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hoonjayke · 3 days ago

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Ni-ki — Late Night

CHARACTERS: — Ni-ki x Reader (f)

SUMMARY: — Your nights have never been the same since Riki, a mysterious boy, started visiting you daily at your part-time job at the local convenience store.

GENRE: fluff — part-timer reader x flirty ni-ki

WARNINGS: none, just pure fluff.

WC: 1,3k — masterlist

— Author Note: Just a small fluff scenario that came to mind. It's been a while since I wrote something, so I hope you guys like it <3 If there are any errors please lmk.

The night was quiet as a random program played on the convenience TV. You often looked at the clock wondering if Riki would come today too. Anxiety was at its peak as you stared at the door with no sign of the boy.

Ever since you met Riki, your nights at the convenience have never been the same. What was once a simple part-time job became one of your favorite parts of your day because of the small interactions with the boy.

At first, he didn't say much, he just bought some candy or something to drink while looking at you for a few seconds. His gaze was so penetrating that you became aware of his presence after a few days.

The glances evolved into small smiles and polite greetings. He didn't want to disturb your work, but he couldn't help but notice the way you seemed to be nervous by his presence and how cute it was.

“It’s cold today, isn’t it?” It was the first time he spoke and you felt your heart skip a beat at his deep voice. "Yes." Was all you could say before his chuckle cut through the air. “Be careful, so you don't get sick,” He looked at the tag on your uniform to know your name “y/n.” The way he said your name seemed so delicate that you felt it in your bones.

The fact that he knew your name but you didn't know his was a mystery you wanted to solve.

The other day you were determined to ask his name, but you were surprised when he introduced himself. “The usual?” You asked and he smiled showing you a different energy drink “Today I wanted something different.” You reached for the drink when you felt his fingers lightly brush yours. “I’m Riki, by the way.” You felt butterflies in your stomach when you saw his deep gaze and the smile forming on his lips.

“Nice to meet you, Riki.” You gave him a sweet smile “Good to know the name of our best client.” His laugh warmed your heart. You really had developed a crush on the boy who showed up every day at the convenience store "Nice to meet you too." He responded while you both maintained visual contact before he went out after paying.

Since then you had been waiting for Riki even if the conversations only lasted a few minutes. Deep down you felt pathetic at how quickly you developed a crush on Riki, but he had such a natural charm that it was inevitable.

You wished you had the courage to ask for his number, but you knew you probably wouldn't be able to.

"Goodnight." Your thoughts were interrupted by the familiar voice of Riki entering the convenience smiling as always.

"Goodnight." You said as you watched how he looked even more handsome today. His parted hair and the black jacket were the perfect ensemble for you to feel your heart stop.

'He looks so good' You thought while he focused on the drinks session. You ran your palms over your vest trying to remove any trace of sweat. It was shocking how his presence could make such an impact.

“Oh, it ran out of that energy drink... I'll get that one.” He muttered to himself as he grabbed a different drink and your eyes met when he decided to walk to the register. “If you want, I can see the storage room if there's another one.” You commented and he shook his head. “It’s okay, I don’t want to give you trouble.” He put the drink beside the register and with his hands in his pocket he looked at you as if he wanted to say something.

“What time does your shift end?” Your eyes opened in surprise at the boy's mischievous question. Your heart was beating so hard you were afraid he could hear “Approximately in 1 hour.” He approached the counter and leaned in, his hands grabbing the edges. “Wanna go to somewhere nice?” You almost couldn’t believe you were hearing Riki ask you out.

“And where would it be?” You asked, your eyes shining with curiosity and he bit his lip trying to contain his smile at your cuteness. “There's a new food truck near the park, and I wanted to try it out... with you.” You immediately smiled and nodded “Sure, I’d love to.”

Riki smirked and paid for the drink before touching your fingers. “I’ll wait here.” He sat in a chair near the window so he could see you straight on. "Okay." Your cheeks heated up as he looked calm watching you in silence.

As more customers arrived, he waited patiently to pass the time, while you mentally cursed yourself for choosing such a normal outfit today. If you were going out on a date with Riki you should be more dressed up.

Your shift flew by with the small talks with Riki and the service in general. Before the employee arrived to take your shift, he was already outside leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets. You left the convenience and ran your hand on your skirt trying to remove any wrinkles.

He looked you up and down, giving you a small smile, noticing how worried you looked. He approached slowly, standing in front of you ── was he that tall? “Don’t worry, you look beautiful.” Your cheeks flushed when you heard the compliment, “Thank you.”

