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hopefullhearts · 3 months ago

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Sickeningly Sweet [Scott Miller x Reader - Twisters]

summary: You are Tyler Owens' childhood best friend and member of his storm chasing crew. A storm outbreak means you and the gang cross paths with Storm Par on more than one occasion, and your sweet southern charm drives Scott crazy (in more than one way).

content warnings: somewhat heated kissing, no use of y/n, light name-calling/teasing, not proofread/bad writing (I have not written a fanfic in forever), bad taste in candy, & i think that is all!

word count: 3.5k

a/n: I have not written or posted on tumblr in SO long but I saw Twisters for the glenn powell craze and left with a scott/david corenswet obsession and these thoughts must come out of my head.

Shoutout to @hederasgarden and @sailor-aviator for leading the charge for the Scott girlies. All of their writings and drabbles inspired me to write this one, so check them out!

If people like this I might do a smutty part 2! I don't mind writing smut I just feel like it's not very good hahaha but let me know what you think!

You heavily resented the idea that guys and girls could not just be friends, because you'd be damned if Tyler Owens wasn't the best friend you ever had.

You met on the playground in Kindergarten. A boy pushed you off a swing, Tyler defended your honor, and the rest was history.

Tyler's overprotective streak made you view him like the brother you never had, and that's how your relationship remained. He was family, and that was that.

Tyler had always been interested in tornadoes, more specifically, how to track and predict them. You, on the other hand, hated science, including weather, but you loved the thrill of the chase.

In college, you studied marketing while Tyler studied meteorology. So, when Tyler had the idea to start streaming his storm chases, you were right there with him to help grow his brand.

Tyler knows he would be stupid not to credit you with all his success. You set up his streaming account, you edited all the clips and drone footage to post to his social media after the fact, and you even gave him the idea for the "Tornado Wrangler" nickname.

Now that everything was off the ground, you mostly put together streaming highlights and designed the merch, but you were right there in the backseat for every single chase, soaking up all the thrills.

This particular storm outbreak was expected to be a big one, so the whole crew strapped in for a week of bad weather, cheap motel rooms, and of course, a few run-ins with other chasers, including the guys from Storm Par.

"Storm Par's here." You said, gesturing to the fleet of white vans parked at the gas station you had just pulled up to.

"Of course they are." Tyler sighed. "There's probably going to be a lot of damage done by these storms for them to swoop in on. Just ignore them."

"No, we should be polite." You chastised him. "I'm gonna go say hi. Will you get me a cherry coke please?"

Tyler fought back an eye-roll, but nodded with a smile as you both got out of the car. "Of course."

Like everyone else in the crew, the Storm Par guys got on your last nerve. They were all a bunch of Ivy League grads who thought a more expensive degree made them better than everyone else.

However, being raised by your Mama, the epitome of Southern grace and charm, you always put a smile on your face and treated them with kindness. You even occasionally brought them food or coffee if you ran into them in the aftermath of a storm.

And even though you were blissfully unaware of the fact, this drove Scott absolutely mad.

"Hi Scott, Javi." You said cheerfully to the two boys in charge.

Scott replied with a grunt, but Javi was quick to greet you with genuine enthusiasm. "Hey! How are you?"

"I'm doing well." You nodded, smoothing your hands over your athleisure skirt. "Excited for a good chase today. How about you guys?"

"Us too." Javi nodded. "We're hoping to finally get some solid data collection today."

"Ah." You nodded, unsure what to say. You hated the idea of what they were collecting data for, but Javi seemed like a nice enough guy, and Tyler ripped on them enough for the both of you.

"Something on your mind there, princess?" Scott finally spoke, glancing away from his tablet to look down on you (literally and figuratively).

You rolled your eyes. While you would normally love to be called a princess, it always sounded like an insult coming from Scott, his voice always laced with a touch of venom.

"No, nothing at all." You smiled. "Just wondering if we'll see you guys in the aftermath if there's any damage done?"

"Why? Are you looking to increase your t-shirt sales?"

You bit your tongue, doing your best to hold your composure and not let him get to you.

"Nope, just trying to figure out if we need to make some extra to-go boxes for you guys." You decided to focus your gaze on Javi instead, finding him less intimidating.

Javi opened his mouth to speak, but Scott beat him to the punch. "I think we can find food on our own, thanks."

You took a deep breath, choosing your next words carefully. "Okay, well, the offer always stands if you change your mind."

Javi smiled and nodded. "As much as I want to see a good storm today, let's hope we don't have a ton of damage clean up."

You smiled. You knew he had a heart.

"That's something we both can agree on." You grinned. "Stay safe out there you guys!"

With that, you turned and walked away. Scott watched you go, your hair and skirt blowing side to side in the wind.

"Stay safe out there you guys." Scott mocked you under his breath.

"Yo, you don't always have to be a jerk to her, you know."

Scott gave him an unamused look. "She comes out here with her little boyfriend, selling his t-shirts and shit, and then skips over here like we're the best of friends with her thick southern accent. It's all fake."

"For one, I don't think Owens is her boyfriend." Javi corrected. "And two, I think she's just a genuinely nice person. She always says hello, even when everyone else in their crew ignores us like the plague."

"Whatever." Scott mumbled.

As you reached the truck, you took the ice-cold Coca-Cola bottle from Tyler's outstretched hand.

"Thank you!" You said excitedly, twisting the cap off to take a sip.

"How are dumb and dumber?" Tyler teased.

"Javi was nice." You informed him. "Scott was... there."

"Ah, yes." Tyler laughed. "Word on the street is he's a man of many words."

"Right." You agreed sarcastically. "But, when he does speak to me, he always calls me princess, and it drives me crazy."

"In what way?" Tyler said, failing to hold back a smirk.

It took you a moment to realize what he was implying, but when you did, you were mortified,

"Tyler Owens!" You gasped, your face flushing red with embarrassment.

""I'm just teasing you! You make it too easy." He laughed loudly. "In my defense, he looks like exactly like every boyfriend you've ever had."

Your face got even warmer, because he was exactly right. You had a weakness for tall, muscular, dark-haired men, and you especially loved a man who was a challenge.

"That is...irrelevant." You said, covering your face in your hands out of pure embarrassment.

Tyler held his hands up in surrender, as you rushed to talk about anything but Scott. "Let's just figure out what storm we're going after, you jerk." You insulted Tyler, but the smile on your face was ear to ear.

Scott watched the interaction from afar, and his chest twisted at your sickeningly sweet smile. Even if you weren't Owens' girlfriend, your closeness was evident. He ignored the burning feeling that was rising within him, not wanting to question why it was there in the first place.

Tornadoes were scary, but trying to understand how he felt about you? Terrifying.

"Alright, boss man, which storm are we chasing?" Javi pulled him out of his thoughts with a hand clapped on his shoulder, and he finally pulled his gaze away from your smile, the sound of your laughter fading into the background.

The storm was bad.

It hit a small town of about 3,000 people, and you estimated based on the initial damage scene that it was an EF3 at best, maybe even an EF4.

You were currently handing out anything that might be helpful to families who had been impacted by the tornado - blankets, water, heat lamps. pre-made sandwiches and cookies. You tried to offer them any comfort you could with a smile and hug, but you understood the devastation they felt all too well.

In the early days, you would try to help with the damage cleanup, but Tyler insisted that you stay back at the camper and talk to the families.

At first, you were insulted, and you thought that Tyler was insinuating you weren't strong enough to move heavy tree limbs or pieces of drywall. You finally asked him about it one day, and he laughed.

"Absolutely not!" He insisted. "You just have this energy around you that's calming, and these families need that. Your empathy and kindness are doing much more for them right now than cleaning up a bunch of rubble would."

You had never thought of it like that, but once Tyler pointed it out, it became your mission to be the solace that these families in crisis needed.

"Is there anything else we can do for you, Mrs. Smith?" You asked, rubbing the arms of a middle-aged woman who you had been speaking to for a few minutes now.

"No, thank you." She sniffled. "I really appreciate you guys being here. God bless you."

You smiled, giving her another hug. "Please let us know if there's anything more we can do to help."

She nodded, walking away to join her family, who were staring at the remains of their house.

You pushed back tears, feeling silly that this never got any easier for you, but also focused on being the anchor that these folks needed.

Scott saw you before you saw him. He watched you from afar as you did your work. He watched you force a smile and hold these people as they cried. He also watched you look up to blink back the tears before taking a deep breath and moving on to the next.

And damn if it didn't drive him nuts.

This job is easier when he doesn't get involved with the people impacted. It's easier to pretend not to care. But watching you pour your heart out to strangers, just because it's the right thing to do? It made his heart jump, and that scared him.

Ignoring the people involved and ignoring his feelings for you had become increasingly more difficult with every chase.

"Scott!" You called, approaching him with a styrofoam container in your hand.

He sighed, mentally preparing himself as you literally bounced over to him.

How the hell does someone look this good after taking on a tornado?

"Here." You offered him the container. "It's just a ham and cheese sandwich and a cookie."

"I'm really not hungry." He responded.

"Seriously?" You asked, not buying it. "We've all been chasing since 10 AM and it's nearly 8, you have to be hungry."

Scott shrugged, trying to hold back the things he really wanted to say.

"Fine." You sighed. "We're right over here if you change your mind."

"Yeah, I know princess. It's hard to miss you being the town's savior over there."

Scott watched you visibly retract and he internally screamed as his heart dropped. You probably hated him, but it didn't matter anyway. You were far too sweet for him, so putting a wedge between the two of you seemed to be the smartest way to outrun his feelings.

"Wow." You spoke, your voice much smaller and shakier than usual. "I knew you were sarcastic and maybe even a little mean, but I never thought you were actually cruel. So, thanks, for enlightening me."

And with that, you turned and strutted off. This time, you failed to fight back the tears as you returned to the camper.

And to your horror, Tyler was there, taking a break from clean up for some water.

When Tyler sees you cry, his overprotective streak comes out instantly, and right now you didn't want to be protected, because you were so embarrassed that he finally got to you. You were even more embarrassed that you thought that just maybe, he might be a good person under that scowl and hard facade.

"Hey, hey, hey, are you okay?" Tyler rushed up to meet you.

You nodded, trying to stop sniffling. "I'm fine."

Tyler looked behind you to see Scott watching you closely, with a look that almost mimicked longing, and he quickly put two and two together.

"Let me handle this." He insisted.

You shook your head in protest. "No, Tyler, please, he thinks I'm a waste of time anyways, it's not worth it."

"Trust me, he doesn't," Tyler reassured you. "Let me handle this, and if it goes badly, I'll edit all the stream highlights for the next two weeks, okay?"

"Deal." You nodded.

You truly did trust him more than anyone in your life, so you opted to go inside the camper and dry up your tears while he went to speak to Scott. You would let Tyler handle it, but no way were you going to stand there and watch, looking like a puppy who just got kicked.

"Coming to defend your girlfriend's honor?" Scott said sarcastically, trying to mask any emotion he was feeling.

"Dude, seriously." Tyler glared at him. "If you want her attention being a complete and total asshole is not the way you get it."

"Is that what you think? That I want her 'attention'?" He said, framing the last word in air quotes.

"Yeah, I do." Tyler nodded. "I saw the look you gave her as she walked away."

"Okay, so what?" Scott shrugged. "You might be surprised to know I am human and I didn't mean to make her cry."

"Sure." Tyler nodded. "So, what about all the other times I've caught you staring at her, hm?"

Scott stayed silent, stunned speechless.

"Ah, you thought you were better at hiding it, didn't you?" Tyler said with a smug grin. "Every time we end up at the same gas station, restaurant, bar, or motel, your eyes follow her nearly the whole time. And don't even get me started on the holes you burn into my head when I'm talking to her."

"Alright, fine." Scott snapped angrily. "Here to rub it in my face then?"

Tyler sighed in frustration. "No."

"Then what?"

"I'm going to give you a piece of advice."

"Why?" Scott scoffed. "It's no secret that we aren't friends."

"I know her better than anyone else, do you want my help or not?" Tyler asked, his patience nearing its limit.

Scott didn't protest this time.

"Look, no matter what I think about you, you're pretty much exactly her type," Tyler said, much to Scott's surprise. "So if you want her, apologize and tell her how you feel."

"She's not going to feel the same, and she deserves much better than me." Scott retorted. "C'mon Owens, you know what we do. When she comes floating into these broken towns like a heaven-sent angel, I'm collecting data for the devil."

"That doesn't have to be a permanent problem." Tyler pointed out. "Plus, she likes a challenge, and she's definitely brave enough to think she can fix you."

That cracked a smile from both of them, followed by a moment of silence.

"218." Tyler said.

"What?"

"That's the room she's staying in tonight." Tyler said, starting to walk away. "Apologize."

Scott nodded, beginning to formulate a plan on how the hell he was going to get you to forgive him.

You were snug under your blanket in the motel room watching reruns of Modern Family when the knock came.

You sighed and got up, not bothering to check the peephole as you assumed it was just Tyler coming to talk about the day's events.

So when you opened the door to see Scott standing there, you couldn't be more surprised.

"What are you doing here?" You said quietly, nearly breathless at the sight of him.

It wasn't the first time you had seen him outside of that stupid Storm Par white jumpsuit, but it was the first time you had seen him in gray sweatpants and a tight black long-sleeve shirt that clung to his muscles in a way that you could only describe as sinful.

He towered over you, leaning against the frame of the doorway, and you nearly shuddered when you looked up to meet the intense gaze in his eyes.

"I brought you something. As an apology for being an ass earlier today."

"Oh, and what did you bring for all the other times?" You spat back, no longer in the mood to play nice with him.

"I deserve that." He sighed. "Can I come in?"

"Depends." You responded, and he raised an eyebrow. "What did you bring me?"

He handed you a plastic bag, and you opened it to find a Cherry Coke, Sour Patch Kids, and a Honey Bun.

All of your favorites.

"How did you know what I like?" You asked, curious to know if Tyler was behind this.

"You always get some combination of the three at any local gas station." He shrugged.

He remembered because the first time he saw you buy all three he physically rolled his eyes, because, of course, you would buy snacks just as sickeningly sweet as you.

"I didn't know you paid this much attention to me." You said softly.

"Yeah." Scott inhaled a sharp breath. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Can I please come in?"

You opened the door, inviting him in with the gesture. The door shut behind you, and there was a brief moment of silence between you two.

"I'm sorry, for being a jerk today and every other time I'm around you." Scott started, visibly nervous as he ran a hand through his hair. "I wish I had a better explanation for why I've been such an ass."

"Yeah, so let's hear it." You said, hands on your hips. "Because I have been nothing but nice to you, even though I don't like who you work for and what they stand for."

"I know." He nodded. "At first, I thought you were being fake or sarcastic because it was unfathomable to me that you would be nice to us when you have absolutely no reason to be."

You nodded, encouraging him to continue.

"But once I learned more about you, and I realized you were being genuinely nice," Scott took a deep breath, building up all his courage. "It knocked me off my feet."

"What do you mean?" You asked, confused at what he was getting at

"I spend most of my time pretending that I don't care about the people that are devastated by all of this, because it's easier that way. But watching you bear your heart and soul to all of these people, just because you can?" Scott scoffed. "It makes it hard to pretend like I don't care about them, or more importantly, about you."

"You care about me?"

"I do." He nodded. "And I was a jerk to you because I thought it would be easier to make you hate me than it would be to admit that I have feelings for you, when you're far too good for me."

His admission stunned you. You can feel your heart thumping out of your chest as you look into his eyes, which look painstakingly vulnerable.

"I completely understand if you don't feel the same way, but I couldn't outrun these feelings anymore, and I wanted to at least let you know that I'm sorry."

The room fell silent as you processed everything he just told you. Scott was panicking inside, waiting for what felt like years for you to say something, anything.

"Do you know why I was always nice to you?" You asked him. "Because I was hoping that somewhere in there you had a good side. I needed to know that you had a heart before I could admit to myself that I felt drawn to you."

"Do you still? Feel drawn to me?"

You nodded. Stepping closer to him so that you were nearly face to face.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Please." You nodded desperately, your words barely above a whisper.

His lips were on yours in a flash, and the pure intensity of the kiss nearly knocked you off your feet. It was heated and rough, but somehow gentle and passionate at the same time. His thumb grazed your cheek as he pulled you closer, and every spot his fingers touched made your skin feel like it was on fire. You couldn't get enough of him.

Once he knew you were comfortable, he took the liberty of exploring you more. His tongue slipped into your mouth gently and his teeth caught your bottom lip, causing a small whimper to come from the back of your throat.

Scott groaned at the sound, letting his mind imagine (not for the first time) all of the sounds he could pull from you.

When the two of you finally pulled away for air, he kept you close, his hands ghosting under your chin around your neck, forcing you to meet his eyes.

"You taste just as sweet as I thought you would," Scott said with a smirk.

"Shut up and kiss me again."

#scott twisters #scott twisters x reader #twisters x reader #twisters #twisters movie #twisters 2024 #scott miller x reader #scott miller #scott miller x you

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leeloooonfire · 4 months ago

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first kiss

There are many rumours about Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson. Steve only gets his weed from the freak because he gives good discount and sloppy heads. (That rumour is on the jocks of Hawkins High. yes, Steve gets his weed from Eddie, no he doesn't get sloppy heads from Eddie though he thinks the metal head would probably be good at it.)

