see Eddie, and your worries are set aside. He offers a tiny grin and a thumbs up. He wants to know if you’re okay. You return the smile as best you can and give him your own thumb. You turn back around, feeling a little better about everything.

As soon as the assembly is dismissed, everyone is making their way back to class or wherever they intend to go. Jake kisses your temple and runs off with his buddies. Brynn and Andrew go with him.

Walking by yourself, you rub a hand over your arm to self-soothe. You’re at school. Nothing is going to happen while you’re at school. You go to your locker just to be there. You don’t want to go to class yet, and you don’t want to stand in the middle of the gym or the hall like some loser.

You’re there for barely a minute before someone’s standing next to you. You flinch when you realize it, quickly calming when you recognize Eddie and his sweet face. He gives you an apologetic look. “You okay? Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

You nod, grabbing his arm and sighing with a small smile. “All good.” You grab your stuff and start down the hall with him at your side. You assume he’s walking you to class because his is at the other side of the school.

“How are you…?”

Both of you pause at the sound of Eddie’s name, pausing by the hall as you hear the familiar voices of some of Jake’s team members.

“Your girlfriend hangs out with that Munson guy?”

“I keep telling her.” Jake seems as displeased as Tommy H.

“Your girl’s a fucking freak for that, man.” That’s Andrew, Brynn’s boyfriend. You’ve learned to tune him out at this point.

“Hey, cut it out, Andy.” Chance is probably the most sane of the group, but he’s still an asshole. “That’s his fucking girlfriend.”

“Keep talking shit about her, and I’ll fuckin’ kill you.”

Tommy’s voice is obnoxious. “Shouldn’t say that, or they’ll arrest you.” A round of laughter sparks among them. Jake’s is the loudest.

“Maybe they should.”

“They should just arrest Munson,” Chance deadpans. Your grasp tightens around a textbook. You’re getting sick of hearing it. “We all know it’s him.”

“Since your girl’s suckin’ face with him, maybe she’s in on it, too… But that’d make her a slut.”

Everyone laughs, even as you hear the scuffle of shoes and ruffle of clothes as some weird play fight breaks out between them. You assume it’s between Jake and Tommy.

Eddie’s hand gently grabs your arm, crowding your space to put a barrier between you and them. His gaze is schooled on your face. He seems really upset, but he hides it well so he can comfort you. You scoff, shaking your head as you stare blankly at the floor, your face set in passionate displeasure.

“I fucking hate jocks.”

“Yeah. Me, too,” he mutters, stroking your arm. Goosebumps erupt over your skin, your entire arm gets covered in them. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

You nod, looking up at him and letting the concern in his eyes ease you. “Yeah.” You readjust your grip on your book, turning the other to walk to his class instead. He lets you, because he knows you’re trying to self-soothe and he doesn’t want to interrupt that. “I’m more upset about everyone always assuming it’s you. Like they know you or something.” You mumble the last part more to yourself, but he hears it loud and clear. It’s heartwarming, your support of him.

“That’s sweet,” he says, “but I don’t really care that much.” Like he’s said before, he’s used to it. You still don’t like it, and he loves that about you. “I don’t know too many girls who take kindly to being called a slut.” He stops you so that he can properly look at you. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nod, giving him your best smile in an attempt to convince him. He’s so sweet. You don’t want him to worry. “I’m good,” you shrug nonchalantly. “His friends are just assholes. It’s whatever.”

He doesn’t fully believe you, but he doesn’t want to press and stress you out. So he just nods and says, “Hey, you can sit with me during lunch so you don’t have to sit with them.”

You smile, and this time he believes it. “That sounds great.”

~

You’ve rustled through your bag maybe seven times now, and you still can’t find it. The amount of distress it’s causing you is a little unnerving. One thing. You just want one thing to be simple.

“Shit.” Eddie looks over at you, watches you put your head against the lunch table with a force that concerns him. He reaches a hand out and rubs circles along your back unprompted. “I left my notebook for my next class in my car.”

He raises a brow. “Are they really important?”

You turn your head to look at him. “If I miss any of these notes, I’m not passing this test.” And your teacher is a true asshole who refuses to delay the test even a single day to give you all a break.

Eddie’s already moving to stand, offering his hand to you. “I’ll go with you. You know, to keep you safe.”

You glance over at the table where Jake sits. He keeps looking over at you. When you slip your hand into Eddie’s, you know he’s pissed. You don’t mind it too much. “Thanks, Eddie.” He gives you one of those big smiles.

You walk with Eddie out of the cafeteria. There’s a cop posted at the door who checks the both of you out before letting you leave. The sun is really bright, despite the depression inside. It’s actually a bit glaring as you shield your vision from it. Eddie’s not having much luck with it either.

Eddie walks closely by you, and you appreciate the sentiment. You don’t feel as unsafe as you should—maybe it’s because it’s daytime and there are people around you. Nothing is going to happen in broad daylight.

You should really learn not to think things like that, though.

Eddie practically jumps in front of you as the loud screeching of tires alarms everyone around you. You startle, immediately looking towards the car that’s speeding through the parking lot. It’s loud and explosive. It hurts your ears, and you look away because you don’t know if you can take all this shock. You’re going to have a heart attack in your teens.

You cover your ears when it just barely crashes against the back of a car, bouncing off of it just to catapult into a giant pole.

The front is entirely caved in. There’s steam billowing from the hood as the back tires roll. One of the doors has flung open, and you stare in shock at what’s just happened. It takes you a moment to process Eddie’s protective arm over your front. You set a hand on his shoulder, and he immediately turns to examine you. “Are you okay?” he asks quickly, frantic as he looks over every part of you like you were the thing the car hit.

You start to nod when a blood curdling scream fills the air. Your head shoots to the scene of the crash, and you’re running toward it before you can even register Eddie’s protests. He chases after you.

You don’t know what you expected, but it wasn’t this.

It’s gruesome and graphic. Your hands fly to your mouth as you fight the urge to scream at the sight of two bloodied bodies lying cold in the back seat. They’ve been completely mutilated with the amount of times they’ve been stabbed all over. If you hadn’t known them so well, you probably wouldn’t have been able to make them out with all the blood and tears spread over their faces.

Telling flesh from organs (or even clothes) proved difficult. It was a mess of fabric and tissue. Some places were so abused that you could see bone sticking out of wounds, surrounded by flesh and meat. Your gut churned and churned. You wanted to look away, you’re almost begging to look away but you can’t.

That’s two jocks now, four dead bodies. First Jason, then Cassidy…and now Tommy H and Carol Perkins.

Their wide eyes are unblinking…

You can hear your breath in your ears. Everything else is so loud and muffled—the screams, the shouts, the chatter—but the heavy gasps of your lungs is a pound in your head that you can’t tune out. Everything seems to slow as you stare at the two, their bodies unmoving and broken by glinting blades. All you do is stare.

You don’t realize Eddie’s arm wrapped around your waist until he turns your head from the scene. You try to look back, but he’s shielding your gaze with his hand so that you can only look at him. “Hey, hey, hey.” His voice, though thick with breath and something you can’t place with the way your brain rushes, is grounding. “You’re okay. Let’s go. Come on.”

You just follow him because he’s the only steady thing you can focus on. He crowds you with his body, and you let him before it gives you something to focus on. The sight of them is still in your head, stuck to your brain like a dart in a dartboard. You don’t understand. You want to understand.

You don’t notice more people bursting through the doors. You don’t notice the cops following after with their guns drawn as they scream at everyone to get out of the way. You don’t notice more screams filling the air and police sirens from the cars already in the parking lot. You focus on Eddie’s warm palm against your palm as the other holds your hand tight.

You don’t know how much time has passed before you come to. Eddie’s rubbing your back and letting you rest your head on his shoulder. Everything seems calm enough to feel real. You lift your head heavily and look at him. His gaze is distant, and you take it as shock.

You tuck your arm under his to wrap it around his back. He looks down at you, blinking a couple times before continuing to just sit next to you. Everything is fine.

It takes longer than it should for you to remember Jake. When you think you can stand, you place a hand on Eddie’s shoulder and tell him insistently, “I…I’m going to find Jake. He’s probably freaking out, and…just please be safe. Please don’t get hurt. Be safe, please.”

Eddie nods, squeezing your hand gently before letting you go. “You, too. I’ll see you later, right?”

It takes a moment to process. “Yes. Yeah, I’ll try to call you.” He nods, squeezes your hand again, and then lets you go. As you turn away toward the thick crowd, you see Jonathan Byers joining Eddie. Argyle and Robin find them a moment later. At least he’s got company.

Everyone is in the cafeteria now. There’s police at every door keeping anyone from leaving. It’s very crowded, and for a moment, you think you can’t breathe, but you need to find your boyfriend.

It takes you a long time to find him. When you do, it looks like he's just now being told what's happened by his teammates. Brynn is at his side with Andrew holding her hands, speaking slowly. You finally get to them and drop to your knees to look up at him. He sits down heavily, dropping his face in his hands. He looks really tired.

“Jake?” you whisper, brushing his hair back from his face and gently holding his face to lift it up. He sees you, and his eyes dart between your own. His expression is so far away, and you begin to worry yourself sick. You wrap your arms around him, holding him close as you wait for anyone to tell you anything about what’s going on.

They send you home in groups, canceling school for the rest of the week while they’re at it. You worry about Jake driving, but he’s assured you that you’re okay enough and traffic is slow already. He drives in front of you, and you busy yourself with reading and rereading his plate numbers a million times just to try to avoid thinking about the corpses in Tommy H’s car.

You go to your house first. You hate the thought of walking in there right now, but you need clothes and things if you’re staying at Jake’s house for the next couple of days. You reach through the window of his truck on the way in, sliding a hand down his face. “You okay?”

He nods. He looks like he’s coming back to himself, but he’s still (obviously) deeply upset. “I’m good.”

You kiss his forehead before you’re headed inside with hesitant steps. Once the door is unlocked and open, you move quickly in an effort to grab all the things you need. As you’re passing the kitchen, you notice something sitting on the table. There wasn’t anything there when you were last here.

You swallow thickly, closing your eyes and slowly turning on your heel. When you open your eyes again to see, you swallow the insistent lump in your throat and set your bag on the counter. You walk slowly into the kitchen, and your hands begin to tremble all over again.

The note is the same handmade paper as before. This time, the smudge is on the outside over your name. Your heart is pounding so fast, you can’t even fathom focusing on it right now. You reach a hand out to grab it.