Riki lightly touched your cheek with his thumb, stroking the spot before tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear “Do you like spicy food?” He asked and you felt your insides churn at the action.

"A little bit." You responded, trying to maintain eye contact and failing miserably. Riki smiled, scratching his nape “Good, I guess you’ll like the food there then.” You smiled as you decided to walk to the location that was close to convenience.

On the way you talked and you felt an inexplicable joy because you were finally able to have a decent conversation with Riki. It wouldn't be a few seconds or minutes, but finally a long and nice talk.

••••

During the entire date, you discovered that he was Japanese and that he loves dancing. He also finally got to know more about you, like your hobbies and how you worked at night to earn extra money. The weather was great, and the food was good, everything seemed to work together for your first date to be perfect.

“One question," You started a new topic "why did it take so long for you to talk to me?” You questioned him after feeling more comfortable after the meal. He gave an embarrassed laugh as he poured more drink into his glass. “I didn’t want to look like a weirdo or get in the way of your work, you know?” He gave you a quick look “What about you? You always seemed excited whenever I went there, but you didn’t say anything.”

You were surprised by Riki's response and laughed shifting your attention away. “It’s just... not that simple for me to initiate small talk, even though I'm excited.” He chuckled seeing your cheeks turn pink after your response. “Was it that obvious?” Riki nodded with a smirk. “Yeah, it’s cute.”

Riki definitely knew how to press the right buttons to speed up your heartbeat.

Time flew by after the long conversation and you felt like you two automatically clicked. The walk to your building wasn't long, making you a bit sad having to say goodbye to him.

When you saw the facade of the building you looked at Riki “Thank you for today, it was really nice.” He smiled and asked for your phone to save his number. “See you tomorrow?” He asked anxiously as he bit his lip looking into your eyes expectantly. “Of course.” You smiled, saving your number in his phone too.

“Sleep well.” Riki held your hand and kissed it there, caressing the spot with his thumb with such a tenderness that melted your heart “You too.” He smiled and waited for you to enter before leaving.

After this date, you knew that your story with this mysterious boy was just beginning.

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slashthrashandcrash · 2 days ago

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I Don't Think This Was A Term In The Waiver Agreement

Just because the scare actors were allowed to touch you in this section of Hell Fest doesn't mean they're allowed to butcher your friends and leave you bound on the floor. Wait, what do you mean that's part of the fine print?

Yippee! Here's a Hell Fest fic I wrote months ago and never posted for...no reason actually lmao. God, this movie was so, so close to being perfect for us slasher x final girl fans (all 7 of us). I had to take it upon myself to give it the ending interaction it deserved.

Word Count: 6.4K

The haze of brief unconsciousness loosened its hold on Natalie, regrettably allowing her senses to return to her one by one in the awfullest of states. Mindless bliss was first interrupted by the realization of how she struggled to breathe, her airways clogged with blood from a surely broken nose. The metallic taste lingered in the back of her throat so that even when she took deep, shuddering inhales to counteract the suffocation, all that filled her lungs was coppery air. She had to be dying, God, it sure as hell felt like she was dying.

A few more gasps helped pull Natalie further out of the void, much to her displeasure. All too quickly did she become aware of the agony that throbbed across her face in tandem with her heartbeat, radiating from her busted nose to the back of her eyes and down the roots of her teeth. Sticky blood was smeared uncomfortably over her mouth and pooled under the cheek pressed into concrete, enough so that she involuntarily coughed until she could gather enough saliva in her mouth to spit out the bitterness coating her tongue. It wasn’t until she forced her face to relax from its grimace in an attempt to ease the ache of her cheekbones did she realize how tightly she still had her eyes shut.

With as much strength as she could muster, Natalie pushed through the Herculean task of opening her eyes, almost instantly squeezing them closed again when the barest of light seeped through her lashes. She groaned, enduring the stabbing sensation in her temples as she slowly made her eyes flutter open to a squint. Her vision swam in doubles, triples, before swirling back into a single image of near blackness. For a moment, she was unsure if perhaps her eyes were still closed as there was hardly anything to see. As the darkness thankfully adjusted into something that didn’t make her want to rip her eyes from her sockets, she was able to blink away the remaining haze clouding her sight.

White blobs looking down at her sharpened back into the shape of expressionless paper mache masks, a red overhead light catching the edge of their silhouettes, tilted at a dizzying angle. Natalie would have jolted at the idea of so many people staring at her with blank expressions, but her rattled brain hadn’t quite rebooted back into working order after being knocked around her skull. Right, these weren’t real people, they were just a bunch of dummies cloaked in fabric for a cheap scare. They wouldn’t hurt her, but they wouldn’t be able to help her either.