They've once raced against each other and Eddie won. Beamer against shabby, rusty Van. It's said that Eddie pushed Steve off the road and then left him in a ditch. (The truth is that Steve crashed the beamer one night in '85 after weeks of nightmares and the need to drive through Hawkins to make sure that no demodog would attack his kids. Eddie merely helped him and the beamer out of the ditch.)

They've been friends looooong before the Upside Down. (This is from the kids, specifically from Dustin. And it is anything but true.)

Steve and Eddie made out once in 1981. With their hands down their pants, tongue far up in each others mouths. (This is from a cheerleader who graduated in '82).

This is...well...true. To a point! No hands in pants, but yeah, Steve and Eddie onces kissed. To be specific, it was Steve's first kiss, for both of them really.

Winter '81 at Michael Carvers birthday party where Steve was invited as the youngest basketball player in the team and Eddie was there to sell weed.

Somehow, Steve got pulled into a round of 7 minutes in Heaven by said cheerleader (which had been a trick, a little prank on little Stevie because there had been no 7 minutes in heaven, just some giggling cheerleaders and a perplexed Eddie Munson selling weed out off Carvers pantry).

The moment Steve was shoved into the tiny, dark space with no one but the freak, he had 2 options: run and be the joke of the school or stay and become an enigma in his first year of Highschool.

So, Steve stayed.

'Pre-rolled or a baggy?' Eddie, sitting on a chair, had asked with a drawl which would have been intimidating if his voice hadn't broken right then.

'7 minutes in hell' Steve simply said, ignoring both the lunchbox on Eddie's knees and the funny crack of his voice.

the other boy leaned back, head tilted like a confused puppy, 'Isn't it 7 minutes in Heaven?'

Steve shrugged his shoulders, 'probably depends on who's with you, you know?'

And that made Eddie laugh, head bend, eyes squeezed shut, a nice, rumbling sort of sound escaping his lips.

'Good point', he'd said and closed the lunchbox before leaning closer, 'What'cha intend to do about it?'

Until this very moment, Steve didn't know, hadn't had a clue, but when the laughter of the cheerleaders from the other side of the door reached his ears, he shrugged again and said, 'probably kiss you until the 7 minutes are over and then buy a pre-rolled.'

'You don't mind that they might called you a fag?'

For a moment, Steve thought about it, but then shrugged again. He wasn't one, liked girls just fine and if anything, he thinks Lucy from geography definitely would like to hold his hands.

'Nah, I don't mind.'

And before the other boy could say anything, Steve marched closer and bend down, one hand on Eddie's knee, the other on his smooth cheek.

'But I'm not gonna kiss you if you don't want it,' he said right against Eddie's lips. Eddie, who looked startled and wide-eyed, lips slightly parted. Steve knew that he sounded far more confident than he actually felt, and he was just so very grateful that his hands weren't as sweaty with nervousness as the lower part of his back. He just hoped that he smelled nice.

'5 more minutes,' someone called out and Eddie jerked against Steve’s hands.

'OK,' he said quietly, sounding so small and Steve felt for him, so he said, honest and with a bit vulnerability, 'it's my first kiss.'

Before Eddie could say anything, however, Steve kissed him. Just a light pressure of lips against lips. He stopped, leaned back to look at Eddie only to find him with his eyes closed, so Steve leaned in again. One peck, two, a third, and then Eddie's hand closed around Steve's waist to move him closer, right between his parted legs. Another hand reached for Steve's head, slightly cold fingers curled into his hair and Eddie's thumb began to brush almost gently over Steve's ear. It felt electrifying. He hummed. This time, when their lips met, they opened and Steve carefully let his tongue run along Eddie's lower lip. He's met with a heavy exhale and something like a quiet whine. It's sounded like heaven, so he did it again only to feel Eddie's tongue against his. Wet, Steve thought at first, a bit slimey, but then Eddie grabbed his head harder and opened his mouth wider and with it, Eddie's tongue brushed against his, and it felt like nothing Steve's ever felt before. Warm and fuzzy and lovely, and Eddie tasted like mint gums and spit. He groaned. Steve reached for Eddie's hair, short and curly and so soft against his hand and somehow he's not standing anymore but sitting on Eddie's lap, their chests touching. When Steve's teeth accidently dug into Eddie's wonderfully plush bottom lip, he moaned into Steve's mouth. It was as if the sound echoed through Steve's bones. So he did it again. And again, nails digging into Eddie's neck to keep him close. The hand on Steve's waist trailed along his waistband and then under Steve's shirt to tickle his stomach and before thinking too much, he pressed into it.

Eddie tilted his head and brushed his tongue against Steve's and then against his teeth and lips and before he knew what was happening, Eddie's beautiful, unskilled mouth, left his lips and trailed along his jaw to his ear, gently biting into the flesh behind it. And Steve outright moaned loud enough for the sound to travel outside of the pantry.

'30 more seconds' came a snickering answer and the two boys jumped apart. Eddie's cheeks and neck were flushed bright red, his lips shiny with spit, his hair a mess and Steve knew he probably looked just the same. They both panted, Steve's heart running a mile a minute.

'Oh,' he said, still feeling Eddie's touch against his skin (and wanting more.)

He wanted more!

Both of them tried to put their clothes and hair in order, breathing heavily and just as Steve put his hand on the doorknob to leave the tiny room, Eddie said, 'You were my first kiss, too.'

5 years later, after battles and almost dying, Steve lies on Eddie's new (thankfully clean) mattress and says with a small smile, 'best first kiss ever,' only for Eddie to smirk and say, 'We could repeat it, you know?'

They've been best friends for the last few months, similar but so much different from how Steve and Robin are best friends, but when Steve looks at Eddie and his pink lips and the way his cheeks are hot and his eyes twinkle with something more, he knows that they could be so much more...

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie fic #steddie ficlet

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evie-sturns · 9 months ago

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ᴅʀɪᴠᴇ ɪɴ - ᴍᴀᴛᴛ ꜱᴛᴜʀɴɪᴏʟᴏ

summary: it's your 5 month anniversary with matt, to celebrate he takes you to a drive in movie, but things don't turn out the way you expected.

contains: smut, semi public sex, car sex, fluff, swearing.

-----------------------°°••....••°°--------------————

9:48pm

i've been rotting it bed since i woke up in the mid-afternoon, the light in my room is fading as the sun sets. with a dramatic sigh i roll over in bed to check my phone, i have several missed calls from my boyfriend, matt.

"shit." i mumble to myself, dialing matt's number after accidentally ignoring him for half the day.

"y/n, are you okay?" matt says with a sigh through the phone.

"yeah.. yeah i'm sorry i was asleep, you okay?" i reply, dragging myself out of bed as i clutch my phone in one hand.

"meet me outside in 10 minutes okay?"

"matt, i just woke up." i groan, stripping down to nothing before rummaging through my closet for anything to wear.

"doesn't matter sweetheart." i can hear matts smile in his voice as he hangs up.

my eyebrows furrow with confusion as i pull up my jeans, i place my phone back down on my bed and dart around my ensuite, messily applying mascara and attempting to tie my hair into two braids.

the rumble of matts van pulling into my driveway echos from outside my house, followed by 4 gentle knocks on my front door. "doors unlocked!" i yell out, yanking up my socks past my ankles.

i hear approaching footsteps up my stairs, matt swings open my door.

hes wearing dad jeans, and a cute red crewneck which slightly hugs his waist.

"matt!" i exclaim, running up to him and embracing matt in a tight hug. he laughs before rubbing my back.

"happy anniversary" matt smiles, grabbing my hand as i pull away.

"ready to go?" he asks, i clear my throat quietly.

if im being honest i have no idea where we are meant to be going, i can't remember if matt's told me or not.

"okay.." i force a confident tone, letting matt guide us downstairs and out into the driveway where his grey minivan is parked, barely illuminated from the decaying streetlight above.

he opens the door for me, mindlessly i jump into the passenger seat, switching my phone on do not disturb while matt climbs into the drivers side, turning on the ignition.

after several minutes of small talk matt pulls off the main road, towards an empty parking lot.

“hey, matt.. i know we are going somewhere, but i can’t remember if you told me where.” i mutter quietly, earning a giggle from matt

“i’d hope i didn’t tell you, it’s a surprise idiot.” he laughs, rubbing his eyes.

i nod, giving him a slap on the leg from his snarky nickname.

at the back of the parking lot there’s a wall, i think it’s the back of a business workplace or something. matt backs into the parking spot, specifically the one where his trunk is about a meter away from the wall.

he sighs nervously before starting “i decided to kind of do something different, i’m kind of surprised you haven’t caught on but.. ya know.”

i nod “okay!” before matt climbs out of the car, i follow and walk round the front of the car towards matt, who’s standing still near the back door.

he takes my hand, and pulls me toward the trunk before opening it, revealing the whole back of the van which is decked out in blankets, pillows and stuffed animals.

my jaw goes slack.

matt’s never been romantic, he says that he’s not into all the ‘cornball shit’, so this coming from him was possibly the last thing i expected.

“is it bad.” matt blurts out, his voice breaks slightly.

i let out a nervous giggle “matt this is so cute, i love it!”

i wrap my arms around him, grinning stupidly into his chest “how the fuck did i not see this in the back.” i tut,

matt picks me up and throws me in the trunk, the stupid amount of cushions breaks my fall

matt crawls in behind me, laying down with one arm out, inviting me to cuddle him, which i do.

i feel my eyes grow heavy while matt scrambles through the pillows beside us, i peel my eyes open to see matt frantically trying to put together a projector.

“matt?” i whisper, my voice hoarse, his head instantly snaps back to me with a guilty expression.

before he can speak the projector turns on, projecting matt’s phone screen onto the wall right in front of us from outside the trunk of the car.

“oh my god.” i laugh in disbelief, i look up at matt who has a proud look on his face.

i sit up and peck kisses all over his face “you’re so stupid” matt shakes his head with a grin painted across his mouth.

“i downloaded netflix for this..” matt whispers, earning another round of kisses from me.

“you can choose sweetheart.” matt says handing me his phone, i scroll through various movies before landing on one.

scream 2.

“horror in an abandoned parking lot!” matt gasps dramatically, “shut up its a good movie, still not sure how you haven’t watched it.” i joke back, pressing play.

the start of the movie is slow and boring, matt’s just been rubbing my thigh lovingly for the past few minutes, i don’t know what it’s doing to me but it’s got me extremely worked up.

suddenly i shut off the movie, before straddling matt. i don’t know how, but abrubtly i’m desperate for his hands some place else. “oh?” he clears his throat.

i toy with the button of his jeans “matt..” i whine quietly, locking eyes with him. “you alright gorgeous?” he croaks.

“i want your hands..” i whisper, my cheeks flushing.

“can i ask where this came from?” matt says, trying to keep his composure. “your hands on my thighs.. i need them further up.” i blurt out before slamming a hand over my mouth.

“mhm?” he replies, grabbing my ass and lifting me off him, next to his side.

“do you want me to take us home then?” matt questions, sitting up.

“what no?”

“baby i can’t make you feel good here, you know that.” he says “yes you can matt?” i snap back, the attitude in my voice peaking through

he looks at me with a disappointed dad look, “we’re in public last time i checked.”

“can i be honest matthew..” i say, my voice slow as i break eye contact. he nods , grabbing my chin and forcing me to look at him. “anything.”

“i’m physically hurting from how badly i need you, so for the love of god don’t take me home because i am too inpatient for that, okay?”

matt’s eyes widen “gotcha.” he says, his voice cracks.

without another word i lie back, spreading my legs as far as they possibly can go.

“god, your needy today aren’t you?” he coos, positioning himself over me. matt plants a desperate kiss on my lips while one of his hands grip my inner thigh.

“gonna have to get these off, hm?” matt says, pulling down my jeans to my ankles, then yanking them off. the cold air night hits my warm skin, the only light in the back of the van is the few fairy lights matt put up.

matt grabs the back of my head gently, and lays me down flat on the mountain pillow

“comfy?”

i nod, matt looms over me, letting one hand rest between my legs, keeping direct eye contact with me the whole time.

this is the first time in a few weeks matt and i have got so intimate, i’ve been dangerously tired from work, and matt’s been working on the 6 mil video with nick and chris, leaving us little time to see each other.

a light scoff escapes from matt’s mouth, “wet for me all down your thighs.” he mutters, moving his hand up to rest on my clothed clit. i groan, the everlasting heat between my legs isn’t being helped.

i buck my hips up into matt’s hand, shutting my eyes for a brief moment. he takes his time to apply pressure, wanting to savour every moment of this.

i let out a shaky breath which hits matt’s neck, “more.” is the only word i can form through my horny state.

“mhm? you really want more?”

i bop my head up and down frantically, matt pushes my panties to the side and runs one long finger through my folds, brushing my bud temporarily .

a desperate whimper exits my throat, my hands lay flat on my stomach, pressing lightly. matt stares into my squinted eyes as he slides his index and middle finger into me.

“fuck.. thank you-..” i groan out, matt laughs

“thank you?” he says, a stupid grin on his face again. “sorry..” i mutter, a small smirk on my face revealing.

matt presses a peck to the tip of my nose before thrusting his fingers in and out of me,

“you feel so good around my fingers, gonna feel this good around my cock too yeah?”

just with that sentence i clench around matt’s fingers, releasing around them. matt’s mouth gapes a small amount. “sorry..” i breath out, i think that’s a new record for fastest time to cum ever.

“don’t say sorry, that was kind of impressive.” matt laughs, sliding his fingers out of me. he wipes them on the pillow beside us, ‘not wanting to make a mess’ is what he says each time.

i reach for matt’s jeans, unbuttoning them and pulling them down, i palm him through his boxers as i sit upright. matt stays quiet as he flips me over onto all fours “ready?” he says, kneeling behind me.

i look over my shoulder, matt somehow looks so innocent even though he’s about to fuck me dumb. “yeah.. please.”

he runs his tip over my slit a few times before sliding in, inch by inch.

“sweetheart?” i hear matt say softly from behind me, “mm?” i hum, “can you arch a little more for me gorgeous girl?” he says, resting a hand on my lower back and pressing lightly. i comply, arching my back as much as it can.

“good girl.” he whispers, his tip kissing my cervix.

he starts to thrust in and out, a string of moans exit my mouth as i bury my face in one of the pillows.

he grips my waist tight, i wouldn’t be surprised if there’s gonna be marks tomorrow.

“god you feel so fucking good.” matt praises, his thrusts growing faster and faster each time.

i hum in response, my mind has gone foggy.

a familiar knot forms in my stomach, i can feel myself reaching my second orgasm tonight. “your clenching, gonna come for me again?” matt says in between thrusts.

and with a squeal of matt’s name the knot in my stomach snaps.

matt pulls out with a slick sound before painting my back with white streaks. “shit shit shit..” matt curses, grabbing a blanket and wiping me down.

“you okay?” he asks, flopping down into the pile of pillows, i follow flopping down on his chest.

“more than okay..” i mumble into his neck.

————-

(a month later)

the sound of music fills my car as i drive over to matt’s house, today is our 6 month anniversary and we’ve planned a movie night at his home.

i pull into his driveway, i grab my phone and dash up to his front door, locking my car behind me.

i swing the door open, matt’s standing in the kitchen on his phone. “matt!!” i squeal, running up to hug him. “happy 6 month anniversary!” he says, smothering me with kisses.

he picks me up by my ass and takes us over to his living room, it’s dimly lit by the tv. he throws me down on the couch which is covered in various blankets and pillows.

i look over at the tv and my jaw drops with a laugh.

scream 2

“i mean we didn’t get to watch it last month!” matt shrugs, pulling me towards him on the couch.

it’s not even been 3 minutes and i’m being pounded into by matt, i think this is going to become a new tradition.

try to finish the scream movie without fucking in the first 10 minutes.

-----------------------°°••....••°°--------------————

#sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic

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requinoesis · 8 months ago

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Something I'm still very undecided about is the name of the indie band of my three young sharks from a retro universe. It's such a simple thing, but it's perplexing me, perhaps because I want something very specific. In this case, a marine element + a cosmic element. 🦈✨

I wish you could all help me with this creative insight! At the moment I have these ideas, do you like them, do any of them sound cool?

🎵 Dreaming Sharks, Dream Divers, Dream Shiver, Astral Dreamers.

These names would be more ideas for songs they would make:

🎶 Pastel Summer, Reef Dreams, Stranded Song, Wreck Echoes, Ocean Wish, Astral Sailors, Stargazing Sharks, Sharks also Dream, Whispering Waves, Emotional Frenzy, The Rainbow After the Storm.

What I do know is that their essence is about chasing dreams with a cosmic touch, magical ocean and optimism. I created these three characters inspired by the triple idea of the tarot: Sun, Moon and Star.

☀️ Sun as ruler of Tiago/Tyson the tiger shark, someone warm, who inspires courage and determination.