You hear Jake’s shoes as he steps through the front door. You swipe up the note and hide it behind your back as his gaze finds you.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his tone sort of lazy.

You shake your head. “Nothing. I’m just gonna get my stuff.” You start walking toward the stairs.

“I’ll come with you.”

“No,” you sound more desperate than you mean to. But he wouldn’t understand. “No, it’s fine. Please don’t.”

He stares at you for a moment before deciding it’s not that big a deal. He steps back, nodding to himself. “Okay.” He turns on his heel and walks back to his truck to wait for you.

You rush upstairs, shoving open your bedroom door and locking it behind you. You almost yelp when you turn and see a black rose sitting on your bed. You slap a hand over your mouth and close your eyes to center yourself, breathing like that will make the rose disappear—and the letter, too, for that matter.

You lean against the door, your breath shaky as you look at the envelope. You tear it open slower than you had the first, pulling out the letter inside like it will explode if you’re not careful enough.

When all our enemies are dead and buried, we will be the ones laughing together. Soon, my perfect little puppet.

Your breath shudders as memories of just earlier that day pulse in your ears, Tommy and the team laughing at you for “being a slut”. Without wasting a second, Tommy haunts you with the sight of his open eyes, wide and bloodshot—as if he’d just seen a ghost.

This letter goes with the last one. You throw it into the closet and turn to your dresser for some clothes to stuff in a bag. But the top drawer is already open. A pair of underwear is missing. The only reason you know that is because it's the only red pair you have, and it’s not glaring you down.

You shake your head, grabbing the first sets of clothes you see and stuffing them in the bag. You lock all your windows, you lock your bedroom door behind you, you run down the stairs and ignore the fact that you could trip and fall at any moment (effectively breaking your neck and ridding you of the exhaustion of the mess that is your life right now).

You keep (re-locking) every lockable door and window in your house before you finally reach the front door. Once you’re sure it’s locked tight, you rush to Jake’s car with your bag thrown over your shoulder. You toss it in the back, and Jake pulls away as soon as your seatbelt is on. You’re glad he doesn’t ask you what’s wrong, because you know you’re not subtle.

~

The night is a little better once you get to Jake’s place (at least, it is for him once he's had a few beers). Brynn is over—Andrew had to stay home, his parents were too worried to let him leave the house.

But you've got the house all to yourselves. Jake's father is working all night at the precinct. There's no way he's coming home with a killer on the loose—a killer who's already claimed two jocks so far. He's not very keen on a third, especially with such a personal risk.

There's a movie on, and it's a nice distraction for them. Your mind is a little too preoccupied with the events of today (the events of the past few days).

As you glance over at Jake, you set a hand on his knee. There was a flash of something sad in his eyes for a moment. His mood, although it has improved, is still a little sour. It isn't so low that he looks like he isn't there—no, the beer has helped with that—but there's a faintness there that concerns you.

“You okay?” It's a dumb question, but it's the only one you've got. Brynn looks over.

Jake glances at you, nodding. “Yeah,” he says. “Just can't believe he got Tommy.” He shakes his head. “It's not fucking cool, he was a good dude.”

You can admit that you never really liked him. But that wasn't a reason for him to die.

He stands, swirling his empty beer can in his hand and going to grab another. You're still sipping—you never really liked the taste of beer, and Brynn seems to be almost through with hers.

He rustles through the fridge and cracks open another can. “I don't even know why anyone would do this.” He takes a generous swig, running a hand through his hair and shutting the fridge door.

“A fucking psycho, that's who,” Brynn mutters. She drapes a hand over her face. “Who knows what else he'll do?”

Jake scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I try not to think about it.”

You swallow thickly, looking down at your hands as you twirl your thumbs around the other. Brynn glances at you when you say nothing. You're doing that thing where the crease between your brows folds and unfolds. Something’s off.

“What's wrong?” she mutters. Jake looks at you.

You don't know how to tell them. You don't even know if they'll understand. Besides, with everything going on, your problems aren't nearly as important.

You go to dismiss it, but as you glance up and see them both watching you, you realize that you cannot sit here and pretend that nothing is bothering you this time. You look away, trying to find the words and feeling like you’re grasping at straws in a simple attempt at voicing your concerns.

“I…” You take a steadying breath, remembering the notes written to you on letters stained with blood. Fear circles your throat and makes it difficult to speak. You look up at Jake and Brynn. What if saying something about this meant they would both die? What if this thing, this sick, twisted thing going on between you and the killer means that everyone you love will end up dead?

Once again, you go to deny them the truth, the ugly truth of your peril…but you’ve already made that impossible. You swallow thickly, clearing your throat and hoping it will give you some courage.

“I’ve been getting these…these letters.” You clasp your hands together in an effort to stop their trembling. Your voice is soft, so soft that you don’t think they can hear you. “I think it’s from…him.”

Jake’s hand flexes, and you think for a moment that he’ll spill beer all over the place from crushing the can in his fist. “Who?” You think it’s possession over protection.

“The killer,” you say. Then your voice gets weaker. “Ghostface.”

Brynn makes a face. One that tells you that she doesn’t quite believe you. “Why would you be getting letters from this psycho?”

They’re not understanding. They don’t hear the fear in your voice.

“I don’t know. They’re these twisted love letters. I swear to God, there was blood on one of them.” You bring your knees up to your chest, trying to find warmth where fear has made your blood cold. You don’t look at them as you shake your head. It’s an absurd thing to say, but all of what’s happening is absurd. “I think this guy is killing for me.”

Brynn shakes her head, finding logic where you’re too emotional to look. “That doesn’t make sense.”

Jake agrees, coming back to the living room to lean on the couch beside you. “It’s probably just some fuckin’ creep playing with you.” He drinks from his can.

As reasonable as they sound—at least, it’s more reasonable than the theory you have—you can’t believe it. Too much has happened, and this is all too fucked up to try to rationalize. You shake your head, turning your body to face him.

“You don’t understand. He got into my house.” Jake’s eyes aren’t clear, and he looks generally unfazed. You reach a hand out to grasp his own, squeezing it to try to get him to listen to you. “He was there today.”

He tilts his head down. The way he looks at you is nothing if not condescending, but you try not to see it that way. “Maybe you left your door unlocked.” You think, as the son of a police officer, he should be more upset about something breaking into your house. Hell, as your boyfriend, he should be more upset about a guy breaking into your house. “Ie,” he continues, “someone’s playing a trick on you.”

You tilt your head, your anxious frustration turning to something more angry. “I always lock the door. Especially when my parents aren’t home—especially when there’s a psycho killer on the loose.” He shakes his head. You take his face in your hands, making him look at you again. “Jake, Cassidy tried to get me fired. I heard Tommy talking about me today.”

“And Jason?” he nearly snaps. He steps away from you completely. “How’s he connected, huh?”

You swallow. He’s the only one who sticks out. Jason was never unkind to you—though you know he can be unkind. He was, to those that counted to him, as gentlemanly as a jock can get.

You look down. “I…” You clear your throat lightly. “I don’t know, but I know something’s wrong.”

“Yeah, four people are dead.” He almost slams his beer on the counter. His voice cracks slightly, and he runs a hand through his messy hair. He speaks quietly, though not lacking the hurt in his voice. “That’s what’s wrong.”

You know he, Jason, and Tommy were friends, you know how much they mean to him. But—damn it—you should mean just as much! He’s supposed to have your back through this, just like you’ve had his. You’ve tried to be good to him this whole time, and then when you try to tell him how afraid you are, he throws it in your face.

It’s getting to be too much. You have grown used to the flimsy support of those close to you. You parents are almost always gone, your boyfriend has his team, your best friend has her boyfriend. Things used to be so good, and they’ve just been getting so stressful. You never ask for anything from any of them, and the one time you do, you’ve served with a steaming bowl of hot shit. It’s too much.

“I feel like I’m going crazy here, and neither of you are listening to me.” You run your hands down your face, covering your eyes and trying to steady your breath, trying to ease the heat in your chest from all the anger gathering there. “I feel like-like I’m being watched all the time.”

Brynn speaks up. “You’re just paranoid.”

“He was in my house!

You couldn’t stop it once it was out. Your shout was louder than you’d anticipated, and you feel like it’s the first time your words have ever been forced straight from your chest. There’s so much there that you feel like you have to catch your breath as the silence sits thick in the space between the three of you.

You look at Brynn. She stares down at her lap, timidly picking her nails. You look at Jake. He’s got his face in his hand as he leans against the counter.

They don’t believe you.

You can’t make them.

You stand up quickly, pushing yourself off the couch so hard that you almost fall forward. “I don’t need this.” You shove past Jake on your way to the hall, “You guys are supposed to have my fucking back.” Brynn turns to Jake, her eyes unblinking. You climb the stairs and barge into his room, grabbing your bags and repacking the things you’ve set out.

Jake has followed you up the stairs. “Come on, babe. Don’t act like this.”

It makes you seethe. “I’m going home.”

“How? You live too far, and you don’t have a ride.” You glare at him. That’s his concern. “Besides, you shouldn’t be out by yourself.” He adds it on like an afterthought.

You shake your head, closing your eyes and taking a steadying breath. “Then I’ll call someone to get me.” You slam your bag shut, forcing the zipper closed with far too much strength. “I just can’t fucking look at you right now.”

Jake grabs you, stopping you from what you’re doing to make you look at him. “Hey, babe, look, I’m sorry. Okay?” He makes you face him, his hands on your elbows as he cages you in. You turn your face away. “I’m being a huge dick… I believe you, okay?”

You huff, glancing at him out of the corner of your eyes. You take in the sight of him, trying to determine if he’s lying to you. He seems upset, genuinely. It’s foolish hope, but it’s hope, and that’s all you really want right now. “Do you?” It’s more accusing than it is anything else.

His voice is low, and he cradles your face in his hand. You let yourself, reluctantly, lean into his palm. “If that’s what you want.” You don’t like his response, but you push it away. He’s never had a way with words. “I’m sorry.” He pulls you close, bringing his other hand to wrap around your waist. “Let me make it up to you.”

You sigh, allowing yourself for just a moment to think maybe…maybe he means it. His thumb brushes over your cheek, the corner of his lips curves up. He leans in.

“Are you fucking serious right now?”

You shove him hard. You clench your fists at your side and feel yourself reaching a level of anger that is generally foreign to you. You're used to pushing it away.

Jake's shock quickly turns to annoyance, which forms a deep frustration as he huffs. “I'm so fucking sorry,” he mocks. He crowds your space, his face merely inches from his own as he speaks in a low voice that feels like he's shouting. “Two of my friends are dead, and you're making it all about you.”

