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starstruckodysseys · 2 months ago

Text

baby, don’t you like this beat? (i made it so you’d sleep with me) —

>> reese’s oc insert jamboree

complete; wc is officially like 8.5k but most of those are not Actual Words if ykwim

in which lanie girlbosses too close to the sun, fucks up her flirting game entirely, and accidentally makes the video store go viral. everything kind of spirals from there.

(or: the kind-of-still-nsbu social media au no one asked for. like, literally no one)

notes for context bc truly this entire thing exists within the vacuum of my mind:

-post nsbu (movie and canon)!

-lanie woodward: 19 year old college dropout, social media manager for russell’s video world after the store’s revamp, blatantly pan and incredibly obvious about her crushes on her best friends

-jenna woodward: 23 year old model in LA, lives just outside of lake elsinore. had a falling out with lanie months ago but they’re over it now. she regrets it now that she has to deal with this

-trans liv trans liv trans liv (truly the least important thing here but it does exist)

-wendell + lanie have the weirdest combatant friendship ever. no one can figure it out (they’re both fucking terrified of each other for Very Specific reasons but that’s a whole other piece)

—

russellsvideoworld just posted to their story!

image description: an instagram story from user russellsvideoworld. a female figure in a black t-shirt and dark blue jeans holds up a peace sign. split dyed green and black hair can be seen in the top left corner, as well as the girl’s chin. the caption, in bright green serif font with a paler green background, reads “put hot to go on our insta note bc our vhs tapes and dvds are always hot to go and certainly not bc the social media manager was trying to flirt with her crushes and forgot which account she was on. certainly not.” HOT TO GO! by chappell roan is playing in the background.

image description: a screenshot of the previous instagram story from user wendellmorris. the caption, in blue arial font, reads “i think we should let lanie rationalize putting more chappell roan songs on our store’s ig. for marketing purposes”

—

[ lanie’s mental breakdown liveblog (not clickbait!) ]

bowling alley carpet:

imagine not being the most oblivious fucking idiot alive

couldn’t be wendell !!!!!!!

…do you guys think maybe neither of them like me and they’re just trying to be nice about it

everything is you:

wendell is the least subtle person on this planet and it still took an entire movie dimension for steven to realize he liked him

i think ur doing fine

unless you wanna figure out how to make out with one of them in the amazon again

bowling alley carpet:

don’t say AGAIN like i was involved the first time??

everything is you:

close enough if you ask me

hollywood(ward):

I think you could choose literally any other way to flirt with them!

But no, I don’t think that’s the issue

bowling alley carpet:

jen i cannot stress enough how much a) that does not help and b) your capitals are fucking terrifying

hollywood(ward):

I’m an adult!

bowling alley carpet:

girl we’re having a discussion about my dumbass flirting via chappell roan songs on the video store insta

there are no adults here. only idiots

—

video description: a tiktok from user del.lanie. lanie, a nineteen year old girl with split dyed green/black hair and slightly tan skin, in a red leather jacket and black ripped jeans, does the hot to go dance with possibly the least amount of energy anyone has ever done it. she gives up by the end, laughing with her mouth covered and talking to someone off screen as she moves to turn the camera off. the caption, in the classic tiktok font, reads “when you fuck up your flirting game severely but at least your video store is going viral”

—

image description: an instagram post from some news site i don’t have the energy to come up with a name for rn. or the post itself actually. the caption reads “In a world where physical media seems to be moving away from public consumption, Russell’s Video World stands out like a sore thumb — for more reasons than one. The video store, located in Lake Elsinore, California, has taken over the spotlight after an Instagram story from its social media manager, Lanie Woodward. link to the rest of the story in our bio!”

comments:

del.lanie: WHY AM I ON INSTAGRAM NEWS HELLO???

↳ del.lanie: girl why are they full naming me… help…

del.lanie: also leave wendell + steven out of this?? this is my dumbassery what the hell did they do

↳ skysthelimit: shared sorrow is half sorrow or whatever !!

↳ del.lanie: yeah but this isn’t even sorrow this is just like. stupid

j.enna: if you told me twenty minutes ago i was going to see lanie frantically clarifying she *is* queer i would’ve laughed in your face

↳ del.lanie: *the most obviously pansexual girl you’ve seen in your life* “but is she gay though?????”

wendellmorris: bold of them to assume i was joking about lanie’s marketing techniques

↳ skysthelimit: “““““marketing”””””

—

Order Up: These Video Tapes are Hot to Go!

July 26, 2024

written by Marie Vienna

With streaming services constantly on the rise and the internet at our fingertips, stores like Blockbuster have more or less fallen to the wayside. One of these video stores, however, has recently come into the spotlight — and not for the reason you might expect.

Russell’s Video World, located in Lake Elsinore, California, is one of the few video stores remaining in the United States. It briefly blew up on the news after its management switch last month, its previous owner now in jail after being arrested for embezzling funds from the company and blaming it on his own employee. This landed the company a small cult following on the internet, with people deeply invested in the follow up, and their newfound social media presence was surely an added bonus. However, the store has found itself going viral once more for an entirely different reason.

On July 21st, 2024, a few eagle eyed fans noticed the store’s Instagram account posting a song on their notes. While this might not traditionally be much of an upset — brands always like to keep up with the trends, after all — they noted that Chappell Roan’s hit HOT TO GO! is not… usually the kind of thing a company might post. Hours later, social media manager Lanie Woodward posted on the store’s Instagram story, clarifying that posting the song was a mistake — and, incidentally, it was meant for her main account as a flirting technique.

[ screenshot of the story post ]

Woodward’s revival of the video store’s social media pages has been revolutionary for the company, her snark and humor mixed with her obvious, though reluctant, care for her job drawing fans in even from outside the city. She’s mostly known for her humorous interactions with commenters, especially her own coworkers. And, as a matter of fact, commenters have speculated about the nature of Woodward’s relationships with her coworkers — namely Wendell Morris and Steven Skyler, both of whom Woodward has posted with multiple times. Morris even added onto the initial post, joking that Woodward should “rationalize” posting more of Roan’s music on the store’s Instagram.

Most of this speculation has centered around which of Woodward’s friends she was referring to in her initial post, but, as some commenters have pointed out, she’d used the word crushes, as in plural. Perhaps there’s something going on behind the scenes we’re not privy to.

While the true nature of the post is, really, none of our business, it has created quite a stir on social media — a TikTok posted by Woodward on July 23rd about the matter gained five million views in no time at all. We just hope that, if nothing else, all ends well for the couple — or, possibly, the trio.

Have something to say? Our comment section is always open!

—

[ muscle man gender envy ]

sky’s the limit:

wendell thee morris:

sky’s the limit:

what’s it like being famous?

everything you’d dreamed of?

wendell thee morris:

shouldn’t you be asking lanie??

sky’s the limit:

…okay so i might be afraid of doing that

and i don’t know how to bring it up without being like “oh btw i know i already have a bf but i’m also desperately in love with you!!!”

yknow

like i don’t think she’d hate me? but i don’t want things to be weird

wendell thee morris:

okay. good news i think she’s incapable of hating you

unless something changed in the past month

which. a lot of things did actually

but you know what i mean

sky’s the limit:

yeah

but also wdym she’s incapable??

wendell thee morris:

well. uh

okay so you didn’t hear it from me

but um. pre-nsbu we used to… commiserate about our crushes

crush. i guess

on you

um. so idk if that’s changed for her but i don’t think so

sky’s the limit:

well. that’s

cute!

but also deeply confusing now

wendell thee morris:

yeah. sorry

❤️ ?

sky’s the limit:

💕 !!

—

russellsvideoworld just posted!

video description: lanie sits at the checkout counter of the store. she grins, saying “I hope she plays HOT TO GO!” as the words show up on the screen as well. the camera cuts to steven, an eighteen year old boy with medium length black hair and pale skin, wearing a white zip up jacket. he tries to fight off a laugh as he says “This is the grand reopening of Russell’s Video Word.” the camera then cuts to the front doors of the video store, where a line of people can be seen. hot to go does, in fact, play faintly in the background. the caption of the post itself reads “reposting for. uh. reasons!”

comments:

stxrfrxit: hot to go always at the scene of the crime… i know what you are

↳ del.lanie: i don’t even know you but you are the only person i trust around here

skysthelimit: untranses my gender so people stop calling lanie straight

↳ del.lanie: LMAO NO

↳ j.enna: when will the rumors end…

—

[ very serious work chat ]

bowling alley carpet:

gang how do i get the world to stop assuming i’m straight

like i *would* be incredibly passive aggressive and post a photo of me like. idk making out with a girl or something

but i don’t have one of those

sky’s the limit:

a girl?

wendell thee morris:

the photo?

everything is you:

the ability to make out with a girl?

bowling alley carpet:

all of the above

WAIT NO HANG ON

i have so much game you don’t even know

you’re just jealous you don’t understand my ways

everything is you:

the ways of posting chappell roan songs on the video store’s instagram by accident?

wendell thee morris:

okay genuine question

was it actually an accident

or was it some publicity stunt

bowling alley carpet:

no unfortunately i am actually that much of a dumbass

i’ve been trying to sort out the algorithm on the store’s explore page and apparently i did not switch off after i last did that

and then i was like “oh boy 1pm time for my daily really bad flirting!!”

but it went worse than even i could’ve anticipated

rust:

At least we’re getting business out of it!

bowling alley carpet:

yeah and they’re getting in MY business

do you guys think they’d count it as self defense if i stabbed someone after being asked for the five thousandth time if im straight

i think it’d be warranted atp

sky’s the limit:

i’ll help you hide the body!

bowling alley carpet:

love the enthusiasm!

mildly concerned but i still appreciate it!