🌙 Moon as ruler of Roberto/Rocky the great hammerhead shark, someone mysterious, who inspires feeling and empathy.

⭐ And the Star as ruler of Arielle/Aria the zebra shark, someone dreamy, who inspires imagination and faith.

If you'd like to know a bit more about the three of them, you can read about them here.

Someone once told me that imagining a scene with my characters could help me understand the essence that could lead me to the ideal band name. So I remembered what I had imagined:

"Previously, it was just Roberto and Tiago, but they were looking for a voice for their songs. One starry night on the beach, Roberto witnessed a strange shooting star that didn't reflect his image in the sea. Despite this, he was inspired to make a wish.

The event reminded him of his van, which he affectionately calls "Starfall". After going for a drive with Tiago, a synchronicity event led them to Arielle, whom they found singing alone at a local karaoke bar. Since then, Roberto likes to call her "Lucky Star", the one who inspires them to hope in the face of adversity.

And one day, when Roberto and Tiago were undecided about how to name the band, Arie surprised them with an ideal name idea!"

The problem is that I don't know what idea Arie had! haha

---

Edit: Hmm, what do you all think of "The Dreamfarers"? 🎸🦈🎶

#shark #sharks #character design #ocs #worldbuilding

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vinceaddams · 1 year ago

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Early 18th (and late 17th) century fashions are so under-utilized in vampire media and I think it's a damn shame.

I don't actually think I've ever seen a single image of a vampire character in an early 18th century suit. Hardly any movies set in that era either, and hardly any historical costumers who do it. (Even my beloved gay pirate show set in 1717 takes nearly all of its 18th century looks from the second half of the century. Not enough appreciation for baroque fashion!!)

Yes I love late 18th century fashion as much as anyone, and 19th century formal suits are all very well and good, but if you want something that says old, dead, wealthy, and slightly dishevelled, then the 1690's-1730's are where it's at.

(Retrato del Virrey Alencastre Noroña y Silva, Duque de Linares, ca. 1711-1723.)

There was so much dark velvet, and so many little metallic buttons & buttonholes. Blood red linings were VERY fashionable in this era, no matter what the colour of the rest of the suit was.

(Johann Christoph Freiherr von Bartenstein by Martin van Meytens the Younger, 1730's.)

The slits on the front of the shirts are super low, they button only at the collar, and it's fashionable to leave most of the waistcoat unbuttoned so the shirt sticks out, as seen in the above portraits.

(Portrait of Anne Louis Goislard de Montsabert, Comte de Richbourg-le-Toureil, 1734.)

Waistcoats are very long, coats are very full, and the cuffs are huge. But the sleeves are on the shorter side to show off more of that shirt, and the ruffles if it has them! Creepy undead hands with long nails would sit so nicely under those ruffles.

(1720's-30's, LACMA)

Embroidery designs are huge and chunky and often full of metallic threads, and the brocade designs even bigger.

(1730's, V&A, metal and silk embroidery on silk satin.)

Sometimes they did this fun thing where the coat would have contrasting cuffs made from the same fabric as the waistcoat.

(Niklaus Sigmund Steiger by Johann Rudolf Huber, 1724.)

Tell me this look isn't positively made for vampires!

(Portrait of Jean-Baptiste de Roll-Montpellier, 1713.)

(Yeah I am cherry-picking mostly red and black examples for this post, and there are plenty of non-vampire-y looking images from this time, but you get the idea!)

And the wrappers (at-home robes) were also cut very large, and, if you could afford it, made with incredible brocades.

(Portrait of a nobleman by Giovanni Maria delle Piane, no date given but I'd guess maybe 1680's or 90's.)

(Circle of Giovanni Maria delle Piane, no date given but I'd guess very late 17th or very early 18th century.)

Now that looks like a child who's been stuck at the same age for a hundred years if I ever saw one!

I don't know as much about the women's fashion from this era, but they had many equally large and elabourate things.

(1730's, Museo del Traje.)

(Don't believe The Met's shitty dating, this is a robe volante from probably the 1720's.)

(Mantua, c. 1708, The Met. No idea why they had to be that specific when they get other things wrong by entire decades but ok.)

(Portrait of Duchess Colavit Piccolomini, 1690's.)

(Maria van Buttinga-van Berghuys by Hermannus Collenius, 1717.)

Sometimes they also had these cute little devil horn hair curls that came down on either side of the forehead.

(Viago in drag Portrait of a lady, Italian School, c. 1690.)

Enough suave Victorian vampires, I want to see Baroque ones! With huge wigs and brocade coat cuffs so big they go past the elbow!

#long post #vampires #fashion #history #18th century #17th century #someday. SOMEDAY I will make a black/red/dark orange/metallic gold 1720's suit #I've got nearly all the materials I just need to:#1. Learn how to make early 18th century metallic thread buttons‚ preferably without having to buy the super expensive kind of thread #2. get a wig and style it appropriately

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joequiinn · 4 months ago

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The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 12

[chap eleven] | [all chapters here] | [chap thirteen]

Story Summary: You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

notes & tropes: fem reader, slooow burn, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, dysfunctional family dynamics, idiots-to-lovers

a/n: We're back people!!! This chapter has some big ol' drama that I wasn't expecting to write, but boy do I love every moment of it. This is also a little heavy on the ~*~ice princess family lore~*~, so... sorrynotsorry, I guess? This stemmed from my friend and I bemoaning people being mad at ice princess, and then the idea spiralled from there. Can't wait to see what y'all think!

wc: 8.0k

Chapter Twelve

Waking up to the sunlight streaming in through a window, you grunted in annoyance at its offending rays - you always loathed waking up with the sun, preferring all curtains to be drawn while you slept. Your ears began to instantly ring with a headache, and you burrowed deeper into the blankets, curling into a tight ball and twisting your face into a childish furrow.

God, you felt awful. Not even conscious for a full minute, and you already felt like complete shit; this hangover was instantly relentless, drumming in your skull and causing intense pressure behind your eyes. You were so not looking forward to the rest of the day - just your luck, you’d be battling this hangover well into the evening, hell, maybe even into tomorrow.

You realized amidst your suffering that you weren’t lying in your comfortable bed, the surface beneath you too rigid and bumpy, the blankets too scratchy, the pillow too flat. Considering that you were out at a party all night, you weren’t at all surprised that you ended up asleep elsewhere, so you didn’t bother opening your eyes to gauge your surroundings. No, your only concern right now was getting at least a few more hours of shut eye, but the aching of your body and the pressure in your skull was sure to deprive you of that small joy.

With incoherent grumbles and sighs, you tried to get comfortable again, but everything was working against you - the material of your clothes was suddenly unbearable, the makeshift bed you were in was rock hard, the sunlight was too bright despite the blankets pulled over your head. This was going to be absolutely unbearable. You knew better than to drink that much, and yet you did it anyway, like you always seemed to.

Hell, you couldn’t even remember anything past your impromptu walk with Eddie. You vaguely recalled dragging him to his feet and insisting that you needed to work off some of your energy and clear your head, and apparently drunk-you decided a hike around the lake was the best way to manage that. You could remember snippets of the walk - you were sure you spoke about your parents, that at some point you two sat alone by the bonfire. But everything from that point on was completely lost to you - you’d have to ask Eddie to fill in the blanks, unless he was also so drunk that he forgot what happened.

As you thought about your partner-in-crime, your expression furrowed thoughtfully, so with an exhausted sigh, you stuck your head out of the blankets just enough to open your eyes and peer around. For a few long moments, your vision was just a blur, the glare of the sunlight proving to be anything but helpful; once your eyes had finally adjusted, you were staring at a wall - more specifically, the interior of Eddie’s van.

You two slept in the van? Shit, that explained why your body was so achy, you had barely any cushion between you and the rough metal floor. With another histrionic sigh, you attempted to roll onto your back, but your shoulder almost immediately met Eddie’s solid body, preventing you from moving. So, instead, you turned your head to look at him, the two of you practically nose-to-nose. Despite yourself, your cheeks grew a touch warm; you weren’t quite spooning, but you may as well have been considering how close you were, how Eddie’s legs curled up a little behind yours.

Given your proximity, it was challenging to even get a good look at Eddie’s face, but you nonetheless studied him for a brief couple of moments - his curls were in his face again, tempting you to push them back, but his expression seemed restful. As you stared at him, the assault of your hangover faded away for a split second, but it just as quickly came back, the drumming in your skull growing more aggressive. Your face twisted again as you turned forward, trying to settle back down under the blankets as your brain rattled. As you curled the sheets around you, you accidentally bumped Eddie with both your shoulder and your rear, your heel booting him in the shin, but he didn’t stir even slightly at any of the disturbances. So, you relaxed with a deep sigh, allowing yourself to rest back against him.

Eddie’s steady breathing against your ear was surprisingly perfect white noise, your eyes fluttering shut as your body slowly relaxed. Despite the headache and the ringing ears, you managed to fall asleep again in a huddle of blankets and limbs beside him.

The rest felt short-lived, however, with Eddie eventually jolting awake, as if he’d been falling in a dream. The sudden motion, of course, awoke you instantly, and with a startled look you turned towards Eddie, your head spinning wildly from the quick motion; you squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your hands to your head as you waited for your brain to settle back down. Once you opened your eyes again, you met Eddie’s confused gaze; your close proximity caused his eyes to cross briefly as he focused on you, and you watched as the cogs slowly turned in his head. Despite how deeply he’d been sleeping, he still looked exhausted.

“You okay?” You asked hoarsely, cringing at the sound of your own quiet voice. Eddie still seemed confused for a moment, but he nodded slowly, looking around the van with a furrow that suggested his ears were ringing just as badly as yours.

Eddie slumped back onto his makeshift pillow with a moan, closing his eyes as his breathing mellowed out. You lazily leaned your head against his shoulder, your slow inhales and exhales beginning to synchronize with his as you stared up at the ceiling. You could feel his body tense a little, so you shuffled away a few inches - you were never a touchy person to begin with, so that small act of leaning against him was strange even to you.

For a few long minutes, you both lied there in silence, neither of you quite ready to act human considering your hangovers. You eventually looked at Eddie again, watching his expression - he’d go from calm to afflicted, from disoriented to content. He most definitely wasn’t doing good right now, and he was probably trying to recall the missing parts of the evening as well.

You inhaled deeply as Eddie finally turned his head to look at you again, his expression contemplative as he studied you. The corner of your mouth pulled up in a lazy smirk, causing Eddie to stare thoughtfully at your lips long enough that it made you squirm. You bit the inside of your cheek, growing edgy under the acuteness of Eddie’s eyes; there was something about his stare that was a little too intense for your liking, so you looked away again to calm yourself.

“Hungover?” Your voice croaked again, but you felt the need to say something - Eddie being quiet was uncommon, and in this moment it made you a little anxious. Eddie simply hummed in confirmation, the sound gravelly much like his morning voice. You took a breath, feeling mild annoyance although you knew it was unwarranted, “Me too.”

Eddie’s gaze still burnt into you, and it was beginning to grow irritating - again, you shouldn’t have let his silence bother you, but there was something about it that you didn’t like. Or maybe you were just feeling bitchy because you were hungover. So, with a tired frown, you looked back at Eddie, giving him something of an irked look. He seemed to realize it was in reaction to his silence, so his expression softened as he took a moment to collect himself.

“Sorry…” He grumbled in a small tone.

You offered a grin, unable to stay annoyed with Eddie considering that you both felt like total crap right now. But nonetheless there was a tension between you two that you couldn’t quite place, so you attempted to tease, “You get grouchy after a night of drinking?”

Eddie smiled back, although the look didn’t quite reach his eyes, which flicked back down to your lips, “I think I drank my weight in booze.”

Your smile grew a little wider. You pressed the palms of your hands onto your forehead as if that would alleviate some of the hangover pains you were feeling, closing your eyes again, “Then I must’ve had double mine.”

Eddie huffed out a laugh, and you two lied there in silence for a few long beats.

“Why are we in the van?” You asked while opening your eyes, though you kept your hands hovering over them as if to block out the sun. A surprised confusion crossed Eddie’s face, a reaction that felt a little bigger than necessary considering your seemingly harmless question.

He licked his chapped lips, blinking rapidly as he tried to mask his befuddlement, “You don’t… remember last night?”

There was hesitation in the way he asked the question, and your brow knotted as you studied his face for a few moments. You didn’t always drink so much that it led to memory loss, but when it did, you were generally left in utter confusion, especially once you were told all the ridiculous things you may or may not have done while intoxicated.

“Last thing I remember was… walking? We went on a walk or something, right?” Eddie nodded, the despondent look in his eyes nearly distracting. As you considered it, worry washed over you, and you felt embarrassed without knowing the reason why, “Oh god, don’t tell me I did something stupid. Your face is saying I did something stupid.”

At that comment, Eddie’s cheeks grew pink, and the quick shake of his head wasn’t particularly convincing even as he answered, “Nothing stupid.” You narrowed your eyes a little, so he nervously elaborated, “We talked a lot. Probably about stuff you wouldn’t have said sober.”

You hissed under your breath, knowing that you could be a handful when you drank. You looked up at Eddie through your lashes, tempted to ask for him to explain what exactly you talked about, but at the same time you weren’t sure if you actually wanted to hear. At least not yet. The knowing look in Eddie’s eyes suggested that he remembered nearly everything about last night, but wasn’t about to share unless asked. So, of course, you assumed the worst of yourself, trying to go down the list of all the wild things you’ve done in the past during a night of drinking - did you repeat any of those habits, or did you do something worse?

With a sigh, you tugged the blanket back up over your head, as if hiding would relieve you of the shame you may have caused yourself last night. You heard Eddie laugh to himself at the action, and although he couldn’t see your face you glared in his general direction.

“You really don’t remember anything?” Eddie asked as if he were seeking a specific response, clearly aware of something you weren’t; hell, there was almost something downcast about the question. You slowly pulled the blanket down far enough to expose your eyes, looking at Eddie in question.

“Why’d you ask it like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re not telling me something important.” You narrowed your eyes in scrutiny, trying to gauge Eddie’s reaction to your words. He was doing his best to play it cool, something that could’ve fooled you only a couple of weeks ago. But you’d learned enough about Eddie at this point, and when he scratched the back of his neck it confirmed that he was feeling a little edgy right now - so, that definitely was a nervous habit of his.

With a set jaw, Eddie gave you a convincing look, “Nothing to do with you.”

Your brows went up as if to ask “really” and Eddie matched the expression, an insistence in his gaze, evidently wanting you to drop the subject. As if to put you at ease, he smirked a little, and although you may not have entirely believed him, you also didn’t want to think that Eddie would lie to you about it. So, you accepted his answer, sighing tiredly as you disappeared under the blankets again; your body felt so damn heavy, and your head was spinning again.

“God, I wish I could lie here all fucking day.” You grumbled, your voice muffled slightly by the layers on top of you. You just knew that the moment you tried to sit up or move, you’d feel queasy and the drums in your head would become unbearably aggressive. Maybe you could convince Eddie to just stay here in the damn van, maybe you two could just sleep off your hangovers; you’d both probably be better for it.

Eddie shuffled around next to you; it seemed like he was also getting comfortable again, but you couldn’t be quite sure. He pulled at the blankets until he was under them with you, lying on his side and tenting the sheets with his hand so that he could continue looking at you. The lazy, tired smile on his face made you feel warm, and you nearly laughed at how silly and intimate this felt - the two of you hiding out under the sheets as if that would keep the world from ever disturbing you again. You rolled onto your side to face him, studying him as he studied you, his dark eyes continuing to linger on your lips.

“We can lie here all fucking day.” Eddie repeated your words reassuringly, causing you to grin back as your body relaxed.

“Then we’re going to - I feel like shit.” You answered while snuggling into your pillow, closing your eyes while attempting to get comfortable.

“You and me both, princess.” Eddie muttered back, as if he, too, was trying to mellow out enough to fall asleep again.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Considering that you had no idea when you woke up the first time, it was absolutely disorienting to wake up again around mid-afternoon. You’d managed to sleep most of the day away, something you’d almost never done before. Both you and Eddie were begrudging the fact that you had to return to reality, that you had to act human again and get yourselves home. You tried not to think about the lecture you’d get from your parents or how your head was still pounding or how you somehow had to be functional enough to go back to school tomorrow. All of these things were easy to ignore as you two lied there in the back of the van for a little while longer; it wasn’t until Eddie finally backed out of Rick’s driveway and began the trek back to your place that the dread began to set in.

Despite fearing you’d puke all over yourself now that you were in motion, you managed to keep it down, although Eddie had to pull over for you once when the nausea got particularly nasty. As you took deep breaths to compose yourself, you’d wished that the two of you had the forethought to grab some water and aspirin from Rick’s before leaving. As if reading your mind, Eddie pulled into a gas station a few minutes later and quickly ran in to grab bottled water, which you both promptly chugged down.

The drive was otherwise passed in relative silence - you were both fighting your headaches, so that was reason enough to stay quiet, but there was also something you observed in Eddie’s energy that seemed disinterested in conversation. You certainly weren’t going to push it, at least not today, but there was an uncharacteristic standoffishness about him that you couldn’t ignore, that got you wondering what was going on in his head. You kept staring at him, trying to recall anything about last night that could have put him in a mood, but your mind was drawing a complete, frustrating blank.