You want to feel bad, but you can't. You're tired of feeling bad, you're tired of letting yourself be overlooked. What kills you is that he can't even realize that you're not okay—that you're hardly ever okay.

“What the fuck is the matter with you?” You stare in shock and partially in pain, though you try to keep that hidden. It claws at your throat, and you feel like you can't speak; you push through it, despite the burning coals stuck in your throat. “I'm genuinely terrified that someone is trying to hurt me, and you're acting like this?”

He looks like he's about to rip his hair out—which is the point you're reaching as well. “Nobody is trying to hurt you! You're fucking delusional. Jesus Christ, why do you have to be such a whiny little bitch?”

A mix of emotions run through you, but all you do is stand there. You stand and you stare at him, eyes wide and welling, lips parted as your brows dip low.

It's one thing to have a stray thought that your boyfriend finds you annoying—even, perhaps, that he hates you. It's another thing entirely to have those theories confirmed, and in such a way! You look at the features of his face, all the rage and frustration peeling back into fatigue and a hint of regret. You stare even longer, longer than you were meant to, just wanting to see more regret than what he's giving.

You want him to fall to his knees and cry, to beg your forgiveness. But you know he would never beg. You know he would never fall. He never did. It was always you.

After all this time, you were always the one falling.

Ideally, you know you both need to take a step back, get some space. You need to clear your head and think about this so you can come back and figure this out. Especially with everything going on, feelings running high. You should be rational.

But you can't. 

The only thing you want to do right now is slam the door in his face, leave him standing there looking stupid. Because if you come back, if you make up and go back to normal…

You don't know how much more you can take.

Jake takes a step forward. “Babe–”

“Get the fuck away from me.”

“Babe, I'm sorry. I'm just–”

You hit his hand away when he reaches for you. “Don't fucking touch me.” You stare at him for a second longer, shaking your head before turning sharply to grab your bags. You make for the door.

“Babe–”

“Rot in Hell.”

You slam the door in his face, rushing down the stairs as quickly as you can. Brynn spots you, walking up to you quickly as she looks down at your bags. “Where are you going?”

“Fuck off.”

“You don't have your car–!” You slam the front door shut. You make sure Jake can hear it from upstairs.

No one follows you. You trek down the sidewalk, your feet heavy and your grip on your bags tight. Your heart is beating so hard, it comes with the sound of thunder in your ears. You know you're about to cry, you can feel it in the heaviness of your chest, the tightness in your throat, the hoarseness of every breath you take. You think briefly that you may die.

But the longer you walk, the longer you realize that you are outside. It's past curfew, late at night. You are alone.

And there's a killer on the loose.

It's the most inconvenient time for tears to fall. You can't see well, and you're breathing so heavily that you can't hear what's going on around you.

The streets are bare. There's no one around. The sky is drenched in darkness. Everyone is inside hiding from the killer, where they should be.

Where do you go?

You have no car. You live too far to walk. You refuse to go back and ask for a ride. You refuse to go back.

You swallow thickly, picking up the pace as you rush to the nearest payphone. There's one close by, you’ve passed by it a million times.

Once you're inside, you close the door quickly. But as soon as your hand is reaching for loose quarters in your bag, you realize they're shaking. You watch them, like leaves rattling in the window. As you bring them slowly to your face, you can't help it when your knees buckle.

You let yourself be carried to the ground, unable to hold it together long enough to find safety. It's all coming down so quickly, and you don't have the sense to allot time to cry after you've found it.

You'd hoped you were wrong, that your friends actually loved you. What a fool you were to believe such a thing. You'd grown so used to such a skewed perception of love that you don't think you'd be able to distinguish that from your twisted need to please every goddamn person you meet.

You like to believe that, at one point, it was real. It had to have been, right? It's been almost a year since you and Jake met. And Brynn has been your best friend since the beginning of high school. But that kind of distrust, those kinds of insults don't come from a place of love.

No, you don't think Jake ever truly loved you. It was simple attraction—attraction that wore off, that he probably got sick of but felt too obligated to preserve because you need someone. And there was a time for you and Brynn, but it has since passed.

You held on too tight.

It's nighttime and the sun has long since set. By the time you clear your face, you feel stupid for crying before finding safety. There are more important things than this.

You take a steadying breath. You need to be rational again.

You stuff a quarter in the slot and clear your throat as you bring the phone to your ear. It rings a few times, and you're scared he won't pick up.

“Hello?”

You recognize the voice, but it's not the one you're looking for. “Hey…” You clear your throat again. “I'm looking for Eddie? I'm one of his friends, we've actually met before.”

Eddie's Uncle Wayne pauses to think. You can imagine him scratching his head and rubbing his neck. He says your name in his low, gravelly voice.

You nod as if he can see you. “Yes, that's me.”

“Ah. Well,” he clears his own throat, “Eddie's at one of his friend's houses right now. That Harrington boy, should be. Staying in groups and all that.”

“Okay.” You hadn't anticipated that. You chew on your lip thoughtfully, trying to decide your best course of action. You know Steve, so maybe you'll be welcome. “Do you think you could give me his number?”

He makes this grunting sound, which is just the sound of him thinking. “Let's see,” he mumbles. “Should be in here somewhere.”

You've only interacted with Wayne a few times. He's very mellow, but he's kind and welcoming. And Eddie adores him.

“Harrington residence. What's up?”

“Hey. Steve? Is Eddie there?”

He says your name, double checking. It's been a little while since you've spoken, with him graduating and all.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, he's here.”

You let out a quiet breath of relief. “Could I speak to him?”

“Yeah, hang on.”

There's a shift. Then you hear Steve shout his name.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He already sounds concerned. “What's the matter?”

You rub your face. “Got into it with…” you take a deep breath and hope you don't sound as dreadful as you felt, “with Jake and Brynn. I don't wanna be home by myself. I know it’s past curfew but…” You glance around you in the dark. “Do you think you could come get me?”

There's a pause, and you wonder if you've said something wrong. Eddie is all enthusiasm. He's loud and excited, and he's quick to respond because he's happy to respond.

The silence makes you nervous.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah!” he recovers. “Yeah, of course. Where are you right now?”

You're glad he doesn't ask how you are. “I'm on Jake's street still.”

You hear a jingle. “Stay there. I'll be there in a few minutes.” You're surprised he doesn't ask why you're outside so late, but you're grateful nonetheless.

“Thank you, Eddie,” you smile.

You can hear his own smile through the phone. He's sticky with affection, and it makes you feel safe. “No worries, sweetheart.”

Continued....

Stranger Things taglist: @activebliss @queermaxwooo @life-on-needs @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen @emmalee-01 @sw34ter-w34ther @gublur @allofmaris @redwineandnicotine @the-cryptid @katsukis1wife @chaoticcancer @papichulo120627 @emistrash @jjmaybankswifes-blog @thegr8estpuff @lover-of-books-and-tea @xxhanililoxx @quickslvxrr Eddie the Banished taglist: @iiiiluvhobie @eddiiiieeee @hb8301 @queermaxwooo @lovemegood @munsaniac @digital-charlie @eiriancrow @littleblondesoprano @alexxavicry @samz31 @sparkletash @fandomgirl17 @marjoriea13 @akiratoro420 @mewchiili @mischieftom @hiscrimsonangel

[topherwrites]

𝑨𝑳𝑳 𝑯𝑨𝑳𝑳𝑶𝑾𝑺' 𝑬𝑽𝑬

summary - a witch and he-man... what an interesting pairing. (aka, jake is taking his niece trick or treating around his building and can't help knocking on your door.)

pairing - jake seresin x (fem!)reader

word count - 2.3k

rating - no smut, but 18+ anyways, mdni!

content warnings & tags - age gap (reader is in her early twenties, jake is thirty) / reader and jake are neighbors / no use of (y/n) / flirting / pre-relationship / fluff / lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: anyways, i'm going to post this then go to a halloween party! hopefully i'll get a little tipsy and meet my own jake. here's a link if you don't know what he-man looks like. reblogs, comments, and likes super appreciated!

TOP GUN MASTERLIST / LIBRARY BLOG

Jake isn’t one to hesitate, certainly not in the sky and rarely on the ground. At least that's the story he's been telling himself until the sight of, 8F, your door numbers, have his knuckles pausing just before contact. Now, he’s reevaluating.

You're the one door that he's been simultaneously dreading and anticipating, the feeling swirling into an unidentifiable pit in his stomach.

It's early in the evening, and even though he definitely saw your apartment number on the signup sheet for the building's trick-or-treating, he's not entirely sure if you'll even be home. It is Halloween, and you're young, younger than him by probably a few years; there’s probably some big Halloween party that runs until dawn breaks that you're attending.

There's been plenty of nights where he's getting home from the Hard Deck to crash, having had probably one beer too many at his age, and your night is only just starting. Some skin-tight number riding up your thighs as you pass by him with a pretty smile that has his head turning. His drunken attention captured, eyes following you down the hall.

He's holding onto the hope that you're out as he knocks, hoping that you're not about to see him dressed up in this ugly little wig and red tighty-whities. Why didn't they give him a far more dressed reboot?

His hope is dashed as the door swings open, revealing your pretty face. 

You’re dressed as a witch, sort of. Really, you're just wearing a short black dress, a pointy hat, and matte red lipstick. Fairly minimal effort. But you look great and Jake is wearing a yellow wig that's basically a bowl cut, so...

Your eyes drag up Jake’s form, not entirely shy about checking him out in return, his heart picking up at the look there. Arms crossed, you lazily rest your upper body on the door jam with a charming smile. There’s a tease in your voice as you say, “Cute. Though aren’t you a little old to be trick or treating?”

Quickly, he nudges his seven-year-old niece, Mia, out from where she’s shuffled behind his legs, shielding herself from view. Her winged gold She-Ra crown knocks slightly askew as she moves. 

She's shy in a way that Jake and his siblings were not at her age. His parents had to deal with three entirely fearless, entirely stupid children—an entirely different beast. His sister is hoping that trick-or-treating through his apartment building, a controlled foray into interacting with strangers will instill a little confidence in her. Her grip on his hand tightens as your gaze bounces down to her.

You straighten up, coyness softening into a genuinely kind, kid-friendly look. You glance back at him, a sympathetic pinch to your brow.

“My niece, Mia,” he unnecessarily clarifies. He’s sure his whole life screams bachelor to any woman looking. 