[ muscle man gender envy ]

sky’s the limit:

that was too eager wasn’t it

wendell thee morris:

possibly

i think she’s also seen you murder several people before

so. not a dealbreaker necessarily

yknow. speaking from experience and all that

sky’s the limit:

yeah?

i’ll uh. keep that in mind

wendell thee morris:

yeah

good idea

[ how to lose a guy in ten days ]

wendell thee morris:

okay so i realize you are the worst person to ask

but also. what the fuck

[ IMG.098 ]

bowling alley carpet:

i feel like i should be offended but truly i don’t have the energy

?? am i allowed to ask what isn’t a dealbreaker or

wendell thee morris:

um. no…?

i didn’t realize that was there honestly

bowling alley carpet:

bro you cropped the image…

anyway idk what you want my advice on

or why you want my advice actually

like i know i was the only person to watch you guys kiss. or not kiss. several times actually

but y’all are dating??

i do not have special insider information here

wendell thee morris:

anyone ever tell you you’re the most obnoxious texter ever

bowling alley carpet:

why is THAT what you’re taking away from this conversation

anyway idk man just make out or whatever?? ur allowed to do that

wendell thee morris:

…honestly i don’t know what i expected

bowling alley carpet:

look man i've never actually been in a relationship

wendell thee morris:

what

bowling alley carpet:

so like. ur already multiple steps ahead of me

yeah?? this is like. common knowledge i fear

tbf i've also never done anything to change that fact so. that’s on me tbh!

wendell thee morris:

yet

bowling alley carpet:

what

wendell thee morris:

what

anyway uh thanks lanie!

bowling alley carpet:

…anytime?

[ california girls ]

bowling alley carpet:

jen

jenna

jennifer woodward

hollywood(ward):

did you just make a nickname of my name that’s longer than my actual name

bowling alley carpet:

yeah

i think i'm having an aneurysm???

[ IMG.284 ]

please tell me i’m not making up this conversation

hollywood(ward):

…dang was right you do just need to make out with one of them

bowling alley carpet:

i’m never speaking to any of you ever again

[ muscle man gender envy ]

wendell thee morris:

i am the dumbest person alive

[ IMG.078 ]

sky’s the limit:

…i’ll be over in ten

—

del.lanie just posted to their story!

image description: a close up shot of lanie’s face as she stares deadpan at the camera. the caption, in bright green serif font, reads “why are we so focused on me being straight or not bc i posted chappell roan one (1) time. i posted joyride by kesha once and no one called me a car so like??”

—

skysthelimit just posted!

image description: steven holds the camera, presumably, wearing a dark red t-shirt over a striped long sleeve shirt. his other arm is looped through lanie’s, and he smiles softly. lanie, in a blue zip up hoodie and a black t-shirt, grins at the camera, her free arm slung over wendell’s shoulders as she makes a peace sign. wendell, an eighteen year old boy with dark skin and glasses, wears a black sweatshirt with an indiscernible logo on it, making a matching peace sign and smiling. other assorted photos follow, including one of three cups of frozen yogurt, and one of wendell and lanie fake sword fighting with those inflatable things at the trampoline park, over a foam block pit. the caption reads “my favs 💕”

comments:

del.lanie: do you need a third

↳ del.lanie: wheel! third wheel

del.lanie: i literally love u guys <3

↳ skysthelimit: we will have a beautiful spring wedding

↳ wendellmorris: am i just roadkill in this situation??

↳ skysthelimit: no we’re going to have the first poly wedding in history

↳ del.lanie: i’m like 80% sure that’s not legal but honestly let’s do it baby i know the law

j.enna: god i love seeing lanie wearing shit i have never once seen in her closet

↳ del.lanie: jenna stop being a hater challenge!!!

↳ j.enna: dress for the weather then dork

↳ del.lanie: IT’S FUCKING JULY

wendellmorris: love you <3

↳ skysthelimit: <3

—

[ lanie’s mental breakdown liveblog (not clickbait!) ]

bowling alley carpet:

i think i’m going to lose my mind

like not willingly but it has already started happening

hollywood(ward):

don’t make me tap the sign (the chat name)

everything is you:

i think i need to study your brain

understand what the hell is going on up there

bowling alley carpet:

that’s my secret it’s just fucking hollow

lights on no one’s home

hollywood(ward):

okay but whose jacket is that. genuinely

i have never seen it in my life

bowling alley carpet:

sometimes i do things without you knowing

everything is you:

it’s wendell’s

bowling alley carpet:

i am going to throw myself into the sea

hollywood(ward):

LMFAO

that’s what i figured though. just wanted to check <3

bowling alley carpet:

okay but fr what do we think “we’re going to have the first poly wedding in history” means

hollywood(ward):

that you’re a moron

bowling alley carpet:

WHAT THE HELL

everything is you:

i think it’s a valid follow up to “do you need a third”

which was fucking wild btw. what are you smoking

bowling alley carpet:

unfortunately nothing

i would say that sometimes i just say shit but i did actually debate commenting that for like three minutes

and for some reason i landed on doing so

[ it’s all love now ]

everything is you:

look i’m not one to get involved

sky’s the limit:

you’re literally the one who set wendell n i up at lord’s but go on

everything is you:

…k so i forgot about that

but srsly. one of you needs to talk to lanie for the love of god

and also my sanity. and maybe jenna’s sanity

and lanie’s sanity also tbh i think she’s losing it a little

sky’s the limit:

am i allowed to ask what that means

or…?

everything is you:

yknow?

for some reason i think you already know

sky’s the limit:

ominous!

unfortunately true also

—

@ del.lanie

7 posts • 5298 followers • 34 following

lanie! she/her

social media rep @ russellsvideoworld

now playing: are you bored yet? (feat. clairo) • wallows

—

[ full of BPA ]

wendell thee morris:

lanie

what’s your deal

bowling alley carpet:

hello???

what the hell does that mean

sky’s the limit:

that ur posting sad songs on ur instagram again and it’s concerning

bowling alley carpet:

okay i’m honored you guys are concerned

but truly can a girl not yearn in peace

also wdym again it’s been vaguely horny for the past like. week

sky’s the limit:

yeah and that’s more concerning!!

what did they do!!

wendell thee morris:

i mean it's not really our business

like if you don’t want to talk about it that’s fine

but. if you do…

bowling alley carpet:

…

you guys know i’m demi right?

sky’s the limit:

…yeah?

bowling alley carpet:

cool

just making sure

wendell thee morris:

lanie you gotta start using your words

that means nothing

bowling alley carpet:

you’re both smart

you can figure it out

i believe in you <3

[ muscle man gender envy ]

wendell thee morris:

i’m going to commit a hate crime

i know that’s a bold move but sometimes lanie instills the rage of god in me

sky’s the limit:

…yeah okay

have fun!

—

wendellmorris just posted to their story!

image description: a black iphone covers up part of the shot, but two people are at least partially visible — the side of a pale neck and shoulder, with a few bruises visible, and a dark chin hooked over the shoulder. their faces are cropped out, but we can all use context clues.

—

sorry, this post has been deleted!

—

[ lanie’s mental breakdown liveblog (not clickbait!) ]

hollywood(ward):

just heard lanie scream violently from upstairs which cannot mean anything good for us

y'know del you could make a killing in horror movies

bowling alley carpet:

IM GOIGN TO LOSE MY SHIT JEN

USE YOUR WORDS THIS MOTHERFUCKER SAYS

AND THEN TURNS AROUND AND

FUCKING HELL DUDE

everything is you:

did we miss something

bowling alley carpet:

hey so you can’t see if people screenshot your insta story right

it’s not like snapchat

hollywood(ward):

…jesus christ lanie

i mean no. they can’t see it. but like

lanie

what the hell

bowling alley carpet:

WHY AM I THE WEIRD ONE HERE

should i be petty and post casual

hollywood(ward):

no you should have an actual goddamn conversation with them for once in your life

everything is you:

i still have no fuckin clue what’s going on but like

agreed

bowling alley carpet:

i won’t post it for the sake of u guys and the fact that i am the down bad one here

and also that weirdly feels like an HR violation even though we aren’t at work rn

but just know. wendell is a fucking menace. never let anyone tell you otherwise

and i’m going to kill him

i like him too much he has to die

hollywood(ward):

i think that might be the first time you’ve ever actually admitted your crush on him!

usually you just send minor threats

…oh my god he deleted the story

bowling alley carpet:

i’m

it’s been five minutes????

hollywood(ward):

del

be honest with me

do you have their post notifications on

bowling alley carpet:

no actually i’m just chronically online

i’m not that bad yet

also like… girl what were YOU doing at the devil’s sacrament 👀

hollywood(ward):

right place right time i guess

i did not want to see the post. i have a whole husband lanie

bowling alley carpet:

you cannot start preaching to ME of all people abt monogamy

hollywood(ward):

okay fair

anyway. how did we get from “lanie posts hot to go on the wrong instagram account” to… whatever that story post was

in the span of like… a week and a half

i don’t think i can look either of them in the eye for the next week

bowling alley carpet:

LMFAO that’s my line i think

anyway idk earlier they were questioning my song choices again

which. idk why NOW is when we’re choosing to worry about that. but anyway

like this is not my wildest song choice

hollywood(ward):

…what was the rest of the conversation?

bowling alley carpet:

[ IMG.244 ]

hollywood(ward):

okay yeah

this has nothing to do with your song choices del

everything is you:

dang dude

i didn’t realize they were THAT bad

bowling alley carpet:

YEAH DUDE

i mean. okay yes i could actually say what i mean more often. i am aware of my own flaws

but they’re not stupid!! and i know this!!

they could put the pieces together if they tried!!