…help her from what?

A scream echoed down one of the maze’s many corridors outside of the room Natalie was in, all but yanking her the rest of the way out of her daze and into harsh reality. Hell Fest. Her pictures. Gavin’s texts. Taylor, Quinn. The Other.

Brooke.

…

Brooke!

Like she had just been drenched in ice water, Natalie was scrambling to pull herself up off the floor. Frustratingly, her limbs refused to cooperate with her sense of fight or flight, almost as if she was piloting a body that didn’t belong to her. While the fresh shot of adrenaline coursing through her veins did wonders to clear her mind, it did little to motivate her still aching muscles into moving how she needed them to. Her headache was worsening by the second, certainly a concussion, probably some broken cartilage at least and a fractured skull at worst, but thankfully her face had settled into a more manageable buzz of pain. One less thing to worry about in the moment, even if her eyes wanted to pop from their sockets to relieve the building pressure behind them.

Rolling from her stomach to her side very nearly caused her to gag at the sudden wave of nausea. Coagulated blood trickled down her throat at the shift in position, forcing her to roll back onto her front as she retched again to avoid choking on any potential vomit. A part of her was grateful she hadn’t eaten more of the overpriced pretzel Gavin had given her, though another part chastised her as those carbs could have been soaking up the copious amounts of alcohol still sitting in her soured stomach. Either way, she would have been stuck with the miserable feeling of needing to puke; it was simply a matter of whether it was better to not have to worry about drowning on her own blood and bile or if she would actually feel better if there was something substantial to purge.

Natalie clumsily pulled her arms up in an effort to brace them against the floor, hoping to elevate herself that way when…she came to the conclusion that she couldn’t.

It wasn’t that her reactions were delayed by head trauma - although that still couldn’t be ruled out amongst other things - it was that there was something quite obviously preventing her from doing so. Hindsight mocked her for not realizing the predicament she was in sooner – how had it only now come to her attention that her arms were immobile from behind her back? To which she argued back that the fact she was only seventy percent sure her face hadn’t been split open by the blunt end of an ax was a perfectly valid excuse for her lack of awareness. She rolled her shoulders and tugged her arms to either side of her body once more, straining against the unseen binds that bit into the crooks of her elbows. Her hands were free, but utterly useless when they could only stretch forward enough to graze her hips.

Confusion was giving way to panic in her already heightened state of anxiety. During her incapacitation, The Other had left her tied up and helpless on the floor before presumably going off to finish his rampage. He could have killed her, he should have killed her, seeing as he had no problem before when it came to snuffing out whatever lives were unfortunately caught in his grasp.

But not with Natalie.

No, he seemed to take sick pleasure in drawing their game of cat and mouse out for as long as possible, like he was teasing her with the chance she’d ever be able to win. Ax in hand, Natalie sprawled on the floor, it would have been too easy to declare himself the winner by spilling her brains.

Instead, he left her, bleeding and unconscious, yet ultimately alive. Bound, so that she couldn’t go anywhere before he returned, because he would be coming back for her once he had taken care of Brooke’s loose end. Was he saving Natalie’s death for last, his final prize of the night? Did The Other want her to experience the full scope of her earned punishment after she had poked fun at him earlier in an attempt to look brave to her friends? Or had this always been a part of his plans; rope or cables or whatever the hell was securing her arms having been stashed away in his hoodie pocket, just waiting to snare the perfect victim?

A second scream snapped Natalie out of her aching head, making her heart freeze its desperate pounding in her chest. It sounded too raw, too primal to be a soundtrack jumpscare triggered by one of the maze’s sensors. The guttural terror made every hair on the back of Natalie’s neck stand on end. There was no doubt about who it could have come from. Brooke wasn’t going to be able to move fast enough to fight off her attacker with that gash on her thigh. If she was going to survive then Natalie was going to need to find a way to get to her before The Other had a chance to finish what he started.

And then it was quiet.

Natalie strained her ears to listen past the drumming in her skull for any further sign of Brooke, hoping to pick up a whimper or fainter yells or the exit door triumphantly slamming open. Distress was a cruel thing to wish for, but it was the only sure sign she had that her best friend was still alive. She couldn’t lose Brooke, not like this, not when they had already lost so much in a matter of mere hours. They were going to go to Spain–!