He thinks you have been. Flirty exchanges at the mailboxes, and dragging looks in the elevators, arms brushing as you lean on the back wall, standing closer than necessary as you exchange lingering small talk.

The lights in your apartment are low. Your living room is far enough down the hall that it’s blocked from view, but the wall behind you is illuminated by your TV screen, an unchanging blue glow. 

A young girl, probably only a year or two older than Mia, skids into the hallway, sliding in on her socks. She’s dressed as a black cat, with a little tail and ears, and feline-like face paint.

You turn to look at her. Her painted-on whiskers move as she asks you, “Can we play the movie?”

Your brow scrunches. Biting your lip, you hold up a finger to her, "One sec." You turn back to him. "My brother and sister and their kids are over. We're gonna watch Coraline. Would you and Mia wanna watch with us?"

He looks down at his niece. She seems apprehensive at the idea, her lips pressed tightly together as she looks up at you. He lightly tugs her hand, pulling her attention. Her eyes come back to him.

He gently inquires, "Do you wanna go watch a movie?"

She hesitates, and he's about to take that as a no when you drop into a crouch so you’re eye to eye with Mia. You lean in conspiratorially, briefly looking over your shoulder. "You know, Abby," you nod to the girl who's now tugging on her cat tail, “She's also a big She-ra fan."

Your niece waves at Mia at the mention of her name, brightening up a little at the idea of a shared interest. She unnecessarily raises her voice, like ten feet is a chasm she won't be able to be heard from, "I really like your costume."

Mia's grip tightens on his hand, but she looks up to ask him, "Can we?"

He's a little surprised by that, but then you smile up at him from your crouch, and he understands completely; you're persuasive, with your kind eyes and carefully chosen words. He thinks a siren would've been a more accurate costume.

He nods, "Sure, yeah."

You slap your thighs, hopping to your feet. Swinging the door all the way open, you gesture in, "Alright, great. Come on in."

Immediately, Abby is charging ahead, taking hold of Mia's hand and pelting her with questions as she leads her to the living room, a new friend acquired. She’s clearly unburdened by feelings of anxiety around new people. Murmurings of, Who's your favorite character? hit his ears.

You both just stand in the doorway for a moment as you watch them walk away. But then your eyes drop to his scantily clad state, humor quicking your lips. "How are you not cold?" You don't wait for his response. Continuing, voice dropping into something smoother, right back to teasing, “Bringing the kid as a front to flirt with me is kind of low, 8B.”

And while he didn't intend for his niece to be an in with you, this is sort of the moment he’s been waiting for since you moved in all those months ago—up close and personal. The thrill of it seizes control of his brain, rendering him unable to volley a flirtation right back. He’s blue-screened—a little icon circles as you shut the door behind him.

A man's voice calls from the living room, cutting off the reply his brain was working at full capacity to form, “Who’s kid is this?”

You tug at his wrist, and he pliantly follows you to the archway of the living room, keeping just a step behind you. You thumb at him over your shoulder, "This is Jake and his niece, Mia."

Your brother gives him a brief nod of acknowledgment, almost entirely uncaring about his presence beyond confirming some random child didn't just stroll into your apartment. Rolling his beer bottle in his hand, he turns back to look at what seems like fantasy football scores on his phone.

He feels another pair of eyes drag over him; your sister sitting in an armchair has, an apparently genetic, shit-eating grin on her face. She covers the side of her mouth with her hand, but the angle she's sitting at gives him a full view of her mouthed words—the persistent smile on her face makes it clear she’s aware—as she questions you, “Hot neighbor?”

Something shoots from the base of his spine to his heels at the knowledge that you've, at the very least, mentioned him to your sister—enough that he's been dubbed 'hot neighbor'. You laugh wryly, shooting your sister a scathing look as your hand curls around his bicep, warmth soaking into his skin from your palm as you drag him off to your kitchen.

He can't help the smile that works its way onto his face.

Your kitchen is much the same as his, except for the rust-colored pot rack hanging over the island in the middle. There is a pumpkin-carving station set up there, newspaper set down with guts strewn around. A few pumpkins sit on your countertop, out of the way, with already carved faces.

You quickly pivot from your embarrassment to his. "So, the get-up is..."

"She insisted on cartoon accuracy. Don't let the doe eyes fool you; she's a little tyrant."

"I think you just wanted all the hot moms in the building to know that you have abs." You pivot before he can reply—you seem to have a tendency to do that—inquiring, "Do you want me to get you a robe or something?"

"Yes, please."

You disappear down your hallway. Jake, all the while, wonders how he can salvage his dignity. He slips the Little Lord Fauntleroy-esque wig off his head, leaving it abandoned on the counter. Running a hand through his hair, he finds a bit of sweat has collected on his scalp—probably equal parts from the suffocating wig and interacting with you. 

His eyes spot his reflection in the chrome of your fridge. He scrutinizes his appearance there, preening as he tries to put his hair back into some flattering form. It's not nearly as bad as helmet hair, but only by a slight margin.

You come sauntering back in just as Jake figures his hair is as good as it’s gonna get, robe and bucket of candy in hand. He gratefully takes the plush bathrobe from you, his thumb running over an embroidered insignia with a lion and a crown, Ritz-Carlton underneath. You're a robe thief. He probably shouldn't find petty theft as amusing as he does. wrapping it around himself.

“So what’s your poison?” You regard him, “Or are you one of those miserable people who don't eat candy on holidays?”

“I... am not one of those miserable people.” His fingers just barely close on the plastic of the wrapper before you flick your wrist, the candy flopping backward, just out of his grasp.

Batting your lashes at him, your voice drops, "I need to hear the magic words."

He rolls his eyes, the words coming out as a sigh though he’s enjoying the whole play of this, "Please?"

"Noo, by the power of...?"

He can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of him, regardless of the fact that you're having a laugh at his expense. His chin drops to his chest, shoulders shaking with it. He breathes the laugh out with a sigh, pressing his lips together to try to keep his smile from spreading, unwilling to let you know just how be-witched he is by you. It’s a poor attempt.

He recites the line, "By the power of Grayskull."

You seem overtly pleased by this. You smack the Kit Kat bar into his awaiting palm, and the slightest brush of your fingertips against his skin sends electricity shooting up his arm.

You hand him the candy, turning back to the fridge. A laugh lighting up your eyes, you casually throw over your shoulder, "You're obedient."

An hour later, he’s elbow-deep in pumpkin guts, clearing yours for you as you blatantly watch him, chin in hand.

It's clear that neither one of you really wants to go back to the living room yet; you're both just playing for time, trying to find a reason to stay in this bubble.

"If there weren't children present, what would you be watching in celebration of the holiday?"

"Probably 'The Thing'." Your eyes connect over the table, "What about you?"

“Shaun of the Dead, or maybe, Scream?”

You hum approvingly, and, again, he feels a little tickle of self-satisfaction work its way through him. 

He’s not really good at this—the flirting and winking and fucking he can do, no problem—but the seeing someone every day, the conversations, the connecting… he’s less good at. He’s been alone for so long that it's like an atrophied muscle, weak with disuse. 

But here, in your kitchen, as you pick a pumpkin seed off his shoulder, it feels less insurmountable. 

It's only hours later that he scoops up a half-conscious Mia, the night clearly over with the credit roll of Paranorman. Your brother scoops up and corralls his own out the door.

Your sister approaches him, handing him a slip of paper with her number on it. She smiles. "Not hitting on you. Give that to her mom, maybe the girls can have a playdate sometime."

She leaves him with a knowing wink as she shuts the front door.

Before this night, he was attracted to you, coy and pretty. But now, it might be a little something more. Because, as he's come to find out, you're also kind and generous and funny. You didn't need to open your home to him, could've just put some candy in her bucket and sent them to the next door. But instead, you went out of your way to broker a friendship between two kids.

The hall is quiet as you open the door for him. Warm light from the sconce-lined hallway settles gently over your features. He lingers at the entrance. He doesn’t want the evening to be over yet, but it’s close to his niece's bedtime, and he’s probably already overstayed his welcome. However, the silence that falls over both of you is calm. Not like you’re just counting down the seconds till he leaves.

He shifts his hold on his softly snoring niece, dropping a kiss to your cheek. Quietly, he can hear your breath catch. Pulling back, there's scant room between your bodies despite the blockade of his niece's slumbering form. Your lashes flutter open.

"Thank you for tonight."

Silently, with two fingers hooked on the handle, you return to him the plastic pumpkin bucket. It's significantly fuller than when they showed up to your door; you must've topped it up from your own stash before handing it back. 

You speak just a brush above a whisper, "Anytime. Don't be a stranger."

There's a beat of a shared smile before he turns, and all Jake can think as he ambles down the hall, back to his apartment, is, I won't be.

a/n: thank you for reading and happy halloween!

[neonsharky]

Happy Halloween from Symas!!

Happy Halloween everyone, I hope you're all having a great time! These two sure did with their silly costumes that Tomas recommended :]

Also this is a Kombatober prompt for the last day, I did my best for my first ever October drawing prompt challenge :D

[letshareapapou]

Trick or treat!! I just wanted to say I've recently come back to Tumblr after a very long break and made a new blog. Finding your blog has brought me a lot of joy and I wanted to say that I think you're going a great job and you're a great artist! Sorry for the sappy message, I just wanted to let you know~ Happy Halloween!!

Pocket Sand!!!

Sorry it's a trick for your nice message but you had reblogged two posts about Hunter with dirt so you KNOW that man keeps some on hand lmao.

But seriously thank you for the sweet message!! I'm glad my blog makes you happy. I've had a great time drawing the batch and talking to everyone this past year! I hope you have a happy Halloween!!! 🎃🎃🎃

[uncharismatic-fauna]

Trick or treat! I hope you're having a wonderful day!

-🐊

Thank you, and I hope you had a great Halloween! Here is a white-collared yuhina (Yuhina diademata)!

[sulumuns-dootah]

Hello again! Hope you are having a wonderful day!

If it isn’t much trouble, I would love to request something! Could you please do the Kings + Pyong, Paimon, and Bimet with an MC who is a skilled anime style artist and makes their own characters? Including hentai lmao

I hope this isn’t too much! Idk if I have already sent a request that you haven’t answered yet so if I have you can ignore this one lol

I wish you a Happy Halloween! 🧡🖤🎃

WHB kings (+ Ppyong, Paimon & Bimet) w/ Anime/Manga artist

⟡ Masterlist ⟡ 

A/N: Hi! Hope you enjoyed your Halloween too and got a lot of tricks and/or treats! ^^

Characters: Satan, Paimon, Ppyong, Mammon, Bimet, Leviathan, Beelzebub, Asmodeus, Belphegor, Lucifer

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Satan for some reason loves posing for you as a reference (even for the NSFW works)

Maybe because you get to appreciate every muscle on his body?