AND YET!!!!

everything is you:

okay

so you aren’t gonna like this

i really do think you need to talk to them

and i get it. that shit’s hard

but you’re kinda just making it worse for everyone involved

unless you enjoy whatever psychological warfare bullshit you’ve got goin on rn

bowling alley carpet:

i don’t *enjoy* it it’s just. easier

i’m just

i don’t want to lose them

and i don’t want to be like “hey btw i know you’ve had a thing going on for like months now but i’m deeply in love with both of you if you even care!! which you shouldn’t!!”

hollywood(ward):

you made a whole joke about being their third

steven LITERALLY said you guys would have the first poly wedding in history

del. i love you. you’re my favorite sister in the world

but you’re also a fucking idiot sometimes

bowling alley carpet:

…i’ll think about it

and i’m your only sister dumbass

—

stella! @ stcrfruit

deeply obsessed with the love triangle happening at this video store rn

stella! @ stcrfruit

like i can’t stress enough i have nothing to do w this store. i’m not even in the us. i’m also deeply invested in the outcome of this

monabus @ monaslisas

LITERALLY i’m obsessed w their social media manager

kat :3 @ kittiekatarina

no fr like i didn’t have “random video store going viral bc their employees are in love or whatever” on my 2024 bingo card but honestly?? loving it

holding out for a hero @ kizunamusicz

i cannot tell if it’s a publicity stunt or not but god i hope not bc this is the most fun i've had on the internet in a while

monabus @ monaslisas

nah have you seen her personal acc? i think homegirl is genuinely going through it

kat :3 @ kittiekatarina

im p sure the two guys are dating so like. yeah i’d also be going through it tbh!

monabus @ monaslisas

NOOOOO WHAT

monabus @ monaslisas

I MEAN GOOD FOR THEM LMFAO i just feel bad for her ://

gorgeous girls drink gasoline @ delanie

yeah me too girl. me too

—

del.lanie just posted!

image description: a selfie taken from a higher angle, but not unflattering. lanie, in a cropped black tank top and denim shorts, looks up at the camera with the slightest of smirks. the caption reads “call me hot not pretty”

comments:

wendellmorris: okay bet

↳ del.lanie: do it you won’t!!

skysthelimit: pick me!! choose me!!

↳ del.lanie: always 💛

j.enna: i love that you know one song ever

↳ del.lanie: look i accidentally cultivated the brand the least i can do is stick to it

—

[ muscle man gender envy ]

sky’s the limit:

i think ,, i’m dead?

i think i died?

i think maybe this is heaven?

wendell thee morris:

i’m glad one of us can make words rn

bc i think im dissociating

sky’s the limit:

i mean. barely

i think,, maybe we should talk

oh wait nvm you have that family thing today right?

wendell thee morris:

yeah ://

i can try to get out of it though

you and lanie should definitely talk. at least

i don’t necessarily have to be there

sky’s the limit:

you sure?

i feel like that kind of defeats the purpose lol

wendell thee morris:

i mean. one of us has to do something eventually

well. i guess we don’t?? historically speaking

but we should

probably

sky’s the limit:

lol you don’t think the passive aggressive photos you guys have been posting back and forth are the best way to go about this?

…you are sure about this right

like i know this has kind of always been A Thing but also you’re my boyfriend

which i think is a little more important in this scenario

wendell thee morris:

hey

steven

sky’s the limit:

hi :)

wendell thee morris:

i love you

go kiss a pretty girl

sky’s the limit:

LMAO okay

love u too <3

[ royal flush ]

sky’s the limit:

lanie

bowling alley carpet:

sky’s the limit:

do you want to come over?

it’s been a while since we hung out :(

bowling alley carpet:

it’s been like four days lol

miss me that much?

sky’s the limit:

always :)

bowling alley carpet:

yeah i can be there in

so i don’t have a car

or a license actually

sky’s the limit:

lol i’ll be over in ten

bowling alley carpet:

mkay!!

[ lanie’s mental breakdown liveblog (not clickbait!) ]

bowling alley carpet:

i am so stupid

i should win dumbest bitch alive award

hollywood(ward):

okay slow down hon

what happened

bowling alley carpet:

[ IMG.296 ]

how the fuck am i supposed to function normally

like he’s like “let’s hang out!! :)” and i'm like “okay!! i’ll just ignore the overwhelming urge to kiss you the entire time i guess!!!!”

everything is you:

or don’t

just go for it

bowling alley carpet:

so are we just ignoring the part where he has a bf already or…

everything is you:

yeah dude

a bf who is also painfully into u

hollywood(ward):

look i spend about ten minutes a week with either of them

and that’s when i feel like it

so maybe i’m not immensely qualified to talk on this

but they’re pretty damn obvious

everything is you:

steven doesn’t even work @ the store anymore and he still splits his time there between you n wendell

yknow. his actual boyfriend

bowling alley carpet:

okay okay i get it

i will. maybe not ignore the urge to kiss him?

hollywood(ward):

good enough!

bowling alley carpet:

if this goes horribly wrong i’m blaming you

hollywood(ward):

yeah yeah i'll take you for the good ice cream downtown

bowling alley carpet:

oh FUCK yeah dude

wait. but i don’t want it to go bad

hollywood(ward):

well

we’ll see

bowling alley carpet:

okay anyway he’s in the driveway so i will update you all later!!

no news is good news though

probably

—

[ california girls ]

bowling alley carpet:

hey

jen

what it mean when cute boy lay on you and play with ur hair

hollywood(ward):

jesus fucking christ lanie just kiss him already

bowling alley carpet:

OKAY GODDAMN

—

Lanie sets her phone on the armrest with a groan, even though she isn’t really that upset with Jenna, just upholding her brand of being unnecessarily dramatic in the least important situations. She’ll save her energy for the serious conversations.

Steven picks his head up off her shoulder, gives her an amused yet concerned look. “You okay?”

“Jenna wants me dead,” she says, throwing her head back against the couch and grinning when she hears him laugh.

It’s a good laugh. She wasn’t lying in Lord’s when she said he was pretty.

God, she needs to get a grip before she starts ruining her closest friendships.

When she looks back, there’s still a ghost of a smile on Steven’s face, but he looks anxious, and she realizes he’s tense where their shoulders are pressed together. She means to ask him if he’s okay, but he bites his lip and she suddenly forgets how to form coherent thoughts.

“Hey, Lanie?” he says eventually, not meeting her eye. She hums in acknowledgment. “You remember the Amazon, right?”

She does, in fact, remember the Amazon. Very clearly, actually, despite the absolute insanity that followed, which she’s tried and failed to pick apart and make any sense of. But the Amazon itself — yeah, it’s in there clear as day. She remembers Steven running, and wanting to follow but knowing she might be one of the worst people to do so, and trying to talk Wendell out of his self depreciation and immediately failing, and watching the two of them kiss for real this time, and singing jaguars and old men maybe sort of coming back to life and eating dirt and suiting up.

She remembers overhearing I meant it with you and trying to swallow her jealousy before it burst.

“Unfortunately,” she says, because that’s easier, and the smile on her face does not match how she feels. “Which part?”

Steven swallows, and Lanie is suddenly hyper aware of the fact that this is not going to be a normal conversation. He looks up at her, dark eyes wide, and she forces herself not to reach out for him. It’s one of the more difficult things she’s done.

“I— I know I kissed Wendell,” he says, which is not what she’s expecting. “And, like, obviously I don’t regret that. That would be weird. But…”

He turns so he’s sitting sideways on the couch, and Lanie follows because she doesn’t know what else to do, because she’s a planet in his orbit and she’s never been able to pull away. Her heart is in her throat and it’s threatening to burst out. He grabs her hand and she thinks she might combust.

“I regret not kissing you,” he says, and it comes out in a rush she’s only barely able to understand. “And I know you’d said not right now, and that’s—“

“It was stupid,” Lanie interrupts, because it was, and she wants to hit her head against the wall every time she thinks about it. “The— I wanted to. But it was a whole… thing.”

It sounds like an excuse, and in many ways it is one. She didn’t want to undo the entire conversation she’d just had with Wendell. She didn’t want to test how much control their action movie personas had over them. She wanted to kill her fucking boss.

She looks away, which is impressive because she’s never been able to before, picks at a loose thread on her jacket sleeve. “I didn’t want to kiss you for the first time in the body of a lesbian in the middle of the jungle,” she says, which is also the truth.

No response. She looks up to find Steven staring at her, wide eyed and flushed, lips forming an o shape she can’t possibly be normal about. She’s used to getting a reaction out of people — some might say that’s her entire brand. She’s decidedly less used to wanting that reaction to mean something.

“Oh,” he says, barely above a whisper. “Um. Okay. So you—”

Lanie takes a breath, cannonballs into the deep end. “I’ve been a little bit in love with you since you started at the video store.”

Lanie Woodward is many things. A flirt. A walking HR nightmare, according to her coworkers (which is fucking bold, by the way, she’s seen them). The lowkey viral social media manager for her job. Deeply, incredibly obvious about her crushes on her best friends.

Genuine is not one of them. Not usually, at least. Honesty fucking terrifies her, because she’s been lonely her entire life and she doesn’t think she can stand rejection from the people who looked right through her and chose to stay with her anyway.

She takes in the look on Steven’s face and realizes she’s never said any of that out loud before. Right. Okay. That’s cool, she’s just got to pick up the pieces now, put them back together with hot glue and sheer willpower.

“You don’t have to, like, do anything about that,” she clarifies. “I just… you should know. At this point. I can back off, if you want—”

She doesn’t get to finish, because Steven apparently has one move for getting people to stop talking, and she wasn’t really expecting that to ever be an issue for her, but there’s a hand on her face and lips on hers and she’s suddenly incredibly aware of the fact she’s never kissed anyone before.