As Eddie drove through your neighborhood, a wave of disappointment washed over you - you really weren’t in the mood to face your parents, already knowing it would be bad. When Eddie picked you up last night, you practically sprinted out the door, avoiding the both of them out of fear that they wouldn’t let you go to this party. At the time, you didn’t care that you’d eventually be confronted with questions on your whereabouts, but now that it was nearly upon you, you were absolutely dreading it, cursing your past-self for putting you in this position.

So, when Eddie pulled in front of your driveway and you saw your uncle’s car there, your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach, the ringing in your ears escalating to an unbearable tone. Tom’s car meant that whatever was about to happen was far worse than you were expecting. He never came around the house on Sundays, those were his days for golfing or fishing or some equally as dumb “man” hobby; if he was here, then it meant your mom must have called him, probably in a melodramatic panic about your running off last night.

As you stared at the vehicle, your dread mounting as you began to feel queasy again, Eddie spared you a confused look, identifying your worry almost immediately. He gave your shoulder a light nudge to draw your attention back, and head-on you looked even more trepidatious than he originally thought.

“I think I’m about to be in deep shit.” You said plainly, trying to mask your hesitation. Eddie’s face twisted with confusion, obviously not aware of what you were referring to, but being nonetheless concerned for you.

“Want me to just drive off?” Eddie joked in a measly effort to put you at ease. Unfortunately, it didn’t work in the slightest, no matter how badly you wanted it to. Your brows rose in warning.

“That’s my uncle’s car.” His face dropped into a similarly worried expression, looking quickly between you and the house.

“Shit.” He didn’t need you to explain any further - having encountered your uncle while the man was on-duty, Eddie was more than aware of the kind of imposing jackass he could be.

And that didn’t even take into account how much you personally detested Tom - you loathed him for the way he talked down to you, the way he pretended to tease you when in reality he was just being cruel. Since your fourteenth or maybe fifteenth birthday, you’d made every effort to ignore him or make excuses whenever he was around; he was absolutely unbearable. How your mother could stand growing up with him, you’d never know, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to know.

As you watched Eddie - who continued to stare at the house in consideration - he suddenly hissed and shrank down in his seat, clearly being spotted by someone. You whipped your gaze back towards your house, spotting your uncle Tom in the front window with his arms crossed, clearly watching the two of you with a critical eye. You, too, couldn’t help but shrink in your seat a little, although you knew it wouldn’t do you any good.

“If I’m not at school tomorrow, assume I’m dead.” You cracked without even a hint of humor in your voice, sharing a fearful look with Eddie. You began to adjust your belongings in your arms, readying to open the door, but Eddie’s arm shot across your front to stop you, his hand resting gently atop your collarbone.

“Are you going to be okay?” You were nearly dumbfounded by the level of concern in his voice, as if somehow he knew all the unsaid hatred and fear you had of your uncle. For a few long moments, you and Eddie simply stared at each other, and you gave him an almost sad look.

“I have to be.” You responded simply, putting your hand on his arm and lowering it away from you, “Get going, Eddie, I don’t want him dragging you into this.”

“I’m supposed to just leave you to the vultures?” He was about to say something more, but his eyes flicked past you and out the window, his skin paling a little in alarm. Without looking back, your heart started pounding rapidly - you knew for a fact Eddie was looking at Tom right now.

Before you could turn to look, the passenger door was yanked open, taking you by surprise as a meaty hand grabbed your elbow. You let out an affronted sound as you steadied yourself so you wouldn’t fall right on your ass, Eddie practically leaping across the seat to assist you.“Get the hell outta here, kid.” Tom’s aggressive tone addressed Eddie as if he were scrum, while you were all too easily pulled from the vehicle. You let out a sound of frustration, yanking yourself from his hold and shaking your arm of the slight pain he caused you. You whipped around to glare at Tom, pressing back against the side of the passenger seat to keep as much distance between you two as possible.

“You can’t just drag me out of a fucking car!” You nearly surprised yourself with your fiery tone, though you seemed to always resort to aggression these days, not nearly as level headed as you once were. Tom, too, gave you a provoked look that made you shrink just a little.

“Do you know how worried your parents were!?” He retorted, his fists tightly clenched at his sides, “Another hour and we were gonna report you as a missing person to the police!” His eyes flicked back towards Eddie, making you wish you could stand tall between them like a human shield, “And you. The hell are you doing hanging around with my niece? What, being a little punk at the station isn’t enough for you?”

You spun around to give Eddie a warning look, hoping that maybe he’d speed out of here before things inevitably got ugly between you and your family, “Eddie, get out of here, please.”

He’d been staring boldly at your uncle, doing his best to hide his alarm and unease. At your insistent request, he met your eyes with a seriousness that took you by surprise, “Like hell I’m gonna leave.”

Your heart skipped anxiously, your gaze almost pleading with Eddie - this wasn’t his battle to fight, this wasn’t his problem to fix. You just wanted him to go, to pretend he wasn’t seeing the skeletons in your family closet; for a second, you felt shame that he was seeing this part of your life that you so carefully kept to yourself.

“Get in the house.” Tom spoke between his teeth, and you couldn’t help the scoff in your throat as you looked back up at him.

“You don’t have any say in what I do.” Beyond his shoulder, you could see your parents on the front step, your father with one foot forward as if prepared to approach you any minute now. Your mother stood back, biting her nails on one hand while looking around nervously, as if fearful that neighbors may be watching, “Look, I’m home, I’m fine, so will you get over it?”

“That attitude isn’t going to fly with me.” Tom’s voice was laced with venom as he crossed his arms as if to become even more imposing, “Do you know how many stupid girls go missing all because they don’t tell their families where they’re going?”

You rolled your eyes, your gaze darting between Tom and your father, who was finally walking towards you.

“I’m not a stupid girl, and I wasn’t gonna go missing.” You said insistently; at that same moment, you heard Eddie’s door open and slam shut, causing you to panic yet again. You shoved past your uncle as you saw Eddie rounding the van in your peripheral vision. You quickly put yourself between him and your family, your back to them as you put your hands up to Eddie’s shoulders, “Please don’t…”

You weren’t sure what you thought Eddie was going to do, but it nonetheless had you worried. Your family was too temperamental, too cruel, and you didn’t want him to bear the brunt of it. He didn’t need to do any of this, didn’t need to help you, and his insistence on staying with you was causing far too much confusion in your head right now.

The worried look in his eyes were nearly staggering as he looked down at you, “I can’t just let you take this--”

“All this fuss for him?” Your father’s accusatory voice forced you to turn around again, meeting his harsh glare. With all this chaos going on, you were getting fucking dizzy. Your father made a disappointed sound, shaking his head, “I don’t believe this… Are you just doing this to upset us? You run around without telling us where you are, you skip school, you talk back - all because of some drug dealing satanic punk?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, an exasperated, pissed off sound as you threw back your head at the ridiculous generalization of the man standing behind you, “Eddie’s the most harmless person I’ve ever met. You should be more worried about him than Eddie.”

Your eyes shot towards Tom, your brows practically pointing at him with accusation. The look on his face was condescending in response, and you crossed your arms in frustration as you glared at your father again.

“Don’t be so naive.” Your uncle said cruelly, but you didn’t dare look at him again, “You’ve already upset your parents enough, but you just keep pushing. You wouldn’t be nearly so lucky if you were my kid.”

Your father shared a glance with Tom beforing looking back at you, his eyes quickly zeroing in on Eddie instead. He took an assertive step forward while pointing his finger harshly at Eddie; you took a step back, bumping into Eddie, who put his hands on the back of your arms to steady you.

“What could you and my daughter possibly have in common? What is it about you that has her so possessed that she’s insistent on acting like this?”

“Will you just leave him alone!” You interjected before Eddie could answer, again wishing that he wasn’t involved in this. Your father’s dark eyes returned to yours, “Have any of you considered he’s not at fault? Maybe I’m tired of how boring my life is and he makes it more fun than it’s been in years?”

“‘Fun.’” Your father repeated with a mocking huff.

“You couldn’t have chosen someone ‘fun’ who isn’t a degenerate?” Tom chimed in snidefully.

“As if anyone else in this town even comes close.” You reply harshly, your eyes cruel and intense, “None of you can scare me into listening to you, you know.”

You stare smartly at your uncle, making it clear his presence wasn’t appreciated; he simply stared back challengingly, a mean smirk pulling at his lips.

He leveled Eddie with a condescending look, “Let’s hope you don’t get pulled over next time I’m on duty, Munson.”

“Don’t fucking bother him.” You whined in exasperation, your head throbbing from the migraine that had rapidly grown during the course of this fight. You clenched your eyes shut as if to block it out, but that only seemed to make you feel worse.

Your mother’s voice surprised you, having not realized that she came to join you at the end of the driveway; her skittish body had been hidden by your father and uncle, “Can we all please calm down and just talk? It doesn’t have to get ugly like this.”

Her gaze looked between you and Eddie with worry; when her gaze lingered on him, she nearly looked apologetic, as if she, too, was embarrassed by him seeing the family like this.

“There’s nothing more to talk about.” You responded, but your voice was weaker, the hangover finally catching up with you. It felt like your head was spinning as you tried to just focus on your mother, your hands grasping at air as if to center yourself. You felt Eddie’s hands tighten on your arms a little, as if he could tell how you were feeling.

“Oh, this conversation is far from over.” Your father said coldly, staring at Eddie with all the disappointment he could muster, “No daughter of mine is going to keep hanging around a kid like you, so get the hell out of here before things get worse.”

The threat caused your temper to flare, and before you could stop yourself you took a step towards your father and gave him a rough shove, “What is your problem!?”

He stumbled, but steady himself with ease, the dangerous glare in his eyes nearly frightening you. Tom put an arm out to catch your father should he need to, taking a dangerous step towards you. Again, your head spun, this time accompanied by nausea that forced you to gasp for air. You pressed a hand to your forehead as if that would somehow help, doubling over with your other hand on your knee.

“Oh, god, honey.” Your mother’s voice leapt with concern as Eddie put a hand to the small of your back while the other carefully gripped your arm. You could hear voices overlapping as you tried to breathe, but it became impossible to focus as your stomach turned on you, only about to make out Eddie’s stressed voice demanding that everyone stop.

You heaved up mostly liquid and bile, the contents of your stomach splashing onto Tom’s shoes and the pavement. You struggled to breathe as snot and tears started to stream down your face, pathetic little sounds leaving your mouth between spurts of puke as your back arched like a cat. You could feel Eddie’s hand on your arm keeping you steady, shouting something at your family that you weren’t aware enough to hear, although you thought you’d heard something along the lines of “back the fuck up.” You watched as your uncle leapt back, feet and ankles filthy, his voice also shouting something unintelligible.

When you finally had a chance to breathe, you looked around at your family from your hunched position, your gaze venomous even as saliva dribbled down your chin. The feeling of Eddie’s hands kept you secured as you slowly came back to yourself, easing back up to full height with shaking breaths.

“Get me outta here, Eddie.” Your defeated tone was in stark contrast to the dark glare you shot each member of your family. You started to look up at Eddie, but quickly turned away, feeling too disgusting right now to look him in the eye. Without hesitation, he guided you back to the passenger door, making sure he was between you and your family, who actually appeared to be giving you space for the first time in this entire argument.

Once you were back in your seat and Eddie slammed the door, you watched him round over to his side, keeping his complete attention on your angry family as if he were worried they might jump in front of the van. Just in case, you reached out and locked your door, taking in the looks on everyone’s faces through the strands of hair that had fallen in your face - your father looked stunned, your mother hurt, and your uncle angry as he tried to shake the puke from his shoes.

As Eddie sped off, you wiped your chin with the back of your hand, as revolting as it felt to do. You stared at the dashboard, becoming lost in thought as your head spun, your vision blurring as you zoned out. You ran your fingers under your eyes, trying to catch any stray tears that may still be lingering there, sniffling smally in a measly attempt to regain your composure.

From the corner of your eye, you could tell Eddie kept looking over at you every time he came to a stop sign or got caught at a red light. But you refused to meet his gaze, refused to let him see just how fucking pathetic you felt right now. No one saw the ugliness of your family - none of your old friends, none of your exes. No, you all kept it a secret, pretended to be a good little cookie-cutter family when others were around, so for Eddie to be the one to actually see through the cracks dared to make you feel sick all over again.

“I’m sorry…” You muttered quietly, eyes staring ahead of you without actually seeing. Eddie sighed deeply, but you continued to keep your gaze off of him.

“You don’t have to apologize for a damn thing.” He answered, his voice equally as quiet, although stronger than yours. You were tempted to look at him, but you settled for just watching him from the corner of your eye, letting your hair act as a shield between you.

You pressed your lips tightly together, struggling to find your words, “That was fucking embarrassing; you didn’t need to see that.”

A long stretch of silence passed between you two, long enough that you finally dared to turn your attention to Eddie. His jaw was clenched and his knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his eyes looking even darker than they already were.

He couldn’t possibly be so worked up for you, could he? The thought was unfathomable, and you instantly felt undeserving of it. You never let people close enough to worry about you like this, and you loathed the idea that Eddie was pitying you, feeling sorry for you.

Just as he turned his head to look at you, you whipped your gaze forward again nervously, the back of your neck warm.

“Is that the shit you deal with?” He asked, voice both angry and sad. When you didn’t respond, he added, “There’s nothing for you to be embarrassed about.”

You could tell there was so much more that Eddie would have liked to say - the way he kept working his jaw, kept opening his mouth only to snap it shut again. His mind must have been going a thousand miles per hour, and yet he couldn’t seem to say a single thing. Much like you, although you felt more as if your brain had turned on you, as if you were so worked up and frightened of being emotional that everything within you simply turned off.

Although you hadn’t given Eddie a destination to drive to, you were nonetheless a little surprised that you ended up back at his place. You simply stared at the trailer as Eddie climbed out of the van, coming back around to your side and opening the door for you; it took you another few moments before you slid out of the seat, fussing to keep your skirt in place. God, you couldn’t wait to take off this damn outfit; it was cute yesterday, when you were excited to go to a party, but today it was simply annoying and burdensome.

Eddie led you inside, his hands hovering just a couple inches from you as if he were worried you were some fragile porcelain doll. A part of you hated it, but a larger part of you was still shocked at just how kind he was being towards you, even after seeing how ugly your homelife was.

There was so much you wanted to say, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to speak, allowing Eddie to sit the pair of you down on the edge of his mattress. He was being far too patient with you, just waiting for you to lead whatever discussion may or may not happen next. Again, you refrained from meeting his eyes, your gaze darting mindlessly around his bedroom.

After a long, tense stretch, you finally asked in a small voice, “Can I use the shower?” Eddie nodded, standing quickly as if he intended to help you to the bathroom, but you held your hands up a little in a tired surrender, “I’m okay.”

Even without looking at him, you knew he was watching you with concern. But he sighed in acceptance, letting you walk past him towards the door, “I’ll get you a change of clothes.”

You couldn’t help the very slight smile that tugged at your lips; despite how awful you felt, you found it amusing to even try to picture yourself wearing whatever silly clothes Eddie brought you. As you closed yourself off in the bathroom, you wondered if he had the same thought.

You spent what was probably an ungodly amount of time in the shower, letting the steam and the heat release everything that you’ve kept pent up from the moment you left your parents in the driveway. You tried to breathe deeply, tried to keep yourself composed, but within the safe confines of the shower, all your emotions began to spill over. Biting down on your thumb to keep your sobs in, you leaned against the wall to stay upright, your body silently wracking as salty tears mixed with the hot water.

Fuck, you couldn’t believe this. How the hell were you going to look Eddie in the eye, knowing that he’d seen the way your family behaved? He probably thought you were all so damn pathetic, so damn dysfunctional. It felt like he was in on a dirty little secret, like it would be the elephant in the room that was impossible to ignore. You were so ashamed of your family as you slowly lowered yourself to the floor, letting the water beat against your back as you tried once more to breathe slowly, steadily. For a second, you thought you may puke again, but your stomach was too empty for anything to come up.

Was it always this bad? You’d be so used to the coldness and the negativity, that you weren’t sure if it had gotten worse or if you were simply becoming more aware of it. If this is how bad it got after only a month, you were nervous to see how much worse it may possibly get as your senior year continued.

Eventually, you dragged yourself out of the shower, your limbs feeling heavy as you grabbed a towel. Your brow knotted then rose in surprise when you saw a small stack of clothes sitting atop the bathroom counter - when the hell did Eddie sneak those in here, and when he did, could he hear you trying not to cry too loud? Your neck grew hot at the thought that he heard your muffled sobs.

Once you were clad in Eddie’s old sweater and pajama pants, you appreciated how comfortable they were, tugging the sleeves down over your hands as if you were a small child. You lingered in the bathroom for a long while, watching as the foggy mirror slowly became clear again, frowning at your frail-looking reflection; you felt a wash of shame, thinking about how unpresentable you must’ve looked all day.