Definitelly would ask you to draw him in your style

I've seen bikers have photos of their s/o stuck to their bike mirrors so I think Satan would stick your drawing of the two of you there

Now, when it comes to your hentai stuff... Are you sure that position between those two characters would work?

There's only one way to find out!

And let's be honest... After Satan tries a certain position out with you, drawing is the last thing on your mind by then

    ༺☆༻

Paimon is your fan no.1!

If you're okay with monetising your art, they'll happily handle your Etsy store with stickers, prints and pins

But if you don't want to, they're fine with that too

They're just happy they have such a talented s/o!

Similarly to Satan, they'll love to pose for your art

Paimon also loves to help you out with color palettes

They do tend to steer you towards pastels, but if that's not your style, they'll try to keep within your color schemes

    ༺☆༻

*gasp* Draw him!

Now draw him in his human from!

And now his human form hanging out with Minhyeok!

Ppyong loves seeing your creations come to life and even offer insight

Oop, Ppyong is off to human world to get some human energy! Could you draw something for Minhyeok?

Don't worry, Ppyong will make sure to save some chocolate for you for your hard work ^^

Oh, but you might wanna hide your NSFW art a secret

Especially if you sometimes draw other demons without their knowledge

Or they'll know very soon since Ppyong can't keep a secret for the life of him

    ༺☆༻

Oh, you're an artist?

Okay, here's a set of some of the most expensive art supplies you might need

Also, here are the keys to your new gallery

If you don't want your art display, that's okay too...

You can just turn the space into your studio

Mammon is happy to have such a talent around him

He's secretly hoping you'll draw him too, but doesn't want to outright ask because he understands you can't force art

Seriously though, if you need anything, he'll do his research and get you the best stuff out there

    ༺☆༻

If you don't make money from your art, then Bimet will make you to

Open commissions, sell merch, auction your stuff off...

Only a idiot wouldn't be selling their art when it's this good

Congratulations, you've got yourself an agent

No discussions!

And go to bed early tonight! You have a showcase tomorrow and it needs to be installed as early as possible!

Also, take a week off for the next Tartaros Con! You'll be having a booth there!

You might be complaining now, but once the money starts rolling in, you'll have Bimet all putty in your hands

At some point, even Mammon might get jealous of how much attention you're getting from Bimet

    ༺☆༻

Just like with anything else, Leviathan will pretend to not be bothered

But on the inside, he's kinda jealous

How dare you have a talent he doesn't?

A great way to make him warm up to you in that regard would be "accidentally" forgeting a study of him somewhere where he finds it

From that point on, he'll be more okay with you and sometimes would even ask to see your creations

Just maybe, ask for permission the next time you want to draw him

What if you accidentally draw him on a day when his outfit isn't as nice or hair doesn't stay as it should?

Asking him also has the added bonus of being able to draw him naked :)

    ༺☆༻

Wait, that means you can draw anything, right?

Okay, how about you draw Bael in a funny outfit?

Hm... How about Princess Leviathan in a tall tower and the brave knight Beel coming to save her?

I know you expected Beel asking you to draw something NSFW, but nope

This man is an endless shitpost generator and there's so much stuff he can come up with before he even gets to anything remotely dirty

R.I.P. to you if those drawings get leaked though

Now you've got some angry kings and nobles banging at your door and that lovable bastard is gone as always

    ༺☆༻

Yes, Asmo loves your NSFW artwork

Still, I can also imagine him also appreciating your SFW works

And it's not even in the 'haha you're so funny, let's fuck' kind of way

I'd kinda like to believe that showing him your art would flip on the 'best dad' switch and he'll want to put it up on a fridge

Oh, but maybe you might wanna practice drawing bodies to help you with different angles and such?

Yep, here it is...

The Asmo we expected will now wear even less of his sheet so you have a nice view of his muscles and body to get a good idea of how they work

Also, good luck showing him your hentai art, because he will suggest more pleasurable positions fro your characters

And yes, he will try to show you in praxis

    ༺☆༻

Oh hey, that's cool! Belphie loves anime!

If he sometimes gets an interesting dream, he'll share it with you and maybe you can base a story on it

Whenever he wakes up, feel free to share what you've created in the meantime

Belphie will give you his honest opinion and what you could improve - if there is anything

If there's a convention happening and he's going there, he'll take you with him and even encourage you to set up a booth

Also, if you draw you two together, he'll have Beleth frame it and put it up on a wall soemwhere where he can see it whenever he wakes up

    ༺☆༻

Proud dad just like Asmo

You have a talent and you should show it

Another king who will give you a space to either turn into a gallery or your very own studio

If you're not against it, Luci would also like you to hold art therapy sessions in the psychiatric ward of the hospital

Oh, also one of your biggest fans becomes Gamigin once he sees you draw Lucifer as he's posing for your studies

You better learn how to draw dragons fast :D

Also, yes, Jjok is gonna be as annoying as Ppyong when it comes to your drawing

[samithedaydreamer]

Has anyone seen the hatter?

Happy Halloween!!

I hope you're all having a great day!!

🐇 @ontargetmadders @aromantyczno-liryczna @lovesomehate @ashxxgyu @sportsnights @cham3li @love-giselle @giirlinterrupted @74limelight @love-has-a-way-ofgrowingbackward @blueeyedbesson @starlightsrose @anpancari @transxlucence 🐇

[kewpikayo]

Hi guys!! Happy Halloween to you all!! I am so excited to have been a part of this event! I have literally had a blast writing for this and getting to make friends with everyone involved. Just to hold witness to their skill, drive and dedication to their chosen craft is breathtaking and I count myself honored to know such moving, beautiful people. I am thankful, from the bottom of my heart, for you all and I can't wait to binge read every single one of your fics and feast upon every art piece made! I dedicate this first chapter to the lovely @dewdropdinosaur, the amazing @xalygatorx, and the magnificent @chefskjssart. I also want to mention all of the lovely people I have met due to this event and everyone from the Helluva Watchparty server! Thank you so very much @fraugwinska and @macabr3-barbi3 for coming up with and hosting this event!! Also a HUGE shout out to @fraugwinska for creating my banner for my story and for creating the gorgeous poster for the event!!! You are amazing~! With that being said, I do hope you all enjoy the story! You're in for a ride for a couple of chapters haha. Have fun and stay tuned~! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Your at Chapter 1: Team Player: WC: 4,077

Chapter 2: Left Hanging

Chapter 3: Burning Alive

Summery: Two strangers, good with their hands, one with machines and the other with knives, are desperate to escape the Entity's grasp. You need Alastor more than he thinks he needs you. When you propose a deal, however, it is an opportunity the radio host can't seem to pass up. Maybe with a promising partnership, the two of you might just make it out of the trial alive. Only time will tell if teaming up will have been a useful endeavor... Or not at all...

"Partners...?" Human Alastor x reader

Warnings & Tags: Reader is a survivor, no use of Y/N, Reader has a nickname, Alastor is a little shit, Asexual Alastor, Violence, Blood and Violence, Injury. minor character death.

Improvisation was a necessary skill and was considered, by the general public, a practiced talent that so few possessed; let alone could master. For a radio host, it was a skill that was often expected and anticipated. Having the ability to breeze through topics of discussion and flight of the audience’s fancy with simplicity and ease was envied. 

To be expected, it was an ability that Alastor was exceedingly proficient in. However, he was never one to appreciate improvising with the absence of his favorite tinkering tools…

With great irritation and a brief, sharp snap of bone, Alastor’s second target that evening had become his most recent victim; the body lifeless within seconds of his bold hands clutching around the poor brute’s throat. As dust returns to dust, so too did the corpse of his target fall limp; greeting the mud below with a dense, subdued thud. 

Never before had he been so disappointed in acquiring a kill in all of his existence.

It was honestly such a bore, and terribly anticlimactic in nature, that it had the demon yawning. Barely any exertion was needed on his part as he dropped down on one knee and pilfered around the belongings of the newly deceased. With a sigh he noted the absence of blood his kill had presented him with an ample amount of dismay. The pitiful fight his victim had given him was easily comparable to the emptiness of the broken vessel’s pockets: sad, sparse and leaving much to be desired. Such a waste.

What a forgettable experience…

Finding no object of his desires within the austere expanse of the other male’s personal inventory; Alastor resumed his previous posture and continued his merry way through the muck dredging up underneath his hunter’s boots. 

At least this strange place, the darkest marsh he had ever had the privilege to traverse, had allowed him the luxury of supplying him with comfortable, familiar footwear. The kind Alastor wore in life, that is. The custom red and black oxfords he usually sported would do him no good in these wet conditions.

Interested in procuring a blade for himself, Alastor carried on with his measly hunt. His cream colored shirt sleeves were rolled up pristinely to his elbows to fight the humidity in the air. His tan skin was the only part of his body covered in nakedness. 

The radio host proudly, but cautiously stalked amongst the cat tails, fluff from the plants clinging to his jeans. Complaints and curses alike were softly hissed beneath the confines of his practiced grin as he wiped sweat from his brow. He peeled the plant based affections from his clothing; tremendously irritated that his search so far had not been fruitful.

As Alastor sauntered forward, the occasional chirping of  crickets and birdsong died away; producing an extreme sense of urgency into his bloodstream. The feeling clawed its way up his spine, delicate shivers dancing on his dark skin; but for the life of him he could not understand why.

However, he received his answer for the foreign feeling  upon hearing a chorus of feminine terror.  The continued abrasive treatment of his low vocal range and vocabulary immediately ceased at the sound. The echoes on the wind brought the sweet melody to him;  music that was slowly drowned out by curses and shouts of the resistant sort.

Making his way towards the source of the cadence he enjoyed, Alastor was met with quite the sight. A cloaked fellow with a peculiar mask had a scrawny looking female hung from his shoulder; fighting every second she was in the other individual's grasp. 

The voice belonging to you, a captive little lady, bloomed into yet another tantalizing scream as you were lifted up and  placed onto a hook like contraption. Metal violently tore into flesh, ripping sinews and muscles apart to conform to the shape of your body as you were left to dangle helplessly. Crimson torrentially dripped from your fresh wound amidst panicked cries. 