“Brooke!” Natalie called out, hoping her voice would carry down the changing hallways. When only ambient music responded, she tried again. “Brooke!”

Nothing. Silence. No, no, Brooke had to be hiding and unable to give away her position to respond. She had to be too far away. She had to have already escaped. Natalie refused to accept there were any other alternatives, not if she wanted to cling onto what little sanity she was afforded in this moment. With renewed vigor to save Brooke from a brutal end, far more concerned for her than her own safety, she fought against her restraints until she was able to gain enough footing to scooch herself forward on her belly. It was a humiliating position to be in, literally writhing on the ground like an insect waiting to be stepped on, but it was better than rolling over to expose her underbelly and wait for The Other to gut her accordingly.

She didn’t have much in mind when it came to a game plan, all her ideas having been bashed out of her head when she was knocked out. There was little she could do without the use of her arms, much less when there wasn’t a way to pull herself onto her feet without toppling over the rest of the standing mannequins. She thought about shimmying herself up the doorframe to help her get on her knees before the sight of the discarded ice shaving knife caught her attention from the corner of her eye.

Well, there was no reason The Other needed to dual wield two blades, she supposed, likely having dropped it during their brief scuffle. But if he wasn’t going to use it…

Grunting, Natalie pushed forward as well as she could, relying on her legs to scoot her along the filthy concrete, further soiling the once white top she had borrowed from Brooke – I’ll wash it, I’ll bleach it, I’ll buy you a new one, I promise, Brooke, I promise. Her right knee throbbed every time she bent it to wiggle further, the bruised joint not taking too kindly to the extra strain after having just been kicked by The Other. She should consider herself lucky that he hadn’t managed to dislocate the bone or she’d really be in trouble, though perhaps she should focus more on the fact she was still alive and not decapitated rather than gripe about a bum leg.

It felt like she was running a marathon with the amount of effort she was exerting just to move a few feet to the left. Natalie liked to think herself to be in relatively good shape, maybe not exactly toned as there was hardly a muscle to flex on her lithe body, but her labored breathing said otherwise. Even with the adrenaline shifting her instincts into overdrive, giving her tired body its much needed second wind, it didn’t change the fact she could hardly breathe through her bloodied nostrils and that her weight was fully resting on her diaphragm. Coupled with a blinding pain that still threatened to make her hurl if she moved her eyes too fast and it was no wonder why she felt as worn down as she looked.

There was plenty of fight left in her. All she needed to do was get a hold of that knife, blindly fumble with it behind her back while hoping she didn’t slice a finger off on the serrated edge, and saw through her bindings. Rope, hopefully. Predictably. If it was something thicker, stronger, like cable or nylon, her plan would already be massively screwed before she had the chance to–

A yelp escaped her lips before she could contain it, flinching back when a steel toe boot stomped down on the hilt of the knife less than a foot away from her. Ideally, she would have scrambled a good pace away from her sudden attacker, but all she could manage was to duck her head into her shoulders and hopefully avoid getting curb stomped by his other foot. Brown eyes were blown wide in shock, helpless watching as her one salvation was caught under The Other’s sole and kicked far, far out of her restricted reach. In her current state, he may as well have launched it outside of the fairgrounds, because there was not a chance in hell she’d be able to sloppily crawl for it while the killer was looming overhead.

Her breathing hitched in her throat, not having expected him back so soon. How long had she initially been knocked out? How long had she truly spent regaining her senses and wriggling around? Had she wasted a precious hour without realizing it, or could he truly be efficient when he wanted to be, when he had grown tired of toying with a bunch of college kids? Despite her head pounding in protest, Natalie rolled over onto her side and dropped onto her back, unable to bite back a pained whimper as her migraine worsened. In this position, she could at least brace on her forearms for a bit more control in moving backwards. Better than relying solely on her legs skidding on concrete.

It took a terrifying moment for her new perspective to stop tilting, adjusting to the blood now pooling towards the back of her head rather than dripping from her nose and mouth. She worried her sudden drop in blood pressure would cause her to blackout again, at the literal worst possible moment with a serial killer hovering by her side, completely at his mercy to hack and slash her vulnerable body.

Who was she kidding, she was already in that exact predicament, the only difference being that she had the unfortunate pleasure of watching her execution in all its painful glory. As much as she didn’t want to, she needed to keep The Other in her sights, needed to see what move he was planning to make next. Whether it was better or not to know what was coming was debatable, but the last thing she wanted was to be caught off guard in her final moments, missing something that could have been the perfect defense.