Taking a deep breath, you straightened your shoulders and raised your chin high, trying to shake off how feeble you looked. Brushing your wet hair back from your face, you sighed with determination, finally opening the bathroom door.

You ducked into Eddie’s room without even looking in the direction of the living room - you weren’t sure whether or not Wayne was home, but you weren’t quite ready to face other people yet if he was. Eddie must’ve been out there, because his room was empty; you slumped down onto his bed, pulling your knees up under your chin as you leaned back against the wall. Your ears perked at the sound of Eddie’s footsteps approaching the room, and you sat up a little as he stepped through the door, water in hand and a more relaxed look on his face.

You gave him a weak smile, finally able to meet his eyes as he sat next to you. Wordlessly, he offered you the glass of water, opening up his other hand to reveal a couple of painkillers. You accepted them with an appreciative look, taking a long chug from the glass before setting it aside. Your fingers drummed rhythmless atop your knees as you and Eddie stared at one another.

“You okay?” He finally asked, and your face fell a little. You shrugged as if you were unbothered, almost hoping that Eddie would simply accept that response. But he narrowed his eyes at you instead, leaning forward just a little, “You don’t have to lie to me.”

You cocked your head as you studied his features, keeping a false little grin on your lips as you answered quietly, “I’ll be fine.” Eddie hummed, looking away from you for a moment as he worked his jaw, “Are you?”

He gave you a genuine smirk, rolling his eyes fondly, “Aw, you do care.”

Your gaze lit up as your grin spread a little wider, thankful for Eddie’s ability to lighten the mood, to make you smile when you needed it. His eyes twinkled a little at your reaction, although the bouncing of his knee suggested that he was still on edge.

Eddie took a deep breath, looking you up and down thoughtfully, “I know you’re not gonna bear your soul or anything, but… you can talk to me, if you need. I’m a good listener when I want to be.”

You continued to smile keenly, so damn appreciative of him right now. You rested your chin on your knees again, taking him in, “You’re the best fake boyfriend a girl could ask for.”

“Yeah?” He looked as if he were about to laugh, but also as if the statement gave him pause, “You’re not so bad yourself.”

A doubtful look crossed your face as you rolled your eyes and teased, “Liar.”

Eddie turned toward you, crossing his legs on the bed so that his knees rested against your ankles; you glanced down at them for a moment before meeting his gaze again. His expression was furrowed with seriousness, “You know, no one’s come to my defense the way you did back there; you’re pretty ballsy, getting between me and a cop, even if he is your uncle.”

He smiled again in that easy way of his, which effectively kept you at ease. You nudged him lightly with the tip of your toes, eying him through your lashes, “Don’t make it sound so heroic…”

Eddie stared at you long enough that you began to nibble on the inside of your lips, his eyes making you timid. You weren’t sure if he was simply studying you, if he was considering something to say, or if he was waiting for you to speak again. You tried to look unaffected, tried to look as if you’d already moved on from the fight with your family, but you knew that Eddie could see right through all that falseness. These days, he knew you a little too well, but in a way you were grateful for (most of the time) - no one else could see through you quite the way he did.

With a slouch of his shoulders, Eddie caved, shaking his head at you, “Alright, princess, you’re no hero.”

His tone was intentionally unconvincing, daring you to respond. Now, you watched him fidget under your gaze, just as he’d done to you. Sincerity didn’t come easy to you, and you certainly weren’t going to pour your heart out, but you needed to make some effort. For your own sake, you needed Eddie to know that he was appreciated today - you told him to go, but instead he stayed, and that said a lot about his character. The thought of even trying to speak with total honesty made your heart drum nervously.

You opened your mouth, but hesitated for a moment, causing him to raise a curious brow. So, you licked your lips and looked down briefly, saying simply, “Thank you, Eddie.”

He didn’t need you to elaborate, didn’t need you to go down the laundry list of things that you were referring to - the way he held your gaze and nodded back spoke volumes. The weighty look on his face made it clear that he knew you were thanking him for more things than you knew how to list.

Eddie gave an untroubled shrug before relaxing his shoulders, again knowing just the right balance of easiness and seriousness to keep you comfortable, his eyes shining playfully, “Ah, don’t make me sound like a hero, either.”

He reached out and set his hand on one of your knees. his fingers applying slight pressure, although the look on his face suggested it was an impulsive move, something he didn’t intend to do. You both looked between his hand and one another’s faces before he pulled back and stood, turning his back to you for a moment as he looked around his room while rubbing the back of his neck. When he met your eyes again, he grinned easily, nodding his head towards the bedroom door.

“You need anything? We haven’t eaten all day.” You smiled tranquilly, although the nervous energy surrounding Eddie is what really had your attention. To appease him, you gave a small nod, tugging at the sleeves of your sweater while relaxing back against the wall, looking him up and down slowly as if worried you would forget him once he left the room.

“Yeah, let’s eat.” Food was the last thing on your mind right now, but Eddie seemed nearly desperate to make sure you were alright, so you could appease him in this. He gave you one more charming smile as he was about to leave the room, but he came to a pause in the doorway. You watched him expectantly, assuming he had something else to say, but just as quickly as he had stopped he disappeared.

Your stare lingered on the spot he was just in, your face relaxing into a content look. You absentmindedly began to fiddle with your sleeves, your eyes lazily traveling around Eddie’s room, stopping to study band posters or clutter lying around.

You couldn’t help but feel at ease, even as your mind continued reeling over the confrontation with your parents. The whole fiasco was an easier pill to swallow thanks to Eddie and his ability to make you smile or laugh at even the most inopportune moments. And you did just that, grinning affectionately to yourself as your cheeks flushed; a warmth washed over you as you oh-so easily pictured Eddie in your head.

But suddenly that gave you pause, your expression faltering in realization that you were acting giddy over Eddie. You stared blankly at the wall across from you as your heart skipped and your chest felt heavy, exhaling slowly as you grasped what exactly was going through your head at that moment.

You felt foolish and panicked, although that seemed like a completely stupid reaction; you tried to shake yourself of the ridiculous sensation, but your heart just kept drumming rapidly. With a knotted brow, you had to wonder if this had been slowly building and if you’d just been ignoring it. Or were you too dumb to have noticed it before - the easy way you and Eddie could coexist, the shared smiles and glances and laughter, the occasional jolt when you’d bump shoulders or hold hands.

When did all of those little things start to stir something in you? Why did you suddenly have goosebumps breaking out across your arms and legs? You realized your jaw was slack, so you tightly pressed your lips together and shook your head; you ran your hands up and down your legs then along your arms, as if the goosebumps were from being cold and not from the damn epiphany you just had.

You were being ridiculous getting yourself all worked up unnecessarily. But there was no shaking your realization, no ignoring the thought now bombarding your brain. You swallowed your nerves to the best of your ability, shooting a glance towards the door as if fearful you’d be caught doing something wrong. Your foot began to bounce, in need of some way to release this stupid anxiety you were feeling.

But there was no shaking it, no ignoring it, no releasing it. And for whatever reason, that filled you with complete and utter apprehension.

Fuck… You liked Eddie.

additional a/n: Let the idiots-to-lovers shenanigans commence :)))

@3rd-conchord @a-queen-blr @adelalaaa @adversary713 @avalon-wolf

@cosmicdanielle @costellation-hunter @daisy-munson @daisyridleyss @damon-loves-pie

@damp4eddie @delilaaahhh @eddiernunson @em0220 @frogtape

@fromasgardandback @fckyeahlames @graciehams @kellsck @kthomps914

@littlexdeaths @lotrefcp @love-anonymous-writer @marrowfrog00 @maskofmirrors

@mewchiili @miaajaade @miss-celestial-being @mmmunson @moonisu

@munsonssweets @no-bueno-writer @nxrdamp @rach5ive @rcailleachcola

@sav12321 @seatbacksandtraytables @sheneedsrocknroll92 @sokkasimp101 @steeldaisies

@stormgrl19 @welcometohellsock

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things #em #dos and donts

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willthewiz · 3 months ago

Text

Jonathan Capturing the Right Moment

In this scene, Jonathan says he'd rather observe people than talk to them. And then says:

“People don’t really say what they're really thinking. When you capture the right moment, it says more.”

We'll get back to that later.

Here is Jonathan in season 4:

In the van scene, the camera only cuts to Jonathan when Will is telling a lie. Remember, Jonathan said people don't say what they're really thinking (the truth). But he captured the right moment, when it says more. Jonathan knows what Will is actually saying are his feelings not El's.

Will tells Mike that El told him what to draw. Then the camera cuts right to Jonathan. When he knows Will painted it and El didn't know what it was or who it was for.

Will: "I mean, without heart we'd all fall apart. Even El, especially El."

Then it cuts to Mike then Jonathan. Again, Jonathan knows this is about Will, not El. He's capturing these moments.

Will continues to lie and we once again, cut to Jonathan.

Here is more of Jonathan:

Mike: "But I am scared that one day you'll realize you don't need me anymore. And I thought that if I said how I felt it would somehow make that day hurt more."

We cut to Will and then Jonathan.

“People don’t really say what they're really thinking. When you capture the right moment, it says more.”

"But I am scared that one day you'll realize you don't need me anymore. And I thought that if I said how I felt it would somehow make that day hurt more."

Mike's fear & reason for not telling El he loves her:

What he thinks would happen:

Mike says I love you to El

One day, El realizes she doesn't need him anymore

That day hurts because she doesn't need him even though he loves her

El WANTED Mike to tell her that he loved her, but he didn't say it because he was afraid of losing her??

If Mike told El that he loved her, why would he still have doubts that she wouldn't need him??

Because Mike doesn't love her romantically and he's scared that if she knew, she wouldn't need him anymore. But that's just not true.

Jonathan is observing him in this scene. In previous scenes, Will is lying to Mike. Will isn't saying what he's really thinking (the truth to Mike). But Jonathan captures those specific moments, those lies. He sees through them and they become something more. The truth. Will is confessing his feelings for Mike through El.

In this scene, Mike is lying to El. Mike isn't saying what he's really thinking (the truth to El). But Jonathan captures this particular moment. This moment is when he sees through Mike's lies. He sees the truth. Mike is confessing his real feelings. He's saying that he isn't in love her and he's scared to lose her because of that. He's saying that the whole reason why he didn't tell her he loved her is because he's scared El wouldn't need him anymore.

Again, if Mike told El that he loved her, why would he think El wouldn't need him anymore? Why is he so scared that one day she'll come to this realization? Hm... I wonder...

Mike doesn't love El romantically, but he needs her. They will always need each other. And, I think, in season 5, Mike will realize that El will always need him and that they don't need to be in love with one another to stay with one another. Mike wouldn't lose her just because they're not together as a couple anymore.

--------------

Idk if any of this made sense or not. Not really sure about the whole Jonathan thing, but it is clear that he observes Will (and people in general) and knows he loves Mike. I just thought that what Jonathan said is interesting. Is this the shows way of saying that characters don't always mean what they say? Maybe...

I don't know anything about film, so don't take this seriously. I have no idea what I'm doing, I'm just bored and very sleep deprived.

Let me know what you think:)

#byler #byler endgame #byler analysis #byler brainrot #byler evidence #byler is real #mike wheeler #will byers #jonathan byers #stranger things 5 #st5 #dont take this too seriously #idk #sleep deprived thoughts

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vincentbriggs · 4 months ago

Note

Hello! Transfem person here. I haven't started HRT yet, but want to procure a 1730s menswear suit (actually decided based on your video). I would prefer not to wait for it if possible, since I don't know when HRT is going to be possible. I am, however, a little concerned about my bust size changing and affecting the fit of the waistcoat. Is that decade usually pretty forgiving in it's tailoring? I am also considering having the upper back tie like some later waistcoats to accommodate if necessary (even if it's not entirely historical), but I figured I would ask you.

Thank you!

Hello! Ooh yay! Not enough people do early 18th century, so I'm delighted to hear that! (Link to the 1730's suit mentioned.)

I think the fit would be affected, yeah. The sides of the waistcoat are easy enough to let out (and we have extant examples of waistcoats with an extra strip of fabric added into the side seam) but the curve of the front is pretty important to how it sits on you. But then, it is fashionable in that era to leave quite a lot of the top portion unbuttoned, so maaaybe you could get away with it not fitting as well, depending on what changed and how much?

Regarding the adjustability of waistcoats, some of the earlier ones actually do have lacing in the back! This red one is an especially nice example, and it's separate all the way to the top.

(c. 1740's, V&A) (Though you also do see ones with the back hacked up and a bunch of ties that were likely added by Victorians for their fancy dress parties.)

The breeches also have adjustable waistbands, of course, so I think the hardest part to alter would be the coat. The back vent is edge to edge, so there's no overlap to sneak a bit more width out of, and letting out the side seams would require re-doing those massive pleats, which were the part I found the most difficult when making my coat. But fortunately those coats were worn open a lot of the time, so even if they're not quite right when buttoned, they should still look ok unbuttoned.

It's very difficult to predict how the fit will be affected, since HRT is different for everyone and things keep changing years down the line. (One comment on this post talks about suddenly getting more breast and hip growth after 7, 12, and 14 years.)

I only have experience from the transmasc side of things, and alas, I very much did outgrow all my old waistcoats and coats. My 1730's suit needs alterations, because the waistcoat is a bit too small, and the coat seams could use a bit of letting out too. (I made those the year after top surgery, but my ribcage kept expanding and my posture improving for quite a while.)

I've been putting it off because alterations are boring :/ My pre-top surgery waistcoats are all way too small across the chest even though material was removed, because my posture was kinda bad and I didn't even notice it, and I expect that the opposite could also lead to the same sort of better posture from more confidence & comfort.

But bodies keep changing forever anyways, even without transitioning. Plenty of cis people can't fit into the things they sewed when they were younger, so we may as well make things to fit us now. Perhaps you could make the suit now, but use a not-too-expensive fabric, and then maybe alter it later, or make a newer and better one with the experience you gained from the first one!

Also I know you specifically said menswear suit, but I want to add the fun fact that women's riding habits in this era looked extremely similar to men's suits!

(Left: Maria Amalia von Habsburg by Franz Joseph Winter, right: Member of the Van der Mersch Family by Cornelis Troost.)

As far as I can tell, the main differences are that the riding habits have a petticoat instead of breeches, and are made to fit over stays.

(Empress Elisabeth Christine in riding costume, unknown artist.)

So similar, in fact, that this portrait of a young lady in a riding habit was misidentified as a young man!

Most of the petticoat is out of frame, but you can still see that it's not beeches, and the stays shape is pretty obvious. Very silly of Sotheby's not to notice!

I have no idea if you're interested in wearing a riding habit, and I'm not sure how difficult it would be to alter the somewhat looser men's coat to fit over stays, but thought I ought to mention it.

#ask #18th century #1730's #transgender #transition #alterations

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the-kr8tor · 18 days ago

Text

What's Your Favourite Scary Movie?

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 11.3k

Summary: A camping trip with your so-called friends takes a turn from harmless taunting to gore filled stabbing.

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), slasher AU, Horror elements, CW bullying, CW food mentions, TW death, TW blood and gore, CW violence. Set in the 80s, CW animal death, drug mention.

Navigation

Octobie 🎸

Music blares in your ears through your headphones as the car passes by numerous pine trees along the road. You flick your eyes over to the rearview mirror when you felt eyes on your face. Sure enough, Flash's smiling eyes stare at you through the mirror. And when you hear muffled giggling, you already know where the delighted laughter is coming from.

As you glance at the passenger seat, Miranda's amused grin greets you. Her blond hair bounces as she tries to play innocent. Even with your music murmuring their words, you know that they're talking about you. So you slyly press pause on your walkman, with their chortling they barely heard the click of the button.

“God, purple isn't doing her any favours. I can't believe we're sharing the same car as the freak.” Andy, a jock like Flash, sneers right behind you as he sits at the far end with the luggage because of his size. “That's the color right, babe?”

His girlfriend, Quinn snorts in her seat next to you. “She’s wearing navy blue, babe. And yes that sweater looks fucking ugly, it's so 1975. I think I saw my grandma wear that once.” She twists in her seat to face her boyfriend, elbow hitting your cheek, but you pretend that it didn't happen for your sanity. She doesn't even mention it. “Are you sure you didn't hit your head during the game?”

Andy puts his arms on your headrest, and again, you get hit by elbows. You're starting to hate your club advisor for putting you in the same car as the people who never even wanted to be part of the forestry club in the first place. They joined because your club was unfortunate enough to have less members and therefore was the target of the popular clique because they were ‘too busy’ to pick a required club lest they don't graduate at the end of the year. Oh how you wish you were in the same van as Thena even though she smells like swiss cheese. But alas, you drew the short end of the stick.

“Or maybe he fell on his head when he was a baby.” Emma says nonchalantly with a book in her hands. She's kind of alright to you, only because she doesn't speak or even look at you.

Miranda giggles in the passenger seat while her boyfriend Flash laughs with her.

“I'm color blind, bitch!” Andy yells, making you wince.

“Yeah, he's color blind!” His girlfriend Quinn agrees. You feel like your head is being split open by her shrill voice. You long for swift death in this car.