The fresh blood produced by your harrowing experience awoke the  tell-tale signs of Alastor’s hunger, his growling stomach sharpening his senses to the utmost degree. 

Of course, now was not the time to be thinking of breakfast. Curse his human guise and its continuous need for sustenance…

Alas, although very much entertaining, the show given to him was not what had insnared his focus. Surprisingly, the reflection of the blade held within Alastor’s target’s grasp had him pleasantly distracted. His mind ran in circles, plotting to procure the tool the other was using for himself.

Noticing your screams had silenced themselves to nothing but faded, pained whimpers; you had finally managed to acknowledge his presence amongst the cattails and behind miscellaneous boxes and crates. 

He put a finger to his upturned lips in silence as his eyes bore holes into your skull with just his stare alone; willing you to cease your current noisiness. He was pleased when you returned his gesture with a subtle, inconspicuous nod and looked down, feigning defeat. Good. You and your sweet, but damnable, chirping would not spoil his fun. With certainty, he would not allow his hunt to be ruined. 

With meticulous effort, Alastor’s stealth was successful as his hands made purchase around his victim’s throat once his prize was within reach. In a graceful, dramatic flourish to show off for his lovely audience, the individual’s neck was snapped in twain before much of a fight could be had. The fool was ignorant of his demise as the cloaked, masked killer slumped to the earth, lifeless and growing cold. The poor bastard didn’t know what hit him.

After his show was finished and a third kill was acquired that evening, Alastor kneeled down to inspect the object of his covetous obsession.

The blade he had desired ever since waking up on that deserted, modern steamboat was finally within his careful grasp; dripping fresh scarlet into his palm as he inspected it closer. No doubt the liquid belonged to you, the lovely lady of the hour he ignored, who still dangled precariously from the iron hook above his head.

Alastor continued his efforts in silence, standing to his usual impeccable posture as he cleaned the pilfered knife on his jeans. He brushed the blade against his trousers until it gleamed brightly under the nearest lanterns hanging from the power lines overhead. It was still terribly dark to be considered mid-morning; but at least the faint mist from the swamp gathering around his ankles was able to provide ample cover.

Seeking to return to the shadows, Alastor secured the blade in its sheath along his belt before taking a few steps away. His attempts were met with quite a bit of resistance. An  incredulous sigh left you only to be followed by grumbles of frustration. 

“Um…Hello? Still very, very stuck here…I, um…I could use a little help…”

Right. You were still present.

Alastor paused to turn his head and peer at you over his shoulder. Despite his permanent grin, the look he granted you was one of absolute disinterest. He calmly observed you, making no attempt to retrieve you from your painful perch.

The two of you continued your tacit stare down until you shook your head and looked away. With an irritated huff, you spoke through gritted teeth as you immediately rescinded your request for assistance 

“You know what? Fuck you…I’ll just do it myself…”

Alastor turns to face you fully as he folded his arms, intrigued by the colorful vernacular you decided to spat his way. Rude as you were, it was rather interesting to watch you fumble around on that hook. It was very much akin to a caught fish longing for the relief the river could provide.

A surplus of other vibrant curses and varied complaints tumbled from your lips as you reached up to grasp the hook. You paused to catch your breath; your teeth gritted in preparation for the agony to follow.

With zero amount of finesse and a great deal of clamor in your voice, you proceeded with your attempts in dislodging the hook from your shoulder.

However interesting and delicious the bloody spectacle was, it was painful to watch. It was terribly irritating to see how many times you struggled. Several minutes passed by before you managed to successfully set yourself free with a deafening yelp and an unharmonious fumble. Blood painted the wet earth deep maroon in your burdensome descent.

“So… Do you actually ever…Y’know… Help anybody? Or do you just…’Tend to ignore everyone who addresses you?”

Breathless and struggling to take in air, you were hunched over on your knees. You hadn’t moved from where you had fallen as you looked up at him with exhaustion and a furrow of your brow. Your free hand clutched to the gaping, bleeding wound in your shoulder.

What a sight. Still, your defiant tone was something he didn’t appreciate. 

The radio host adjusted his red suspenders that had fallen from his shoulders as he looked over to you. His grin was a sneer as his subtle dark curls obscured one of his amber eyes. Would he even attempt to humor you with a response or rebuttal?

…Perhaps this once.

“…Only if it’s worth my time.”

Alastor watched as you instantly became mute, obviously processing the offense his words supplied you. Your nose scrunched up in frustration as you chewed the inside of your cheek. You reached for your forgotten, dingy baseball cap on the ground and donned it with a huff. There was a pause before any more words greeted him.

“Well, my life, as well as what I have to say, is certainly worth more than a few measly minutes of your time… I have a plan that you might be the type to appreciate. That is if you can manage to pull your head out of your ass long enough to actually listen…! ”

Alastor’s eye twitched. Who did you think you were to address him with such hostility? Where did you get the audacity? Hadn’t he saved you enough from nearly being killed regardless? The thought only made Alastor’s blood boil. He gripped the blade in his grasp tighter. Such an ungrateful little soul…

“…I think I shall be the judge of that.”

The magnitude of his sneer was heightened as the radio host regarded you. An incredulous chuckle escaped the confines of his strained smile.

“Besides, why would I ever wish to associate with a rude little hussy such as yourself, hm? You’ve already proved to be quite the nuisance, especially with your failed attempts at escaping harm's way. Anything you are willing to offer me I might as well do myself. At least then I’ll be guaranteed a sufficient chance of succeeding… ”

Surprisingly, his statement was met with a defeated sigh, your head hanging to the side in an attempt at composure. With your spiteful countenance before, he didn’t think you would give in so easily. Perhaps your words were a means of deception, proving yourself braver than you truly were. What remained in front of him was the lingering, fighting spirit of a terrified, broken girl.

 Interesting.

“Shit…look. I’m not…I’m not good with apologies…and I’m sorry I cursed at you…So I guess… un-fuck you or whatever…? Also, I guess you do have a right to be an asshole…You don’t know me or owe me nothin’…”

When he didn’t give you the satisfaction of seeing his expression change, you sighed yet again. 

“…And I realize that a lot of tha time my mouth moves before my brain... But I promise…You're gonna want to hear my offer…”

With desperation drenching your features,  you tilted your head in a last attempt to get into Alastor’s good graces as you gestured towards his knife.

“...Just with seein’ ya hold that blade, I assume y’know your way around a weapon like that…And ya look like you're good with your hands. Well, I’m pretty good with mine too, so… We can, y’know… Work together to make it outta here..? Maybe…?”

So far, your attempts at persuasion were failing epically, but he would continue to listen to whatever useless drivel that fell from your maw. He always did love a good show, and the expression you were making both intrigued him and bettered his mood.

“...That is, uh…That is what ya want, right? To go home?”

A quick, dry laugh escaped Alastor’s strained smile as he admired the way your face fell at the sound. 

The only home he ever truly desired would be in the arms of a soul far out of his reach. His mother would not be found anywhere near his usual place of inhabitance. It was a moot point to ponder. There was no undoing what had been done…What he wanted he would not be able to obtain, nor was it something you could provide.

Alastor was right to ignore you before. Your words were meaningless and a waste of his time.

With no other response from him, an exasperated sigh left you.

“Look, I’m gonna level with you…The only other way outta here is by takin’ a permanent dirt nap and I, well.. I don’t plan on dyin’ today and I assume you feel the same…Sooo teamwork’s our best bet…”

Alastor tilted his head in curiosity. However trifling you were, he thought it perdinant to at least hear you out. He was being overly gracious, and if yet another phrase that displeased him came from your mouth you were as good as dead. Despite his smile’s presentation of interest, there was a deadly edge at the end of his next utterance.

“…What do you propose?”

“Well…I’m good with wires. My old man was a mechanic, so I got a lotta practice growin’ up…I digress, but it’s kinda hard to fix generators if I keep gettin’ attacked or hooked…”

Grunting, you willed yourself to a standing position, dusting off excess dirt from your mud soaked jeans. 

“...So what I’d need from you is the assurance you’ll keep everyone away from me so I can fix at least five of those gen’s. We ain’t gettin’ nowhere without them workin’ properly…”

Once again clutching your injured shoulder, you winced as you made your way over to where the demon stood. Your anguish was audible, enough to make Alastor’s mouth water despite his current dissatisfaction with your presence. He took a step back from you. You had gotten too close for his liking.

“I think we could be useful to one another..And after tonight you can rest assured you won’t have to deal with me no more…But until then, if you can just, y’know…Do what you did before with Ghostface and pick off the others, then we may actually have a shot at makin’ it outta this shit hole alive…”

You hold out your hand; a brighter, hopeful expression present under the blood and grime attuned to your visage.

“So? We got a deal, or whatever? Scratch my back and I scratch yours?”

Your gesture was met with amber eyes being narrowed as Alastor looked down at your bloody offered hand. He was quite within his rights to deny your request and be on his merry way. If he was of a better mind, Alastor might have already left you in the dust.

Still, he pondered more on your words as thoughts of freedom flooded his mind’s eye. You stated the impossibility of liberty without fixing five of the machines that were no doubt spread across the premises, so repairs were necessary. He was used to such when it came to his line of work, making his radios function like new or maintaining the upkeep of his other preferred equipment.

Still, by the appearance of your denim jacket and ripped jeans,  he surmised he had found himself in the middle of the modern era; which could only insinuate that modern technology had a hand in creating the essential items of escape. Alastor stifled a growl. Of course machinations resemblant of his arch nemesis would have a play in his supposed capture. The thought was infuriating and made his skin crawl with hatred and disgust.

Alastor had absolutely no interest in operating or learning to associate with such devices. Loathe as he was to say it, he would have to permit your continued presence. At least until freedom was achieved.

Vexing as you were, perhaps you would prove yourself useful as the night went on. Perhaps your assistance would prove an ample enough apology for the offense your prior verbiage caused. 

“Usually, I’m not one to appreciate company in my efforts. I prefer working solo, but…”

The radio host’s eyes narrowed as he bit his tongue. The shameful lowering of his pride to admit you were needed sent an unpleasant taste to the back of his pallet. The feeling made him immediately want to throw up.

“...You do have a point. Fine…I shall aid you if only for the sake of escape…”

The moments between his words and your own fueled more interesting unspoken prospects. Though sensical and practical, it was rather curious that you requested him to kill the others. It was a task he had no qualms with, but having another acknowledge his prowess with his chosen craft elevated his ego. Begrudgingly enough, your plan was brilliant and would surely succeed if he was the one behind the task.