He pulls away all too soon, and she presses her tongue to the roof of her mouth to prevent any sort of sound she might make at that. “Sorry,” he apologizes, for some fucking reason, like Lanie hasn’t dreamed of this since sometime in high school. “That was— I really like you, too. But I never knew how much of what you said was real, and I didn’t want to assume, so…”

Lanie reaches up, brushes his hair out of his face like she’s always wanted to. “With you?” she asks, and her voice comes out hoarser than she expects. “All of it.”

Steven blinks, grins. “Okay,” he says, somewhere between hopeful and eager and something she can’t quite place. “Okay. Well.”

This is stupid, Lanie decides, and grabs the collar of his shirt to pull him down to her again.

The first kiss was pretty much nothing, in all honesty. Just the pressing of lips against lips — which is, if you’re to get technical, the legal definition of a kiss. Lanie does not have time for definitions, though, and this is immediately not just that, anyway. She falls back against the couch, hands tangled in Steven’s hair as he follows her down, his arms resting on either side of her head as he props himself up. She feels like she should be overwhelmed. Her brain kind of isn’t in her body enough to worry about that.

His teeth graze her bottom lip, tongue poking out hesitantly, and she immediately, hungrily lets him in, because she doesn’t know what she’s doing, because she wants. And it’s selfish, and stupid, and a million other things she’s tried and failed not to be over the span of the past few months fading into years, but here and now she can’t find a single reason to stop herself.

It takes most of her willpower to keep from making a sound, even though she doesn’t know why she’s so worried about that, not when she’s never had to worry about him making fun of her, not for real. It’s a pride thing, mostly, she thinks — she’s used to being the suave one, the cool and collected one even when she doesn’t really feel it. She’s a little tired of it.

Lanie’s always run warm, which is convenient when everyone around her always seems to be freezing. This isn’t necessarily an issue, but it does mean she jolts when Steven’s alarmingly cold hands slip under her shirt, and he pulls back for a second to whisper out an apology before moving down to kiss her neck. She gives up on any pretense of being cool, even if the whine she lets out is still deeply embarrassing. He doesn’t comment on it, just grins against what’s surely going to be a bruise later, and she can’t even be upset.

Or, well, she could, but most of her brain cells aren’t really working right now, so. Maybe later. Probably not, though.

He tugs at her shirt, and she pushes the both of them upright, miraculously, to give him better access. It takes some fumbling — which might be her own fault, but they’ll deal with that later — but eventually her shirt ends up… somewhere. They can deal with that later, too.

“Is this okay?” Steven asks, scanning her face.

Lanie bites back the urge to mention that it might be a little late for that, because she knows if she even hinted that she was uncomfortable they’d stop. “Yeah,” she says instead, and it comes out breathless but she doesn’t care because she’s wanted this for months. “Your parents are, like, out out, right?”

He stares at her. “That’s your issue?”

“I mean, I don’t really want their first impression of me to be that girl their son’s making out with on their couch even though he currently has a boyfriend,” she says, face flushing impossibly redder. “So. A little?”

He still just… looks at her, and she might be uncomfortable if it were anyone else, but all she can think is that she hopes he finds something in there he likes. It’s very dramatic, all things considered. Things such as her being shirtless on his couch and him being half in her lap.

“You really are pretty,” he says eventually, like this is a normal thing to say out of nowhere.

She’s so unprepared for it that she can’t quite stop the strangled cough that makes its way out of her mouth. He laughs, soft and gorgeous, and she melts.

This is also a deeply unbalanced situation, so she leans forward to kiss him again, twists her fingers in the hem of his shirt. Her tongue presses against his mouth, and he makes a surprised sound that turns into something satisfied, and she drinks it in with a grin. It’s intoxicating.

She’s in the middle of pulling his shirt off when someone’s phone buzzes. It’s too far away to be hers, but it can’t be anything important, so they ignore it. Except it buzzes again, and Steven reluctantly pulls away — though not out of Lanie’s grip, she notices with a giddy spark in her chest — to pat around the couch for it. She assumes, perhaps wrongly, that he’s going to turn it off, and while it looks like it for a second, he just laughs and shakes his head.

“It’s just Wendell,” he says, and he doesn’t sound concerned, but something electric and terrifying shoots up her spine.

“Right,” she says carefully. “And he’s, like… cool with this? I’m not the mistress here?”

It might be the wrong thing to say, if only for the immediately concerned look Steven gives her. “What? Holy shit, Lanie, no, this is— he has a family thing later, otherwise he’d have been here.”

Relief spreads through her, cool and soothing, and she relaxes even though she didn’t know she was tense. “Okay. Cool. Just… checking.” They sit there for a moment. “You planning on texting him back?”

“Oh! I, uh.” Steven flushes. “I didn’t know— you’re right here— I mean—”

Lanie leans forward, kisses the corner of his mouth. “Text your boyfriend back, dork. I’m here as long as you want me.”

She hooks her chin over his shoulder and pretends not to hear the way he mumbles forever.

—

[ muscle man gender envy ]

wendell thee morris:

so uh

how’s it going

sky’s the limit:

well

i’m with lanie rn so. pretty good!

wendell thee morris:

yeah i know?

…wait

OH FUCK WAIT IM SORRY

GO DO YOUR THING

sky’s the limit:

well lanie says you’ve already ruined the moment

[ IMG.092 ]

> image description: a selfie, cropped just enough. steven grins at the camera, white t-shirt rumpled. lanie leans against his shoulder, a lazy grin on her face. there are faint, scattered bruises on her neck.

wendell thee morris:

holy shit

brb changing my lock screen

sky’s the limit:

lanie just shouted no

i think my eardrum exploded

DUDE OH MY GOD sorry just. don’t be that guy

wendell thee morris:

hi lanie

what could that possibly mean

sky’s the limit is calling…

—

At least Steven waits for the call to connect before he gets up, Lanie thinks. It isn’t enough to stop her glare, but her glare isn’t worth much right now anyway, bright and giddy as she feels. He just kisses her cheek, grins, and walks off across the room. She feels like she should be offended. She doesn’t think she physically can right now.

The call connects with a click, but she’s pretty sure the real sound that signifies it is Wendell choking to death on absolutely nothing.

“Holy shit,” he says, and then looks embarrassed enough she thinks it’s a reflex. “I mean— oh God, hang on—”

While she would usually love to watch him flounder, she can’t help but laugh, loud enough that it ends up stopping him anyway as he stares at her in wonder. “You’re fine, Wen. I’m flattered, really.”

“Yeah, but you’re, like…” he flaps his hand vaguely, which tells her nothing, “a person. And I don’t— I don’t want to be… weird.”

Secretly, she thinks most of their situation could be labelled weird. She doesn’t say that, though, instead tilting her head with a smirk. “Romance is alive.”

—

[ very serious work chat ]

bowling alley carpet:

scale of one to ten how offended would you be if someone told you “i know you’re like… a person”

wendell thee morris:

scale of one to ten how much would you care if i killed lanie

bowling alley carpet:

wowwwww double standard

wendell thee morris:

we are actively on facetime rn

everything is you:

like a solid 3 and 8

what the hell are you two talking about

wendell thee morris:

lanie’s a goddamn menace

bowling alley carpet:

oh yeah I’M the menace in this situation

(“What happened to ‘use your words’?” she mutters.

The camera’s pointed at the ceiling now as she clicks out her messages on her own phone. Wendell just laughs.)

everything is you:

…hang on

holy shit

rust:

Am I missing something??

everything is you:

i mean nothing that isn’t already obvious

bowling alley carpet:

yeah

it’s called steven’s looking for my shirt while wendell acts like he’s never seen a girl in his life

everything is you:

…dang

jenna’s gonna be pissed you didn’t tell her first

rust:

Lanie this is why you’re our HR’s nightmare

bowling alley carpet:

there are five of us in this chat and one of them doesn’t even work here anymore

i think we crossed the coworkers line about the time we all got sucked into an action movie via alien tech

wendell thee morris:

there are definitely more than five of us in this chat

bowling alley carpet:

ugh fine

there are five of us in this chat who actually know how to USE said chat

is that better?

wendell thee morris:

yeah :)

—

“You are so fucking lucky I love you,” Lanie threatens, picking Steven’s phone back up to glare uselessly at Wendell.

He makes another strangled sort of sound, which is kind of strange because she was fairly certain he’d become more confident after the whole movie thing, but it’s cute even if she’s a little afraid to admit that aloud, so she doesn’t say anything about it. She smiles, a little more genuine than her usual smirk, because she’s kind of tired and doesn’t really have the energy to pretend like she doesn’t care. Which sounds counterintuitive, but she’s put work into this facade. It just… doesn’t mean much anymore.

“You…” Wendell starts and doesn’t finish, like he’s afraid of the answer.

Lanie laughs, and it would sound mocking to anyone else, but there’s a fondness only she could muster. “I’ve told you that before, dork.” He deflates, and she sighs. “I’m not confessing to you over fucking FaceTime, Wendell.”

His gaze snaps up, shocked and maybe a little flustered. ”Right,” he says like he’s trying to convince himself. “Okay. Yeah. That’s… smart.”

It truly might be the only intelligent thing any of them have done regarding each other — between Lord’s and the Amazon and whatever the hell happened at their not-actually-closing work party, they’ve all gone about this very stupidly. It’s so deeply on brand, though, that she can’t really be upset.

She starts to tell her story, once she finally remembers there was a point to this conversation, and doesn’t consider how long Steven’s been out of the room compared to how long it should take to find a shirt. It can’t have gone that far. The house really isn’t that big. She only gets a sliver of the way through, though, before she looks back at the camera and realizes Wendell has not been paying attention to a single word she’s said.