“That's your comeback, bruv?” Flash eggs Andy on, you worry that his attention isn't fully on the road.

“W-what? You got a better one, fucker?”

“W-w-what?!” Flash says mockingly. A round of laughter echoes around the small wagon, and you swear you heard Andy growl at the guy. You kind of feel bad for the big guy, if he wasn't such an asshole to you.

More than annoyed, you press play on your walkman as they continue to bicker. Punk music filters through your ears and for a moment you feel alright. But this time Miranda hears the click, your former childhood friend turns to look at you with a condescending smirk.

“Welcome back to the real word, Paste.”

You hate that nickname so much, you wanted to throw the walkman at her face. But you take the high ground and just ignore her like you always do. That damned nickname. She thinks she's so clever for thinking of it when you two were just nine when she caught you scooping out a dollop of paste for a birthday card you were making. She thought that you were about to eat it, hence the nickname, Paste. The birthday card was for her, too bad the trashcan ended up receiving it.

“I told you not to call me that—”

“Bitch, look out!” Andy's gruff voice is grating in your ears, his yell trumps out your music as Andy swerves the steering wheel.

“Shit!” Miranda clutches at her seat belt as you see a deer standing right in the middle of the road.

“Fuck!” Emma, holds on to the front seat just as the car goes sideways, tires skidding on the asphalt, blackened smoke coming out of the rubber.

“Mother fucker!” You brace yourself as the chorus of the music in your ears crescendos, and a tree trunk gets dangerously close to the front of the car. “No—!”

You fall into darkness.

—

You hear an animalistic groan the second you're conscious. Eyes fluttering open, you're met with Emma's flashlight flashing on your face.

“She's awake!” She yells as she roams her eyes over your form from outside the car.

“How long was I out?” You touch your throbbing forehead. It aches but thankfully you don't find blood.

“Just a few minutes, sleeping beauty.” This is the longest time she has had a conversation with you. Her blue hair glistens in the afternoon sun as she opens the door for you. “You hurt anywhere?”

You shake your head. “I'm good…I think.”

She sighs, “good, up and at ‘em.”

You take it one tiny step at a time, once your hiking boots hit the grass, you assess the damage of the car. The hood is busted from the tree curved around the metal. The engine is smoking and the lights are smashed to pieces. There's also a huge scratch on the side of it. Mrs. Williams is gonna kill the whole lot of you when she sees her car.

“Oi, Paste!” You roll your eyes at Flash's call.

“I told you not to call me that—!” The second you turn around and set your eyes on the barely alive deer in the middle of the road, you swallow thickly at the poor animal.

“Gnarly, right?” Flash grins, but when he glances at the deer his smile fades. “What are we going to do with it?”

“Should we bury it?” Quinn says whilst hidden behind her boyfriend.

“It’s still alive.” Your eyes never leave the gasping animal. Crossing the small distance, still wobbly in your feet, you tilt your head at its large wound. Even doctor Dolittle can't fix this.

“What do you suggest we do then, Paste?” Miranda side eyes you. “We can't call for help. There's no payphone in sight!” She stomps her foot like a child. “Gah! I should've joined the homemakers club instead of forestry!”

Emma nudges you, “I think I know what Y/N here is thinking.”

“You do?” You furrow your brows.

“You speak freak now, Emma?” Quinn sneers.

You ignore her. “We should end its misery.”

“Fuckin' hell, mate!” Flash gestures wildly at the deer. “It's still alive, maybe if we wait for Mrs. Williams and the others—”

“They might have already passed this place because you and princess here kept needing bathroom breaks.” You blurt out. Miranda and Flash scoff with a shake of their bottle blond heads.

“Woah!” Emma clasps your shoulder. And you flinch away from her touch.

“Paste here has some fire in her!” Quinn joins in, queasiness gone. Queasy Quinn, you should call her that.

With a clenched jaw, you bend down to retrieve your butterfly knife from your boot. Flipping it open, you roam your eyes at the bewildered group.

“Damn.” Andy whistles lowly. His girlfriend punches his bicep.

“Who's gonna do it?” You ask, the deer continues to wheeze out. Its blood now slowly inching its way over to your feet.

“Not me!” They simultaneously say with their index finger pointing at their noses.

You're camping with a bunch of children it seems. With a sigh, you kneel down next to the deer. Looking into its deep brown eyes, it's a sea that threatens to pull you under its sympathy. Your hand settles atop its blood coated fur, matted under your touch, warm and still oozing with fading life. It huffs at you, bleating like it's pleading to be spared, or be taken out of its misery. Whatever it was, you swiftly stab it in its carotid artery right on its neck, as if you've done it a million times before.

The group's disgusted yells and groans fade in your senses as its crimson flows from the wound down to your knife and hand. It's still warm, you feel like you're death itself. The poor deer stops twisting and kicking, finally falling limp in your hands.

Your blood rushes in your ears, pulse thumping like the beat of drums. Something inside you awakens from its dormant state you've forced it inside your ribcage. It flutters right out of its crystalline cocoon, beginning to fly out, trying to escape the confines of your serrated flesh. Breath running warm, you take out your knife from its body.

“Freak,” Miranda taunts under her breath, you can feel that a part of her is afraid. Does she not realize you're the one holding the bloodied knife?

“You looked like you enjoyed that one, Paste.” Her boyfriend agrees, you send them a tensed glare. They both look away from you. You can feel the fear behind their distant eyes.

“Your sweater is wasted.” Quinn raises a brow with an amused glint in her eyes. “Good, it was ugly anyway.”

You stare at your blood soaked sleeve. “I'll go get cleaned up.”

“You better, you smell like a dead rat.” Andy scoffs, arm slung over his girlfriend's shoulders.

“Go, we'll manage here.” Emma says without looking in your direction, eyes trained on the now dead deer, disgusted by its guts flowing out of its many wounds.

You walk back towards the car where your bag is. Once you reach it, you fall on your knees behind the car to avoid any more teasing from your so-called club mates. Weirdly enough, you don't feel shaken by it, nor disgusted like the rest of them. It's a weird feeling. You haven't felt this way in a long time. But this feeling, this enlightened feeling brings you a familiar comfort, bringing you back to your summer camp days.

After collecting your thoughts, you change into a turquoise windbreaker, blood all wiped clean by a wet handkerchief. Once you hide the knife back inside your boot, you return to the rest of the group with your backpack slung over your shoulder. The tin water bottle and skillet clangs against each other, signaling your return.

“Took you long enough,” Quinn says in her high pitched voice that is glass breakingly worthy. “We came up with a plan.” You didn't even know that they're all capable of thinking. “So we thought that we could wait here for the rest of the club to rescue us—”

“Bad idea.” You cut her off. Their eyes are all on you, and you almost shrunk down from their stares. “I–I think we should hike towards the campsite. We have a better chance of meeting up with them that way. We can't wait out here in the cold, especially since we don't know if they've already passed here.”

“Makes sense.” Emma agrees, still avoiding your eyes. Was that fear?

“But that's so far though!” Miranda kicks at a pebble like a petulant child.

You clench your jaw. “Then wait here, I'll hike up to the campsite.” Fixing your hold on your pack, you start walking away. “Don't blame me when you're all freezing to death.”

“Wait for me!” Emma calls after you, running towards the car to get her own pack.

“Not you too, Emma!”

“I'd rather stay with the survivalist than the cheerleaders!”

“Damnit,” Flash curses under his breath while the rest of them look at him, waiting for a plan. “I hate to say it, but she has a point. We have no idea how to even light a fire. But Paste here can.”

You walk quicker when you hear them following you. If you could sprint away, you would've. But alas, you need to conserve every bit of energy you have to trudge through the last miles towards the designated campsite.

Emma walks side by side with you, well, a few steps apart from you. She's silent for the most part except for her lingering gaze on the side of your face. The rest are already arguing behind you after five minutes of walking. Of course they're arguing about the single granola bar that Miranda packed for herself.

You deafen them out in your ears, wishing that the birds would sing louder in the trees to tamp out their voices. You'd put on your headphones but it broke in half during the crash. The air smells fresh in the forest, with the wind brushing along your cheeks like a gentle kiss. You smile gently at the peace, mind cleared of anything but the road in front of you.

Once the asphalt road transitions to a dirt road, it's now a real hike as your group sees the sign that reads, ‘jumping spider campgrounds.’

“Spider?” Quinn shrieks behind you and the peace is broken. “Please don't tell me this camp grounds is full of spiders!”

You realize that she's talking to you. “It's just the name.”

“You sure, Paste?” Flash questions you in a teasing tone. “They named it that for a reason.”

“Augh!” Quinn scampers behind her boyfriend.

You clench your hand on the strap of your backpack. “I've been here a few times and I've only seen two spiders.”

“Two is too much!” Quinn screams. At least no wild animal would come near the group with her voice ringing out through the entire forest. Unless there are wolves running about, then you'd hide behind Andy too. You're sure the wolves would like to eat him first.

With a headache blooming on the top of your head, you finally make it to the campsite after two and a half hours of walking. It's a small clearing in the middle of the woods with a few picnic tables set up and a dilapidated looking restroom sitting in the corner. Instead of Thena waving at you enthusiastically, there's no one in the campsite. A chill runs down your spine. You suppose it's the cold.

“Fuck.” You utter as you find out that the entire place sits empty without your other club mates and advisor.

Miranda and the rest push past you, shoving you to the side to look for a soul in the campsite.

“No! What the fuck!” Andy screams as he looks under a picnic table.

Emma stands in the middle of the clearing, hands gripping her blue hair. “Maybe they're running late?”

“Two hours late even though they were definitely right in front of us?” For once, Miranda says something right.

“Or maybe we're in the wrong campsite!” Quinn comes out of the bathroom with her hands shaking.

“Or they're out hiking already!” Flash crumples down to his feet, looking disheveled.

Then, all their eyes meet yours simultaneously. Their eyes shimmer under the sun, a slight blue hue falling on each of their faces.

You blink, lips slightly agape. “What?”

“What do you mean what?” Miranda walks over to you, pointing stiffly at your chest. “Where are they, hm?”

“How should I know? I was with you all the entire time. I can't communicate with them telepathically!” You immediately defend yourself.

“What the fuck should we do now?” Emma huffs, hands braced on the picnic table. Again, they all stare at you, as if you hold all the answers.

You don't know what to do either. “We should wait for them. They could just be running late. Or maybe they took a wrong turn—”

“God! I should've just joined table tennis!” Miranda exhales out, words carrying out into the woods.

“Listen.” You try to get their attention again. Which surprisingly enough, they give to you. “We should make camp and build a fire. The cold could kill us out here—”

“The cold?!” Miranda screams again, this time in your face. “You're worried about the bloody cold? We could get eaten by bears! Or fucking spiders!”

“If you could just listen for a second—!”

“I'm gonna look for a payphone.” Flash grabs Miranda, leading her further into the campsite.

“There are no payphones out here—!”

“I need to fucking piss.” Andy interrupt you.

“Don't fucking leave me out here!” His girlfriend follows closely behind.

You huff with a groan, frustrated at the situation. One moment they're listening to you, the next they're walking out into the woods.

“I'll set up the tents.” Emma says from the side. “I don't want to freeze to death.” She takes out her folded tent inside her pack. Clearing her throat, she looks at you. “Do you want me to set up yours?”

“Would you?” You ask with trepidation, what if she fills your tent with dirt and rocks?

“Yeah, sure. My dad used to take me out camping. I hated it but at least I learned some basic survival skills.”

“Like pitching up a tent?”

She chuckles nervously. “Exactly!” Coughing, she walks over to you to take your tent. “No tricks, I don't want you to freeze too.”

With slight apprehension, you give her your tent. Bag still slung over your shoulder, as much as you trust her right now, you don't trust her to give her your entire supply for surviving out here.

“I'll find some firewood and build a fire.” You say, rubbing your arms up and down for warmth.

“‘kay, watch out for jumping spiders. Or just regular spiders.” She jokes, managing to make you smile.

“I have bug spray with me, I'm sure I'll be fine.” Walking away, you head towards the left side of the forest where it's more familiar to you. Getting lost is the last thing you'll need here, especially when you're partnered up with people who wouldn't notice that you're gone.

Your feet aches and your neck throbs, despite it, you keep your head down to collect more firewood. You gather it in your arms, mindful that it doesn't poke a hole in your windbreaker.

You see a perfect branch near a pine tree, it's straight with a few bumps on the wood. It looks like something a kid would take to play as a knight. So of course you would take it.

Arm too full of branches, you bend at the waist to grab one from the forest floor. You don't anticipate all the firewood in your arms to spill over and fall on the mossy ground. It all tumbles down like a domino while you struggle to grab them even with your pack being so heavy on your back. And you're left with a single branch in your hand, sighing and silently cursing.

Left with no choice, you kneel down to collect it all again. You hear leaves crunch behind you, yet you continue to gather all the fallen firewood.

“Need help?” A voice suddenly follows the crunching sound. You don't yell or scream from the surprise appearance of the unknown voice.

You look over your shoulder, windbreaker making a swoosh sound as you move. Your eyes lock with his hazel eyes, he stands there, all six feet and five inches of him, (approximately in your mind) under the green canopy and greener moss underneath his steel toed boots, he looks right at home in the forest. But at the same time, he seems out of place with all his leather clad self, numerous patches stitched and buttons dotted along his jacket. His piercings shine as the light passes above, showing you his chiseled features. He looks like he crawled out of a catalogue, or from a punk album.

The sight of him makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up, but you can't seem to find it in yourself to walk away or look away from him. It's like you're staring at a shark's fin moving underneath the waves, parting the waters in a glorious display of a deadly dance. You know what's underneath, and you know what it entails if you stayed, but you still stand there, gazing upon his mysterious eyes that hold you in place.

He gives you a familiar feeling akin to a cold breeze brushing along your flushed skin, or perhaps a gentle wave pooling around your ankles at the beach. There's warmth and familiar coldness in his eyes, one that you're sure you've seen in yourself.

“H–hi?” You ask, smile a bit wobbly from how awestruck you are. Something passes by his eyes, something akin to fascination.

“Hello,” the stranger grins, eyes crinkling at the corners, hands still tucked inside his pockets. “Are you lost? D’you need help?”

“Not really.” You chuckle nervously. He walks towards you, footsteps barely making any sound. “Are you camping here alone? Have you seen anyone else here?”

He shakes his head, crouching down to pick up all the fallen branches. “Yes, and no one, just you, love.”

You hold a single branch to your chest, “oh, you don't need to help me.”

“I want to, I can't just stand there and let you pick all these up.” He chuckles deeply, you now notice his dimples whenever he smiles. “You ‘ere with your mates? I heard you lot from where I was.”

“Kind of.” You softly smile, finding his own contagious. Something about him makes you feel at ease, more like yourself. “Do you know a payphone nearby? We need it desperately.”

He hands you the branches in your arms, calloused palms brushing along your own. “I think there's one a few miles west ‘ere.”

Your face brightens, and his gaze softens. “That's great, can you take me there? I need to call our advisor. I'm…worried about them, and Flash the moron totaled the car.”

The handsome stranger stands up, and he lends you a helping hand which you take almost immediately. His hand feels cold yet inviting. “So you're with your classmates then? How many are you stuck ‘ere?”

“Yep— kind of, they're my club mates. There's six of us including me.”

He inhales, the corner of his lip curls into a smile. “Alright, I'll help you.”

You sigh in relief. “I'm Y/N by the way.”

He tests your name sweetly on his tongue. Reaching for your hand, he shakes it gently even with you carrying the firewood. You almost fumbled with it when you grasped his hand. “Hobie. Call me Hobie, love.”

“It's nice to meet you, Hobie.” You haven't smiled this much during the whole trip.

“C’mon, I'll show you where the phone is.”

You nod enthusiastically despite the goosebumps running up your arms. “Okay.”

Hobie smiles, a smile akin to a lion's grin. “I'll take those off you, then.” He takes your armful of branches on his own, all the while having his eyes on you. “I can't live with myself if I let you carry this all alone.”

“Oh,” you suddenly feel warm, a good kind of warm. “Can I at least take half of it?”

He chuckles while fixing his hold on the wood. “You can take one.” At first you thought he was joking, but with his raised brow and curl of his lips, you thought otherwise.

You fight a grin. “Just one?” With a nod from your acquaintance, you take a single branch from the pile in his arms. “You sure you can carry it all?”

In a display of strength, he flips the branches over to one arm, carrying it all with no problem. “See? You already took a load off of it.” You tamp down a giggle. He starts to walk away from you, when he notices that you're not following him, he looks over his shoulder casually. “You comin'?”

Looking behind you, your second thoughts about leaving them behind are squashed down by their ugly words uttered to you through the years. “Sorry, I'm coming.” You catch up with him, side by side, you follow him with a small smile.

Leaves crunch under your boots whilst you fling the branch in your hand bashfully, letting the wood brush over the tall grass. The silence permeates through the hike with him carrying the load, and guiding you while you just walk close by him. You've never been the one to be guided, it's always you who has to guide the others, keep a watchful eye so they don't get poison ivy, and you, who has to lug around the supplies. All the while you listen to them expressing their ungratefulness. You stare at his profile, smile tugging at your lips immediately when he gazes back at you wordlessly. It's nice to be taken care of once in a while.