He hoped  his little slaughter spree, now that his weapon of choice was acquired, would go smoothly and supply an efficient means of entertainment that evening…

“So… Whatdya say? Ya wanna make this official, then?...Partners?”

You gesticulated your offered hand in earnest, eager to ascertain some sort of plan for escape. Alastor quirked a brow. You must be desperate for protection if you felt the need to acquire an agreement of such without asking for the name of the fellow you were doing business with. Perhaps you just weren’t the type for much small talk, however necessary the information. Still, it was a hilarious oversight on your part. He would fix it. Promptly.

“My, you certainly are an eager beaver…But you aren’t going to ask for the name of the gentleman you are conducting negotiations with? Quite the questionable set of business practices you have there, doll…”

You rolled your eyes as you struggled to bring your other hand to prop up the elbow of the arm remaining outstretched, your shoulder exhibiting its horrendously mangled and deformed shape in your efforts. It was as if you had been to the nearest butcher and had requested to be placed on the chopping block.

“What's your name, then?”

“Why, I’m so glad you asked! The name’s Alastor. It is a real pleasure to be meeting you.”

“Yeah. Nice to meet you too, I guess…Now can we shake on it? My arm’s gettin’ tired.”

Alastor chuckled. You were certainly such a feisty little lady. Quite the character, indeed. 

At least you weren’t boring.

“I suppose you have a deal then. Partner’s it is…I can’t wait to become a team player, my dear…”

Leaning down to meet your short stature, Alastor kept his impeccable posture as he bent at the waist. Lifting his hand, he teasingly flicked your baseball cap down over your eyes with a chuckle before offering you a dark gloved hand.

You moved your hand up to lift your cap, revealing the grumpy furrow of your brows as you accepted the other’s extended palm. He could hear the audible annoyance in your voice, the sound reverting to a low grumble. It was very much resemblant of the incessantly adorable noises alleycats would make. While alive, his mother insisted on feeding the disgruntled beasts, assuring more of their presence outside of their townhouse. 

The two of you participated in a single, firm shake before wordlessly parting. When you glanced down to search for something within the confines of your pocket, he takes the chance to wipe whatever remained of your blood off of his glove and onto his button up, painting the cream fabric a bright crimson.

“I suppose, however, if we plan to continue with business, might I also have the pleasure of your name? It would be beneficial to know who I am referring to should you feel the need to scream that you require further assistance…”

Unfolding a piece of rolled up parchment, you spared him but a glance as your hands made light work of their task. In your hands rested a ripped, dusty map. It looked as if it had weathered far worse conditions, but had somehow still remained intact.

“…Scout. It’s not my name, but it's what my folks call me the majority of the time. Feel free to call me that too, I guess…”

Alastor made a mental note of the interesting nickname and pondered how it was acquired while he watched you peer back down at the damaged paper in your hands. Your bloody index finger pointed at a location.

“It says here that we’re in “Blackwater Swamp”. Huh…The name’s just as bleak as the location…figures. Anyways, uhh… There's supposed to be a big boat, The Pale Rose…? Down that way…? That's where I, and most likely you, woke up…”

Glancing back up at your partner, you pointed in the opposite direction from where the two of you were facing as you jostled the map in your hands to smooth out the curling parchment. The sound your actions caused had you glancing up and over your shoulder in apprehension.

 Silly thing. There was no need for you to worry for your protection as long as he was in your vicinity. You had made a bargain, after all, and Alastor always completed his end of a deal one way or another. You were safe. 

For now.

Finally feeling more relieved there was no active threat nearby, you glanced back down at the map.

“And, if I'm readin’ this right, this map also shows where all the generators are and also the exit…Yeah, right here. Have a look.”

Pointing at the intended spot, you double tapped the page before looking up at your colleague in crime and turning the map around so that he could have a gander.

“Interesting. Who knew you had such a useful commodity in your possession. Where did you find such a thing?”

“It was just in a random box I opened when I woke up. There’s tons of that kinda shit around here. Just gotta look…”

Turning the page back to face you, you observed the guide in your hands more intently than before;  speaking with assurance of the plan forming in your mind.

“Once we’re both done with our respective jobs, we’ll meet back up at the exit and get the hell outta here. Sound good?”

The demon stood back up to his usual height as he gifted you a genuinely amused expression. With the promise of his assistance, you were certainly set in your ideals that you would make it through the night.

Alastor’s wicked grin grew in delicious splendor. How unfortunate it would be if that wasn’t the case…

“It seems we have a plan in place…”

“Yeah. Looks like it.”

Wrapping up the map and shoving it into your back pants pocket, you looked over your non injuried shoulder to address him with an urgentness in your tone, the sound intreating him to listen intently.

“Well, we best get started. Stay safe out there…Don’t do anything stupid and try not to die…Alright?”

A chuckle rumbled in the radio host’s throat at the concern igniting your expression. You were worried? For him? How absurd and endearing a spectacle. 

So the radio host was right. Your crude and classless persona was indeed the facade of a frightened girl. You should’ve been more concerned with yourself considering your current situation.  Already  you were sufficiently injured and still profusely bleeding beautiful shades of scarlet.

Alastor was certain you wouldn’t last the night. Not without his assistance.

“Oh, I can assure you that won’t be a problem; but you do the same…”

Pleased with his reply, you silently nodded as you did your best to cautiously duck and hobble behind the surplus of plywood from the deserted paddle steamer nearby. Your free hand graced the splintery surface of a broken pallet for support as you stepped over a plethora of weeds.

Just the pitiful sight of you retreating had the curvature of Alastor’s lips upturned. Things had indeed proved to be rather intriguing…

[silverskyeline]

hi skye! I just wanted to tell you thank you so much for hosting the logan promptober this year, I had so much fun making moodboards and loved seeing what you and everyone created for it (and can’t wait to catch up on all of them!) 💖 such an awesome idea!

hope you’re having a good week & a great weekend!!

omg friend :( <33333 this is genuinely so so kind of you to say and i am SO glad you had so much fun with my prompt list! when i created it, i genuinely didn't expect many people to engage since i was a smaller account - but to see all of these amazing creations come out of it, i can't believe it!!! it's been so fucking awesome to see peoples moodboards, fics, and everything else in between, taking the prompts and making it your own. i'm super excited to catch up on them all too!

thank you so much for taking part and for your support friend, it really means so much to me. <3

i hope you're having a great week and an even better weekend, and i hope you had so much fun on halloween!

i can't wait to see what kind of fun things winter brings for us all <33 looking forward to eating up those winter themed fics >:)

some hugh drinking pics as a celebration <3 sorry for the late response too, i took a little break from writing to recharge from promptober! but i'm working on a masterlist for the month <3

[louanesays]

SCARY NIGHT ISN'T IT?

it's a scary night that's why you're screaming right?

...right?

☆ sum: Left alone on Halloween, you receive mysterious calls from an unknown number. How will you spend your night? Ghostface Geto comes to the rescue.

☆ cw: afab!reader, befora shibuya au, kñifeplay , fingəring, petnames, size kink, unprotected, slight bloød mentions MDNI!

a/n this turned out deeper then i thought. just watched the 1st 3 scream movies with my bf and i felt inspired...

banner by @aransmind !!!!!!!!

──★ wc: 2.3k

thanks to @ciellit for proof reading love you⋆.˚

Being alone is not how you imagined how your Halloween would be. Watching scary movies all by yourself, just because your boyfriend had a last-minute cult meeting to run.

If Suguru was here, movies wouldn't be such a bad activity. Cuddling, sitting between his legs, anything that would involve the two of you touching would be perfect, perfect for you to be precise.

By the time the third movie rolls around, your popcorn is almost out, and it's time to make another batch. As you walk into the kitchen you and your boyfriend share, your phone starts ringing. Who would call you on Halloween night?

You are hoping its the man himself, telling you that he is almost home, but an unknown number lights up on your phone.

"Hello?" you ask the person on the other side of phone, and a deep baritone voice calls back, "Who is this?" the man questions. "Who are you trying to reach?" you retort. "No one in mind, just trying to have a conversation." You go back to making popcorn while holding your phone between your shoulder and ear.

"Then there are more than a hundred websites for lonely souls like you. Good-bye." You slam the phone down and put the packet in the microwave, but the phone rings again. "But what if I want to chat with you?" the rich, deep voice rings in your ears again. "Well, if you find my number there, we can. Go try." You put the phone down again, hoping you won't receive another phone call.

Done with the popcorn, you're just about to calm down and convince yourself that he won't call again when the phone rings again. "What is your favorite scary movie?" the same voice asks, as if he doesn't understand hints.

"I don't particularly have a favorite one, but I like Saw. Is that all you wanted to ask?" You walk back to the couch and cover yourself with Halloween-themed blankets.

"No one really likes Saw," he argues, and as if you could hear the smirk in his voice, completely ignoring the other part. "Is that what you're watching right now?" You get a weird feeling in your stomach, as if he would know what you are doing, but he must assume it because of the surrounding noises.

You mumble a yes back while munching on your snacks, and after a moment of silence, he speaks again. "What's your name, doll?" you almost choke on popcorn at the nickname.

"You want to be friends or something?" you chuckle at your own joke, easing the tension, but he doesn't seem to be amused. "I just want to know who I am looking at."

You glance out the living room's windows, seeing the backyard but nothing that shouldn't belong there. Great, a prank call by a sexy-voiced stranger on Halloween night never sounds bad—if you weren't alone. But at the moment, it creeps you out, even though the voice sounds oddly familiar, you can't put a name to it.

"My boyfriend will be home soon, I would run if I was you" Trying to lighten your own mood, potentially trying to scare him away.

"Oh, your oh-so-special grade boyfriend?" He chuckled deeply, like it truly entertained him. "Look who's behind you, baby." Chills ran through your spine. "If I don't look, I'll never know," you sassed back at him.

"Oh, doll, trust me, you want to see me."

You look behind yourself but gladly see nothing, but as you turn back a man is standing there in the infamous ghostface mask, knife in his hand shining more then any kitchen knife could ever.

In most situations masked man would turn you on, but this time it scares you, considering the fact you should be alone in the house. You scream at him, jump over the back of the couch and start running.

Phone discarded on the couch—the only way of calling for help. After watching so many scary movies you should've known better. Adrenaline flowed through your veins, and your breath was short from running up the stairs and constantly looking behind you.

Your quick thinking wasn't the sharpest ever, but running up the stairs into a one-way place? What kind of cheap scary movie is this? He's fast behind you, tangling you down to the floor, knife to your throat, Adrenaline blurring your vision.