“Wen,” she says, not quite accusatory, because that would imply she’s upset about part of this, but definitely sharper than usual. He looks up at her like a startled cat, and she softens. “You there, bud?”

“I— fuck.” He buries his face in his hands with a groan. “I’m sorry, really, I don’t mean to… be a creep or whatever, I just— you’re… there, and that’s not an excuse but—”

“I saved your story yesterday,” she blurts out, and she doesn’t mean to say it, and she regrets it immediately, but it shuts him up all the same. “The, uh. The one of you and Steven. I assume. That you deleted after, like, five minutes.”

Great. Someone get her a shovel so she can just keep digging her own goddamn grave. This was so much easier when she was drunk and didn’t know what the hell she was saying.

She watches the cogs turn in his brain as he processes that, hoping he doesn’t think she’s a freak.

“Oh,” he eventually says, which is maybe the least helpful response. “Okay. Like— okay. Just… because?”

“Because I’m stupid and I panicked and also am deeply attracted to both of you, yeah,” she says, dry as possible in hopes it’ll hide the weight of her feelings.

Something hits the side of her face, and she’s never been more grateful for someone throwing a shirt at her before now. Steven sits down beside her, plucks his phone out of her hand as she slips on the shirt. It gives her time to sort out her feelings, at least somewhat, because she thinks she might start hyperventilating soon.

It’s not until she has the shirt fully on that she realizes it is not, in fact, hers. She stares at the fabric for a moment, then up at Steven.

“This isn’t my shirt,” she says, perhaps redundantly. “I don’t even think this is your shirt.”

He grins, and it’s almost enough to take her attention away from the fact she does recognize the shirt he’s wearing — because she’d taken it from her own closet hours ago. There’s something slightly possessive about the whole thing. It lights a spark in her chest, bright and burning.

“Is that where that went?” Wendell asks. “God. You’re all terrible.”

“You love us,” Steven chirps, and Lanie leans back against his shoulder.

Wendell looks literally everywhere except the two of them. “That’s… not important.”

There’s something layered in there, something too heavy for three in the afternoon, so Lanie watches Steven laugh and shifts against him. “Okay,” she says, “can I actually tell my story now?”

They settle in, and they listen, and she tells her story, because junior year she’d found a phone in her APUSH class, went to check the lock screen for any indication of whose it was, and came face to face with a shirtless Cassie Langstrom, who she wasn’t aware even had a boyfriend. And then Ms. Garcia had made her figure out whose phone it actually was, which meant she had to puzzle out who in the entirety of their high school could have been the girl’s boyfriend.

It was some senior, by the way. He was a fucking creep.

At the moment, though, Lanie doesn’t think about the implications of the story. She focuses on her boys, and their laughter, and the softness in Wendell’s eyes and the way Steven’s arm wraps around her waist without any sort of expectation. She lets herself be, allows herself to love, and basks in the knowledge that she’s loved in return.

—

wendellmorris just posted to their story!

image description: wendell, on the right side of the image, holds the camera, grinning. lanie is asleep on his shoulder, and steven is asleep on her chest, her arm wrapped around him. the caption, in blue arial font, reads “worst movie night ever”

skysthelimit just posted to their story!

image description: a screenshot of the previous story, shrunken down. an added caption, in pink arial font, reads “love u 💕”

del.lanie just posted to their story!

image description: a screenshot of the original story, shrunken down. an added caption, in green serif font, reads “love does win guys!”

—

russellsvideoworld just posted!

image description: a photo of the employees of russell’s video world… and steven, in front of the store. russell, on the leftmost side of the image, stands like he’s trying and failing to strike a trendy pose. it shouldn’t be working for him like it is. wendell stands next to him, a little awkward, holding hands with steven, who looks as casual as if he never left. lanie has an arm around his shoulders and her other around dang’s, who holds up a peace sign. paula and usha, on the far right side, stand like they’re in a family photo. everyone is, to an extent, smiling.

video description: someone shakily holds the camera, bringing it up to see lanie’s face. she grins as usual, flashes a peace sign as if on instinct. it drops as she realizes what’s playing — HOT TO GO!, because of course it is. “can i have one day to myself?!” she shouts, stomping off to presumably find the source of the music. steven’s laughter can be heard behind the camera.

the caption of the post reads “thank you everyone for all the support recently! remember, we’re always hot to go here at russell’s video world ;)”

comments:

del.lanie: the caption wasn’t endorsed by russell but tbh what is here

j.enna: WE BROUGHT IT BACK FOLKS

↳ del.lanie: and the world had no faith in me smh

stxrfrxit: i feel like a proud parent??

↳ kittykatarina: so real those are my parents (i am the same age as them)

↳ monaabus: yall see the stories the other day??

↳ stxrfrxit: dms !!

russellfeeld2: Thanks for all your work, Lanie!

↳ del.lanie: yeah ofc! i’ll try to get the entirety of instagram deeply invested in my love life more often

skysthelimit: <3

↳ wendellmorris: <3

↳ del.lanie: <3

—

@ del.lanie

8 posts • 5437 followers • 34 following

lanie! she/her

social media rep @ russellsvideoworld

now playing: love song • beach bunny

#the formatting on this is both the most fun and most annoying thing i’ve ever done in my goddamn life #if nothing else please appreciate that #this is possibly more embarrassing than the last one #nonetheless we ball #reese’s fics #reese’s ocs #lanie woodward #sky full of stars #who said that

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carolmunson · 1 year ago

Text

you get me closer to god | kas!eddie (dark)

entry for my fall frenzy requests. this request comes in from @edsforehead: 'something with kas!eddie in a graveyard.'

a/n: y'all, i don't know. i kind of snapped with this one. sort of canon compliant. inspired by a post that i saw that said that after vampires feed they have an insatiable desire to breed afterwards. steve also makes an appearance cause i love him.

tw: 18+ MDNI, dub-con, dub-con, dub-con (reader does get into it). use of hypnosis, coercion. blood play, blood drinking, biting. very obvious power dynamics at play here. death of minor character mentioned. p in v smut, rough and sensual. oral (f-recieving), monster-type-fucking. mild chasing trope. some religious elements if you squint??? anyway i listened to closer by nine inch nails on a loop for this if you wanna know the general vibe. let me know if there is anything i missed and need to put on here!

October 31st, 1998

Your niece had a better haul than you ever did at this age, it seemed like every house on the fancy side of Hawkins was giving out full size candy bars. No one ever gave you full size candy bars. The Harrington's had outdone themselves this year, hoards of kids picking out wrapped caramel apples and passing out spiked cider to the parents. Humming and smiling while the adults hugged their parkas to their chests, kids running up and down the stairs of the cul de sac of Hawkins Mansions. Decorated to the nines -- you were happy that most of the street would tire her and all of her friends out. "Auntie!" she calls out, hurrying over to you while her pink and purple puffer coat swishes with her. Alycia glitters against the lights of the houses in the dark of the night, the red sequins on her leotard making her easy to find. Your sister-in-law made her a headband fitted with red horns with a pointed tail sewn into the back of the red tu-tu from her Spring recital to match. A Dancing Devil she called it -- for newly six, she was a pretty creative little bug.

"Auntie look," she yells, running into your legs. The spiked cider sloshes in your cup that you hold high over her head so it doesn't spill onto her. She holds up a decorated caramel apple covered in eyeballs made out of sugar.

"Gross, Leesh," you giggle, "It's got eyeballs all over it!"

"They're fake eyeballs, Auntie," she explains like you're stupid, "They're not real eyeballs."

"Oh, thank you for telling me. I didn't know," you giggle, catching Steve watching the two of you chat. Your cheeks burn, that crush from when you were fourteen and he spent the summer working at the mall never fully fading. He's married with four kids now so you should probably get over it. "How're things?" he asks from the curb, coming over to sneak Alycia a couple of Reese's cups. "They're good," you shake your head with a shrug, "They're fine. Out here with the rugrat while her mom's at work." "How's the family, your mom?" he presses, arms crossing over his broad chest that stretch the sleeves of his tan workwear jacket.

"She's doin' okay," you smile tightly, "Always a little hard for her this time of year."

"Five years now, isn't it?"

"To the day," you say with a lilt, "Gonna go visit him after I drop her with her grandparents. My dad'll be so thrilled to steal half her stash."

Your laugh is a little hollow when he squeezes your shoulder comfortingly, he slips a candy bar into your hand, too before saying his goodbyes -- set of twins running around his ankles.

Hawkin's bravest fireman somehow off duty on a night like this turns before you take your niece's hand to leave, "Be careful out there at night. You know it's not always safe."

"You don't believe in all those rumors, do you Harrington?" you laugh.

"Don't have to believe them or not," he says seriously, pushing his wire rims up his nose, "I know they're not rumors."

"Happy Halloween, Steve," you say dully, "Goodnight." You both wave, Alycia's little hand in yours while she rattles off a million words a minute about the skeloton outside of the Sinclair house. The moon glows down over the street, dark clouds slicing it like a broken plate.

You rarely visit your brother on the day of, especially since there's always idiot teenagers running around the place. Not exactly easy to mourn when some loser in a Scream mask keeps trying to scare you.

It was quiet, your Docs crunching on mid-fall frosty grass -- some of it already half dead with the season. Commotion from the town in the distance had dulled into mostly nothing now that the kids had turned in for the night. Families turning their porch lights out, settling in for scary movies and sugar highs.

You squeeze the bouquet of baby's breath and eucalyptus a little hard in your hands when you walk through the tombstones. The low lamps along the walk way casting the grass and asphalt in a looming orangey glow -- not offering much light beyond their posts. The moon does the work, still looking shattered amongst the thin gray clouds sliding through the sky.