The red light that barely illuminated the cramped room was horrifically artful in the way it reflected off him. Muted shadows blended into his dark clothing, making him appear larger, all encompassing, while the crevices of the faux rotted mask pulled into more sinister expressions that hid his own underneath. Inky splotches reflected off of his hands still tightly gripping the ax’s handle, splattering up to the cuffs of his hoodie and streaking over his knuckles when he flexed his fingers in anticipation. A sickening feeling settled heavily in Natalie’s stomach as it became apparent his exposed skin, his only exposed skin, was drenched in blood that surely wasn’t his own. Not only that, but the dripping red liquid continued its gory trail up the length of the ax all the way to its head, glistening crimson and thirsty for more.

It was much more blood than had been on his new weapon of choice before, far too much to have been caused by the single slice he had gotten on Brooke’s leg. Too wet. Too fresh. It was damn near coated in viscera, impossible to pinpoint whether the blood splattered outward from the blade or the blunt hilt. Maybe he had partially caved in Natalie’s head when he slammed the end into her face – the brain was capable of functioning in plenty of wild circumstances, like a metal rod through an eye or a bullet that lodged between the folds. She must be lying here with half her brain hanging out without realizing it, the blood on The Other and his ax primarily belonging to her impressive head wound because…because if it wasn’t…

Then that would mean Brooke, she…she couldn’t…she’d be…

It all hit Natalie in that moment, yet she couldn’t process a single thing, too overcome by a tidal wave of emotions to be able to experience them individually. Her mind desperately tried to rationalize what she was seeing, convince her otherwise of the obvious evidence that dripped at her feet. There was no body, there was no proof. The blood on his ax was copious, sure, but nowhere near a lethal amount. Excluding whatever backsplash was soaking into his clothes out of sight. Excluding the ever growing puddle that was sure to be spreading from the bone-deep wounds. No, no, no! No, she refused to accept it.

This wasn’t what was meant to happen! They were meant to escape together, a bit worse for wear but alive in each other’s arms! They were meant to have a fun night out with friends and boyfriends to make up for lost time!

It was all Natalie’s fault. She should have been a better friend, taking a break from her studies to accept Brooke’s invitations for a hangout rather than brush her off. So many extra memories they could have made together if Natalie hadn’t been too absorbed in her own world to the point of distancing her best friend. Maybe then they wouldn’t have felt the need to go so big at Hell Fest, instead sticking to more local bars and pop up houses. Maybe she and Gavin could have shared their first kiss earlier. Maybe she and Taylor could have properly buried the hatchet from their schooldays and become real friends. Maybe she wouldn’t have felt so guilty for canceling going out as a group on tonight since they had would have just seen each other earlier, then maybe the rest of the group never would have become targets by proxy for The Other, then maybe they’d all be alive because Natalie hadn’t stupidly teased a dangerous man into committing a very real murder in front of her. Fixated on her. Obsessed over her.

She sobbed, unable and unwilling to hold back the ugly emotions in her chest. Her vision was blurring, this time from tears that rapidly cut through the blood on her cheeks to make streaky paths. Her sinuses burned, amplifying the pain already accompanying her broken nose. God, she must look like an absolute sight; helplessly rolled over on her back, struggling to crawl backwards in a vain attempt to keep distance between herself and the killer, face filthy in blood and sweat and tears. All she wanted to do was curl up in a corner and hide her face, hide her shame and her self hatred, and wait for the big scary monster to go away and leave her alone. These kinds of things weren’t supposed to be real. And when it was real, it was the kinds of things that happened to other people, for her to later hear about on the news and think to herself wow, how awful, thank God that wasn’t me.

“Please,” she whimpered. It was difficult to find balance with her arms angled near sideways behind her, causing her to scoot too far and slip fully on her back with a wince. She didn’t let it deter her, opting to ignore how her elbows dug awkwardly into her spine while kicking her legs to inch backwards as quickly as she could. “Please, please, I’m sorry!”

Sorry for making fun of you, sorry for trying to beat the shit out of you with a prop on two separate occasions, sorry for invading your hunting grounds, you’re scary, you’re scary, you’re so fucking scary–

The Other tilted his head at her pitiful display and Natalie choked on another sob. It was like he was mocking her, feigning consideration for her blubbering apology as if it would be enough to soothe the bloodlust she fueled. The meager few feet she had managed to put between them was undone in an instant when he stalked towards her with slow, deliberate steps. Heavy boots sounded like gunshots cracking in her ears, signaling he was coming closer, closer, ready to seal her fate with his deadly intent. No matter how fruitlessly she struggled to keep moving backwards, it was impossible to make more distance than what he was already closing. Her doe eyes were locked fully on him, regrettably resulting in the misdirection she was crawling backwards towards.