"Let's play a game" he murmured lowly, his hand skillfully turning the knife not cutting your skin. His eyes behind the mask skimming over your body, not like you could see that.

Your heart was drumming in your ears as he straddled your torso, oversized shirt riding up, exposing your stomach.

His knife started gliding over your collarbones then stilled at the start of the shirt, you carefully eyed his movements opened your mouth, sentence forming but then the knife started moving again, slicing through the material of your shirt.

A gasp left your mouth as but it didn't stop at your shirt, panties slit into 2 pieces also, leaving you almost bare on the cold tiles. You pushed your thighs together, as you felt yourself get wet from his actions.

"Who are you?" you ask naively, hoping he would answer the first question and the most important of them all. He cracked a laugh, his body shaking a bit as if you had told him some kind of joke.

He leaned in closer knife pointed in the puffy skin of your lower abdomen but not enough pressure to draw blood. "Wouldn't you like to know" he scoffs. Feeling like he's a Joker himself huh.

Even with a knife pointed on you, you couldn't help but roll your eyes "You never told me what this game is about" You replied breathlessly. He leaned rear, then his knife was tracing a way, back to your aching cunt again but this time drawing a line of blood.

Almost as if it were a paper cut, your adrenaline levels are through the sky now. You could get addicted to this feeling.

Suddenly, one of his hands retorts from your body and he moves his mask just so his mouth is exposed, but you can't see it; he's quick to trace his way up with his tongue but something cold on his lips catches you off guard.

Is that?

"S-Suguru, is that you?" you almost moaned. His head was now back up, his heavily pierced lips on display, and the biggest smirk you could ever imagine was on his lips.

"So quick to ruin my game, angel." His gloved hands reached for his mask, and in the next moment, it was flying to the other side of the room. Now, his deep purple eyes stared back at you.

Oh, that boyish smile is going to be the end of you.

"How about I finish what we started, hm?" he hummed, eyes searching yours for approval. You nodded, no sentence daring to come out.

His hands quick back at you, knife in his hand lightly poking at your lower ribcage, eyes staring deep into yours the other hand coming to cup your breast and his mouth latches onto your nipple, the feeling making you moan. His eyes never leaving yours.

Your hands wrap around his hand pulling at his scalp, making him moan around you. His hand drops the knife and he stops his work on your nipples to get his glove down.

His mouth goes back lapping at you other nipple, but his hand travels down to feel up your pulsing pussy. "So wet f' me doll" you moan back as a response, head cloudy by the stimulation.

He might've hit the jackpot with the Ghostface mask.

He collected some slick from your hole then pushed his finger in you, and one his fingers were bigger then two of yours, bringing instant relief to you. he started at a slow pace and then pushed another finger in, stretching you, and it felt better then ever.

He was pumping his fingers in and out of you, and you couldn't help but moan as he curled them just right knowing you better then the back of his hands, making you feel like putty between his hands, and he started circling his thumb on your clit and the pressure in your lower stomach started to tighten.

He isn't the one to decline your pleasure is he? If he would be, then he wouldn't be dressed up as Ghostface right now. Feeling you spasm around his digit makes him work faster and lean to you and whisper sweet nothings in your ear.

The high comes, body shaking, head cloudy, and your face has pleasure written on it, eyes rolling back and mouth open.

"such a little minx" he mumbles and he picks you up bridal style and presses a light kiss onnyour forehead, but leaves your shredded clothes, and the knife on the tiles. He drops you on the bed, and stands beside it to get rid of his other non-essential things like his other glove and robe, and his clothes.

Once both of you were naked, he was quick to get on top of you, grabbing your legs by your ankles folding you in half "putting that pretty pussy in display, hope you don't mind doll" he sweetly cooed but no remorse in his voice.

His hand stays holding your legs together, the other pumping his dick a few times, smearing the precum on it's head. He is running it through your folds, pussy still sensitive from coming earlier, making you moan.

He started slowly sliding it in inch by inch, when he was balls deep, he started rutting his hips in an inhuman pace, making you a moaning mess, more then you already were.

"you feel so much tighter when you're scared" he says to you. He might be right, the adrenaline he gave you earlier turned you up more then it should've. No one could ever do these things to your body he does, and both of you know that.

Hips fucking into you meanly, his fragrance overpowering your senses. Both hands traveling to your hips, and your now free legs rest on his shoulders. His actions, touches feel possessive making you clench even more around him as you feel yourself getting even more wet.

"that's it baby taking m' soo well" he grunts whimpering ever so lightly. Adam's apple bobbing as he gulps, his hair tousled on his back, like its glued to it by the sweat.

He loved this position, he could see your face and the pretty faces you're making, like scrunching your nose, mouth wide open moaning his name.

Suguru wasn't the one to fuck you in one position but he was really close. Why do you have to feel so good around him, he wasn't a one minute wonder. So he manhandled you onto your stomach.

Your ass moving on it's own, rising but his hands plant on your hips pushing you back down. "Let me try something new baby" he groans through gritted teeth.

He straddles your thighs from behind and pushes into you in a swift motion making both of you groan out at the feeling. One of his hands roams to your scalp and grabs your hair at the base forcing your head up.

The only thing that's missing is a camera from his hands taking a picture of you and of course a knife from your back.

Its not long before he's got you screaming his name but in this position rubbing against your spot making the knot in your stomach feel tighter, the relief feeling closer.

"s-sugu 'm gonna cum" your words come out muffled in the sheets, His other hand kneading the flesh of your ass making your pussy flutter around him, squeeze and helping him towards his finish.

"come f' me doll" your moans got louder Geto's hips were hitting everything, head dizzy from short breaths. eyes were rolling back into your skull as both of your were nearing your releases.

A deep moan was heard from Suguru as his head falls back but his pace doesn't falter, the knot in your stomach comes undone as he paints you insides white.

Your body feels spent, no thought can form in your brain, as you carelessly lay on the bed. Your boyfriend still inside you, catching his breath, stilling himself above you trying not to crush you.

He slowly pulls out, and white liquid spills out of you, staining the sheets under you. "I should bring out Ghostface more often"

Waking up next to Suguru, tangled in the sheets between your legs and hands was the best feeling you could ever imagine.

As the morning went by, you went to the front of the house watering some of the plants you still left out there, and the old lady next door, was sitting on her porch in a rocking chair "Good morning sweeatheart" she smiled at you and you greeted her back. She always sat there in the mornings taking in the clean air, and waiting for you to come out and have a little chat with her.

"heard you screaming last night, had a fun halloween?" she said while innocently smiling at you and your face reddened and the next word didn't come out as smooth as they were supposted to "Yeah, Suguru dressed up and scared me, we watched a few scary movies after" the least obvious thing you could come up with in the short notice, would she realize?

"Didn't take you as the frightened type, but glad you had fun" and with that she left the topic and your now not freezed body continued watering the plants and scurried back in the house to find Suguru on his back laughing loudly.

please do not translate my works or feed them to any sites / platforms without my consent. all rights belong to louanesays

taglist: @megumisdivinedogs @nillosgarden @loser-user69

[luna-loveboop]

YOUR CHICKENS ARE SO CUTE!!!!!

I also wanted to say that I hope you're having a good day! And did you have a wonderful Boop War?

:DD thank you! They are indeed adorable <33

I have had a good day! Mostly. I'm tired and forgot to wear a mask while carving the last few eggs so can't breathe well (egg dust is toxic/poisonous). But I work with kids and my service dog wore his Halloween costume again so :) Overall I'm great!

I had an AWESOME Boop War. I shamelessly sacrificed sleep for the sake of the boops. Worth it.

:)

[northstarscowboyhat]

Welp, here's two pics of the Lucky Clover Fit

Eyes censored because basic internet safety and all that, y'know? But also I can't just hide the little smirk. Unfortunately it's not possible to see, but I am wearing big round glasses because yeah

Anyways, here's another

You ever seen a cowpoke do archery? Now you have. I was talking to Hollow about how well Clover would be at archery and thought this would be a good time to ask. They'd probably be good with aiming since gun skills but awful at everything else

Actually speaking of being awful with bows, the string for mine came off because the poncho got caught in it so uh... whoops

I do have a third photo that was taken at school and will be in my school's yearbook. I asked if it could be emailed to me so I'll send it when I get it emailed to me. I'm doing the Star pose because of course I would (I think the hat is on backwards, but that just sort of seems in character for Clover to have something be off)

Anyways, have fun with these and the knowledge that someone dressed up as your character, that feels like an accomplishment of some kind

OH MY GOODNESS! IT'S LUCKY CLOVER IN REAL LIFE!

Oh my gosh this is so cool? I'm like, shaking with excitement right now! That costume looks amazing, the poncho and scarf and even the feather in the hat! As someone who can't make clothes or costumes to save my life, it's so neat that you could make this costume and have it look so accurate! Amazing work!

Clover doing archery is so fun... I could definitely see them being into it! Any type of ranged shooting is fun for them, even if it's not strictly a "cowboy" thing. I could see them having a great aim but then immediately tripping over their bow and dropping all of their arrows LOL.

I can't even express how flattered I am?? I've never had someone dress up as a character of mine (or, well, an AU version of a character here haha) so this is so so cool? This is extremely cool and it honestly means a lot, I definitely feel accomplished! Thank you so much for sharing, if you're comfortable sharing any other photos always feel free to post them in my inbox! I hope you had a wonderful Halloween!

[lumieresdanslacave]

oooops it's already november my favourite month of the year! so what's up? 🩹I have to haha I really have to do more stupid useless thiings I have ideas 🩹I'm in the process of cleaning the originals from my next comic, to be printed this month, and released in December. As you might know it's the second episode of my last comic Sad Country Death Song and I'm pretty proud of what I've made! We will also reprint the first episode as we're sold out. 🩹I'll be in Lyon for a transfem exhibition + lectures from nov 13 to nov 16!! Maybe I have mutuals here? All infos in the link. I'll read a text maybe that'll help me to progress on my short novel! 🩹Next up we have 2 releases this month with Cosmic Studios, our small seasonal halloween zine featuring @okenki and the third issue of Comète 🩹And at the end of the month (nov 30 to dec 2nd) we'll be in PRAGUE for FRAME festival!!!!! great big adventures awaits!! Hit me up if I have mutuals or followers there I'd love to meet! I'm so happy to go there 🩹I have some drawings to queue that date back to august Well that's all for this month folks, hope you're good and that life is sweet, free Palestine, fuck cops etc etc etc etc!!