You hear some giggling, the rustle of leaves, the snap of twigs. Always an outlier of kids doing spells or a Ouija board out here this time of year -- old Chief Hopper coming down to make them scatter and take their weed. You walk off the path when you get a decent way in, crossing away from where the cemetary mostly turns to forest. Four 'Happy Birthday To Yous' into the brush and then a left, two head stones, then a right -- it's the third headstone on the fourth row. No light to shine down on you this time, just whatever's left in the sky. You take your big yellow scarf off from around your neck to lay over the grave, giving yourself a place to sit so your spandex covered thighs didn't have to touch the grass. Your mom would kill you if you got grass stains on the red trench she let you borrow -- a makeshift Carmen Sandiego costume if anyone asked.

You sit, laying the bouquet right at the granite edge, tracing his name before letting your hand drop. You don't say anything for a while, letting the cool wet air run over you in waves. You wonder if the wind blowing is him saying hey.

A few cemetery patrons come by, pay their respects to their loved ones and leave. Some superstitious, some religious. They fade out after a while. The loneliness is comforting, just you and your brother hanging out together like before. Despite being six years apart, it felt like you both always had some weird wonder twin telepathy. He was never really one for a lot of words.

"Didn't that guy tell you not to come around here so late?"

You jump at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, turning around to see an even more unfamiliar person. Wild curly waves messy around his face, cut in 80s shag perfection. His face chiseled, jawline pronounced with soft stubble, soaked in fake blood. It trails down his neck and stains the white of the baseball tee underneath a leather jacket; fitted over top with a battle vest that rivaled the metal heads of the 70s.

"Who're you, huh? You following me?" you ask. You swallow nervously, finding solace in seeing a few other cemetary visitors mosying around. The faint giggle of more mischeif causing teenagers in the distance.

"Sorry," he laughs, a warm laugh that meets his eyes, "Didn't mean to scare you. I um, I saw you over by the cul de sac, overheard him say somethin' to you. I was with my little cousin -- dressed like a mermaid, I don't know if you remember."

You think back to Leesh's pal of trick-or-treaters, scanning them in your head to recall a little girl with big brown eyes and a makeshit Ariel costume on under her jean jacket -- covered in patches much like his.

"Yeah," you smile, "I remember. But that didn't answer my question -- are you following me?"

"Nah," he grins, shaking his head, "I'm visiting someone -- this was just a happy accident."

"Oh," you respond quietly, "Who're you visiting if you don't mind me asking."

"My mom," he shrugs, scrunching his nose, "Halloween was her favorite holiday so I always try to come say hi."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you offer in condolences, "Did you um -- did you grow up here? I feel like I'd remember you."

"Nope," he sighs, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans while his wallet chain jingles next to his thigh, "Grew up with my uncle."

"Oh, nice," you nod, "Well um --"

"Who're you visiting?" he interrupts, sitting on the gravestone next to your brother's; hardware tinkling prettily as he does.

"Pete," you say, hand out to gesture towards the shiny granite in front of you, "My brother."

"Nice to meet you, Pete," he turns his head, curly hair flouncing over his shoulder, "Pleasure."

You laugh, he laughs with you -- you have to laugh about it or else you'd have to deal with the alternative. You're pretty sure you're all cried out about your brother now.

"What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

"He worked construction," you shrug, "Took an overnight shift five years ago by the quarry, an' it was Halloween so he was workin' by himself -- no one to spot his safety gear. Must've fallen off the rigs or something and since it rained a lot that year the quarry was basically a lake at that point, hit his head and drowned. His body was completely banged up and waterlogged, they could only ID him from his pass in his pocket."

"Shit," he nods, "That's -- that's fuckin' awful. I'm sorry."

You shrug, "Bitch of living, I guess."

"Hm," he nods, "I wouldn't know."

"What do you mean?" you ask with a cocked head, eyes lingering on him while his linger on you. "Don't worry about it," he smirks, the kind that makes your heart flutter; cheeks getting hot at the sound of his voice. "You know something," you start, "With this whole get up -- and you're not from here so you might not know -- you look just like --"

"Eddie Munson?" he asks, with raised brows, "Yeah, my aunt's been telling me that forever. That's why I sorta dressed up like him for Halloween."

"That's dangerous around Hawkins, especially this time of year," you warn him, standing up from your spot and picking up your scarf. You shake it out to get some of the grass of the underside. You hardly notice the way his eyes trail from your shoes over your calves to your thighs.

"Some people say that he went right to hell after that earthquake since he killed that girl," you explain, shrugging the trench off some to fit the scarf on under it, "And now he's a demon that haunts Hawkins and terrorizes the town."

You both laugh, though his drops to a low and guttural hum. Nearly a growl. You lift your head to see him just a foot in front of you now, and you can really look. You can really see him. The paleness in his skin, tendrilled navy veins raising through it as he leans close to you.

At this distance it's clear that the hollowness in his eyes isn't makeup, but the sparkling brown is sunken into his skull. His brows darkened and determined while he looks at you.

At this distance, it's clear that the blood on his jaw is real.

"They're close," he says with a sly smile, "Really should've listened to Harrington, sweetheart."

You swallow hard, icy sweat in a film on your body while he takes a step forward.

"Those rumors are true."

The icy air shreds your throat as you run, heaving it in and out in gasps. Your calves scream, thighs aching while you sprint through the brush of the forest; trench and scarf long forgotton somehwere amongst the trees. You try to ignore the way twigs and branches swipe at your face, slicing you and scratching you with unforgiving whips. You let out a cry while you speed, leaping over roots and piles of leaves all while trying to listen with peak percision. Is he close? Is he getting closer? Can he see you?

You stop behind a log near a dip in the earth, rocks above it. Climbing in you heave, trying to catch your breath -- you aren't really made for this. You don't know how girls in the movies can run that long without needing a break.

With a deep inhale in, you hold, using the quiet to try and hear him but there is nothing to be heard. No rustling, no creaks in the wood or in the wind.

You catch your breath, slowly creeping out of your hiding space while the darkness hones -- trees blocking out some of the moonlight. You take a step and then another, trying to make as little noise as possible.

Your efforts are of no use though -- you stomach turns at the sound. The flap of wings, leathery wings -- big. A shaky breath in gives you the courage to turn your eyes up. On one of the taller branches above you he sits, pale and domineering, "Hi, sweetheart."

You bolt again, depserate and sobbing while the cold air is no longer a hello from your brother but mother nature's cruel bite on your wet cheeks. You can barely take in breaths without pain in your throat and chest, turning left and right and left again to lose him but from above he can predict your every move.

When you hear silence again you take another turn, a mausoleum broken down a short distance away. You crawl your way in, wet earth and cement hitting your nose while you gasp and heave for the second time. You listen for the wings for moment, a few moments -- a calm washing over your back when you're sure he's gone.

You take a step back further into the darkness to be sure you're unseen. Deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth. One, twice, three times.

Another step back and you bump into a pillar making you jump, a screech wrenching from you.

Not a pillar no, not by the way a set of claw bites into your shoulder.

"Would've been a good hiding spot if it wasn't for me finding it first, right?" he quips, "Bummer." "Y-you can't d-do this," you cry, "The r-rumors are true they'll -- they'll look for me! Steve knows about you!"

"Oh, babe, that's so cute," he muses with a giggle, "Why do you think I'm still here, huh? Steve's just like me, he's bitten too."

"B-but--"

"Why do you think he believes in all those rumors, huh baby?" he asks with a lilt, "Cause he's one of 'em. Well -- not all the way, I guess. Not like me."

"He blows my cover he blows his whole operation," he grins, sharp teeth bearing themselves at you, "Why d'you think he only works night shifts?"

"I -- don't -- I don't," you sputter, "Pl-please d-don't bite me, d-don't eat me I -- I'll do whatever."

"You're too funny," he says in your ear, deep and grizzly while you're rooted to the spot under his clutch, "I already ate, sweet girl. But you'll make a fine dessert."

You don't know how you get there but it's not like home -- it is but it isn't -- dark and deadly; covered in slithering vines. You're too petrified to ask; but whatever this place was, despite the spores in the air and the rubble from the walls -- it was much nicer than the trailer he grew up in.

"Shh, shh, shh," he coos, claws deep in your shoulder while he wrenches you to a bed covered in plush linens -- satin and full. In the blur around you it could almost be a movie set; the booms of red lightening, dripping pillar candles in heaps around the room.

You whimper at first when his claws release, hot blood oozing against your sweater. The pain pulses like a dull thud, spit flooding your mouth while you move to your side to wretch but he catches you by the root of your hair. You wail in fear, smelling the decay in his breath, the sweet subtle rot of your surroundings.

"It's not polite to cause a scene in a stranger's home, right princess?" he asks with a soft lilt. He holds your gaze, warmth spreading over you when he smirks again -- and despite your fear, you can't look away. You aren't even sure if you want to look away.

Your body goes slack on the comforter, melting into itself like a dropped marionnette. "Very good," he purrs. Hazy, you feel his hands on you -- losing their warmth while they sneak under the hem of your sweater. The pads of his fingers are soft in comparison to the tips of his nails, grazing your stomach and sternum before reaching up to cup your breasts. He lets out a shallow breath, squeezing the delicate flesh softly in his palms -- so gentle despite his rough demeanor.

His thumbs graze your nipples in slow circles earning him a mewl from your dry throat.

"So easy," he giggles in a whisper. You nearly pout when his hands slide down and away from you; beginning the unhurried removal of your clothing. He moves glacially, eyes remaining on yours, wraiths of whispers in a lanuage you don't understand fluttering in the air around you -- in one ear and out the other. Part of you wants to scream and thrash while he slides off your spandex, rips the seams of your panties, destroys your socks.