Wobbly mannequin legs stopped Natalie in her meager tracks. A couple of the figures, still off balance on their stands from the fight earlier, tipped and fell around her like masked dominos. She flinched, yelping at what she briefly thought were additional assailants that further caged her in with their black capes. Instead, they only served to further halt any escape by blocking all directions but forward, directly towards The Other, knowing she wouldn’t be able to scramble over their uneven bodies without the use of her arms. Like a fitful child, she tried to kick and jerk her shoulders to shake the swaddled figures off of her, but it made little difference besides nestling her deeper between them until her back was against the wall.

Trapped. Game over.

She was hyperventilating now, a poor combination with a blocked nasal and tight throat. She was suffocating, unable to hold a breath long enough for it to be any use before it left her as a strangled cry. The Other was practically on top of her, trapping her between his legs while he stood above her at her hips. Even if she were to try and kick up at him, she knew she wouldn’t be able to hit anything, only further sliding herself down on her back and giving him the perfect vantage point of her neck. Perhaps it would be in her best interest to bear her throat to the wolf’s teeth in hopes for a swift ending, but she doubted her stalker would let her escape him that quickly. Not after he had spent the entire night in her shadow, always lurking, never pouncing, wanting to savor the chase as long as possible before digging in.

“Please don’t, please,” Natalie begged again, her hysteria building the longer he toyed with her inevitable end. She didn’t want to die, naturally, but God, she didn’t want it to hurt either. She didn’t want to watch herself be hacked into little pieces for an hour, feeling every muscle be ripped apart and the bones splinter under her skin. His fist trembled slightly at her incessant pleading from where it held the neck of the ax, clenching the wood hard enough to make it creak. The Other was just barely restraining himself, his willpower failing seconds later as he shifted the ax to be weld overhead, poised to strike down.

She had always heard in these situations that people suddenly find themselves with immeasurable strength or that their life flashes before their eyes. Neither of those happened to Natalie; she wasn’t able to miraculously rip through her binds and she didn’t experience twenty-two years of memories in an instant. All she felt was pure, unbridled terror squeezing her heart, threatening to crush it before she had the chance to feel her head being caved in. The ax came hurling down at impressive speed, a testament to The Other’s strength hidden beneath the baggy folds of his hoodie, gunning for the poor girl’s skull. Her arms nearly pulled themselves out of their sockets in the instinctive need to shield her head from the blow, as if that would protect her from an already gruesome end. If anything, it would prolong the attack.

Instead, she screwed her eyes tight and turned her head to the side, shrinking into herself as every muscle wound itself up like a spring. Tears flooded down her face, almost wiping her cheeks clean at this point, save for the runny mascara that now mixed with the remaining pink tracks on her skin. There were no last words to utter. No final beg for mercy. Nothing but a pained shriek for her killer to remember her by, assuming she was worth remembering at all. What was hell on earth for her on this one night could be nothing more than the average Friday to him.

Natalie heard the impact of his ax. She had felt the air woosh over her face as it arced down. She could smell the sickening odor of gore even through the drying blood clogging in her nostrils. But, strangely enough, she could also still feel her pulse thrumming in her ears, her skin feeling electrified to the touch. Still breathing. Still alive. In pain, yes, but no more than she had been seconds prior. There was no rush of warmth spilling from her head or neck to coat her in her own fluids. Hesitantly, she cracked open an eye to see if she would be immediately greeted by the afterlife, or perhaps to check if a chunk of her brain was sitting in her lap and blissfully unaware she’d been lobotomized before The Other finished the job.

The bloody head of the ax was the first thing she saw, less than an inch away from the tip of her nose. She squeaked in surprise and jerked away from it as if it would grow teeth and bite her. It was not, in fact, buried into her tender flesh and eager to rip out chunks of her with each frenzied hack, rather it stayed embedded into the mass of fabric and wooden torsos underneath that had once been a part of the room’s attraction. If it weren’t for the thick layer of gore covering the blade, Natalie would have sworn she’d be able to see her reflection staring wide eyed back at her.

The Other had…missed?

No, that didn’t seem possible, not with his unrelenting prowess. He had avoided carving her face off deliberately, just as he had spared her the first time he had her on the ground and under his ax. Perhaps he wasn’t done playing his game after all.