For the first time in a long time, you start a conversation. A friendly one that you know won't end in you getting called a nasty word.

“So why camp alone?” You tentatively start, nails picking at the branch in your hand. “This part of the forest isn't exactly beginner friendly.”

“Who says ‘m a beginner?” He nudges you gently, making you look up from your feet. “My mates and I used to come ‘ere and just stay for an entire week forgettin’ our lives until we got the scent of city smoke out of our noses.” Chuckling, Hobie looks at you through glimmering eyes. “Now it's jus’ me and my motorbike.”

“What happened to them— i–if you're comfortable telling me.”

“A freak accident. There was a forest fire, I barely made it out. But they didn't.” He sighs, you open your mouth for an apology but he beats you to it. “It was a long time ago, no need to say your condolences.”

“Still, I'm sorry. It must've been hard.” You reach out to him, but you decide not to last minute lest you make your new friend uncomfortable.

Hobie leans against your palm before you fully move away, his smile gets brighter when you decide to cup his elbow gently. “Thank you, love. I come ‘ere to look at the shitty condo they built atop it and imagine that it's burnin.’ Ain't that fucked up of me, hm?”

You chuckle, already regretting the sound right after. “I— no, that's actually…uh.”

“Funny?” He completes your sentence while chortling at your flustered self.

You blink, fully laughing with him. “I was gonna say that but I didn't want to offend you!”

“Consider me not offended, love. You've got a sense of humour amidst the fucked up shit in the world, I fancy that in a bird.” The heat on your cheek is impossible to ignore, you have a feeling he knows about it too. “The funny thing is that it's not even done yet, it just stands there on their graves like some fucked up grave stone.” He sniffs, thumb rubbing along the corner of his eye. “My turn to ask a question, what kind of club are you and your mates are in?”

“Forestry. And they're not exactly my mates.” You spat out the last word with malice. You both pass by a towering pine tree and a start to a dirt trail.

“Alright— hold on…” he pauses mid step, with a careful hand atop your shoulder, he reaches for your cheek, “you have red on you, can I?”

You don't usually let anyone touch you, especially someone who's practically a stranger. But the familiar feeling grows with every moment you're with him. As if you've known him for a long time, a long lost childhood friend that you've finally found amidst the throng of worthless faces. So you let him with a nod, let him wipe away the deer's dried up blood caking your cheek. The pad of his thumb is calloused and rough, yet his touch is as gentle as a raindrop falling on your skin. You welcome the feeling wholeheartedly.

“There, all clean.” He doesn't ask why you have blood on you, “it was hidin’ your pretty face.”

“It was just a drop, and I highly doubt that.” You say bashfully.

“That you're pretty or that it hides your face?” His hand rests upon your shoulder, thumb ghosting above your heated cheek. “You’re stunnin’, I wasn't going to let that small thing mark you.”

Your heart lurches in your chest. There it is again, the familiar yet cold feeling washing over you. It's a beautiful contradiction. You're not perturbed by it in the slightest. “Thank you.” you could only manage to say those two words.

Hobie leans away, hand pulling reluctantly away from you. From the way his tender gaze falls on you, you think he feels it too. It's not love, not yet anyway. It's attraction. The kind that's magnetic, the kind that you know he'll fit right in with your missing pieces, the kind that he'd let himself fall into place right next to the spaces that he can and will gladly fill out. His soul glows behind his calm demeanor, as if the two last endangered beings have finally met their match. Feathers plucked from the same bird.

But it's an unspeakable match, one that could end in teeth marks left upon each other’s skin, leaving darkened blood boiling to the surface, caking each other’s maw with his and your own blood. So you two let it simmer, let it boil until one of you cracks under the pressure like trapped frogs in a boiling pot. So for now, you act as if you don't feel it in case you're wrong. Something you wouldn't want to be wrong with.

You bite the inside of your cheek while you continue to follow him. Each of your footsteps match the beating of your heart, and you swear that he can feel it too.

Walking out of the thicket and into a clearing, you two have made it out to a smaller campsite where a single eerie lamp post and payphone stands in the middle. Its paint is chipping from the elements, only leaving a few scraps of red and stickers vandalizing the payphone. There's a steep ledge behind the payphone, showing the top of the green canopies below, and the fading light from the sunset above.

“I'll wait for you ‘ere.” He says next to you, already walking towards a black and red motorbike parked at the edge of the clearing.

“This yours?” You ask with a smile, eyes roaming all over its shiny metal.

He pats the seat before leaning on it. “My treasure, I call her ‘Ripley’”

“From the Alien movie?” You walk closer to him, payphone forgotten.

“You know it?”

“Do I know it?” You say with a laugh, “‘Mother! I've turned the cooling unit back on. Mother!’” You copy the same tone from the movie.

“‘The ship will automatically destruct in T minus five minutes.’” Hobie replies in a mechanical robotic tone.

��‘You... Bitch!’” You and Hobie quote simultaneously, earning a hearty laugh from the both of you.

You've found yourself holding onto his arm, smiling and giggling with him. “Y’know, they've got a screening of it down at the local drive-in.” You tentatively say, eyes turned down at the pile of branches in his arms.

Hobie puffs out his chest, chin turned upwards with a smirk. “You askin' me out, lovie?”

You exhale, moving away with disappointment and a wobbly frown. “N–no, sorry, I didn't know what I was thinking.” Before you could fully walk away, he grabs your sleeve, tugging you gently back to him.

“C’mon now, love, don't walk away now.” He encourages you with a lopsided grin, eyes smiling genuinely as he gazes at you softly. “Ask me properly.” He bracelets his hand around your wrist, holding onto you gently while he runs his thumb over your quickening pulse.

“I—” you swallow thickly, and he ducks down to look into your shy eyes. With his sweet smile, you gather your courage. “Do you want to go watch Alien with me at the drive-in?” You inhale, his grin gets bigger with every word you utter. “We can have p–popcorn, or if you don't like popcorn, we can have chips and—and then maybe soda but if you don't like soda we can—”

He pulls you in, trapped right in the middle of his legs, not closing in around you, making you more comfortable in his tentative embrace. “I like popcorn. And I'll take you on a motorcycle ride right after, like how they do in the movies.”

Your skin is aflame. “Okay,” you nod enthusiastically, “a ride right after— I mean!” You fluster, “a bike ride— with me and and you— of course with me and you, it's stupid if—” you ramble on, tripping over your own words. He waits patiently without teasing you. Instead, he smiles, and nods along. “I— yeah, that sounds good.”

He tilts his head, hand brushing a fallen leaf off your shoulder. “Yeah? It's a date then.”

You sigh longingly. You still can't wrap your mind around at how you manage to pull it off. “Okay, I'll—” you reach inside your jacket, pulling out a small notepad and pen, moving quickly to scribble your name and number, afraid that he'll change his mind. “Here's my number.” You rip the page and then hand it to him.

He shrugs, smirking at you. “My hands are kind of full, love.” Technically it is, but he literally just brushed a leaf off of you a moment ago. “Put it in my front pocket for me?” Looking down at his jacket pocket, he smiles sheepishly.

“You and I both know that you can handle it on your own.” You tamp down a giggle, teeth biting down at your lip while you watch him make a face. “Fine, I'll only do it because you're being cute.” Gently, you place it inside his jacket pocket. Your fingers brush something metallic and sharp, but you ignore it. “There.”

“Finally flirtin’ back, huh?”

“Shut up and hand me a quarter, Hobie.” His guffaw echoes around the clearing as he reaches at his jean pocket to rustle for some spare change. “Sorry, too much?” You wince, thinking that it might've turned him off.

He shakes his head with amusement. “You're cheeky once you've gotten comfortable.” He hands you the coin.

“Well, people usually don't stay too long to find out.”

“Their loss, my win.”

You smile, palms clammy and legs turning into mush from his flirting. Staring at the coin in your hand, you find it having two heads on each side. “I don't think the payphone will take this.” It reminds you of the same lucky coin that your club advisor always carries around.

“Right, sorry, that's my lucky coin.” He grabs it back nonchalantly, then he rummages through his pocket for another one. Checking it once, he gives the quarter to you. “Use it wisely.”

“A lot of people seem to have their own lucky coin.” You twirl the regular quarter in between your fingers.

“You don't have one?” He creases his brows, you shake your head in reply. “‘ere you go then.” Taking the coin from his pocket again, he puts it in the middle of your palm. “For luck.”

“I can't take this, it's yours.” You try to give it back but he pushes your hand away.

“Nah, you can borrow it. Bring it back to me on our date, yeah?”

You chuckle softly, eyes gazing into his own, finding your bashful reflection in his hazel eyes. “Okay.” With a shy nod, you turn towards the payphone to dial your school's number.

—

Hobie waits for you in the sideline while he basks in the sunlight. His eyes are closed while his head is turned up into the heavens, arms cradling the sticks, letting the rays bathe him through the dappled shadows of the canopy above. He looks like an oil painting.

He cracks one eye opening, sensing your presence. “What’d they say?” Straightening up, he tilts his head.

“Uh…” You've forgotten what the school administrator told you for a second. “T–they said that the rest of the club had already called ahead to tell them that they've arrived at the last pit stop. But we were just there and when I asked the cashier at the gas station, she said that she didn't see a van stop by.” You rub at your tired eyes. “I don't know where they are.”

Hobie leaves the side of his bike to cross the small distance towards you. His eyes are full of concern, lips turned into a frown. “‘m sure they're fine, love.” He juggles the wood in one arm to grasp at your tensed hand, giving you enough space to turn away but you don't.

“I’m not worried about them, Hobie. I know they're okay. But…” you squeeze his hand, “I don't want to be left alone with those fuckers.”

He scrunches his nose. “What fuckers?”

“I— forget it, I'll just tough it out until the others get here.”

“Nah, I'll keep you company.” He pulls you gently by your hand, “c’mon, I'll beat ‘em off with a stick if I have to. I have a lot of ‘em.” He shakes the bundle of wood in his arms.

You chuckle, “you don't even know what they've done.”

“I know enough from how you talk ‘bout ‘em.” He shrugs, warm fingers squeezing you back. “They sound like a piece of work.”

“You have no idea.” With a reluctant step, you move towards the trail once again. Hand in hand with Hobie, the two of you head to the campsite where surely they've forgotten about you and your firewood. Or with your luck, the spiders got to them.

“What did they do to you?” He cuts the silence in half. “Do they hurt you?” His tone softens with a tinge of fury within it.

“Not usually.” You reply back, eyes turned away from him. He encourages you with a gentle tug, lips softly smiling at you. Inhaling, you let it all out with hope that it doesn't turn him off with your woes. “The guys just tease me about… everything else. But the girls— they once locked me in the janitor's closet for an entire day. The janitor found me hours after classes ended.” You can hear his sharp inhale next to you. “One time they…uh— threw glue and flour at me during picture day. I had to go home after that and I didn't get my picture taken for the yearbook. It's just blank, fitting, right?”

Hobie shakes his head, eyes swirling with something you can't describe. “No, it's not. They're wankers.”

“I— yeah, they are.” You feel a weight lifted off your shoulders. No one has listened to you like that in years. Before it was Miranda, before she decided that you're not worth being friends with. “I know what you're thinking, I should fight back. I tried, it only made everything worse. They only do it because they think I don't belong in their fancy school. That I'm only there because of my merit, not because of my parents' money or lack of it.” Looking up at Hobie, you see him staring back with a clenched jaw. “I'm sorry, that was….pathetic.” You grip the branch tighter until you can feel the splinters digging into your palm. “We don't get to choose the room we're stuck in. But we can choose the people we let in. Graduation's coming, and I get to kick them out soon.” You smile at him and he smiles back with soft empathetic eyes.

“Maybe sooner than you'd think. And It isn't pathetic, they're the pathetic ones.” You both reach the place where you met him as you question inside your mind what he meant by his first sentence. He stops walking, hand carefully pulling you to a stop. “I have a confession to make. ‘m not ‘ere to grieve.”

You furrow your brows, stopping mid step. “What?”

“I know them, the rich fuckers that torments you.”

“So you know me too?” You let go of his hand, heart cracking.

“No, not you, just ‘em.” He glances behind you where you can hear Quinn's laughter. “Just— I'll tell you after, yeah? For now, I want to tell you that everythin' I told you was real. I do want that date, love. I only ever want to see you.”

“For real?” You reach for him, palm placed on his chest. Hobie drops the sticks unceremoniously, the sound of wood clattering down on the soil.

He then holds your hand in place, fingers curling around it. “Real. I need you to know me fully. Let me in the room y'know.” With a sigh of relief, you lean closer as he mirrors your movements, lips pursing, breath fanning over your lips.

“Paste!” Miranda suddenly yells from behind you. Whirling around, your smile falters. “Shit, there you are! Who the fuck are you talking to, you freak?”

“I—” you turn back around to face Hobie but he's nowhere to be found. Your breath gets stuck in your throat. “He was right there.”

She clicks her tongue at you, “stop tripping and get back to camp! The sun's setting.”

She doesn't help you with the firewood as she leaves you alone in the middle of the forest. You look around in hopes of finding Hobie, but you don't see nor hear him anywhere. Sighing, hope dashed, and chest aching with longing, you walk slowly back to camp.

—

After three hours of setting up camp with barely any help from the others, the tents are fully pitched behind you, and you finally get to sit down and rest near the campfire you built with the same wood that Hobie was carrying. For someone whom you just met, he seems to occupy your mind ever since he left. He told you he'd stay for you, but why would he leave the moment Miranda appeared?

The fire engulfs your frozen heart, you watch as the embers crackle, eyes unblinking at the bonfire. Your hands cradle a can of peaches, you haven't taken a bite of it ever since you opened it, your mind keeps wandering back to Hobie, wondering if he was even real.

“Oi, paste!” Andy calls for you, when you don't acknowledge him, he throws a tin can at you that lands right on your thigh. “Jesus, she's out of it.”

“Did you find some mushrooms out there, pasty?” Quinn's mocking tone makes you glance at them without moving your head. You can see her flinch slightly from your glare.

“Man, if you actually did find some mushrooms, can I have a bite?” Emma asks, back leaning on a log while she nurses a flask of vodka. You can smell it from where you're sitting.

“I didn't find any.” You mutter, eyes flickering down at the fire, vision swirling at the dancing flames.

“Too bad, remember when we found some last time?” Flash chuckles, arm snaked over Miranda's shoulders, who stare at him dumbstruck.

“What the fuck, Flash?!” She slaps his bicep in a resounding smack. “I told you that we can't talk about it!”

“Relax, M, it's been two whole years! Besides, our parents made sure that it stays buried. Literally.” That piqued your interest. Subtly, you listen in. Flash guffaws, fist bumping Andy on his way to snatch the flask away from Emma. He takes a generous sip while Andy cheers him on. “Fuck, that's good.”

“Those mushrooms fucked us up real fucking bad, Flash. It wasn't some bad trip.” Miranda chastises, she turns towards Emma and the others, sneering at each of them. “Did you all not remember what happened?”

“Of course we do, Miranda.” Quinn scoffs, flinging Andy's arm away from her middle. “I can still hear the screams!”

You blink, being practically invisible has its perks. Your hands grip the can, ears straining to hear more of the hushed conversation.

“Screams?” Andy shakes his big head, “try the smell, their burning skins were stuck in my nose for weeks.”

Miranda rubs her face, “you lot have no ounce of empathy do you?”

“Please,” Emma adds, glaring at each of them before stopping by Miranda. “You were the one who insisted we stayed at the campsite instead of our usual place. Now there's a patch of burnt forest where your father's— mind you, my father's, Quinn's mother, Andy's parents and Flash's grandfather, contributed to hide the crime where the condo now stands.”

Your eyes widens, hand slithering its way inside your pocket only to find the two headed coin. So it's real, Hobie is real. So it wasn't a freak accident, and this is what He meant by knowing them.

They killed his friends.

Miranda seethes in place, hands clenched into fists. “I'm not the one who decided to light up in the middle of summer where the dry leaves were! And now we're stuck here, forced to take forestry because a judge said so!”

“Oh fuck you, Miranda.” Quinn stands up, stomping her bedazzled boot on the ground. “If it weren't for my mum then we'd all be in fucking jail! Getting stuck with the freak was the lesser demon!”

“It's ‘lesser evil,’ actually.” You finally add, eyes glancing at each of their angry faces. “And man, how many people did you all kill, hm?”

“It was an accident.” Emma blinks at you, “fuck, great, she knows.”

Andy huffs like a mad bull seeing red flapping in front of him. “You gonna keep quiet about it, paste, or do I have to make you?”

Their stares bore into you, you now realize the amount of danger that you're in. Individually, you can take one down, but with them all after you, you won't survive the morning.

So you dig deep, you free the moth from the pits of your soul, letting it loose. “Oh, I'm going to keep quiet about it. Who would believe me anyway?” You scoop out a peach from the untouched can, bringing it to your mouth, you let the fruit slide down your throat. “Besides, I know something you don't. Something important that could lead to dangerous consequences if you didn't know.”