His clawed hands shred your sweater, snap your bra at the straps until all your clothes are left in a heap on the dusty floorboards by a forgotten desk. He crawls over you like a predator, undressed himself now: some how bigger, more hulking than before. His shoulders are broad, muscles flexing while skin so white it's nearly blue stretches over it. Whatever is down here has completely infected him, you can see it in the color of the veins beneath his skin, the slight red in his pupils, the dark blue hues under his eyes.

His wings lift high around him in an arched half circle, tips appearing behind him like a hybrid of horns and halo at once.

"Could smell you from here," he leers, "since last night. Christ, fucking drooling over you like a kid."

You whimper again, body jolting in pain when his nails pierce your thighs when he parts them. Fresh ichor spilling from the wounds in deep sanguine and he doesn't seem to care about the mess he's making while it drips onto the sheets. His cavalier manuevering comes off as though he likes to play with his food before he eats it.

"And I don't know what it is, angel, how my senses find the right ones," he rasps while he leans forward to your blood soaked shoulder; serpent tongue slipping out to lave over it, "But you really called to me this year; think you might be the one."

"The o-one wh-what?" you sniffle. His tongue slides over the lacerations on your shoulder again, sucking slightly from the new wounds. He lets out a groan, using free hand to rest on the side of your rib cage for support.

He deatches from the well he drinks from, tip of his nose running over your decollatage and up your neck. In inhales over your jugular, pressing a wet kiss under your jaw before getting to your ear.

"The one I mate with, sweetheart," he breathes, "The one I breed."

Breed? You heart sinks like a stone into your belly, body tensing in a freeze while you think of what to do. How to get out of here.

"Wait," you gasp, arms coming up to push at his chest and push him away, "No, please, wait -- you can't."

You push and push but he's a stone pillar, he barely moves, his muscles barely push inward at your assault. He tuts, the click of his tongue between his teeth almost a chitter. He noses your cheek before looming over you, tips of your noses brushing. He catches your gaze again, the whispers start while the air blows in through the broken window. Obedire domino tuo, obedire domino tuo, obedire domino tuo. His lips aren't moving but you can hear his low voice in your ears, barely there, swirling around in your subconcious while the wind whispers with it. Another flash of red lightning illuminates him in a streak, the rumble of thunder vibrating your belly and chest. His hand floats up from your rib cage while you settle, cupping your cheek to slide down to your jaw and over your neck. The touch is nearly comforting, dipping you back into a haze like before.

"You were saying?" he asks.

"Hm?" your brows pinch, his voice muffled and far away.

"That's what I thought," he says smugly, head dipping back down to your neck where his lips drag over your delicate skin. His breath leaves a patch of wet heat that lingers when he moves down over your chest, fangs peeking out behind his full lips when he drags them over the swell of your left breast.

A gentle gasp escapes you, eyes fluttering closed when the tip of his tongue teases your pert nipple, blowing cool air against it once soaked with his spit. He flicks against it again, alternating sides, presses kisses over them in clear ownership. The more he tasted of you, the more it belonged to him.

With each touch and tease of your tits the more you gasp and whine beneath him, he chuckles from his belly, moving down to your sternum.

"And I died a virgin, can you believe it?" he asks with a cocky lift to one of his brows, "Now all I gotta do is smile and girls like you 'll just fall into bed with me."

There's cotton in your ears, all you can do is nod slowly while blood still leaks from your shoulder and thighs. All you can feel is his mouth and hands travel further and further down. The wind howls and the low chant in the back of your head changes tune but in the same cadence; over and over again: vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis.

He licks a stripe up the back of your thigh to catch a bead of blood before it reaches the mattress, savoring you. He feeds from the gouges he left behind for a moment before inching forward to the apex of your thighs. Eddie inhales your scent deeply, the earthly musk of you making his mouth water in a mix of metal and spit. His nose brushes against the untrimmed hair of your mound, ghosting himself over it drunk with attraction.

Your body heats up with mild embarrassment, flexing while your hips writhe slightly underhim. Almost as if he can hear your thoughts he kisses the crease of your thigh, "Nothing to be embarrassed about, baby. Girls don't let it grow like this anymore n' it's such a shame."

You want to speak up and explain it's just 'cause you haven't had the time but your tongue doesn't know how to move anymore. Too tired to speak, too caught up in how he feels, how he touches, how he takes what he wants. You relent again, body relaxing; pliant while he spreads you apart for him a desperate moan pulling from you when his tongue -- still soaked in your blood -- glides from the pool of slick at your opening all the way up to your clit.

You almost gag at the way your body betrays you, sending a spread of electricity over your nerves from your core to your finger tips. "More," you whisper, not even believing you're begging for him, "Please, more."

Eddie's smug in his response, smiling with his eyes while he looks up at you from between your legs, "And good manners? You spoil me, princess."

Your back arches in a soft curve when your hips push back into the mattress, pressing yourself into his waiting mouth. He groans again when your body drips for him, leaving a damp sheen on his cheeks and chin. It's not about your pleasure despite how much of it he's bringing you, but about your consumption. He's devouring you. Licking his plate clean from the outside in.

The moans he takes from you spur him on, getting you further and further away from the fight you put up before. Spilling over for him like a puddle while you writhe, a hand reaching out to rake through his hair. His own reaches up from aroud your thigh to hold you by the wrist tight to your side.

"Hands to yourself," he murmrs, soft lips wrapping around your swollen clit to suck expertly on the bud. You whimper, tugging at his hold but it only makes his grip more intense, pinning you there without much a fight. Not even enough to distract him from the task at hand.

When his tongue sinks back down into your soaking core you feel it, the heat pulsing through your belly while he lets the muscle dip and swirl in your wetness. Your thighs twitch and shake when his nose bumps your sensitive clit, his free hand coming up to gingerly rub circles over it in tandem.

"Oh my god," you whine, "Oh my god -- K-kas don' -- oh my god, ohmygod." He snickers, contining his movements, murmuring a quiet, "God's not here, baby."

Another roll over your hips sends you reeling, his tongue gliding in long strokes when finally the coil in your belly snaps. You fall apart beneath him, loud moans and high pitched squeals while he consumes you through it. Your body vibrates, thighs clamping down over his ears, blood from the slices in your flesh staining his hair and jaw.

He hums low when you settle, gasping for breath on your already dry and scratchy throat while you come down.

Eddie rises slowly, shoulder blades and wings moving with him while he crawls up your body. Smooth and languid like a snake, his torso hovers above yours while he settles his hips between your thighs. You look up at him, his shape, the way his eyes have blown black, the newfound sharpness in his features. A creature, a monster in your wake — not the same person you saw at the cemetery.

“Oh,” he coos when he sees your eyes glassy and rounded upon him, “So precious.”

You're much weaker now, mind and body, the stings across your skin from the broken branches and his sharpened nails a pain you've become better accquainted with. You take another breath of calm, arms resting by your head with your palms up towards the ceiling. He takes the moment of surrender to hold them down against the bed. The pressure of his hips against yours keeps you pinned, but you barely fight -- maybe squirm, maybe whine. No thrashing, no screaming, the whispers echo through the wind again:

Vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis.

"So, so, precious," he whispers while he leans forward, kisses pressed to one cheek and then the other slow and controlled. He inhales again when he dips down to your neck, piercing fangs dragging over the vein there. You feel the push and then the pain, the unbearable blinding pain of his teeth ripping through you. Through your skin, through the muscle, the pulse of his mouth while he holds himself there.

You cry out, nearly a scream while he holds himself there -- just enough to infect you, just enough to get the poison in. The pain reaches a blinding peak, bile growing up your throat, eyes filling with a white hot surge of anguish and then -- Nothing. Euphoria. An unknown lightness you hadn't felt before.

He releases, still holding tight to your wrists above your head when he raises up over you again.

"Open," he instructs, and in your hazy gaze you obey. Your tongue flattens against your chin without command.

"Very good, sweetheart," he praises, collecting the blood left on his lips and in his cheeks to spit it directly into your waiting mouth.

"You can close now," he grins, "And swallow."

He grunts, hips sliding against you so that you can feel his length between your legs; the girth alone sends a chill to the part of you that is screaming inside your head. How is it supposed to fit? How is he supposed to get this inside you? "Don't worry," he laughs, "It'll fit."

When your vision snaps up at him he laughs again, "I can hear you in there, princess. I can always hear you."

He dips down again, tip of his nose sliding over your cheek to your ear, "So be very careful what you think about."

He doesn't need his hands to guide the head of himself into your already needy center. It's a stretch, delicious but nearing painful. It's not something you've ever even dreamed of taking before; thick, large, inhuman.

Your legs lift on their own accord while he pushes in further, getting half way while you let out a choked sob.

"Aw, shh, shh, shh," he mocks, easing in more, "C'mon you can take it."

"You can --" his hips snap in hard for the rest of him, letting out a ragged grunt when the rest of him disappears inside you, "--take it."

You mouth hangs open in a desperate oval, face crumpling when you become so full of him -- all encompassing. A part of you now, buried deep within. He moves, dangerously slow and controlled; methodic in how he thrusts himself deeper and deeper inside. "Mmm, that's it," he growls, chest to chest with him while his hip grind at a deliberate pace. You feel his hot breath fan out over your lips, forehead pressed against yours. He's not hot, he's not cold, just skin against yours while it flashes with heat. You go from shaking to sweating with minutes in between.

When your hips roll to meet his thrusts you moan, the tip hitting you so deep in your core that stars burst behind your eyes. "There we go," he grins mischeviously, "S'at feel good, pet?"