Her terrified gaze followed up the length of the handle to see the killer at last relinquish his hold on the weapon, effectively disarming himself yet still as dangerous as ever. He could rip her apart with his own two hands if he wanted to, Natalie was certain of it. And there was still a chance that was exactly what he had in mind, too, something more personal and intimate saved just for her. Another whimper had found its way out of her chest when The Other shifted his weight where he stood, from engulfing her in his backlit shadow like a giant to lowering himself down to a crouch. Not quite eye level and much too close for comfort. He sat back on his haunches, arms resting on his knees while Natalie remained sprawled under his legs.

For a moment, he simply stared at her. Studying her. Waiting to see if she was going to make the first move or if she had finally learned her lesson of staying exactly how he wanted her. Her stalker knew all the worst ways to trip her up when she refused to cooperate with his advances; corralling her in the bathroom stalls and swinging his ax opposite of her hiding spot when they had entered this room together. Natalie was too petrified to do anything but tremble and hold back the cries that threatened to overflow from her eyes. A good answer, it seemed, because he hadn’t wrung her neck until every vertebrae snapped yet.

His right arm shifted to reach for her slowly, with the bloody fingers splayed like he were coaxing a feral cat. She didn’t have the feline advantage of needle-like claws or baby fangs to ward off the encroaching predator, nor could she find the courage within herself to hiss and yowl like it might deter him. Nine lives wouldn’t be enough to save her, so Natalie was going to have to make do with what little she had – which, to be clear, was jackshit. All she could do was jerk her head to the side in an attempt to keep him from touching her face, though even that proved to be a fruitless endeavor.

Before she had the chance to fully look away, his open hand lurched forward to grab her by the jaw and stop her in her tracks. She cried out in surprise, unable to resist when he forcibly turned her head back to face him to avoid the risk of a broken neck. His nails bit into the bruising skin of her cheeks, thumb digging to the gap between her sets of teeth and nearly cutting the inside of her mouth on her molars. So badly she wanted to close her eyes and block out the sight of his hideous yellow mask, pretend that he wasn’t there and when she’d open them he’d be gone. But her body refused to let her look away any longer, almost as transfixed on him as he had been with her all night. He was closer now, leaning in far enough that Natalie feared he might try to kiss her through his mangled faux lips.

The black holes of The Other’s mask offered no hint of emotion that he concealed behind it, not even a peek at what color his eyes were. A void; soulless and ready to swallow her whole if she dared to break what she assumed was eye contact again. He wanted to see her, and she was going to see him whether she wanted to or not. Well, she hoped he liked what he saw: a frightened girl barely on the cusp of adulthood in the midst of a panic attack and covered in too many people’s blood, probably with a deviated septum and two budding black eyes to boot. How appealing, certainly how Natalie had always envisioned herself to be remembered as – utterly pathetic. A lackluster final girl.

His thumb that had been previously pressing into her mandible eased up slightly to move across her face, now settling above her cupid’s bow. Natalie hissed in pain, automatically flinching back but not moving an inch thanks to the steeled grip The Other had on her chin. In an instant, he lifted his thumb off her upper lip entirely, giving her a brief moment for the ache to subside before his touch returned. It was lighter this time, gentle, the rough pad swiping under her nose like he was trying to wipe away the mess of blood he had caused in the first place. Of course, it wasn’t like his gesture was doing much to help give how much blood had dried down into a tacky consistency, nevermind the amount of viscera he was transferring from his own hands onto Natalie’s face.

Though she appreciated (in a weird sense) that his touch was softer, it didn’t change the fact her bruising skin still pulsated under his fingers, burning red hot. She grimaced, focusing on blinking back her tears rather than think about whose gore not Brooke’s not Brooke’s not Brooke’s was being rubbed over her mouth, dangerously close to be tasted and surely the final straw to make her retch.

If she didn’t know any better, which one could argue she didn’t as she was battling physical and mental trauma to the head, Natalie would almost think the killer was trying to convey an apology of sorts. As if he was sorry for the short term punishment he felt he needed to give her, certainly not caring about the repercussions for everything else however. Or he was merely admiring his handiwork in a perverse sort of way. A pretty girl covered in her pretty blood, begging to be drenched in more of it just so he could get his rocks off.