“What is it?” Emma looks you up and down, brows knitted together in uneasiness.

You tilt your head, grinning but your eyes don't convey the same expression. “Only if you promise not to hurt me.”

They all look at eachother, silently agreeing. “Fine,” Flash starts, “what is it?”

You lean back on the tree trunk, “you forgot to say please.”

They scoff, “please.” Emma says it first, then one by one, they say it with reluctance.

Miranda is the only one who hasn't said a word, but with a steely gaze from her boyfriend, she relents. “Please.” She says through gritted teeth.

You smile. “Mrs. Williams and the others aren't coming.”

“What?!” They shout.

“Yeah, I called the school but turns out they don't know where they are either. They're technically missing.” You pause, watching their expression sour further. “I told them where we are but since we're fairly alright they're focusing on trying to find them instead. So we're stuck here— wait, no, I'm stuck here with a bunch of murderers.” That seems to break the camel's back.

“You fucking freak!” Miranda jumps over the bonfire, lunging towards you with her fist connecting with your cheek. “Say that again!”

You laugh, spitting out blood as she wraps her hands around your throat. The others watch while Emma is the only one that's trying to stop her from choking you out with her hands, desperately failing to wrench her away from you.

“A–all this time,” you wheeze out, “you keep calling me the freakazoid, the fucking weirdo when you and your fucked up little friends are the ones who have actually kill—!” With a yell, she closes her fists around your throat, cutting off your air while you claw at her hands. “Fucking b–bitch!” You manage to let out.

“Miranda, no!” Emma tries to yank her away from you.

“That's enough!” Flash finally tries to do something but Miranda elbows his nose, blood quickly pouring out a second later. “Shit!”

Quinn and Andy slowly back away until they're well into the forest, nowhere to be seen.

“Fucking die!” Miranda squeezes harder as black spots filter your vision, she bangs your head harshly against the log behind you, warm crimson trickling out immediately after impact. “You've always been a thorn on my side! Always so fucking perfect, always the better one!”

You grin despite the blood coating your mouth. “I–I won't be surprised if it w–wasn't an accident. I get it, your mom and dad never loved you enough. Is that it, Miranda?” You choke, using your remaining energy to get the last word out, nails digging into her wrists.

Suddenly, piercing screams echo above your gasps. Flash manages to yank Miranda's grasp around your throat, leaving you breathless and gasping on the cold soil. The three of them look where the sound came from with trepidation rising in their veins.

Holding onto your neck, the skin tender and raw, head swirling, you watch on with wide eyes as Quinn comes out of the thicket covered in blood. Her former pristine white coat is drenched, face splashed with the same ruby hue, trainers leaving a trail of thickened crimson. She holds onto her bleeding arm, lips wobbling as tears leave a streak of clean skin amidst the spray of blood. Her head is oozing more of the ichor as she staggers her way out of the dark.

“H–help.”

“Fucking hell.” Emma holds out her arms for her, face contorted into deep fear. “W–what happened? Where's Andy?”

“He's dead!” Quinn cries, feet shuffling slowly towards Emma. Meanwhile, Flash and Miranda watch on with horror, clutching onto one another. “He doesn't have a head anymore. How will he play rugby now?” Just as when Quinn lets out the last word, the arm she has been holding up falls on the ground, making a squelching sound as it meets the grass below. Emma backs away, hands upon her mouth, shocked and terrified. “Oh, my arm fell.” Quinn chuckles through tears only to then tumble down on the gore filled soil right next to her arm.

“What the fuck?!” Emma shrieks.

“No!” Miranda hides behind Flash, who is also trying to hide behind his girlfriend, they struggle to hide behind one another.

You stare at the tainted dirt where Quinn lays face first. She still gurgles in place, body twitching all the while her arm sits a few ways from her. Your blood rushes in your ears, mouth turning dry, chest heaving to let air in. You have no idea what's happening, but there's one thing on your mind.

Run.

With leaves crunching underfoot, out comes a tall figure dressed in black mechanic overalls. His face is obscured by a macabre theater mask that depicts sadness. In his hand is a bloodied machete, and in the other is Andy's head swinging as he moves. He flicks the weapon free of blood, spraying the tall grass below with oozing iron.

You don't wait for the screams to run ahead. With your neck still aching, head pounding, you run for your life.

The hunting begins.

—

You run into the dark nowhere, panting, vision dancing as you push yourself to your limit. If not for your injuries, you'd have a better time navigating the forest from your acquired skills. You've gained some distance between you and the others, so with an apprehensive peek behind a tree, you sit down on the cold soil, back sliding on the trunk, windbreaker scraping against its rough surface.

With a hand on your chest, you try to even out your shallow breathing. “Fuck.” You mutter, tongue brushing along your dry lips.

Reaching behind you, you feel for your wound. Wincing, you bring your hand back towards you, finding blood coating your fingers. Your survival instincts kicks in, perhaps your years as a volunteer summer camp counselor has its perks. An incident with a bear trap involving a fellow counselor was an accident, it wasn't your fault that they blindly stepped into it. Too bad it forced your camp to close permanently.

Zipping your windbreaker slowly so as to not make any noise, you slowly rip the bottom half of your shirt. Once off, you tie it around your head while biting down on the inside of your cheek to tamp down your pained groans. With a tug, you tighten it fully to help stop the blood flow.

You take a breather, that motorcycle ride with Hobie sounds great right about now— Hobie! Your eyes fly open to the thought of him, he can get you out of here on his bike. If not then you can call for help on the payphone. So you find courage deep in you, with a shaky exhale, you stand up, walking back to the same direction where you ran from. You could only hope that he's alright.

Armed with your butterfly knife, you're careful of where you step on. You avoid dry leaves and sticks, opting to walk on the softer soil instead to lessen the sound you make lest you draw a target right on your back.

After a few minutes of trudging along the dark, you make it back to the campsite. The smell of corpses filters through your nose, its smell is just beginning to rot in the moist air as maggots and crows have managed to find their meal.

“Damn it.” You cover your nose with your sleeve, creeping your way towards your pack. You pass by a very much dead Andy, whose head is left out for the worms to get into. His expression is frozen in fear, mouth agape, and eyes wide in surprise. “That colour suits you, Andy.” You scoff, remembering how he tormented you during class by almost burning your hair with his lighter. You watch as maggots eat their way into his eyeball, eyes unable to look away for a moment.

Getting inside your tent, you give one last look at Quinn laying on the ground, unmoving now and skin turning into chalk white. Red still pools around her while the quiet of the night permeates through the chill autumn air.

Pushing the tent open, you enter to grab your backpack on the ground. Finally, hope blossoms in your chest, but the sound of a twig snapping near you freezes you on the spot. You slowly grab your knife next to your leg, all the while barely making any sudden movements. Your eyes flicker on your left, a shadow forms behind the yellow tent, slowly making its way towards you.

You follow its movements, hand gripping the knife until it leaves indents on your skin.

A bead of sweat slides down your temple as the shadow makes its way to the front of your tent.

Breath stuck in your throat, you raise the knife above your head, ready to strike.

A shadow of a hand reaches towards the tent entrance, and you ready yourself.

The tent opens and already you're lunging at them with your knife raised and hand clutching at their front.

“Jesus, it's me!” Flash yells from under you, hands gripping at your windbreaker, eyes wide and blown out as blood flows from a cut on his cheek. “Lower your damn knife, paste.”

“Your girlfriend tried to kill me, why should I?”

“Because I'm not her, duh?!” He shakes his head, hands raised next to him in surrender. “Listen, let's set our differences aside for a second, okay? I don't know a damn thing about surviving out here but I do know that we've got a bigger chance of staying alive if we stay together.”

You clench your jaw, weighing your options. If push comes to shove, you can use him as your shield since he's bigger built than you.

“...fine. But you listen to me, and do what you're told or I'll leave you here.” You push yourself off him, the knife never leaving your grasp.

Flash nods, standing up and brushing himself off. “Do you have a plan? Because you sound like you have a plan.”

“I do.” You say whilst going back inside the tent to grab your backpack. Once you emerge, you find Flash standing above Andy's decapitated head. “C’mon.” Beckoning him, you open your flashlight. He still stands there, staring at his friend's head. “Flash, do you want me to leave you here?”

He sighs, eyes trained on the rotting head. “He was my best friend. I should've told him that I slept with Quinn.”

You snort, “trust me, buddy, he knows.”

“What?” He turns to you.

“Come on before he gets back.”

Flash takes one last look at Quinn's body and Andy's head before jogging to catch up to you. “So how did you know?”

“Shut up, I don't want to talk to you.” You ignore him while walking the same path you and Hobie took.

“Jeez, you're no fun.” He says while making a disgusted face at Andy's dead body that you stepped over nonchalantly.

You whirl around, flashlight aimed at his face as he scrunches up his nose. “This isn't supposed to be fun, Flash. Say one more word and I'll leave you out here, because if he hasn't gotten to Miranda and Emma yet, you'll be the next one he targets.” He nods furiously, frown evident on his face. “Good.”

After a few good minutes, you find the same purple flower you saw while walking with Hobie. “So how do you know that I'm next—?”

“Because if it was me, I'll kill the ones who can fight me off first.”

“And you know this because?” He asks you suspiciously, eyes narrowed at you.

“Just nature. And lots of horror movies.” He continues to stare at you with the same face. “I'm not the killer, you moron. I was with you when he attacked, remember?”

“Yeah, but in those killer movies there's always more than one killer.” He leans closer to you, eyes staring daggers. “You one of them, paste?”

You pause, craning your neck to stare at him back with venomous eyes. “You imbecile.” You mock before walking again. He stands there for a moment, unblinking at where you stood. He follows after your light is starting to fade from his line of sight.

“So…you're not one of them?”

“There's the phone.” You roam your eyes around the clearing all the while ignoring the man next to you. The pay phone still stands completely unharmed, and the lamp post flickers in the night, bulb whirring above the sound of owls. Your heart aches when you don't find a sign of Hobie being there or his bike. You like to imagine that he's far away from the chaos right about now, at least he'd be safe.

Crossing the distance, you pick up the phone, finding it still in good condition as you hear the dial tone. You rummage through your pockets for a quarter, but to no avail. And then you check around the payphone and the coin flap to check for any forgotten coins. You don't find a single one. “Fuck, do you have a quarter?”

“Shit.” Flash pats his jean pockets and varsity jacket pockets. Again, finding empty handed. “Wait—” he takes off his baseball hat to take out a crisp bill. “Here, it's my emergency money.”

You stare at the bill wordlessly while pointing at the coin slot. He shakes his head, gawping at you. You gesture at the slot then at his bill in hand until he gets it.

Realization flickers in his dim witted eyes. “Oh.”

“Oh.” You mock his tone. “We can't make a call without one.”

“What now?”

“I say we just follow the road and hope that a car comes by.” You point at the dark dirt road ahead of you. “Better get walking—”

An ear piercing scream startles Flash, while your head swivels down at the direction of the sound.

“Shit, that's Miranda!” Flash yells, grabbing your hand in his iron grip, and gunning down the slope to get to the source. “I'm coming, baby! I'm so sorry I slept with Quinn, Darlene, and the rest of your cheer team!” His voice rings in your ears while you're trapped in his hold, you try to pull away and get back to solid ground as he continues to drag you away to the dark abyss but he's too strong for you.

“Flash! Let me go!” You pull and tug with all your might but you're left trying to catch up with his speed while your feet drag behind. “Fuck!” A branch hits you right on your face, getting a mouthful of leaves while you almost lose your balance as you skid down the slope.

“Baby—! Oh mother of fuck!” He freezes, hand falling from your wrist, staring at the unfinished building looming overhead amidst the tall trees and overgrown grass. “Shit, it's this place.”

You glance around the space, finding abandoned heavy machinery, concrete, and trailers littered around the skeleton of a would be condo.

“Flash!” Miranda appears from behind a pillar, limping her way towards you and Flash. “He got Emma!” She embraces him while Flash's attention is glued on the grey building with its protruding metal that creaks in the wind and moss covered concrete. “I definitely tried to save her but she tripped and now she's dead with her body chopped in half!”

You glance at her, finding her tears utterly fake. “Or you tripped her.”

She leans away from flash's chest, eyes narrowed to slits and lips frowning. “You're still alive?”

“No thanks to you.” You smile bitterly at her. Before she gets a word in, you're already walking away towards the tall building, eyes scanning its skeletal structure. You notice the ground is darker from where you stand. “This is where it happened.” You turn towards the couple, “this is where they died.”

“Listen, it wasn't completely our fault.” Miranda stalks closer towards you and you quickly ready your knife in your hand. “We were just playing around, we didn't mean to.”

“You're grown ass adults, Miranda. Did none of you listen to Smokey?”

“No, we were too busy having friends, paste.” She mocks, even in danger she finds it in herself to torment you. “That is not our problem right now, we need to go—!”

A sudden bright spotlight appears in front, you squint your eyes, managing to see the masked figure behind the wheel of a motorbike. Oh. He revs his engine, taunting Flash and Miranda.

“Oh fuck, he's back!” Flash yelps, surprisingly enough, he shields Miranda behind him, arms raised to his sides. “Touch my girlfriend and you die!” You raise a brow at his sudden heroic action.

“Yeah, you tell him, baby!” Miranda coaxes him while you step away and watch the scene unfold.

The masked killer revs his engine again, this time, he rides towards you at lightning speed. Smoke billows out from behind him, blanketing the whole area with fog.

The couple screams, bracing for impact while you step back with your eyes only looking at the killer.

Instead of plowing them down with his bike, he skids on the ground sideways, stopping a few ways ahead of the three of you. Once the sound dies down to a murmur of the engine, Flash and Miranda open their eyes to find the killer tossing his machete at their feet.

“Are you surrendering?” Flash turns to you. “Is he surrendering?” You could only shrug.

The figure points at the blade, and then gets off his bike, letting it run in the background and using its light to illuminate the place. Wordlessly, he stomps over to the front of the bike, his figure obscuring the light a bit.

You can't see his eyes from behind the mask as he gestures towards the glade once again. “I think he's trying to tell you to pick it up and fight him.”

“What?” They both look at you with surprise, they simultaneously turn towards the figure, only to find him eerily nodding in approval.

Flash points at himself, and the man nods slowly. “Fuck.”

“Pick it up, babe, show him how it's done!” Miranda cheers him on, pushing him towards the machete. “End his miserable life so we can get back to our lives.” She spits out.

With a gulp, Flash bends down to grab the blade with reluctance. Miranda moves closer to your side, hand grasping your arm. You let her while Flash assumes the position in front of the figure.

“Come at me!” Flash yells, lunging for him.

With a quick side step, the figure dodges with barely any movement. Flash follows ahead with his attack, raising the weapon over his head to slice but his miserable attack is only met with air. All the while, the stranger has his hands hidden in his pockets, upper half barely making a move as he keeps dodging Flash's desperate slashes.

“Stop moving!” Flash frustratingly yells while sweat flows from his forehead.

“You're not fair!” Miranda adds, yelping when Flash gets close to cutting the figure's hand off, but of course he dodges at the last minute. “Fuck! Come on, baby!”

Flash moves to stab instead, “you fucker—!”

With quick movement that you could barely decipher, Flash suddenly has a knife in his nape. Blood ebbs from his neck as he stands in place, gurgling and choking on his own blood.

Miranda's piercing scream echoes around the clearing as birds caw in the distance. “Oh god!”

The figure takes his knife back with an ugly squelch of muscle and blood. Crimson spraying all over his mask as he holds the knife in his gloved hand. He tilts his head, the sharp end of the knife pointed directly at you, to then slowly go down from your neck to your hand that's gripping your own knife.

Miranda shakes you, “he wants to fight you, Y/N!”

“Hm, I don't think so.” You mutter under your breath while gazing at him. “Why should I?” You glance at her horrified face. “You saw what happened to Flash, I can't fight him.”

“P–please.” She says in between sobs, “do this for us.” You roll your eyes and she shakes your arm. “I never wanted to hurt you, paste.” She pleads, the nickname earning a scoff from you.

“You once slashed my tires just because I was paired with your ex for a project.” You say calmly, façade now fully broken, moth freely flying over you. “I almost crashed into a tree, Miranda.”

The figure steps closer, knife now at his side, waiting for your next move.

“T–that was just a joke! We were just—!” Her words are suddenly cut off by your knife stabbing at her jugular. She gasps as blood sprays at your smiling face, her body falling, hand stuck around your knife, you finally turn towards the masked man.

“And here I thought you'd leave me alone with them.”

He peels off his mask, revealing Hobie's awestruck expression. Blinking, chuckles slowly escape his pierced lips. “Holy shit, love. You're brilliant.”

You shrug, smile never leaving your lips. “You should've said something, I would've helped.” You say, reaching for your knife back, flicking all the blood away before tucking it inside your boot. “

“I thought…” he crosses the distance, hand reaching for your own, he loops his pinky around your own, gently tugging you into his bloodied form. “... never mind that now.” you can hear sirens echo from somewhere. “You still up for that ride?”

“I thought you'd never ask.”

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