"Ooh, yes," you hiss through gritted teeth, actively trying to bounce yourself againsth him now that your body has started accommodating his sheer size. He raises himself up on his hands like a cobra, snake like peering down at you while he meets the roll of your hips with an unforgiving thrust.

"Good," he oozes the word out like smoke, deliciosly deep seated in his belly when he thrusts hard again. He mumbles a quiet musing to himself that you can't hear -- too gone in the lightness in your body, in the way nothing hurts, in the way you're so full.

Can finally fuck you how I wanna.

He gets up, sitting back on his haunches while still inside you, pushing your legs up so your knees end up by your ears. With this leverage he sinks in deep. You don't even know how far in he is, just that he's in and he's there, he's everywehre, he's outside and in.

Eddie locks eyes with you, that same smirk from the cemetary that made your stomach flip dancing across his devilish features, "Tell me you like it."

Your mouth moves before your brain can hesitate, "I like it." "Tell me you need it," he demands, tone measured and sure.

"I need it," you say back, your voice coming out broken and weak, "Please, I need it."

He pulls back and punches forward, hard enough that you gasp at the impact. He grips you hard by the backs of your legs, thrusts starting slow and building at an unrelenting pace. His eyes are wild; boring down at you through from under furrowed and determined brows. If you had any mind left, you'd think that he hates you by the way he stares.

"Fuck," he snarls, leaning forward over you, one hand pressing down on the mattress next to your head, "Shit -- fuck, that's it. That's fuckin' -- shit, you're fuckin' mine." "Say you need me."

"I need you," you choke back without thinking, barely able to breathe at his speed. The coil tightens deep inside of you again, tears pouring down your cheeks in waves -- not even crying, just recieving. Absorbing him. Your body rocks like a boat on unsteady waves pinned beneath him, the only sounds are the whispers in your subconcious, his growls and sputters like an animal above you. The lewd slaps of skin against skin, the squelches of him pushing you to your limits.

He steadies himself over you, nose to nose again while he fucks you. Really fucks you. Impressed with himself, he lets out a breathy chuckle when you throw your head back -- eyes shutting tight with a pornographic scream.

"Oh GOD!" you cry out, "Oh my god."

His fingers and claws catch your chin with a firm shake, eyes snapping open to meet the knowing glare of his ruddy brown ones.

"Your god," he starts, panting into your mouth, "is right here in front of you."

You swallow, mouth falling agape again when you feel the bite of his nails on the fat of your cheeks. "Right here," you repeat, dazed and overwhelmed, "N'..n'fronname."

"Right here in front of you," he nods, leaning down to brush his nose against yours while his thrusts slow to a steady pace. It's then that his lips meet yours, the kiss searing with desire and claim when his tongue slides into your mouth. You can taste the metallic twang of your blood in his mouth, sighing into it while he guides the kiss. Breaking away and coming back in; rushed and heated each time while he feels himself get closer to his peak.

His forehead presses against yours, one hand finally releasing your wrist to hold your head in place over your hair. You keep eye contact with him, not even sure if you're blinking, if you even need to blink. You rasp breaths, mouth and throat dry and aching while you breathe into him. You're close, teetering on the edge while he pushes you up with his hips to rest your lower body on his knees and thighs.

"Come undone," he murmurs, "Let go for me."

The command ripples through you, bursting through your belly with a warm heat. You welcome it, eyes rolling, cries pouring from you in words you don't think you understand. He encourages you, offering you rough sweet nothings while you pray to him, beg for him, ache for him.

That's enough to send him over; seeing you completely at his mercy now. Obedient, trained, devoured.

He snares and snarls, growling while he comes deep inside of you. The hand on your head wraps painfully in your hair like it did before you started -- uncaring, brutal. The heat of his seed pools deep within you like the heart of your orgasm. Glazed over you groan, hips rolling up in one final cant to receive him fully. Your vision vingettes while he unsheathes from you; fluids leaking onto the sheets. You're empty and the room spins with a new blackness, you're fading. Fainting? Dying?

The fuzziness continues to darken arouns you, around him, until he's all that's left in the tunnel of your vision. "That's a good girl," he soothes smugly, "Very well done."

Your gaze and mind fade fully to a staticky black.

You wake, you’re not sure how much later.

Still on the bed and still undressed but your arms feel tight – a tug reveals your current state. Bound to a post on the headboard by a triple handcuff knot, dense hemp rope keeping your arms above your head.

You whine and struggle, coming to your senses now – no one knows where you are, you barely know where you are. An underworld – hell. Somewhere.

“Don’t look so terrified, sweetheart,” his smooth honey voice is heard before he appears in the candle light again, “I’m right here.”

“Wh-why am I –” you swallow thickly, coughing and sputtering with how dry your mouth and throat are now, “Why am I tied up?”

He looks at you with faux concern, brows raising, “Oh honey, are you okay?”

He reaches out, pushing your hair away from your face, “Don’t be stressed. Y’know something – I just realized, I never offered you anything to drink.”

“My uncle always told me you should take a girl out to dinner before makin’ the van rock and look at me,” he gestures at his chest, tutting at himself, “Where are my manners, huh?”

Your lip wobbles while he looms over you, “Are you thirsty?”

You nod, he grins – cheshire like, fangs glinting in the light, “I thought you would be.” He gets up, lazy and confident in his walk across the room. His body looks like marble, chiseled with the running and hunting you realize he’s been doing for over a decade. Stronger than ever; ethereal in his post orgasm glow.

He pulls his hair back while he walks, holding it up away from his neck while your eyes travel down his back where his wings have tucked in under the skin. You gag when you see them move above his blades, rippling beneath the tattoos he has there. He’s dressed in only shorts; silk – likely stolen to really own the whole vampire thing he has going on.

You take in a shaky breath when he gets what he needs, dropping his hair back to his shoulders when he makes his way back to you.

He holds the dagger coolly in his hand before gliding the tip down the center of his wrist. Blood blooms from the wound; he doesn’t even flinch.

“Open, princess,” he murmurs. Your lips clamp shut, shaking your head no while fear takes over – rot in your chest. He catches your chin again, forcing you to look at him like before.

“Open,” he repeats, slower. His voice reverberates like a gong between your ears.

Your mouth opens on its own accord and the smell of his blood becomes the most alluring scent you’ve had pass your nose in years. You latch on to the laceration, swallowing and sucking deeply on the wound while his blood and body quench and feed you better than any meal you think you’ve ever had. You feel revived as you devour him, eyes fluttering closed while the fill feels never enough.

“That’s it, keep goin’,” he encourages under his breath, “Won’t have to keep asking you to do things twice once this is all over with.”

You break away to breathe, gasping like you’re coming up for air, drowning in him.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you’ll be just like me, sweetheart,” he says, chuckling when you eagerly lean forward to drink him again, “After a night of some deeply insurmountable pain; and then nothing. Just mine. Undead and mine.”

“But y–you said you were – I’m –” your brows knit in confusion, “You didn’t h-have to d-do this; whatever you um – whatever you bred me with will die if you do this.”

“Oh, no, no,” he laughs evilly, “I didn’t breed you quite yet.”

He pulls his arm away, wiping the blood from your chin with his thumb roughly.

“Consider what we did a, uh…hmm,” he takes a second to think about it with a hum, shrugging cheekily, “A soul bonding experience.”

“You’re disgusting,” you spit.

“I’m delicious,” he corrects, smearing his blood from your chin to your cheek, “If you do say so yourself.”

He gets up again, pulling the covers out from under you to tuck you in. The chill getting to you in a way it never gets to him; you might as well be warm while you turn into actualized death.

“I can hear you, remember?” he asks, tapping your head, “You won’t be totally alone with me. There’s…shit there are plenty just like us.”

“Like Steve,” you pipe up groggily.

“More than just goodie two-shoes Harrington,” he groans, “God, do you ever shut up about him?”

You sniffle in response.

“I mean this place, this – dimension,” he says, “It’s more than just Hawkins, and there are so many more like us; even up there.”

He points upwards with a sharp nailed finger, “All around.”

“And now that you’ll be just like me,” he smiles, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you in the crook of you waist, “There’ll be all the time in the world to breed you.”

Your vision blurs, either from tears or from another fade, you aren’t sure. You can feel a slow burn through your veins, a rush of blood. You whimper.

“So it begins,” he smirks, running the tip of his finger over your nose bridge.

“Oh!” he says, eyes bulging, “Before I forget, and before I lose you – because you’ll be such a pretty blank slate when you come to – I felt like I should be honest.”

He gestures dramatically, a maniacal grin pushing his cheeks up to his eyes while they spark, “Again with my manners, it was so rude of me to introduce myself to Pete’s grave at the cemetery. We’ve met before! Can’t believe I had almost forgotten.”

Ice in your body fights the burning in your veins, you gag, bile coming up to singe your throat.

“And y’know, I didn’t mean to drop him in the quarry when I was done with him,” he says with a scrunch of his nose, like he accidentally wrote the wrong tip on a restaurant check, “Really, my mistake, but Christ did he hit every piece of limestone on the way down.”

He lets out a hearty laugh while he remembers it, your brother's body bouncing off rocks and metal before slipping under the water. You swallow your sick only or it to rise back up with a vengeance, staining your skin red while it seeps out of the corner of your mouth. You tug on the ropes in retaliation, hot angry tears stinging your eyes.

“All that fallin’ did a number on him – which is good because it really took the heat of anyone knowing it was me. I just wasn't as clean about it back then. Much better now though,” he nods, finishing with a superior and charming look like he just told a bedtime story.

He leans forward close to your face while your vision pulses in fuzzy black, browning out while he looks down at you.

“And I’ll tell you something, babe…”

Fading, fading, fading.

“He tasted divine.”

masterlist | fall frenzy | ko-fi

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