Mercifully, his hold loosened and Natalie sucked in a gasp, unaware she had been holding her breath the entire time. It felt like she deserved some sort of reward for not immediately flinching away again when his fingers ghosted over the apple of her cheek. She had been trained well, a quick learner. His hands were warm and rough and sickeningly slick with red, yet so impossibly light in the way they just barely touched her skin in passing. As if these weren’t the same hands responsible for countless deaths and agony, knowing they could decide to gouge out her eyes on a whim. She dared to let her gaze drift from his mask to follow where his deadly hold was traveling next, cringing when they tucked into several strands of hair that had been matted against her face from her bloody nose. Carefully, The Other tugged the hair loose and brushed it behind her ear.

Dirty fingers buried into her locks, uncaring how he soiled them. To be fair, most of her curls had already fallen out and the frizzy ends were likely a mess of tangles, caked in blood and sweat. It was only a small relief that he didn’t go grasping for her scalp, much like how he had tried to grab a hold of her in the bathroom to tug her upwards. This time, he combed his hand down the full length of her hair, stopped by a few knots that he tugged free along the way. It should have been soothing, such a sweet and loving act, even being done with a tender touch, but all it did for Natalie was make her stomach clench in anticipation. The other shoe was bound to drop at any moment. In a flash, his docile facade would be replaced with a blade shoved up to its hilt in her kidney, and she refused to be caught off guard.

When he reached the ends of her hair, he curled them around his fingers, letting the strands slip between his knuckles before twirling them back into his hold. The Other was mesmerized, fascinated, like he was experiencing the luxury of playing with someone’s hair for the first time.

Long and mousy, just like her’s. Not as silky, though, needed to be straighter. Nothing a good conditioner couldn’t fix. One that had a faint coconut scent, just like he used to be able to smell whenever she tucked herself under his arm–

His obsession unnerved Natalie more than usual while he was in her personal space, heightened by the uncertainty of his current behavior. Even if her arms were free, she wasn’t sure she’d have the gall to shove him away while he was so pacified in her presence, a stark contrast to every other encounter. It was a miracle how quickly he could be subdued when she wasn’t clawing at the walls to escape his presence, like it was her fault in assuming he meant her horrific bodily harm given the track record he demonstrated all night. Really, that possibility still wasn’t entirely off the table.

She just wanted a bit of breathing room, wanted him off of her to collect her thoughts before she either spiraled into a nervous breakdown or died of an aneurysm then and there. Crowding her space like this, Natalie could hear every exhale muffled by the mask, see his shoulders rise and fall in tandem, smell the blood that clung to him tinged with just the slightest hint of cologne, pick out all the individual bumps and divots of his mask.

It was like he was sizing her up in the boarding school haunted house again. Before she had given away that poor girl’s hiding spot, stupidly assuming it was all part of an act, when she thought The Other was nothing more than a harmless actor trying to get a rise out of her and her friends. She supposed it worked in the end. He had more than proven his point. If she hadn’t called him out, would he have ignored her in favor of hunting down his target without a second glance? Or would she still occupy his thoughts and spurn him to track her down all the same, equally enamored despite only seeing her in passing? Was there ever a chance she would have been safe no matter how he caught sight of her, would there be significantly less bodies in his wake if she’d just let him corner her in a bathroom stall and play with her hair for a bit?

Fuck, she hoped he wasn’t going to reveal himself to be one of those serial killers that wore their victims skin and was simply fantasizing about what a great wig her scalp would make.

Natalie swallowed to wet her hoarse throat, hoping her voice would be found. It took a few tries before she was confident she could make a sound that wasn’t simply a miserable whine. “What–”

She couldn’t stop herself from recoiling fast enough when The Other snapped his attention back to her face. His breathing faltered, only for a beat, the single indicator that he had been equally startled by her sudden conversation. All eyes were on her now, eager to hear what she had to say. She hadn’t talked to him in a while – screaming and crying didn’t count in his book. The killer was obviously not a man of many words, not while he donned his murderous persona anyways, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t pleased to see Natalie initiate a conversation all on her own. It was well worth being shaken out of whatever daydream he’d temporarily lost himself in, especially for her if it meant chasing away any musings he could be having about the best way to peel off her skin to make a belt. He tilted his head, urging her to continue.

“What…wh-what do you want?” She finally squeaked out, cowering under him in case that was all he needed to fly into a bloody frenzy again. It was hard to say if she was truly expecting a response, a verbal one anyways. Who knew if he even could give her that much, if his mutism extended beyond his haunted house hobbies.

Deep down, she knew what the answer was, and she knew he knew it, too. It had been obvious from the start, The Other had made no effort in hiding it from anyone.

He wanted her and now there was nobody left to stop him.

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